And part of it may have to do with the upcoming execution in Georgia. Yesterday after work, I went with the Campaign to End the Death Penalty folks to the Lake Merritt BART station to set up tables & hand out information about Troy Davis (for me, doing this type of work is always simultaneously important/empowering and terribly sad). Georgia is scheduled to execute Troy Davis a week from tomorrow; he was convicted in 1991 of killing a white police officer, but since then, 7 of the 9 witnesses have recanted (there's no physical evidence). One of the remaining two witnesses is the other principal suspect.
(Here's a link to Amnesty International's efforts to stop this execution).
When I'm in a mood like this, I always face the following decision: Do I indulge my wayward emotions and give into the melancholy by listening to sad songs, taking long baths, etc.? Or do I buck up and go to the gym, listen to clips from my favorite prank caller, and force myself to snap out of it?
I think one of the curses of being an extrovert is the longing for others to make you feel better. It takes so little to cheer me up; therefore, my inclination is to think Ugh, if only she would do this . . . or, if only he would say that. Which is ridiculous. People can't read minds.
(Speaking of which, I've been listening to the Killers' Read My Mind on repeat for days).
Here's hoping for a halted execution, a shift in the moon's path, and cheerier days. After all, we're barreling toward the weekend.