Funk.

Everytime I've come home in the last 6 or so months for longer than a few days, I've found that I get into a funk. An ugly one. That, if it had a smell, would wreek, like goat cheese or something stinky like that.

I can't really explain what exactly inspires these bummy, feeling sorry for myself and lonely stints. I have a few ideas of what causes them, and trying to deal with them makes it worse. Let's just say it involves my own stupidity and inability to think clearly. And despite knowing how I fuck myself over, I still can't seem to nip it in the bud before it becomes a problem.

The last couple of days, I thought I was going to be okay, because I was so wrapped up in reading Philip Pullman's His dark materials, but i quickly realised that if i kept reading at that rate, I would go blind and finish my book much too early into my vacation. But trying to find something to distract myself with has been difficult. I got an idea, of making myself a clutch purse/wristlet. And if it turns out okay, making one for my friend Axel as a grad gift (probably along with something else, which I still havent decided!). However, I can't seem to muster up the energy to sift through my craft bin full of pretty fabrics, buttons, thread and unfinished ideas.

All my late nights have caused me to feel utterly tired and generally uninspired. But I can't seem to be able to fall asleep...too much thinking and too much fooling myself into believing things that aren't real or will ever be real.

Tonight I'm hitting up a bar w/my dearest Axel, which is more than welcomed, because I need another method of evading my emotions and thoughts. I hope it works. And if I have your number programed on my phone, there may be a chance of some drunk dialing, so I apologize ahead of time.