I hate certain words, like what most people call a hooded sweatshirt. Mostly they are words that remind me of the Saturday Night Live skit about saving time through using shortened words: "I'm about to die by lethe inject."
Throughout my mission, I hated the word "trunky." And the word "greenie." And a lot of other mission slang. Just about the only mission slang term I didn't hate was "blue dog," the meaning of which nobody knew. It was in our mission handbook as an example of a slang term to not use, but no one had ever heard it. It was speculated by missionaries that the term was invented by the AP who wrote that section of the handbook; supposedly he invented the term with no meaning behind it, confident that if it appeared on a list of banned words, missionaries would start to use it.
But lately what I've been feeling can be perfectly summarized by the word "trunky." I don't want to be here anymore. Problem: I don't yet have another place to go.
How does this affect you? Well, I might be blogging less frequently for a while. Don't interpret this as a typical depression-fueled quiet spell. This is just being ready to move on and not being able to.