I think that That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French is one of the best short stories I've ever read, even though (or perhaps because) it's written by Stephen King. The point of the story (and the point of several of his stories, he likes that theme) is that hell is repetition. Sure, it's played to great comedic effect in Groundhog Day, and a large number of people claim that they like predictability, but let's be honest: repetition is it's own special version of hell.
Day in, day out, it's the same around these parts. The stagnation, it is exquisite.
Part of it, for me, is the weather. I adore snow, but the fact remains that it's so damned difficult to do anything or go anywhere. Part of it is the job hunt, which is going nowhere fast. Part of it is the sheer mass of unknown looming ahead. Part of it is senioritis-- or can I call it masteritis? The desire to just be done and over with, the lack of will to do what needs to be done to get everything done and over with. Part of it is the feeling that yet again, I care about something that nobody else cares about (my small consolation is that had I gotten an MLIS, even fewer people would care even less that the token amount of interest shown now). None of my friends or relatives has asked what my essay topic is or when graduation is going to happen. While I live most of my life regardless of other people's thoughts, utter apathy about something that's really kind of important still drags me down. If it were a wedding, they'd be (or would probably be) all over that. That kind of irks, because half of all marriages fail while my degree will be forever. But my priorities are obviously not the norm.
Oh well. Speaking of ruts, let's see if I can get jeepzilla moving again before we get yet another snow deposit. And if I can't, then I guess I'll go work in the library, see if I can get some essay inspiration. If not, then I can brainstorm about Klari's question. I could respond with the seven page critique of the Senate and House bills I wrote last semester-- it's written in a more casual style, meant to be an opinion piece rather than a policy brief-- but that would be copping out.
Yeah. I need divine intervention levels of inspiration. Where's Jude when you need him?