Who’s got the funk? I’ve got the funk.

It’s been hanging over me for over a week now.
Sometimes I think I’ve shook it. But it just comes back.
I don’t know what is wrong with me. I really don’t. I could say that this thing or the other just ruined my mood, but that would be bullshit. The truth is that this thing or the other probably wouldn’t have happenned (or at least not have been an issue) if I had not been so buried in this shit mood.

Am I feeling sorry for myself? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying to smile, be positive, to decide to be OK. Not happy. Just OK. That what I’m shooting for here. An even keel. But then when I’m not paying attention, I realize that I have slipped. That everything looks and feels like shit.

Things are not going the way I want.

I want to write. Write on this blog. Write on another. Write a book.
I barely write n this one, less on the other. Book? Don’t make me laugh.
I want to be in shape and be healthy. But my fucking knee is still swollen to twice its normal size. I can’t run with it like that. Of course, my knee didn’t make me pig out on Kentucky Fried Chicken last night. And I do not care it the Corporation changed its name to KFC. It’s still Kentucky Fried Chicken, Dammit!
I could do something besides run. And KFC? What about the pizza, ice cream, and other junk I’ve been shoving down my throat for the last 2 weeks?
I want to design and implement this pet project of mine. And then I have another to work on.
But I don’t. I stall and stall. It won’t get done unless I just sit dwn and do it!
I want to organize my pictures and see if I can make some money selling them.
What could be easier? But more stalling.
I want to mow my lawn. I want to mulch and weed my garden.
My yard looks like shit. I used to have the nicest yard on the block.

Things are not going he way I want, and its all my fault.

Fucking funk.