Work didn't get out quite as early as I expected. 11 instead of 10. Spurs won, woo-hoo. Honestly sometimes I do my job so automatically that I probably could make some major mistakes and not realize it. Like leave out a box or make some glaring grammatical or spelling error. It's weird. And I was sort of tired today, I don't know why. Maybe b/c of the heavy exercise yesterday or because I ate a huge plate of tacos at lunch. Or something else but I just feel really tired and out of it right now.

Been thinking about the weeks to come, how hard it is going to be to do what I have to do. But life moves on, I suppose.

I miss my sis, she is house-sitting. I wish she was here. She's coming over tomorrow, so that's good.

Why am I so down, I don't know. I guess it's hard on a day like today where you're a little on the tired side to make yourself drive around town and sit through church. Then drive home, laze around for awhile, then get up again and drive to and from work.

I wish I didn't feel so lonely. Maybe I'm not really that lonely but right this second I am. And there are just things I can't talk about with most people. Anyone, really. Like I've been thinking about the past, wondering if it could have been different, wondering if I did the right things. And lately I've been thinking the answer to that is no. I didn't do the right things. I wish I could be one of those sincere people who really believe in what they do. And maybe I strive to be that but for so long I haven't been, I've been kind of a cynical, selfish jerk.

And sometimes I just feel like the biggest loser. Relationship-less my entire life, is something wrong with me? I care and I don't, alternately. Sometimes I think it would be cool to share my life with another person. Other times I think it's a horrible idea. A mess I don't want to get myself into.

I don't know what I want to do with my life. Write? I say that but sometimes I don't feel like writing anything at all. I worry about saying the wrong thing. I worry that people won't like me. I read this article on Slate and I thought it was snobby and condescending (a lot of Slate articles are like that, IMO), trying to be cute and funny but falling flat and I wonder if my writing is like that to other people. Grating. I guess you have to accept that, being a writer. Just that constant self-doubt, that insecurity of putting yourself on the line like that. And if it's really important. Or fun, even. It's so hard to get writing jobs and they pay so little, is it really worth it? I don't know. Maybe it should just stay a hobby.

So I miss my two sisters, neither currently living at home. I miss my co-worker who I never get to see anymore because we work opposite days. I miss my classmates in school. On the bright side, my mom is off for summer break. But that's not always good news. And we don't really share the same interests.

I worry about the world, the decay of morality and reason simultaneously. I think about the war in Iraq all the time and wonder if it will ever end.

This morning at church we had a giant prayer meeting and I really did feel something, like a wave of peace washing over me. Sometimes at home I will pray and will feel like that, very peaceful, like I'm pouring out my soul to God. It was so strange, though, as soon as we started praying I felt that way instantly. I wonder if there really are spirits out there.