Not funny.

Not funny. I am not funny today. I have nothing funny to say, and I won't because it's late in the day and I'm irked (but not, for once, at myself, which is an improvement of sorts. I've gone from depression to anger, which means I backed up two steps on the stages of grief. Clearly, next I have to slip into denial, after which... all my problems will suddenly disappear? With an audible pop?)

Well, maybe I got some sorta funny. Okay, maybe some posting; I'm irked mainly because I'm in a poor mood, and a little bitchy, and stuff that wouldn't get to me otherwise is getting to me. I'm in a poor mood because I'm not doing what I want to be doing with my free time, namely writing. And I'm not writing because...

Because...

...

I don't know. I lack inspiration, maybe? Or determination. I've got vague ideas; and relatively good ones at that. I just don't have any specifics, and I don't have any drive to work on the ideas I do have. And so I'm, well, irked at myself (but not, really, at anyone else, which is an improvement of sorts. I've gone from anger to depression, which means I jumped two steps on the stages of grief. Clearly, next I have to slip into acceptance, after which... all my problems will fade away? With an audible sizzle?)

... sizzle is the opposite of pop?

... slightly funny.