October 11th, 2006

Bruce, Caroline

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday I was so exhilarated, so full of a zest for life, the work day was wonderful. Today there's nothing wrong, I just don't want to be here, I hate this place, I want to be at home curled up with a good book (or woman, preferably the latter), oblivious to the world around me. I think I'm just tired of the world and being a part of it. I'm finished reading the Greek stuff I've been working on, and now I'm back to an anthology of short stories. I've read about 90% of these short stories before in other anthologies. I bet I've read them all before, but have just forgotten some. Wouldn't it be ironic if we did this entire anthology before and I've just forgotten?

I'm not depressed, per se,I'm just sick to the teeth of ... all this (sweeping gesture). Where is fulfillment? How can one even be fulfilled if one doesn't know what he wants in the first place to achieve fulfillment? this is going to be a very long day indeed, though a phone call I'm expecting will surely brighten it, at least for its (the phone call's) duration.