shad

This was a bad week for me. Every once in a while I get sick of my job. I mean, I'm always a little sick of my job, but this is more of an extreme reaction. I have trouble being polite to my coworkers. I have trouble getting out of bed in the morning. When I get home, I'm so depressed that I can't work on my writing, my art or my language studies. I get snippy with la femme. I don't play with my dog. I drink. I'm generally unpleasant to be with. I don't like myself.

Anyway. I think this particular episode is over. I spent an hour with a sketchpad last night, just to confirm that I still couldn't draw. I read some comic books.