generalized blech

Today has been one of those days in which all of the ordinary events take place against a low but steady background hum of anxiety. Nothing too urgent, nothing too focused, just a constant and low-level uneasiness. Should I apply for a PhD program I'm looking into, or is it too soon? Is my landlord going to evict Nell (my cat's cat), or was it just an offhand comment? Is there going to be enough water to drink in 10 years, and will there be any trees left to drink it under? Will it ever stop raining and feel like spring? Will I ever feel like I have a purpose, or will the next 60-odd years be one long stretch of meaningless bumping around, sometimes with friends but mostly alone?

It's hard to believe that one week ago, I was happily and confidently forging my way (quite on my own) across a foreign country with nothing but a Rough Guide and a steady intake of nuclear-strength coffee for security and courage. Now that I'm back home, every little thing seems too overwhelming, too suffused with hidden pitfalls and vaguely menacing consequences to take any action at all.

God, I hope it's just the weather. It's been dreary enough long enough to knock the starch out of the staunchest pirate (when did pirates start taking over this blog? that's the second reference this month...). Maybe I better go look at my vacation pictures again, in the hopes that photographic evidence of my former moxy will cause it, like the mythical south, to rise again.

Arrr.