I woke up this morning and discovered we're already five days into April. The month of March seems to have escaped me entirely. It appears the lingering effects of Epstein-Barr virus have gotten the best of me. Alas, I have not yet broken free of the grasp of mononucleosis.
So what have I been doing all this time? I can hardly say. Time has become an enigma to me. I remain ambivalent to the days as they pass by slowly and then all at once. Time has become more wibbly-wobbly than usual. (have you seen the latest Who? I am so excited about this new companion! and no more Amy!)
For awhile I was on a hot streak of reading. But then I faltered. Right now I'm about midway through a book called Possession. It's about these two British scholars who discover some long lost letters written by a pair of Victorian poets. They then travel about together to unravel the mystery. It's actually quite good. But it's so dense. It's been a long time since I've had to work this hard at reading a book. As a result, it often sits closed and unread for days at a time.
A deep melancholy and erratic sleep patterns have combined to make my days incredibly long and short at the same time in the most distressing of ways.
But you know what today is? It's my half-birthday. I've survived another six months on this planet. So that's something I suppose.
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