It might be the result of a triple venti (nonfat) cinnamon dolce latte consumed while doing countless “high cost loan” worksheets during the afternoon training session today, or it might be due to the storm front that has finally arrived (although we've only gotten minimal rain), cooling and moistening the air, if not the earth, but I'm antsy and wired today. I came home (after a post-work dinner with Fuzzy, and a post-dinner trip to buy cute office supplies) considering taking the dogs out even though it's full dark. It's only eight-thirty, actually, and our neighborhood is pretty safe, so I might, still.

I haven't felt at all energetic in a while. I've felt both bored and boring, dry, stale, stagnating. I've jotted some stuff in my new moleskine, but the pretty journal is largely unadultered by my messy scrawl, and I haven't been near a computer long enough to compose anything.

I've surfed a few blogs, but I have no focus for blogging right now, more interested in waiting til I decide where I want to go with the blog this year. I know that things will change once I'm back on a schedule more suited to my normal sleep patterns, but, like Kate in the fluffy but cute “Kate and Leopold,” I'm already feeling that Sundays are tainted by having to go to work on Monday, though it's not that I don't like my job (hate the training, but like the actual job), as much as the HAVING to be there. If it were optional, even if the option was psychological, I wouldn't have to fight this trapped feeling, and wouldn't have to endlessly, silently, internally chant, “It's not forever, and it doesn't define you.” (I've put that in the blog often enough now that it should be obvious this is a real issue.

I don't post about the day to day stuff at work, because it's work, and I've always tried to keep work out of my blog. Always. It's too dangerous not to. I'm not good with euphamisms, or cute blognames for real places and people, so if I tell anything it will be everything, and that's just really unwise.

I wake up in the middle of the night and feel suffocated. I like the money, but I don't like having to have a schedule. I feel like there's never enough TIME, and I don't like living this way. I'm losing my sense of balance. I haven't written or IM'd with certain people who mean much, and give much, and I feel bad, but there's just no time, or when there IS time, the energy is wrong.

*Breathe*

It's only been a month.
I have to give it time. Find a rhythm.
Remember to breathe.
Yeah.
That.