In which le secrétaire considers her ennui

June Wozniak sits at her writing table and drums her fingers, lost not in thought, but lost in the vast emptiness of thought.
It's truly astounding how quickly one's passions can evaporate. Things once so boiling, so maddeningly moving to you at one time evoke nothing more than an ice-like blankness of thought at another. Hums and lets her eyes fall shut to think, and nothing comes but white.
My career is at a standstill in my real life, and not suprisingly, this is reflected in SL. A child full of potential has withered into a lackluster adult, and the bright shiny future is dimmer than I remember. Any thoughts of science or such nearly make my stomach roll. In the hopes that I could use my education to add to Caledon's scientific culture, I signed up to prepare a collection for the library system. It's very nearly complete, but the collecting process has unveiled feelings that I would rather keep shrouded, that maybe my childhood aspirations are gone and I've gone down the wrong road. My collection has comes to a standstill, and it's a little more than ironic to see the librarian (albeit virtual, certainly do not do that title justice in real life) suffer writer's block.
It is at these times that the skies of Caledon look a little brighter, the copper has more luster, the music rings a little lighter. Every creative endeavor is not only possible in Caledon but reaches the pinnacle of its expression. While the typist mopes in her lab, I'm discovering new parts of myself in the hopes that I can send them home to her. June shall become the artist, and she shall grow a new heart of color and music and pretty words, then she will wrap it in paper poetry and send it home to la secrétaire.
Notices the sun is particularly inviting over the bay of Wells, lays down her pen, and goes for a ramble.