Hammer-philia

"I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my throat, it caresses me- and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me."

I usually don't begin my entries with Sartre quotes, but there's nothing that really epitomizes these days like the sentences from Nausea. I went to my parents' home for a week, and came back sick on the airplane. I have 4 important papers pending of which I cannot begin. It is saturday night and I am in the library. I have read all of 3 pages in the 4 hours i have been here. WHat's going on!? I need some motivation back.