nada

There is nothing to say about work, nothing to say about anything really.  You know, I have all these things going through my mind and I feel like I should write a worthy entry – instead I putter along, tinker and toy and read about everyone else’s life while not writing mine.  I’m not hiding, not at all, I’m just mulling it over.  Next week I am transfer back tot he other resort I was working for, I am glad for that.  The tensions that run inside this place its ridiculous, to absolutely dread coming to work is not right.

I write.  Its how this guy and I met, well on Monday I put a book of my writings – thoughts about him, me, life, us, sadness all of it really (and yes all of the pieces somehow pertain to him in some kind of way) in the mail.  He should have it by the time he is home this weekend.  For some reason I am antsy, I feel all discombobulated.  I feel out of sorts.  Honestly, I am sure that it also stems from work and whatnot but it carries over.

This is filled with a whole lotta nothing really.  I need to go try and accomplish something…