I have been quiet since I started working because–I guess because what I wanted to say seemed unsayable.  After the first week on the job, when it was all I wished for, it quickly became…I don’t know, bleh!  And I didn’t know why.  And I still don’t.  I’ve spent much of the past month trying to figure out why I’m walking around with a low-level depression.  Is it just my natural state?  Since college I have had what I call my Sartrean moments, when the meaning of life escapes me.  As in–is this all there is?  As in–what’s the point? As in, we live, we die, what the fuck.  So there I was, walking around this at new job, which is supposed to be the apotheosis of my ambition, all that I worked for, and I’ve got a nifty badge hanging around my neck.  But I’ve been feeling quite Jean Paul-ish. 

So I haven’t written in my blog much because a lifetime of whining in pen and paper journals has put me off that avenue.  Woe is me, poor me, and why me ad infinitum, ad nauseum. 

Why am I back?  I don’t know.  Something or someone flipped a switch on Friday, and I feel–well, I feel like me.