prosaic

there are times when you are sitting, waiting for something � an appointment, a meeting, someone or something � and the time is frustratingly perceivable. waiting for a good smelling meal that, of course, has to be roasted for hours. you could put money down that it has been forty minutes, when really not even half that has passed.

.. and then there are the other times. when you look down at something and look back up to see that most of an hour has slipped by.

i'm living in the latter of late. nothing is getting done, and in lieu of doing what i need to be doing, nothing is getting done. i'm just glazed over. i tried coming up with a metaphor of how much, or in what way. nothing came.

i've told myself that as long as i am glazed over i might as well get work done, so that whenever i snap out of it, everything will be magically completed. but i know it doesn't work that way.

i think about other things a lot. i don't know what to do about that.