This day promises to be a whirlwind of stillness. The fact remains that I'm busy. But somehow, I'm not very busy. That is to say, I have to write a paper today, and I have a lot of reading to do today, and I have to drive to Columbus and back. And yet, there isn't a hell of a lot of activity in any of those activities. Today is going to be one of those days when I end up stiff and sore and think: "How the hell? It isn't as if I've been doing anything!" But I'm in no position to complain about a more relaxed pace.
I wish I had something better to write about. But I haven't. I'm always a boring kid; but sometimes, I'm profoundly boring. It's effort enough keeping myself entertained, much less entertaining my masses of readers.
