I don't know why I've been having so much trouble writing these past few days. It is not lack of things about which to write. There is a ton of stuff I want to say to all y'all, it just feels firmly stuck in my brain, right next to the inter-dimensional portal by which the gnomes from Gnome Depot enter our world. Watch out for them. Learn their names, their habits, their gnomenclature. It is the only way to survive.

Anyway, I wish I could get the pesky fellows out of my brain and on to the page. It would be a victory of sorts. True, it would not be a great victory, but even a gnominal victory is still a victory. Like when someone wins America's Next Top Psychic. It is rarely a surprise. Yet the show has been gnominated for a gnomber of awards.

It looks like these gnomes are firmly lodged in my gnoggin. They seem to be affecting my thinking. Stupid gnomes.

Anyway, I'm getting sick of making awful puns, which is a sure sign that I am depressed. But about what am I depressed? It is hard for me to pinpoint.

Oh, and I really hate my job. It is definitely the company I work for, not the type of work. It just hit me the other day that all the people in management are completely insane. My boss, for example, is not a bad guy, but he is warped. I got in yesterday and he suggested that from now on I should take my laptop home with me over the weekends so that no one will steal it. I asked him what everyone else did with their laptops over the weekend, and he said they took theirs home. Well, it turns out that this is a blatant lie. That would make me angry, if it didn't befuddle me. I mean, why did he single me out for this idiotic lie?

I guess I shouldn't get my hopes up about finding a place where people aren't quite so insane. But I did email that recruiter yesterday, and I will call him this afternoon. I hope he has good news.

Reading
Wishing
Plotting