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Because my friends are not updating their journals, I am discouraged from updating my journal. As a result, they are further discouraged from updating their journals, and very soon the entire internet will devolve into a soup of ad-bots talking to each other. I feel this is a very mature way of dealing with my ennui and, yes, irritation, albeit a floating and undifferentiated irritation.
My inner ear is aggrivated. My inner ear is, in fact, seasonally aggrivated. It makes me surly, discombobulated, and prone to debating my sanity. I am often dizzy, and I do not want to eat. This is the way I experience hay fever: I cannot remember where I put my keys.
I think to myself: I am a fine writer, and yet no one comments on my writing.
I also think to myself: I find my own writing in many cases very rough, but there is no point in fixing it if no one can tell the difference.
If I am sitting down, I want very much to go to sleep. If, on the other hand, I am sleeping, I want very much to wake up. The room is too dark, but the light feels contaminated. I must avoid mirrors if possible, because I do not like the way I look different in them; however, I enjoy standing on the electric scale, which displays a very consistent number no matter how long I stand there. At the same time, I may change the number by dropping things or picking them up. I have a great deal of control in that arena. Unfortunately, the scale is placed in front of the mirror.
I think to myself: I must buy a camera, and then I will not have to worry about this business of whether or not my writing is good.
Perhaps if Patrick were here, I would feel better about the whole situation, but it is more likely that I would simply be irritated with Patrick. It is true that I believe that I will be happier two weeks from now. It is also true that I will believe two weeks from now that I will be happier in two weeks. At that time, I will see my room and I will be very impressed. "Ah," I will say, "so this is what it looks like now, with its bed shelves heater desk walls closet."
Likely, we will play video games there, and miraculously my allergies will be cured, to the awed delight of the many spectators.
My inner ear is aggrivated. My inner ear is, in fact, seasonally aggrivated. It makes me surly, discombobulated, and prone to debating my sanity. I am often dizzy, and I do not want to eat. This is the way I experience hay fever: I cannot remember where I put my keys.
I think to myself: I am a fine writer, and yet no one comments on my writing.
I also think to myself: I find my own writing in many cases very rough, but there is no point in fixing it if no one can tell the difference.
If I am sitting down, I want very much to go to sleep. If, on the other hand, I am sleeping, I want very much to wake up. The room is too dark, but the light feels contaminated. I must avoid mirrors if possible, because I do not like the way I look different in them; however, I enjoy standing on the electric scale, which displays a very consistent number no matter how long I stand there. At the same time, I may change the number by dropping things or picking them up. I have a great deal of control in that arena. Unfortunately, the scale is placed in front of the mirror.
I think to myself: I must buy a camera, and then I will not have to worry about this business of whether or not my writing is good.
Perhaps if Patrick were here, I would feel better about the whole situation, but it is more likely that I would simply be irritated with Patrick. It is true that I believe that I will be happier two weeks from now. It is also true that I will believe two weeks from now that I will be happier in two weeks. At that time, I will see my room and I will be very impressed. "Ah," I will say, "so this is what it looks like now, with its bed shelves heater desk walls closet."
Likely, we will play video games there, and miraculously my allergies will be cured, to the awed delight of the many spectators.
