The rain.

If left unoccupied long enough, my thoughts start swirling with memories of all sorts of things. Everything good and bad. For the most part, I can't pick out any of them to concentrate on. Though with a few of these, the last thing I'd want is concentration. So many memories. Most as vivid as the day they occured. Which leads me to my next point. This past year, out of the 15 or so that I can remember, is the most uneventful year of my entire life. I'm tired of doing nothing, yet thus far, nothing is all that I can get. One should not dwell on the past, however. Even as I consciously look forward, my subconscious keeps looking back. Why that is, I don't know. Any sentence that might invovle the word "try" will likely make that sentence sound like I've given up. It'll take a lot more than this to make me give up. I've just grown weary of this loop.