…often come wrapped in a few lines of text, like the email I received from an old family friend yesterday. My Wednesday at work was pathetically Thursday-ish, chaotic, and frustrating beyond belief. I was at the office past eight, and I’m still not quite as caught up as I’d like to be, but, mostly so.
I’ve come home too tired to write, even though my mind is burning with ideas, with words desperate to get out, almost every day this week. I miss the days when I had time for daily entries, even multiple entries, and I’m trying to find a way to reclaim that.
I’m in a really horrid place work-wise. The charm of it being a new job has worn off, and I’m bored and restless. The people are cool to hang out with during the forced captivity of working hours, but I keep feeling like there’s something More or Better I could be doing.
I turn thirty-six next month.
Shouldn’t I know by now what I want to be when I grow up?