In the city, a man's heart beats in time to gun shots and tires on asphalt.

I went to bed inspired, I woke up inspired, but quickly I've spiralled back into quicksand. Any doubt that leaving this job won't be beneficial should be answered by the documentation of this moment. This job sucks my creativity and vigor and energy in a way that is not worth the money and security. I have no problem with working, or working hard, or working for a long time, but only when the work is interesting and satisfying and inspiring. None of the above.

There are not enough cups of coffee in the world to counteract my haze of medication and sick distracted fuzzy brain. But I'm going to try anyway, in between glasses of emergen-c. Remember emergen-c? It's back and it's on pogs. I'm sort of functionally sick -- not bad enough to warrant staying in bed and sleeping all day but not great enough that feeling terribly energized or comfortable. If I could stand in a hot steamy shower all day, I would maybe do that, since that worked wonders this morning.

Rather than sitting here making a list of all the things I'd rather be doing, I should make an actual to-do list of projects to complete and then do them. I have to conquer this damn thing and I really only have 6 days to do it. Far greater things have been achieved in less time, so let's get to it.