I've got a major case of the desultories today, probably brought on by the unrelenting precipitation. (Snow no longer makes me happy...it just gets in my shoes.) I'm sick of theories and ideas and grand plans and just want to go out into the World and get something done. I thought I was done with those self-revelatory college-application type essays forever, but whaddayaknow, an extra few have just been thrown onto my plate. So here I am, unable to have any new life experiences because I'm stuck recording and analyzing the old ones, trying to impress outsiders with my so-called "achievements."
You know, I usually don't mind thinking about my own identity and writing down my experiences and whatnot. I usually think that people are "special" -- or to put it more pretentiously, that each individual's experience is unique and beautiful and thus has intrinsic worth. I even usually think it's a great tragedy that no matter how much two people communicate, it's impossible for them to completely understand each other.
Today, I don't think any of those things. I don't want to understand or be understood -- what's there to see? And even though I've already written quite a lot of words in this blog post for nobody, I have nothing at all to say. Do you?