A day of reluctance to work, followed by a short period of burning passion, followed by disillusionment and apathy pushed back for a moment and then unleashed in its entirety. So pretty much my entire life. I wonder how much of NaNoWriMo I'm going to do this year before I run out of steam and say "fuck it". Maybe twenty thousand? I'm already three weeks behind on Stats and Psych, which (predictably) I started three weeks ago while promising myself I'd get on them as soon as I could. Now my fingers dance noncommittally on the keyboard. I dance noncommittally on the edge of my idle life.
My eardrums have taken to spontaneously popping in the last couple weeks, in addition to various other ailments which appear to come and go as they please.
I decided to abstain from IRC for forty days. It's probably not going to help, but I'll be damned if I let that stop me. I open a couple more tabs and refresh the ones I already have in the vague hope that someone will say something I find relevant. Fruitless.
Perhaps it would be better for me not to be noding today; when I'm in despair I have a tendency to sound like a pretentious asshat because the part of my brain that makes clever metaphors and balances my writing on the knife-edge of asinine absurdity and pathetic reality never worked^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hshuts down. As a result, instead of being funny or insightful this writeup is going to be whiny and irritating, disgusting even myself when I read it again in a couple weeks. And I told myself I was going to stop whining about everything. Pshaw.
It's not so much that I don't know what I'm going to do after high school as it is that I haven't even considered a course of action. Fuck.