It's not rainin...

It's not actually, literally. It's cold, one day before spring and we're having another one of those lovely freezes, and we had some snow, which is still lying around all hard and icy, but i wasn't actually writing about that. I was talking metaphorically. It's not raining metaphorically either, let alone pouring but it is, hmm, which one is the more modest, showers or light rain? I don't know. It might be drizzling. It could turn into rain but I don't want to count my chickens to add in another overused cliche to the mix, before they've, yanno, what chickens do. So some stuff is going on and there's other potential stuff. This time among the lots of potential stuff there are a few confirmed things so I can breathe for a minute. Only a minute though. Nothing too spectacular and not that much of it but for me, this is.. well, it's fucking pouring. Pouring I tell you!!!! Don't worry I'll be back to whining about something soon enough, I might even show up here to do it.

picture of something that's not a cat

Short post about nothing.

I was going to write something substantial, that is, I toyed with the idea, and I had something in my head, at least a week ago now, that I totallz wanted to write, but I didn't, so I won't now. I kinda thought I would anyway, but I can't switch the language to English on this computer, and anything substantial or even substantial lite requires I have the proper writing tools at least. Or properish, nothing's really proper if I'm not on my own computer which I haven't had the use of for over 3 months now. So I'm writing this, and this, is nothing. It's a metaphor for my life. A bit dreary and boring, doesn't work properly and not much else. It's existing, not really living, and not in particular comfort or full of frivolous but entertaining engagements, either of which would happily leave me in a, if not blissful state, a state of being able to ignore, for the most part, that this existence is devoid meaning, or hope, or... there isnt another thing, why do I always feel the need for a third thing.. other than it's a common writerly convention that I'm too unoriginal to omit. There's your answer, not that I asked a question properly because I can't find how to write a question mark on this damn Czech keyboard. Where was I just imagine there is a question mark there sorry to not put this in brackets I can't figure out how to do them either. I was talking about my empty life. Yes, empty without my usual beloved distractions. Sad that I could be relatively happy with this life as long as I had internet and tv and could get warm and comfy in my own home often enough, but that's me. I don't know when, if ever, this will change, and if it changes it will for the better, or enough for the better, actually writing about it just leaves another grumble up here for all the world to see and for me to pore over in future, to get even more depressed because nothing will have changed by that time in the future, or not for the better, or enough for the better. I guess this means it's time to stop.. oh well that's enough of nothing.