In the meantime, outside that game of re-editing my story to be good enough, I write up my application for the computer game team and include a few of the children's stories I've written here. The decision is made even before I've shown him my hand. He concedes, smiling. I've won the pot; I'm on the team. "Quite a great read," he said to me. I thought they were ok. I even have a mostly finished non-application story now.

It's nice to have something else to do...but over the past few days I've been very sad and lost. I wish I could tell you why. In my mind it's the ending point of dusk, just enough to see by. I feel a hemp rope tied around my ribcage. I'm dangling in this vast black-blue ocean like a tea bag, moving ever so slowly. This part of my life is a dream world. I lose track of time. Everything moves so slowly, yet time moves. It's near the end of october. It was just mid September, no, Jen had just left the other week. But which week is it? Where am I? Days blink away like boxes of kleenex.

There are things I should be doing, but they seem far away. Many things and people seem far away, inaccessible. There are stories to write, but I don't feel motivated. Books to read and study, but I haven't the heart to pick them up...and conversations I'd like to have, but it's difficult to move my tongue, my hands. How long have I been here? How long have I been waiting? Maybe this feeling is just passing. Something very upsetting happened to me and I haven't taken it at all well.

I want to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, try to divine the future from the moon surface plaster. I'm relying on just one man to give me a job soon, a job which the professor can't gaurantee will be there. I tried calling him today, to say I'd work near full-time for part-time pay. I'll try again tomorrow. This type of lifestyle is becoming too comfortable.

Way too comfortable.

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