I haven't been able to write in a couple of days. boo.

My mom and youngest sister were visiting from South Carolina. I really liked having them here, but will admit that the trip exhausted me. I didn't write while they were here, or read much. I'm glad that I'm getting more into the habit of writing, but I wonder if it's more that I have nothing much else to do right now, being unemployed, than that I want to finish the novel. Sometimes I feel that this is purposeless and I get discouraged. I was talking to my soon-to-be new roommate yesterday. She wanted to hang out and get some beers but I had to meet my writing group, and told her so. She brushed it off, calling it my "book club," and unintentionally made me feel pretty low about myself. I'm a writer, but how can I prove that with nothing to my name? Sometimes I wish that I was just like everybody else.