I’m leaving for the airport in a little over 12 hours and in about 18 hours I will be en route to Greece, then Turkey, for my much anticipated, long awaited vacation.  At this point I’m more than a little exhausted (please don’t tell me it’s because I’m not asleep right now; I had to pack and besides which, I’ve been going to sleep as early as possible for the past however many weeks and still I wake up, not refreshed, and instead worse than when I started) and not looking forward to it at all.  “Whine away,” you might sneer at me, “ungrateful little bitch.”  But who am I not grateful to?  I paid for the trip.  It’s my vacation.  Who am I supposed to be grateful to?  So shut up, and don’t read it if you don’t want to hear whining, because I have been nothing but whiny for the past few weeks.  I keep saying, “Stop fucking whining” but then a small voice defiantly snaps, “Go fuck yourself, I’ll whine if I want to, and you have to listen to it because you’re me.” 

I’m grateful, however, for my friends, who, god bless ‘em, really, have listened to me whine for a few weeks now.  I have reasonable excuses, but regardless, they haven’t been any more or less themselves right back to me, and I’ve yet to hear someone scream “shut the fuck up!” at me, which I’ve bit my own tongue to do so a few times.  I’ve also admittedly held back from whining too, too much at them, but not that much of a hold back, so to those of you who read this and listen to me whine daily (that’s like, one of you who actually reads this), thank you from the bottom of my heart.

There are other people that I owe emails to and have chosen to remain silent.  It’s not that I don’t like you (at this moment, Syd, you come specifically to mind, though there are others, so don’t feel shafted, really), it’s more like, I’m just too apathetic right now to do anything productive.  The past few months have been so unproductive for me (really- the girl who gets her taxes finished in February- I haven’t even really looked at them yet, and… probably won’t be able to until April, gasp)- I don’t want to lay blame but let’s face it.  I’ve become this way since I undertook NaNoWriMo.  I blew everything in November off- including going to visit my grandfather- yes, I said it! I wanted to visit him in November but didn’t and now look what happend- and December rolled around, so again I didn’t do much of anything productive, leaving Christmas shopping down to the wire and then flaking out and getting crappy gifts for everyone (except my nephew, who quite honestly probably would have equally enjoyed a huge empty box, though instead I got him things that made noise and bright lights).  Whatever.  I’m a lackadaisacal person now.  I kind of liked it for a while but now I’m just constantly annoyed with myself that I “meant to” do something but instead “didn’t”.  Whoops, no quotes on that last set, because.. I simply… didn’t. 

I kind of lost my point, but what else is new?  It’s 1:30 in the morning and I’m just sitting here, listening to garbage trucks roll by and wondering when it came to all this.  Why it’s like this.  I feel so apathetic, unmoved, and so… unfriendly.  Unhappy.  I don’t want to be here, my mind struggles to push me back.  But I remain, and I’m clearly falling into a bad past pattern of being unhappy overall, not happy, and I don’t want to be here.  I refuse.  The other day (was it yesterday?) I put a not-sharp knife through my thumb (which, by the way?  MOST IMPORTANT FINGER OF ALL.  I’ve cut other fingers and been unable to use them essentially and easily got around that by interchanging and using a different one.  The thumb?  Can’t be replaced.  Because it’s opposed.  It just can’t be avoided, using it, if you’re using that hand.) and a few minutes later promptly electrocuted myself on a copying machine.  Making one fucking copy. 

But even after all that, I was joking around and laughing about it, and not like OH MY GOD THE DAY FROM HELL because life is what you make of it, always, always.  You choose to receive news and receive life the way you do.  You could have those things happen to you and go cry in the corner because you’re silly and htink that changes anything, or you can just laugh it off and say it was a bit of a foolish day for you, you’re not paying attention or you’re in a hurry, and it happens.  I chose to be the second thing.

But my overall sense of “bleh” won’t be reasoned away nor shook away.  It lingers.  I just want to crawl into bed and stay for a few days, but everything’s been happening and everything’s been what it is such that I need to do what I do and I’ve been doing.  I want to call in sick, sleep late and then just bum around, being miserable and moping.  Call it mourning if you will.  But I can’t because it’s irresponsible and all I feel lately is guilt, guilt over being who I am and doing what I do and just… misery. 

In the end, I’m hoping I snap out of it long enough to enjoy my trip, but who knows.  Maybe my plane will blow up and I’ll die and then finally I’ll have all the time in the world to sleep. 

For now, I’m just so exhausted I can’t imagine being anything besides this.  Blissful plane ride tomorrow… I will indulge and pass out for the entire thing (except to eat).  Ha.  Your idea of paradise may be my idea of hell, so don’t suggest a beach trip.  I hate those.

But really, I started this post to write “there’s really just no point anymore” to posting on Xanga.  I feel it’s completely lost my grip, but maybe time will show I’m wrong.  Adieu. 

and everything turned dark, I was all alone.  I was all alone in a crowd of many; everyone reaching out their hands to help me but I pushed them all away.  Why?  Because it’s what I want and I have always been one to give in and give me what I want… because no one else would in the past and so the pattern was set.  Do I want more now?  Do I want less?  I don’t know what I want, and thus begins the deep insatiable desire because I don’t know what the desire is.

If you’d only tell me what it was…

I could give it to you….

this Xanga is going dark for a bit.