I've been wanting to write something here, but lately I haven't had the energy to write much of anything. Well, I've gotten two Scary-Crayon articles up this week -- The Infernal Realm of Paid Surveys and Spider-Man is gross -- but that's about it. I've been sleeping 16 hours a day and feeling like crap and doing little when I am awake. Meh.

So I was lying in bed the other day at 4 PM and was thinking to myself that since my dreams are both more interesting and preferable to my waking life, I may as well just go ahead and end it all. If death is like a long sleep, then it'd definitely be an improvement, and if it's nothing at all... it'd still be an improvement. And then I slipped into sleep and had a strange dream. I was somehow living alone in this house that was apparently based on my current one, but things were in different places -- sort of like when you play a video game in the special "arrange" mode that mixes up the locations of the puzzles. Or maybe all houses share certain similarities. Anyway, the kitchen was on the second floor, the cereal pantry was in the dining room as opposed to the kitchen -- things like that. But there was no furniture anywhere in the house save a small portable television and a telephone on the wall.

Everything looked grey. The wind outside was whipping so fiercely that all of the doorknobs shook as if someone were trying to get in -- and all of the locks appeared to be broken or loose such that I had to struggle against the wind to keep the doors closed. And judging from the fact that my suitcase was open and in a different location from where I had placed it -- apparently I had packed all of my few possessions in this place into a suitcase; I think I had just arrived there -- it seemed as if someone had been inside, but nothing was missing.

But what struck as being most interesting about the dream was that I kept thinking to myself that if I stayed in this place a little longer I would find out why I was there, though I couldn't remember at that moment. The next morning, when I woke up and began to get ready for work as part of my routine, would it strike me then? Or when the landlord or whomever called and/or showed up to collect rent -- I assumed I was paying rent on the place -- would he/she have proof of employment that would tell me where I was supposed to be? Or was I living in the place with a roommate -- it was a pretty big place for just me -- who could tell me what was going on when he/she got in? And even if none of these things obtained I was certain that I would remember why I was there with just a little more time -- when the wind stopped and the sun shone in through the dusty windows and the doors stopped making so damned much noise.

I woke up before any of that happened. When I realized where I was, my first thought was, "Okay, maybe my dreams aren't preferable to my waking life." But then I thought that they were definitely more interesting -- and now, considering the certainty I had that things would somehow come together, maybe that dream was preferable to my present state after all. Of course, my thinking that things would've come together doesn't necessarily mean that they would have -- or that I would have continued to feel so confident about my unusual predicament.

My dreams last night were much more exciting, but I can't quite recall what they were about.

And my birthday's next Tuesday. It's going to suck, like it did last year and the year before that. The year before that it wasn't so bad, but that year I was in school and some people actually came by to hang out with me for a bit. Wonder how they're doing.

Ja ne.