Mr. Cranky-pants

God, what a funk I've been in. I'm just all around miserable every day lately.There's not a single part of my life that I don't feel stressed and disatisfied with right now. I have been getting some work up at BrokenFrontier.com which is cool and all, but I probably drop over half the crap I intend to write. I just don't seem to have the time. The fact that I've had to travel every weekend since getting back from California doesn't help either. I need two days away from the earth. One where I can sulk under a blanket for 24 hours, and the other where I can try to accomplish something. Of course, I'm sure I would succeed with the sulking, but find myself failing miserably at the accomplishment thing.

I really don't know what's going to break me out of this. I just feel like I'm pulling everyone else around me's weight. I feel I've been so god damn reliable and efficient, that everyone I know is like, "Fuck it, he'll do it." I know, that's very egotistical and self-centered, but it's the way I feel. Plus, it's my blog, so what did you expect?

Even my musical taste lately reflect it. Usually I'm all about some noisy teenage angst fueled rock and roll... but lately it's been mellow, introspective stuff. A british band called the Captain. Beck's latest. Thom Yorke's thing. and it's a shame, too, as I got some good loud music... like the Fratelli's. It's like the most addictive carnival ear-candy I've had all year.

Last week I spent one night cleaning. me. cleaning. I was hoping my roomates would get the clue, but they instead sat potato-like on the couch. If I would have said anything, they would have come up with the rock-solid defense of "Yeah, well, you usually don't clean." It's like I'm Cindarella, but not the Disney one with the pumpkin carraige, but the Brothers Grimm proper, where I will have to cut off my god-damn toes to get the hell out of here.

Really, I need some ginko biloba or something to cheer me up.

I did purchase tickets to go see "The Australian Pink Floyd." Though a bit pricey, my dad wants to go see them, and so we're going. They're the pink floyd tribute band, and they are playing two nights, both of which will sell out. Strange to see a cover band at the Tower theatre, but it's still Floyd's songs. Who knows, I'm way up in the balcony... maybe the contact high from the second-hand pot smoke will do me some good.

I'll try to write something cheery next time I'm on here... but I make no promises.