The Sound of a Broken Record

It's early morning and I'm having some bout of depression (again, I'm already not excited getting depressed.) I miss my friends. I miss my freedom. I miss my family. I miss the cinema. I've been working nonstop this past week or so and my body clock has gone awry. I can't keep track what time I sleep and eat anymore. Headwriting and writing for a weekly soap is hard. Especially when you're not really a scriptwriter by heart. My co-writer Michiko is still in Amsterdam (or Spain?) attending festivals screening her opus Magnifico. Would you believe I was working last weekend when the whole town was in a holiday? I'm tired already. I still have to finish this sequence treatment before the production crew pulls out for taping. And my daily habit's getting predictably boring. I would sleep after this, wake up to hear Direk's comments, and then write again. I'm procrastinating not because I'm lazy but because I'm drained. Actually did nothing the first 2 hours I logged in but surfed random blogs and websites. I feel down. These blog writers seem to be having fun all the time. I hate listening to Launchcast's Adult Alternative radio station. The songs there make me all the more depressed. I want to go on whining but time's running out. The sun is about to rise. Reality strikes back and I don't think I can beat the deadline. I'm dead.