I could write a book about this.

But I won't. I won't even write about it here and I barely talk to my friends about it.

I've been growing distant and there is no real emotional connection these days to anything. Sometimes I feel like I just go through the motions and put in my face time. I come home talk to a computer and feel even further away from everything.

I'm the furthest thing from down and the furthest thing from up. I'm pretty apathetic about things and when it comes to myself I'm pretty selfish. I'm not willing to have my time and energy drained.

I'm all ears and I'm here but not for drama.

I'm laying on the floor thinking right now. Well maybe not since I'm typing this but I am thinking sort of.

I'm thinking about how the traffic lights they are putting at the 4way stop is going to fuck up my commute. My commute is 5 minutes by car on a bad day and 15 minutes if I get breakfast made at the bakery. It is hard to believe soon I won't be living in the county just in another section of urban sprawl that has made its way to our place. Our barns will be replaced with "affordable" town houses and our orchard will be replaced by snot nose kids out to escape the suburbia they are forced to live in.

I'm thinking I need to get off my ass in gear and get this thing I call a life rolling. I keep getting asked why there are no ladies in my life? There is a simple answer and there is a long answer and neither of them are about me being gay (Sorry Shaynebow I like the ladies. You'll have to try someone else). And I'm not going to get into either.

I'm thinking of escaping to somewhere that isn't here. Travel was my first love and I've been bitten once again. Where I want to go is irrelevant and so is money. I just need a break from being me and focus on the road. My dream of travel writing/photography is still strong and last night I dreamt of making fake "Lonely Planet" business cards and seeing how much stuff I could do for free.

I'm thinking I just ran out of whiskey.

The following are some thoughts I scribbled on my hand today.

If someone came up to me and said "looks like someone has a case of the Mondays" I'd probably punch them in the throat.

It's been roughly a week of a horrible case of writers block. It isn't like things haven't happened I just kept drawing a blank. When my pen has hit the paper and turned up nothing. The same goes every time I tried to type something. Someone suggested that maybe it was because I took January off from drinking (for the most part). I had four beers since New Years and even that felt like too much.

I always think of the best jokes at your expense after I leave.

We are going to Cuba in November (maybe) and I think I need to go on vacation before going on vacation. My dad suggested I go to Cuba without my friends. I'm thinking of New York or Chicago. The latter of which I almost moved to last year to go to school. I keep forgetting to get on with my life and follow my dreams of being a  brew master, internet celebrity, professional photographer, and whatever else I dream of this week.

I don't really like going to America and why I want to go there on vacation is beyond me.

I'm going to finish this glass of whiskey and pour myself another in hopes of unblocking my writing.