I'm not pschyzophrenic, I swear. I'm just a little overwhelmed. And fighting some sweet insomnia. And by sweet I mean, not really that sweet. I'm reading Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter by Seth Graham Smith (sp?). Maybe I shouldn't read it before bed, lest I continue to wake up in a panic attack about work and the Civil War. In any case, today, as I try to sort things out in my life, what I want to do, what I'm qualified to do, I'm just overwhelmed again. Thankful, but overwhelmed. Moving this week should only add to that misery, I'm sure. Well back to resume writing. Oh fun. Not.