I’ve been angry lately.

Well, it’s mostly cranky, with a thin layer of anger on top.

There are several things my mood could be attributed to, all of them poor excuses for my being such an asshole, but explanations just the same – hormones, being in a weird place at work, much-anticipated fantastic dinner party plans foiled, a dire need for a haircut, no dinner plan laid out for the week, and dirty dishes in my sink every night when I get home.

Last night I dreamt I yelled at Jamie. Like, SCREAMED at her. Y’all, I have never raised my voice in anger to my best friend – I think all of my yelling in her presence has been drunken and/or Trivial-Pursuit-related, or masked as “singing”. I woke up very upset and guilty – I’m sorry, Jamie, for being such a d-ck. If it helps at all, in the dream, after my outburst, I continued cooking you dinner in your kitchen, and no, I had not slipped anything in it (ha).

I am waiting for something to happen, something to spur me into action, something to propel me into the next phase of…something. A few weeks ago I went through this (weird) phase where I kept thinking I was twenty-five years old – for some reason my age kept coming up, and I kept thinking, “Yeah, I’m twenty-five. OH SHIT WAIT I’M TWENTY-EIGHT. I HAVE LOST THREE YEARS!”. Because nothing much has changed. And I realized that life *is* basically the same thing over and over again, but the only thing I have to mark the passage of time are my haircuts, six weeks apart. It’s depressing.

I need a change.