Yep, it's me again. I'm feeling a bit dead at the moment. Thank goodness the night only lasts so long. Even through being a complete idiot I cannot figure out why I'm feeling so weary. I feel like there is no energy left in me. It has been an emotional day, believe it or not.
I previewed a movie for our local youth group, on homosexuality. It isn't blatantly, bible-thumpingly Christian, which is a real plus. I hate it when they do that. I almost wish I had been part of a healthy youth group when it was my turn to be in a youth group because then I might be able to figure out how other people think about it. I have a gay friend and I've had a friend who decided she was a lesbian, therefore I want to think hard because I care for these people. But then, to the liberal eye, everything I say here will be taken out of context and twisted into meaning that I am homophobic. Weirdos.
Bweh. I got absolutely nothing done today. Not a bit. Not a sniffle. But! I am wearing a fiendish t-shirt. I am now listening to "Goodnight, My Love (Pleasant Dreams)" by Harry Connick Jr. and humming along. I'm going to be a sap and burn rose oil tonight. I'm out of bergamot, now, which will shortly make me depressed, until I forget about it.
I want to wake up tomorrow and be able to see what I am. This is a problem right now. At least, for somebody like me, who wants to know myself, it is a big problem when I do things and can't figure out why I do them. Not a comfortable mystery, like those of the universe. Entirely practical and affecting my everyday activities, this mystery is unpleasant and distasteful.
And I probably shouldn't be blogging it because one day when I am rich and famous and entirely self-absorbed, somebody will remind me of it and I will fall, like Citizen Kane's second wife, and I will end up drunk, talking to reporters. At a night club. Oh, the adventurous life of a blogger. Thrilling. Really.