Bad Days

Some days, I am sure, I am only going to fail. Those days--the Bad Days--are the days that leave me feeling hollow, contemplative, wondering exactly why I am the way I am. Is there a conspiracy against me, or am I truly stupid for the day? Usually I am a thinker, that is I like to think well ahead before speaking; I truly believe the tongue is a beast unable to be broken. On those days, days like today, I screw up and the world screws up around me. I make a list of things to do for the day, early in the morning, and I accomplish two out of the ten, and those were the easy ones, like make a pot of tea and do the dishes. And then, somehow, I wind up being stupid and feelings get hurt and then nothing productive happens for a while, which is okay, but stressful. And then things are going good, but I open my mouth and say something and feelings get hurt and still nothing productive happens. We go and grill out, which is great, cause it's nice feeling outside, and we are visited by a self-proclaimed hobo. The man, Lee, had just been kicked off a train and was walking around when he said he could smell our food, which he asks if he can have or buy a burger off of us. We give him two, but we have no buns with us outside, but he's thankful. Tells us about his travels and all he has on him is a light jacket and a plastic bag full of odds and ends. And then supper's all done and we bid Lee a good night, head in and eat with some old friends and talk about times back in the dorms, back when we lived on the 4th floor of Threlkeld. We talked about the time a water balloon was dropped and hit that man in a suit. We talked about blowing up water bottles in the microwave. We talked about filling a room with somewhere around thirty life-size cut-outs of ARMY men. But still nothing productive. Me and Keisha leave and go get gas, which is productive, but not in the sense I need to be productive. We get home and I sit down, here, still contemplative. See, I'm an engineer, and so I think about things differently than the layman. I want to do things efficiently and productively, I like to budget and plan, and these things lead me to being less stressed. I like spontaneity, sure, but just as long as I've made time for it. And my mind still thinks back to things said and actions done earlier, and I still feel slightly hollow, even if I'm full from the burgers. What do I have to show for the day? A gallon of tea and some clean dishes. That's it. I've got a billion projects to finish for school and homework to complete and papers to write, but I just don't have the motivation to do it. Instead, I find myself typing my thoughts here, on my blog, for no apparent reason but to put my mind onto paper, albeit an electronic pad. But who cares? I'm young, right, so I should do this kind of stuff. Stay up late and procrastinate. I hate procrastination, friends. I hate it with a passion. But I fear that I am one of the only ones left on this planet with that attitude.

Some days I just feel like a cynic. On the Bad Days, though, I feel like a ghost.