Has it really been more than a month?

Jeez. My last post was about an entirely different world. Also, this weekend blew the hell by. Is it really Monday morning already? When did that happen?

I'm not even sure where to go from here. I've got on some decent music to chill out to, but its just making me sleepy. Sleepier, I guess. I've been battling with the insomia-ish thing again. My body is tired but I'm not nearly turned down enough upstairs to yet go to bed. My neck's been hurting lately and my shoulders have been giving me trouble when I wake up. At least I appear to be over what the sicky thing in the mornings.

I can't wait for the Christmas holiday stuff to actually get here. As much as I'm looking forward to it, I'm actually also looking forward to what comes after it. I think I'm restless deep down and I really need to find work. Tired of this broke thing.

I've said it a lot when people have asked why I don't write as much as I used to. A lot of the time when I'd write things it was to vent, or to think out loud or something. Since I'd moved, though, I've been mostly taken care of in that regard: I don't need to worry about writing thoughts down when I get to express them as they come. I don't need to record thoughts or feelings because the people who should know or see them see them or know them as soon as they pop up. It isn't a bad thing, I think. Writing was always kind of therapeutic for me, and being able to skip the basting and marinating part and skipping right to the meat of a matter is a welcome change.

..did that sentence even make sense?

I guess I've always kind of tried to handle my own therapy either on my own or with as small a group as I could. I don't externalize deep thoughts well and feel much more comfortable working out a problem myself, a kind of ritualistic purging of bad blood and thoughts. I try to do it away from everyone else because I guess it can get ugly. Home surgery can prove just as effective as professional surgery, yeah? As long as the operation is small enough? There's just a lot more blood in the hands of someone who doesn't quite know what it is they're cutting out of themselves.

I'm not sure why the cat is suddenly sitting on my thigh. She's not even being annoying, she's just hanging out, purring. She looks up at me from time to time and just stares. I stare back. Then she nudges my arm and puts her head back down. It's curious.