I've never felt like this before when I'm about to leave for a vacation. I always have some kind of specific expectation about what I'm getting myself into. And this time it's fairly straightforward, I know whom I will be seeing, what I'll be doing. But I feel puzzled about the whole thing. Worried about work once I get back, worried about the next few months which by and large are yet unknown, about things I've told myself I would do and still not started, about things I planned to do but never felt like doing, asking myself why that is and why I really look forward to something at a time when I can't do it and then lose that passion when the moment comes. Whether I should stop planning anything at all, so that at least I won't be going through a list in my head of stuff that never got done. Impulse decisions, when successful, are the ones which give the highest rate of satisfaction afterall. But that means I have nothing on my plate, nothing to think about and that isn't good at all. Because then I just end up wasting time.

The last two weeks were so much like many many summers before. Home alone, with a lot of projects on my mind, few if any I ever started, none completed. Without direction, without passion. Summer is supposed to be fun, right? At least work has a purpose and that's good to have, but then a bunch of plans I should be excited about and I just feel indifferent. Why is that?