Sigh.
My girlfriend is 1,208 miles away (according to Continental Airlines), Linc Chafee lost to Sheldon Whitehouse on November 7th and it's very fucking difficult to decide where I should be next semester. It all builds into a nice melancholy.
Though, right now, I think the single thing that distresses me most is my general lethargy. I was in Washington from the 1st through the 6th and I had a nice vacation, but when I got back I had to rely solely on my renewed energy to carry me through two days of tutoring and waiting tables. I was dead--somehow I was dead. Chances are that most (or all) of my feeling of death can be explained by me jumping back into a routine after having been away for a little while, but even still it was quite unpleasant, and the effects yet linger.
Yesterday I didn't shower, and I smelled rather putrid. The day before, I forgot to brush my teeth before I ran off to work, and so I tutored four students while going through a good amount of cinnamon-flavored Dentyne, and scampered off to a nearby Wal-Mart to buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste so I wouldn't disgust the fine people at Pappadeaux. And the most productive thing I've done since I've been back (other than working) has been to catch up on The Economist and start on "It Can't Happen Here" (both of which I did while working).
Normally this sort of funk isn't too bothersome, as it's bound to happen from time to time. But it's extremely unpleasant when I'm in such a funk and in a transitional period as I am now. That feeling that there's so much that you should be doing to prepare, the assertion that you probably can't do much right now anyway, so stop worrying. They don't cancel each other out like you'd hope. They manage to team up to create a sort of apprehensive anxiety.
Writing about it does help, though. If for no other reason than that I feel like I'm doing something. I can almost feel the happy-go-lucky Cantay coming back to his own as I speak. Still, however, I am worrying about how this will all play out in the near and distant future. And I'm not one to worry; it doesn't suit me in the least.
I think right now I just need to do the best I can to vegetate. And maybe one day I'll come up with a better solution for this kind of feeling.
Anyway, that's all for today folks! Thanks for tuning to this edition of Hasta la Byebye! And God save us from Democrats Without Policies! Hasta la byebye!
My girlfriend is 1,208 miles away (according to Continental Airlines), Linc Chafee lost to Sheldon Whitehouse on November 7th and it's very fucking difficult to decide where I should be next semester. It all builds into a nice melancholy.
Though, right now, I think the single thing that distresses me most is my general lethargy. I was in Washington from the 1st through the 6th and I had a nice vacation, but when I got back I had to rely solely on my renewed energy to carry me through two days of tutoring and waiting tables. I was dead--somehow I was dead. Chances are that most (or all) of my feeling of death can be explained by me jumping back into a routine after having been away for a little while, but even still it was quite unpleasant, and the effects yet linger.
Yesterday I didn't shower, and I smelled rather putrid. The day before, I forgot to brush my teeth before I ran off to work, and so I tutored four students while going through a good amount of cinnamon-flavored Dentyne, and scampered off to a nearby Wal-Mart to buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste so I wouldn't disgust the fine people at Pappadeaux. And the most productive thing I've done since I've been back (other than working) has been to catch up on The Economist and start on "It Can't Happen Here" (both of which I did while working).
Normally this sort of funk isn't too bothersome, as it's bound to happen from time to time. But it's extremely unpleasant when I'm in such a funk and in a transitional period as I am now. That feeling that there's so much that you should be doing to prepare, the assertion that you probably can't do much right now anyway, so stop worrying. They don't cancel each other out like you'd hope. They manage to team up to create a sort of apprehensive anxiety.
Writing about it does help, though. If for no other reason than that I feel like I'm doing something. I can almost feel the happy-go-lucky Cantay coming back to his own as I speak. Still, however, I am worrying about how this will all play out in the near and distant future. And I'm not one to worry; it doesn't suit me in the least.
I think right now I just need to do the best I can to vegetate. And maybe one day I'll come up with a better solution for this kind of feeling.
Anyway, that's all for today folks! Thanks for tuning to this edition of Hasta la Byebye! And God save us from Democrats Without Policies! Hasta la byebye!
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