Bored to soul-eaten death

There is something wrong with me. Something seriously and disturbingly wrong with me. I am done with the semester (and have earned a pretty nice looking GPA if I do say so myself), and yet, I am not excited, I have not responded to this accomplishment with utter joy and happiness, and I am already bored to tears. I have no idea how to entertain myself! When did this happen?

For the first ten years of my life, I was an only child and therefore learned pretty quickly how to enjoy spending time on my own. I usually did this by pretending I was a lion or a deer or something, and I would literally live in that imaginary world for hours. And I never got bored! What creativity! I have always considered myself to be a pretty creative person. So why am I suddenly wasting the day away waiting for inspiration to hit?

I have been looking forward to the summer for quite some time now. True, I'll be very busy soon enough: I'm taking two summer courses throughout June and July and will be continuing my nannying gig for most of the summer. Still, I'll have plenty of down time, and the main reason I've so been looking forward to these summer months is because I've been planning on USING that down time to work on my writing and actually get some fiction written, for Pete's sake! I'm sick of talking about it without actually having anything to show for it.

But what happens when I sit down at the computer, the story I started WEEKS ago sitting in front of me, with tons of time to spare? Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Yes, I've heard of writer's block, thank you, but I refuse to use those dirty little words. Because saying you have writer's block certainly doesn't fix the problem. Of course, you could say the same thing about any complaint. I know I can be good at complaining sometimes, but I know that whining "I'm tiiiiired" repeatedly really won't help me be un-tired. Sigh. Sigh, indeed.

It doesn't help that today has been a pretty blah day weather-wise, and all I've really done is go to the doctor, call Comcast, and eat some soup. Picking up the guitar was just a vain and disappointing attempt at creating something.

Probably one of the main reasons I'm in such a despondent mood (glad you're reading this, aren't you?) is because Justine, my roommate and friend of three years, left this morning to go live on silly Long Island with her friends and family for the rest of the summer. And because I'm moving back to my mom's when the lease runs out, this was our last day of living together.

This is Justine:

Oh wait, no. THIS is Justine:

You are jealous that I got to live with that for so long. To quote Monica from Friends: "It's the end of an ERA!"

So, yeah. Back to living in this huge apartment all by myself.

Which is precisely the reason why I can't let myself waste my time any longer. Because if I do, I'll start to become paranoid and imagine that a soul-eating demon thing is trying to break into my apartment at night when I'm eating Fritos in my Snuggie while watching reruns of Frasier. Or something. This is how my imagination will compensate for the lack of written word.

Nothing like fear as motivation!