I’m in a funk. I suppose it’s that time of the year. I feel like I live in darkness. I go to work in the dark; I drive home in the dark. And if it’s not raining (thankfully, the snow’s held off this winter), I get a few beams of sunlight through my classroom windows in the morning, but it’s still not the bright light of spring or the intense light of summer. I miss the sun. And unfortunately when I get in a funk, I get in a funk about everything.

I stand in the kitchen, and I don’t know what I want to eat. I sit with the TiVo list and stare at what I’ve recorded, not knowing what I want to watch. I pick up a book, and I’m only lukewarm about it because I don’t know what I want to read. I’m in a funk.

Of course, I’m blaming my reading funk on the weather. Some people might say it’s because I read too much. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I’m just simply bored with all the YA I’ve been reading. I’m tired of vampires. I’m tired of werewolves and shape shifters. I’m tired of whining girls and buff boys and absent parents. I’m just tired.