I wake up today and instantly, life seems bleak. Not because the Superbowl is over, not because the underdog has lost. I don't really care a fig about football.
I don't care a fig: Why don't people say that anymore?
At some point life has just gotten grumpy. I used to take pleasure in small things like grocery shopping and the movies in my Netflix queue. I used to look forward not to work, but at least those hours after work. And the ones on the weekend, however quickly they might fly by.
I even have a writing project. I have a few projects going, if you count the sitcom script and the claymation movies, which you surely should.
Spring is almost here, that is good.
I love daffodils, and in North Carolina, daffodils pop in February.
I even love Groundhog Day, just because.
And Valentine's is coming up, and despite that we have no money, we have a gift certificate to a restaurant that will assist in us having a fine feast. Also there is a concert at the Soapbox laudry lounge, Donovan Frankenreiter, and we love him, and the tickets were ultra cheap.
The fact that we don't have any money is depressing, but it's really no different than last month, the month before, or anyone else's lives that we know for that matter.
"Lost" is new this week.
"Survivor" starts next week, for pete's sake.
Yet using exclamation points in either writing or speech feels...
simply...
painful.
And I cannot do it.
Blog, blog, blog, blog, BLAHG.
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