And not just in that if-I-could-find-something-to-do-I'd-be-happy way. No. In that restless I-don't-want-to-do-anything vicious cycle kind of way. So, to swipe an idea from Wil Wheaton, here's a random stream of thoughts. Possibly with editing. Here goes:

My parents came today. My mom bought me an orchid, which I may or may not kill in short order, depending on how black my thumb is. They took me out for a truly delectable dinner. Then we sat around my apartment , doing nothing, for a couple hours.

I'm really better at doing nothing by myself.

I love my parents dearly, but I'm glad I don't live at home anymore.

I've quoted from two John Mayer songs today.

Marcus and I broke up 17 days ago.

Lately, my domestic instincts have gone into overdrive. This has led me to clean a lot, buy new plants, sheets, and blankets, and dream about buying a house, complete with a friendly cat to keep me company and a yard with a compost pile and a large garden. Where I'd attain perfect serenity and forever banish afternoon bouts of boredom with my diligent weeding. To top it off, as I read about the annual home and garden show, I actually found myself interested and contemplated going As a child, I was routinely dragged to this show against my will, seething with aggravated disinterest in windows, hot tubs, and perennials. You see? You see why these fantasies are a problem?

No one told me this came with the twentysomething territory. At least people respect twentysomething angst. Teenagers just get indulgent smiles and lectures about hormones and how life's not really that bad.

Sigh.

Not that I have anything against domesticity, mind you. These things are all appealing to me. I just don't understand these sudden, inexplicable desires.

On another note entirely, I'd like to say that I'm afraid. Not of terrorism, and not of Iraq. I'm afraid of a war with Iraq and what will happen in the aftermath. I'm afraid of losing rights and freedoms that I hold dear. Most of all, I'm afraid of my own government and what it will do.

And I'm angry. Angry that the government may perpetrate in my name a war I don't support. Angry that they'll give billions to secure military advantage when those billions could save so many lives. Angry that people believe terrorism can be destroyed by force, or at least by force alone. People don't become terrorists because they're leading posh and happy lives. I'm angry that I feel the representative government of this nation is no longer within the control of those it represents. Angry that I've lost my innocent belief in my country's leaders. Angry that paranoia is being exploited and brandished in the faces of fearful people, and that patriotism is being used to stifle dissent and thought. This is no time to stop examining the world around us or to be blind followers.

Finally, I refuse to live my life in fear. I will not buy duct tape and plastic wrap and glance with suspicion at people standing in the grocery line or sitting next to me on the plane. I'm pretty certain the odds of my being a grouchy old maid are greater than the likelihood that I'm going to die in a terrorist attack.

I've been neglecting this blog lately. This is due in part to lauren's and my project, The Spinster Sisterhood, a blog we lauched for the lot of us. So now I'm posting some things there that I'd have normally written here. Really, though, the reason is that I haven't felt like writing lately. There's no good reason. I have lots of things in my head to write about, but I can't find the motivation. Much like my strange lack of interest in buying music lately. I never thought I'd see the day.