Didn't the Tapdancer Look Good, Last Time We Saw Her?

Hello, my name is Tapdancer and I am a Facebook junkie.

I know - I was just in here, a few months back, touting my oh-so-virtuous offline time, and now I'm addicted again, and it's not even remotely intelligent, the time I spend. I could make the excuse that January is a month of hibernation, so where's the harm, etc, but um, what about the three months before now?

I'm telling myself that when I reach the 70th level of the Vampire Wars, and you either have to have 500 clan members or get eaten alive, that I'll quit then. And then I go and add 15 more total strangers to my friends list. Granted, I'm really careful of who I pick, but still - who am I and what has happened to the old Tapdancer?

Is there a twelve-step program for Facebook junkies, and if so, do I need neighbors or clan members to play, uh, join?

I have an inner restlessness lately, I just can't shake. All my projects are in stasis, for one reason or another. I made a batch of cookie dough, but I don't feel like baking it. The women in my painting stare sightlessly out at me, waiting for definition; for life, but I stare right back at them, equally blind.

Is it the weather? Maybe - its been kind of gray for several days now. We need the rain, and I love it when it rains in the spring, but the pervasive damp and the perpetual gray push me ever closer to the mental edge. You know, the edge where I burst out in tears over a damn lame joke, like last week (and again, Ray - mea culpa, man). Yeah, that's not good.

I think a part of it is school. The field trips and projects due have ramped up recently, and both require more of my personal time. The Bohemian, who was doing so well with the reading, has slumped again, so every night we're taking extra time to have him read to us. It doesn't leave much time for grown-up interaction, which makes both myself and the hub-man cranky. We still have a month and a half left before summer vacation; we're at the end of the tunnel, but damn, this last 7 weeks feels like pure torture. I love my kids, and they're really pretty good guys, but Oh My God, they have turned into Essence of Pure Boy, and some days, it just pushes me to the Dark Side, making manicures, teased hair, and fluffy pink shit look almost inviting (Noooooooo!)

I've sat down to write but nothing is really flowing, except discontent. I could get lost in painting, finding faces for those women, but my schedule is all chopped up with school related shtuff, so my mind is equally chummed and unable to focus in on minutiae.

You know what? I think its time for the guys to take a weekend trip to visit the grandparents and give Mom a couple of days of absolute silence, so I can reboot my brain.

Of course, that won't work this weekend, because there's a damn field trip to Winston-Salem on Friday that won't be back until after 5 PM. Did I mention that I loathe school?