You know, I'm feeling bad again. I don't know why, entirely. Oh, I know the reasons. Because it's the weekend. I have a job, during the weekdays, that I would much rather not be doing, and I look forward to the weekends when I can do things with my friends.
It's the weekend, and it doesn't look like I'm doing anything. I was looking forward to this time to do something with Zelda, but if our conversation was any indication, nothing's happening today or tomorrow. I can't get ahold of any of my other friends. One is in Colorado. Another is off doing whatever he does these days, busy man. Another is asleep, and another probably is, too. The other's phone was busy when I called. I suppose I will call again.
So those are the reasons I'm feeling down. But I have a hard time believing that that's all there is to it. It's really rather odd when you look at this. I was awfully nonsocial these last years. Now I'm not. I have great pain because I have nothing social to do. Programming doesn't interest me. I don't feel like reading any of my books - and there are an awful lot to choose from, with plenty of variety. Normally I look for excuses to be reading them, not lamenting that they are all I have.
I can look to empty stimulation: video games, television, music. But these are not what I want. They are wasteful, and if I use my weekend on them it will have been wasted. And I will have nothing to do for another week of work. I will look on the weekend and feel nothing was accomplished. They will kill the immediate pain of inactivity, but will do nothing to rejuvenate my week, and I will go to work again as though I never had a break. Then, perhaps, I will kill myself.
No, not really. I may be in agonizing pain and emotionally buffeted, but I'm not stupid.
The only thing I have to do is type. And what a poor excuse this is. It's almost as bad as the other empty stimulation I could seek; I suppose, though, that at the end I will at least have this thing to look at. And perhaps share.
Maybe I don't want 360 years. Things change. Ah, well. It depends on what else happens.
So anyway, I'm feeling bad. I know the immediate reasons, but not the real one. So I suppose it is chemical or something. It's as good an explanation I can come up with right now, and frankly I don't feel like brooding on it. I will go find someone to do something with.