I feel like I am catching up on sleep I've been missing for the past god knows how many weeks. Today I wanted to accomplish a lot, but I just wound up getting my oil changed and buying a new fish.

I cleaned out my car, too. That sounds like a small task, but if you saw some before and afters, you'd understand.

The day wasn't a total bust I guess, but when it came time for the sun going down, I had no plans, and just felt too tired to really try to make any.

Tomorrow is some sort of locations department lunch thing near the production office. We're supposed to be in the throes of the blizzard of the century (two inches, maybe more!!!) when I wake up tomorrow, so I'm thinking I'm going to have to take the train. This is something that gives me a great amount of anxiety, as I am taking a subway line I have sworn off on, to a neighborhood I have sworn off on, to a subway stop I have most certainly sworn off on. Directly into the domain and neighborhood of ex-girlfriend du jour who apparently happens to live (with her former ex-boyfriend) directly next to our production offices in Greenpoint.

I worry about this blog basically turning into my old livejournal. The subjects of my depression/anxiety are often what I talk about in the non-computer world though, so I guess it makes sense for it to bleed into whatever vessel I'm expressing myself into.

There's no work until the 5th for me at the earliest (more likely the 7th or 8th). I'm trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with my time. Coming up with some ideas for the documentary I want to make would be a good iea, but I need some sort of motivation in that regard. I'm quite bad at pushing myself to do things to get them done in any sort of timely fashion if they are just for myself.

I have to get the pictures off of my iphone, and then maybe I'll make some sort of fun picture post with all the amazing things I've done lately. Ha. There's been one such instance I think... I ate a lot of nice meat with Maiko and Bob the other night, and that was quite nice. I have a pretty solid photo of a gigantic plate of said meat.

After the meat-y dinner, I went out to meet up with a lady-friend and the guy she is infatuated with at a horrible bar in [the far reaches of] Park Slope. It could not have been a weirder scene. I think everyone was wearing white button up shirts in a cocktail bar ("Cabana") painted entirely white with white furniture and only them in the place. Of course I walked in all in black like the rain cloud I am, sat down, drank a mojito ($9) I didn't pay for, and left promptly thereafter.

This is the kind of thing I fear about writing in an online journal, and the kind of line-item I really work to redact and leave information out of. That stinks. I hate editing myself and not just talking about people directly and bitching like I would to someone in private company.

The whole fucking thing was so awkward. I don't understand this girl, or at least not her relationship with the infatuee, I don't think anyone does, and we've all been trying to figure it out for over a year.

If you are reading this and don't know what the hell I'm talking about, this is entirely uninteresting. If you're reading this and you know basically what I'm talking about, I might as well just tell you about it in meat space. What a horrible term, "meat space."

I will wind up deleting this entry.