I was gently berating my friend for not posting more frequently on her blog. Selfish of me, since I haven't posted since July 6th. I think my friend and I share a common ailment - the events and feelings of our lives feel at once too mundane and too complicated to explain. Sadness, malaise, ennui, SAD, depression, anxiety - whatever name you choose to give your overriding sense of wrongness-with-the-world, it makes blogging difficult. How should I choose words to describe something that I don't even understand, but which is so central to my being? It's like trying to describe breathing, or thinking, or feeling. Or the way the blood feels running through my veins, even while I am not aware of it.

I am drinking an iced coffee with a flavor shot of chocolate-mint, which was suggested to me by the overwhelmingly cute coffee-bar guy. As with all flavor shots, I am ambivalent about this one. I like the flavor, but not the icky sweetness that lingers on the palate, forcing one to take sip after sip in order to wash away the ickiness with another taste. I prefer straight coffee. But, gazing into coffee-bar-guy's eyes, I thought I'd give the flavor another shot.

I don't know how to delete posts, so I am just erasing the text. Blogger was having hiccups yesterday and today I checked my blog to find my painful thoughts and inadequate words published in triplicate. Ouch.

My heart and mind are so full lately. Last night, after a full day of 4th of July festivities, I lay in bed, sweltering and thinking about my life and myself. It felt very painful, shockingly rich, and somehow unfathomable to be lying there, in this body, in this consciousness, in this life. I thought about what I want - that thing that is always just beyond my reach. The unknowable seemed almost knowable for just a minute. The feeling passed - it was too big to carry for longer than a moment. But there are vestiges of it lingering in me today.
A fellow-student's daughter was killed over the weekend. My co-worker's uncle died suddenly yesterday. My boyfriend finally told his parents about his alcoholism. I had a talk with my dad on Monday and told him how I've missed our connection over the last few years. It seems to be a time burdened with too much life and too much death. I don't know where to put all of it. Is it all right to simply go about the day to day routine at a time like this? Can I do anything else? Coming to work feels like such a relief because I know where I will be and what I will be doing for 8 hours. I feel like a dog who wants to go sit in her crate because it is small and protected and known. The world out there is too big sometimes.