Horribly, brutally depressed today. I’m so out of it I don’t even bother to get my card marked at the coffee place. I remark to myself (on the way) that the one good thing about the day is that the plane may blow up.

I sit here now trying to come up with reasons for it. GW writes that “if” is a child’s word. I’m inclined to add “because” to that list. But I am unable to stop my brain from reasoning in those terms. The surface causes are obvious and don’t bear mentioning. But why should this affect me so? After all, I have convinced myself (multiple times) not to worry about it.

I just took a Portuguese test, and my composition actually has some bearing:

A minha mulher ideal é uma artista famosa. Ela faz quadros de grande beleza e tem muitas idéias novas. Tem mãos belas. Não preciso uma mulher de grande beleza. Gosto de cabelos escuras e de olhos verdes. Também eu gosto mulheres altas. Ela é simpática e muita inteligente, e tem gosto por viagens e quer ver novas coisas.

None of which, except the last, really align. Então por que eu incomodo?