Naw, really? I know. A chick who notes boredom as one of the main motivators in moving to another country gets an occasional case of the stir-crazies. But I'm more intellectually bored, I think; I keep bouncing around from site to site, needlessly, hoping to read something somewhere that satisfies some need in me. A need of spark, perhaps; I think I'm procrastinating, and the only thing I have to procrastinate about is you, dear blog.
I want to write something highly entertaining and witty and informative. Unfortunately, I've been doing nothing but working and fretting. Work, fret, work, fret, check my calendar and see that it's 46 days until I quit, another handful until I leave. Fret about that. I have a few ideas for future posts. So that's cool. Tonight, however, nothing strikes. And so I search, clickety-clickety, for something that will entice and involve and enrage me enough to strike spark from the dull, dull grey flint of my brain.
As you can see from the above, ess no working so good.
Sigh. I seem to be finding it difficult to write entertainingly about having no inspiration.
Maybe I'll just go home and watch Barton Fink. Then curl up in a fetal position and stare numbly at the wall.
(John Goodman is scary.)
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