I'm happy to have put May behind me.

Aside from some slight lifts due to good things in other people's lives, the whole month was pretty much a blur of nothingness.

It's hard to get up any enthusiasm to journal when your weeks consist of work and sleep, even on the weekends, and little else. Once in a while you have to get out and do something worth talking about.

The boringness has crept into reality as much as journaling. Without having done anything but work, I don't have much to talk to anyone about. Not that I'm a magnetic presence anyway, but I feel like there's no reason to even bother talking to anyone else, since the most exciting thing to happen in the past month was moving furniture around in my house. Yawn.

Being locked out of the house isn't a conversation either; it's just a quick anecdote with limited mileage.

So people ask me, "What have you been up to?" and I can only give them a glassy-eyed cow stare.

"Up to?" It takes a while to even process the words. I've taken boring to self-stupifiying levels, and have nothing to say.

Even my last dreams have been boring.

It's making me frustrated, especially knowing work will be getting busier and I'll have even less free time.

Each day has been a blunt reminder of missed opportunities and more impending boredom.