Wilkommen, Bienvenue, Welcome.
Im mein journal, au ma journal, to my journal.
It may be Friday, but it's less than 24 hours since the Pact. And no, this isn't one of those worrisome pacts, like for suicide or marriage or the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Is the unexamined life worth living? I think so, but lately my trees have been falling like dominoes, and they haven't been making nearly enough noise.
So here I am, the not-quite-omniscient narrator in my own little story, throwing out hooks left and right in an effort to engage myself. Been funemployed now for almost five months, and frankly, I'm sick of myself. Oh, and sick of it. But mostly myself. Boring. Whiny. Depressed. Eating badly. Sleeping worse. Looking for meaning, or more accurately, distraction, in all the wrong places. I've applied to dozens of jobs. Probably in the triple digits by now. But to paraphrase a dear friend, not having a job is no excuse for not having a life.
But that all ends now. First today. Then the rest of my life. I am using short, declarative sentences. Because I tend to write run-ons with endless commas, and colons; semicolons, even. If language expresses the shape of thought, my thoughts are always trailing away, spinning off into tangents. Got to stay on target, like Porkins. Yes, a TIE fighter blew him away, but for the amount of screentime he got, he is one of the most memorable characters in Episode IV.
I want to be a memorable character. A post-it to that effect now resides in a place of honor near my bed. Further reports follow. The code phrase is "Maple Bar". Mmm, maple bars.