Friday, Friday

Feeling the Friday. Thought not exactly in the Rebecca Black way. Though in a metaphorical sense I guess I am always wondering "which seat should I take."

Lot's of paperwork at work. Lot's more paperwork at home.

Feeling the pain of not enough hours in the day somewhat acutely. It's easy to feel how years could swiftly pass this way.

Writing this in the ten magical minutes the advertising on the tube says it will take to cover my gray hairs. I'll let you know.

Thinking about work. My writing work--not the the other one. Though truth be told, I think about that one too-more than I like. It's all about what surrounds me--which I'm beginning to realize is pretty dangerous.

Also thinking about my friend Kelly, about to undergo brain surgery next week that may leave her sight impaired or blind.

Thinking about pro-Palestinian protesters in Isreal...the way when they mentioned their deaths on NPR no one bothers to mention any details. They don't say "violence broke out" or describe the conflict at all--just that there was a protest, and then there were dead people. Next subject.

Thinking about how the tired I feel when I go to bed at night these days is so utter and absolute.

And how my ten minutes are up now.