These last few weeks have been rather depressing, really. At least that’s how I feel in this immediate second. I know that I don’t really have much to complain about, and my current desire to whine is probably tied to the way my sleep-deprived brain functions on improbable amounts of sugar. Somehow that does not seem to help me feel any better.
People talk about winter as being the time when the blues set in, but for me it is usually the spring. Allergies attack, duties pile up. Before I know it, I am drowning in the desire to lay on the couch and watch embarrassing television for weeks. I consider this year a bit of a victory, because I didn’t completely sabotage my grades during the annual Spring Slump. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it. I seem to be getting better at battling this with age.
I did a lot of writing this week that I was proud of; a piece on how feminism has failed me, and an impressive cover letter. The computer dumped them both. They don’t exist anywhere. I’ve re-created the cover letter, but I haven’t had the heart to re-create the other.
I shall close this out by resolving to get more sleep and be a cheerful girl tomorrow. Or as soon as I can.