"Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it's always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins." 
— Neil Gaiman

I don't want to complain. I really don't. I just can't figure out what it is that I'm doing wrong. I feel like I'm sitting at the bottom of some well and just waiting for the strength to climb out... but I don't want to. I don't know what is waiting out there for me.

I loathe looking at my sms lately and I find it terribly difficult to talk to people. My attention span is all over the place. I can't talk to people. I'm not really sharp and witty at the moment. I couldn't tell you what is wrong with me.

I moved into my place yesterday so I should be elated, right?  But it's all just materialistic bullshit. I don't see myself there for long. I don't see myself anywhere for very long. It's kind of like.... I don't know when I was little, I never thought I'd live past the age of nine... and here I am 20 years later. So sometimes I end up surprising myself.

I ended up sobbing at work today. Some guy came in looking to by a mattress. He was huge too. 6'5 and some super tough construction type guy. I am kind of shy about pushing sales on people so I just went and talked to him about his sleeping problems. He admitted that he's been having problems sleeping since he had to shoot his dog a few weeks ago. He told me that he had to put him down because he had water in his lungs or something, I don't remember. He sat on a bed and through watery eyes told me that he couldn't get the look of his dog's face before he shot him between the eyes. Seriously, guy?! What the serious fuck? Rip my  heart out when I'm at work! He told me that his dog had been his only friend. He'd never been married or had any kids. He told me that Shadow was his kid. After he left, I went outside, smoked a cigarette and started bawling. The day started off amazingly enough... me and the old dude at work were talking about the reefer and joking around. It ended with him asking me if I was ok... and I'm just... "I... didn't.... *sob* like... *sob* that.... story... *sob* Not... nice!" Because when I'm morose I regress.

Maybe I'm tired. Or homesick, or just on my period. All of the above? I just want to see my puppy. 

I always feel guilty...

when I'm not reading or writing. I couldn't tell you exactly why. It's one of those things though, I feel like I'm not meeting some internal deadline. So here I am. It's near the last hour of my working shift and I have to go pick up Oswin in about 45 minutes from a friend.

Oswin and I move into our apartment tomorrow and I'm pumped. Especially since I have things to put in my apartment. I'll even have a walk in closet! I'm pretty stoked. Unfortunately, half of my clothes and shoes are still in Germany, not to mention all my bedding. Do you know how much queen comforter sets are running? Still? I am pretty excited about starting over, having my own place and filling it up little by little. I was ill Sunday and Monday and am finally starting to feel better. So I dropped Oswin off at puppy daycare and have been spending the day working with James. I enjoy working with James. We can talk about World of Warcraft and Game of Thrones. I ate candy and watched The Dog Whisperer. Dave came in today and bought a bed. Talking to a friend was fun for a bit. I find however, that I can't really talk coherently lately. I get nervous and stutter. Maybe because I've looked like hell lately... or the fact that I'm not sleeping.

I was super bummed when I realized with my schedule and my expenses, I probably can't pursue kung fu right away, not until my puppy gets older. Then, I have to figure out how I'll take her on vacation with me. Driving? Flying? Pet friendly hotels? I really wanted to go to Sweden in August. Plus, I am still planning on the wedding in Pennsylvania. Is it easier to appreciate somebody from far away so you don't have the opportunity to get bored of them? Or is the disappointment inevitable either way?

I haven't been working on my little writing projects. I'm not working on my book at the moment. Is it bad to say I've kind of lost my material to work with? Are men material to work with?!

That's super depressing. I've been having the inevitable heart sinks lately. The guilty heart sinks.