I know I was awake before 5:30 am. It pretty typical for me these days. I seldom stay up late. Is this a fundamental change in who I am? Do different times in the day have different influences on your conscious mind? 10 to 15 years ago when I waited tables at IHOP I would go to sleep at 6am, now I'm getting up to go there. Only I don't have to be there until 9:30. So why didn't I stay up late last night?

I've said before that I'm not a social person. I love talking to people, but I don't really like groups. I love individual conversations. Maybe I'm too narcissistic to be anything less than half of something. Although I was recently told that I seem to be sharing more these days, as opposed to just asking questions. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say I ask the "right" questions, but I am good at digging to get what I'm looking for. Provided the person I'm talking to doesn't lie to me. Even if I suspect I'm dealing with a liar I really have no clue what to do about it.

I have never had anything close to a full drink of alcohol in my life. That was my self congratulated way of segueing back to not being social. You hear that phrase: social drinker. Perhaps the criticisms of me not drinking are more founded than you might think. Perhaps it's a good example of me not letting my guard down. Perhaps I don't drink to get on edge on you.

Or maybe I'm just trying not to be me father.

I feel I'm pretty good at cutting to what I call "deciding factors." Really, I would say the deciding factor in my decisions to not go out these days are that I don't want to spend any money. I don't have a stable source of income, and I'd rather work on saving enough money until I feel I can make a credit card payment and reduce the amount of money I'm paying them every month. You could also argue that I like being different. I like this in-your-face, self-imposed poverty I've inflicted on myself, redundantly with hyphens. Really, if I were rich would I be out drinking with the people from work? I mean would I be not drinking while they drank? Would I be buying rounds? Maybe. I do like to see people have a good time. Obviously though, if I were rich I wouldn't be working at IHOP, and I'd have less and less contact with those people, and there you go.

What I DID do last night was drive my tired ass home and eat 3 turkey sandwiches. This is unremarkable if you know that I've been eating turkey sandwiches a lot since "the divorce." But oh no, THOSE turkey sandwiches were made from a package of 20 pieces of sliced turkey you buy at Wal-mart. What I ate last night was the same bread (that is actually cheaper from Smith's than Wal-mart, I didn't think that was even possible) and the same Best Food's Mayonnaise but THEY were made from the turkey my parents sent me.

My parents sent me a box. In it was a container of cookies, a bag of peas, some individually wrapped burritos, and something like 10 to 20 bags of meat. Kielbasa (The funny thing is I'm not even a huge fan of kielbasa, but as I may have mentioned before, not only am I adopted, but I always knew I was adopted. I may have also known that this was why my father was Irish, my mother was a mutt with some Russian in her, but I was mostly Polish. When I was young and I first heard about kielbasa, I found out it was Polish, so that and the fact that I thought it was a cool word made me "like it." To this day my parents think I love it) and ham and the turkey I mentioned. They practically filled my freezer.

So to say the sandwiches I ate last night were better than the Wal-mart meat kind is like saying tantric sex with your favorite pornstar is better than masturbation.

And there it is. I came up with that line (despite some writing advice I read that said to avoid similes and metaphors) and I liked it. THEN, I thought about using it as my facebook update. AND THEN it hit me.

Facebook updates are fleeting, daylogs are forever.

A day of reluctance to work, followed by a short period of burning passion, followed by disillusionment and apathy pushed back for a moment and then unleashed in its entirety. So pretty much my entire life. I wonder how much of NaNoWriMo I'm going to do this year before I run out of steam and say "fuck it". Maybe twenty thousand? I'm already three weeks behind on Stats and Psych, which (predictably) I started three weeks ago while promising myself I'd get on them as soon as I could. Now my fingers dance noncommittally on the keyboard. I dance noncommittally on the edge of my idle life.

My eardrums have taken to spontaneously popping in the last couple weeks, in addition to various other ailments which appear to come and go as they please.

I decided to abstain from IRC for forty days. It's probably not going to help, but I'll be damned if I let that stop me. I open a couple more tabs and refresh the ones I already have in the vague hope that someone will say something I find relevant. Fruitless.

Perhaps it would be better for me not to be noding today; when I'm in despair I have a tendency to sound like a pretentious asshat because the part of my brain that makes clever metaphors and balances my writing on the knife-edge of asinine absurdity and pathetic reality never worked^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hshuts down. As a result, instead of being funny or insightful this writeup is going to be whiny and irritating, disgusting even myself when I read it again in a couple weeks. And I told myself I was going to stop whining about everything. Pshaw.

It's not so much that I don't know what I'm going to do after high school as it is that I haven't even considered a course of action. Fuck.

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