The word of the day is 'comfort'. June 01, 2002 - 2:58 a.m.

I miss the lake.

When I lived at the lake, it felt like everything was in place. Not necessarily perfect, and maybe not complete... But there was still that feeling that things were sliding where they needed to be. There was comfort and contentment in all the voids where there was none before. I had dozens of ideas that I started planning and was eager to finish. I may not have had a job then, but I had that feeling that I would easily find a way to get things taken care of. My life had a more domestic shape to it. A distinguishable shape.

Now it's a blob. A completely useless blob. No form. Complete mess.

I recently came to the conclusion that when I left the lake, is when my motivation died. Within the past week or so I've just started to get random ideas again, but even that is rare. Besides, I may have the ideas, but I still lack the ambition. Empty aspirations? I'll search a dictionary for ages and still never find the right words to express these muted feelings floating around.

Get. Out. Of. Slump!

When I'm home I can't even perform mundane activities. So I'm certainly not capable of anything involving more depth than breathing and changing channels on the TV. When I'm at home, I'm to depressed annoyed angry to function. When I'm here, a house that's not mine, I actually feel happy and slightly motivated. But I can't get comfortable. Comfort is a huge issue for me in order to follow through with any creativity. I don't have my own space here. Every inch of this place is shared with someone else. That's just a single reason why I want my own place... to have MY space with a big comfy chair. As much of a TV/movie whore as I am, I don't even care if this space has a television. Fuck media! Give me an empty room and a comfortable chair.

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