The blanket of silence, the early morning light that illuminates the cracks in the blinds as though the could glow just faintly. Occasionally a car passes, headlights reflecting off the windows that have no blinds. My chair squeaks. The baby makes noises in the last little bit of his sleep. There is a cadence and rhythm to my mornings, the key board, the soft light of the computer screen the coffee maker as it spits the last bit of ethereal black coffee into the pot the ear half tuned the boys as they sleep, ready to get them what they need and hoping they stay asleep for just a minute more, maybe two.

There is a sense of emptiness upon me this morning, the morning rhythm remains the same, in form, but the general feeling is distracted. My focused has gone wanting and the individual turns of life, each manageable on its own, are combining to be one giant snafu. This is my third attempt at writing this morning, who wants to read this dribble? This mindless reflection on who i am, what i am doing, where i am going--or not?

It seems my blog is degenerating into the indulgent reflections on the unfair nature of life. The constant focus on trying to lift out of the whole, the unemployment, the need for work and identity. Try as i might, i can not lighten the words that appear on the screen, almost as though i have no control over what i write.

I can feel the frustration well up so I've got to stop, today. Tomorrow is another beast altogether.