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You guys, I think I might be depressed. Not a horrible, I-can't-get-out-of-bed-I'm-not-brushing-my-teeth sort of depression, but more of a I-know-I-should-get-out-and-do-something-but-I'd-just-as-soon-lay-here-in-my-pajamas kind of depression.
I mean, I still find things funny, I still go out and try to have fun, but I'm not finding as much pleasure in life as I usually do. I'm growing more and more apathetic.
If someone were to call me and tell me that a nuclear warhead was headed directly toward LA, it's not as if I would just sit there and say "well that really sucks" and wait for the bomb to hit, but I also wouldn't be shrieking about how much I have to live for and how you should get the hell out of my way.
I'd like to think that in the particular orbit of my happiness, I've reached the point of apogee. That soon, it'll all bounce back into my life fueled by the music from Chariots of Fire.
On the other hand, you have different fingers.
Thus ends a fairly crappy and not even finished update.
"That just... sucks out loud." -- Cher
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