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I wish I had the time and energy to think of something worth writing here. But I am tired. I seem to feel this way all the time. I really want a holiday. instead I'm getting ready for two weeks of hell as I mark and mark and mark. Joy.
My calves hurt. I think it's because I ran for the train today. It normally takes 15 minutes to walk there up the hill; I usually leave 25 minutes, just in case. Today I ran it in nine. my lungs were burning as I sat down. I read the last chapters of my book (Wizard of Earthsea trilogy, by Ursula Le Guin - it's very good) and then I was at some seminar thing. I seem to have trouble paying attention these days. So often I hear just one little detail, something stupid, and it just sets me off on a self-righteous tangent.
The trouble with so-called "self-improvement" is that it tends to make you less tolerant, rather than more, as you might imagine.
I feel weak, weak, weak.
"Sometimes I feel so weak I just wanna explode
Explode and tear this whole town apart
Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart
Find somebody itchin' for something to start" - Bruce Springsteen
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