I'm sitting in a small coffee shop in Northside, a small hip little community north-west of Cincinnati proper. I'm waiting on my beloved, Nathaniel, while he gets his hair cut, pretending to get some work done. I have work I'm currently neglecting, of course, there's always, always a soul-destroying pile of work I should be tending to, regardless the time of the year or the time of the day. No matter how hard I work I know I should always be working harder, and it's a bit difficult to keep spirits up in light of it all.

I'm glad to find myself writing, though. Now that I have everything I "want"- a wonderful, handsome, loyal boyfriend, a career and a passion I'm quite good at, a group of friends I go out with often, a charming apartment- I'm utterly restless and discontent. With the exception of Nate and at times design, everything seems trivial, superficial and meaningless.

Bah. I feel restless. I always feel restless, though. What a petty little wretch I am.