Funk

The awful thing about a funk is that there is no sure-way to cure it. There is no pill that can be taken twice daily, no ointment to be applied hourly, and no routine to incorporate. It's just...there. And won't leave your side. It makes you think everything you've written is silly, it makes the people around you seem very un-enjoyable, and it makes any duties you have just seem like a pile of nuisances.

The other awful thing about a funk is that it can't always be diagnosed. If you could pin-point what invited the funk, you could find a way to send it right back to where it came from. Maybe it's the absence of friends and family, maybe it's speed bumps and potholes in my road of happiness, maybe it's a house full of petty issues, maybe it's this repetitive and mundane job, or maybe it's just me. Whatever it is, I can't exactly find a remedy if I can't identify just what it is.

Most of my 'fixer-uppers' include ice cream, certain songs and music, reading a good book, watching a good movie, or planning a trip (whether it's for a day or a week). I've unsuccessfully listened to Christopher Cross, looked into planning a cruise, and had a Reese's cup. Funk, is still here.

Maybe I can blame it on this sore throat that won't go away, or the lack of a voice and sleep, or that I'm just plum-wore-out lately. I definitely cannot blame it on hormones, being bored, or having nothing to look forward to. I mean, America's Next Top Model is premiering tonight...

Just. Kidding. This funk has even ruined my ability to make jokes...