It's Monday in Palau. Easter has ended. The gigantic loaves of Ukrainian Easter bread Daniel spent 9 hours baking yesterday mostly remain in my kitchen, untouched. He says he didn't mean to make so much. But the recipe just kept calling for more and more flour. And eventually, we had enough bread to feed the entire country. Our day was exactly like that episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy accidentally bakes so much bread that it comes out of the oven and pins her against the wall. Except our day had way less domestic abuse.

I'm feeling a little down today. Low energy. Maybe I'm coming down with a bug of sorts. Lohan will not be happy. Or maybe it's just one of those days. I've been having some extra stresses lately, and I think I'm also feeling the effects of knowing how much stuff I need to get done before I head to the U.S. at the end of next week.

Whatever it is, I'm so wanting to climb into a comfy bed and shut out life for a little bit. I'm also, contradictorily, feeling like going for an ultra-long run. Sometimes I think my soul is schizophrenic. Can that even be fixed? Heavily medicated? What? Cheesecake is the cure? WELL, IF YOU INSIST!

I think all-in-all I'm just feeling a little bit overwhelmed today. Overwhelmed by the thought of an unsure future and a confusing present where I don't really know what it is I'm supposed to be doing. You know that feeling when you walk into an incredibly messy room to clean it and you just don't even know where to start? So you end up staring at it for 30 minutes before going and making yourself a sandwich?

I should never get a job working for that tv show Hoarders. I would get to the house, look around (from a safe distance) and be all like "nope. This one has reached the point of no return. Moving on!" And then a few of the cats would follow me home because cats tend to see my aloofness toward them as a challenge.

Do any of you out there ever feel like your life goes that way sometimes? Not the hoarding thing. Or the cat thing. The thing about staring into a messy room and not knowing where to start.

The thing is, I know that things need to be done. I know that plans must be made. And in some cases, I know what those things and plans are. But I don't always have the faith that they're going to get me where I want to go. So instead, I go and make a proverbial sandwich.

Don't get me wrong. I recognize that I have had the opportunity to do some neat things in my life and have met some great people along the way. I've also experienced a lot of crippling disappointment---more so than I think a lot of people around me are aware. And I can see, bit by bit, how all of these things have been for my own good. And I'm thankful for that.

And I know that occasionally I fail despite my best efforts. I'm learning to come to terms with this. But sometimes I wonder if the reason I haven't achieved some of my dreams is just because I haven't been brave. Because I've talked myself into believing that a certain goal is unrealistic or not really worth the effort instead of taking a series of plunges to find out whether that's true.

Bleh. I expect you all to send me a therapist bill by the end of the week. What? You guys aren't certified therapists? And I've been telling you my problems for how many years now?! I feel so violated!

~It Just Gets Stranger