Water is the most abundant resource on the planet--next to dirt if that's your thing. It comes from all directions, quietly dominating our affairs; just a simple molecule.

And in some dozens of bars tonight, from a million moved in houses, and even stretched out or stuck to the boots of the uglier alleyways around here, is something equally abundant:

desperation.

It's that shift in the summer where you start counting down days until the fall. The fall ain't only a season. Just like fireworks lit up on wings, you burst open in possibilities and crash to the ground--netting some cheers if you're lucky. Scary preview of life, if you ask me.

Everyone begins to come back in droves, people waiting to die a little again. The armed forces do it all at once, get it over with. This other segment of the institutionalized, college folk and us older grad types, we get indoctrinated slowly, subtly, subversively. Some decide to never leave. It's the closest thing to a home that comes. Already decided to give or already gave up the other versions.

And suddenly, as summer nearly goes, there are obligations everywhere. And a million things to do. Time starts to be hoarded in days, then hours, like squeezing a lemon until the rind is beyond recognition.

It's that reedy bitterness in the air, or whatever is churning my stomach like butter. Could be just another bad day at the lab. It was. But it seems so soon that we have to take off our coats and jackets, throw away our hats, get out on the floor, and move to this old song and dance.

I ain't getting any younger.

Means about as much as 'home is where the heart is', considering hearts are stapled to milk cartons damn near everywhere, stuck in dark refridgerators.

But I ain't.

Was a time I'd throw down my obligations, my free time, and maybe a big piece of my humanity into the bonfire of school. It'd burn like daybreak, orange and red and pink roman candles bursting with gasoline and pipe organs.

I've been so lost stumbling on these railway tracks of little lab errors. I nearly missed--I do miss--the busy intersection. With all the mental fanfare, and camraderie had in bitching...all the late night cafe hauntings and completely booked weekends. All of the moderate pressure, and nearly nothing or noone to ease back onto.

That is the desperation I know. That is the hell that is old hat.

One consolation will be, ideally, taking the rest of the summer off of the lab from next week on. I have to. The pain and terror of all these small errors made looming large by campfire is too much, too much next to all this else; all of this otherwise; this stuff. Everyone will agree, I'm sure. I'll come back just in time to give a presentation.

So, one more monkey this week, one more day where one or a few things go wrong and I feel like I'm dying inside. Some people have a natural talent and some struggle to get it, Heather told me today. She's my 3rd supervisor. Helped me feel somewhat better after the row that happened. Today was failing to ask someone in charge about whether shorts were adequate for the monkey floors, for my assistant...and suddenly discovering some important mats that were not there, yet always had been there before. I stood and received my chastisement. The strange thing is that the person doing so seems so..casual usually, until the rules accidentally get broken.

I have enough shattered pieces to build a highway.

A struggle it is. After everyone had left I couldn't keep myself from getting emotional. I was processing plasma. Just one tear this time. Had to fight the rest back, trying desperately not to be a cliche. That consisted of trying to not play a certain Linkin Park song in my head. They're catchy. It's damn hard when the situation is appropo.

So. Desperate times are here again, and I come home to an empty apartment and an empty head.

Reminds me, I need to vacuum.

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