Someday I should really get around to reading that. Right now I’m reading Message in a Bottle by Nicholas Sparks, and I’m sorry, but that guy is crap. It’s no wonder so many of his books have been made into movies, because that’s all that they’re really good for. The last 100 pages have been the same thing over and over again – vapid, stupid, bordering on romance novel sentimentality. And the characters have absolutely no depth. Yet I will not put the book down. The only time I will ever stop reading a book is when it gets physically painful for me to continue. Take Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I was actually groaning in agony while reading that book. I think I had fifty pages left and I just couldn’t take it anymore. Let’s just say that when one single paragraph stretches over three pages, somebody’s editor hasn’t done their job.

I’ve been in a little bit of a funk these last few days. I’m not quite sure what it is, or why, but I feel really withdrawn. I’m not getting a lot of pleasure from life right now. Maybe it’s all the change that I’m anticipating, and the anxiety is manifesting itself in such a way that I’m distancing myself from my life rather than taking an active role. I feel like so much is out of my control right now, that taking a back seat is just as easy as trying to be in charge. Plus, I’m not feeling especially cared for by those people that I tend to lean on, but I’m pretty sure that’s my own fault. I’m not exactly asking for help – I’m sort of expecting people to realize that I’m down and magically know what I need to feel better. I have a habit of doing that. Not exactly the best way to go about getting the support that I need, I know. I know exactly what my biggest problem is, though – for some reason, at certain times in my life, I go through periods where I just can’t seem to appreciate what I have, or the way my life is going. I get restless and antsy, and I blame it on other people. I know there has to be a reason why I feel this way, it’s just figuring it out that’s the hard part. So anyway. That’s my story right now. I’m worrying about too much and unhappy for stupid reasons. I was about to spell out all my concerns, but that would be sharing too much, since I know exactly who reads this thing. Ask me if you want to know.

One thing I am looking forward to is going to Vegas at the end of this week, even if it leaves me a little cash-strapped. Mexico is already a distant memory, and I could use the break from the monotony that is my daily life. Sigh. Just paint a black cloud hanging over my head – maybe the desert air will dry it out.