Upon Reflections

I typed and deleted at least 4 openings to this post, trying to sound all deep and reflective. Its not happening. Its like forced sincerity, or fake emotion, it just doesn't exist. I look around at the empty desks of people who unabashedly took Easter Monday off, and wonder why I didn't. In a morning of contradictions, I think about dedication to a job I don't care about. Is that possible? If not, where does the fallacy lie? Am I not dedicated, or do I care about this job? I am inclined to think the former (which is interesting since sentence arrangements such as the foregoing, where former and latter are established, generally end on the side of the latter- I digress). I merely do what I must to facilitate my lifestyle, such as it is. Is it possible to be too lazy to be depressed? I am a prime candidate if this is the case. Can one be depressed in the general sense without being so in the clinical sense? I think so, because I don't have much black in my wardrobe, and I really hate all the stupid music people who are depressed listen too. Plus I enjoy far too much of life, especially simple and stupid things. Who would have thought that America's Funniest Home Videos could be the deciding factor between a good day and a bad one? Animals, in combat or at play, are always good entertainment. I'll refrain from saying "I've rambled on long enough", as rambling has taken on a literary connotation that I feel is too loosely applied. I'll just say "I'm done."

I'm done.