In news of ME, it was a Monday (true for most of you, I guess) and I'm incredibly tired. Pyscho bus passengers, vacuous brain, insane carb cravings, doctor's appointment. I have to go off Adderall starting tomorrow. It turns out it sends my blood-pressure through the roof. This makes me nervous; because, tiredness, lack of focus--all the bad. I'm going to call my psych guy tomorrow to discuss other options.
Someday soon--i.e., sometime this year--I want to make a giant list of SGA recs, and also to leave feedback for people. So much great stuff has been unfurling from brilliant brains.
I want to be entertaining but all I can manage is to refer vaguely to crossover SGA/Alias thoughts that I'll never write, and to my ongoing wrong fantasies of Ronan and Rodney. That I will never write. Head porn is lazy porn.
So very tired tonight. Hungry but no appetite; anxious but inert. I have a very very quiet existential scream trapped behind my chest. More like a whisper. Chill in tree branches.
Random Pessoa quote:
"And I sleep, in my way, without sleep or repose, this vegetative life of supposition, and under my eyelids without rest there appears, like the quiet foam on a filthy sea, the distant reflection of the silent streetlights.
I sleep and I unsleep."
I'm not really pretentious, I hope. I just like his words. I'm not depressed per se, either. Just tired and tenuous.