no, this isn't blogger burn out; and yes, i am writing without thinking about what i am writing--regardless of punctuation, substance, and style. i hardly have the time to read, anything. not blogs, not books, not the paper, not even the writing on the wall. which makes me feel crazy and empty, or maybe it's the emptiness makes me feel crazy, or, maybe it's the craziness that makes me feel empty. just functioning and playing all empty and crazy; knowing it's more serious than i take it, and blaming it on the fact i haven't touched a paperback in just as long as the last time i felt a hardback. everything is out of whack: priorities, goals, bills, my day planner, my closet, and the living room...total chaos. stretched so thin by expectations and "lifestyle". i'm ready for the northwest.