Why so difficult?
Why must I suffer distain filled comments given to me in a scathing tone? Because I dare to disagree? Because I dare to have an opinion all my own? Seems that way. And because I don’t want to sit and defend myself all fucking morning, I cave. Go ahead. Watch what you want; even that asshole whom I hate, who gives me fucking ulcers, who has nothing of import to say. Go ahead; what does my morning comfort mean in comparison to your whims?
And, wow. This blog went from quite a few likes during the week (quite a few for me, anyway) to zip by the time I asked for help. Um…okay.
Sent a message to a source I respect. Crossing my fingers that I actually get a reply. Questions, questions…and here I am, wanting a short-cut. Please. Don’t make me go through thousands of nonsense airy fairy sites spewing the latest new age fad. I just don’t have the time.
Have a feeling I’m gonna give up on the book on Russia. It’s interesting, as a time period study. But damn! It just goes on and on and on. One of those books you really can stop at any bloody sentence and just pick it up again from there: no narrative, just paragraph long spews on Russia and Russian culture. Must set it down and pick up my Dutch again.
The sun has finally broken through the clouds, tho the rain is still here. It almost feels odd to see blue in the sky; I was so used to iron grey.
Problems settling down last night. I did my usual: telly, night-time rituals of teeth brushing and facial lotion, reading, lights out. Then I tossed and turned for at least an hour, my head going so damned fast I just couldn’t stop it. I do not appreciate it. My thoughts were all about my writing. Great! Super-duper. But I’m not getting up past midnight to write. Forget that. Not after a long day. And especially not when I plan to do something the day after. Kept telling my head that, but it did no good. Spin and spin it went until I finally dozed off.
Feeling…off. Can’t say my happiness meter is registering above zero. Conversely, I can’t say my depression meter is registering, either. I’m just blank. Kind of tired. Almost in a trance-like state. *sigh* I don’t like going out in public when I’m like this. People – even my shrink – take this as depression, but it isn’t. I’m just quiet. And damned tired for ten in the morning. Don’t want to take off 2 weeks in a row from class, tho. If I must, I’ll beg off by saying still feeling a bit ill. Most people accept that reason when I offer it up for these moods. Not true, naturally. But it’s the easier answer than explaining everything from A to Z.
My bro keeps looking at me to see if I’m done blogging. He’s had some coffee and isn’t such a crank now. I can tell he wants to spew at me, giving me his opinions on the morning news and his non-stop fucking SIM game that I wish to Goddess he never found.
…Why am I here again?