My memory well and truly seems to have suffered over the last year or two. It's difficult to remember what I specifically did, say, last Saturday. So many things happen that it would behoove me to write them all down. But there's not much time, opportunity, or inclination to do that. This is the time I usually reserve for chipping away at the game project. That's nigh on 5 years now. Over 3 novels worth of work. Luckily the game will eventually see the light of day in another year.

I have become intimately and consistently aware of my mortality. I don't recall thinking much about how life might develop when I was in my early 20's. Now, there is this quality of immediacy, almost desperation in how the weeks pass like midget clock hands.

Sooner or later, though, I will finally be a real adult. I'm not sure I would've done all of this again if I had another chance, but I made a series of decisions and I'm alright with how things turned out.

Granted my advisor has done for my career what hemorrhoids might do for a marathon runner, but I am if anything stubbornly persistent past the point of reason. There is no reason in this profession. There are only the emotionally retarded robot assholes and those who just really like creative science. Half of it is luck. Half consists of symbolically smacking people in the head with a crowbar until they lay in a pool of their own submission.

But despite the gore, yeah, this shit ain't half bad.

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