There are two times in the year I get depressed: Right after my birthday and right after Christmas. This year I thought I had escaped the post-birthday blues, turns out they were just delayed. Probably because I didn't leave a forwarding address at my last place. But anyway, it's here. I know it's here because the first sign is my obssessive need to change my life. There's a reason I call it this static life, and it's because though my surrounds may change I never do. I'm that same person who at times like these, I hate.

Stay tuned for the next stage: my progressive self destruction, where instead of doing the things I want to do I make excusesfor as to why I can't do them and subsequently beat myself up for not doing anything period. Static.