I don’t think it’s just work— it’s my life. My apartment is a wreck of boxes and stuff, I’m continually engaging in sin, manipulation, and lies. I spend time with television and internet, and very, very rarely with God. So I feel dead inside precisely because I’ve let myself become so. Some clean-up is in order. If it doesn’t happen, I fear my batteries will never recharge.
I’m at Victrola Coffee, a new place on 15th. Very cool, and a great alternative to the Starbuck's. A new haunt for me, perhaps. My mood is taking a good turn, and I should probably go take advantage of that.