"Good morning America, how are you?

...I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done."

I'm so scared of tomorrow... next week... the beginning of may. I wish I could stop time or something; it'll just have to stay April 25th until I'm ready for "tomorrow". I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm afraid the next few days will be unbearable, I'm afraid of what will happen... "I'm afraid... I'm afraid... I'm... afraid."

I am somewhat prepared, I guess. I bought myself a present with the $20 I made from my 2.5 hour job training bullshit that ended suddenly when the Russian boy called to say it isn't going to work out. I wouldn't have wanted to work with those pretentious morons [who should not be owners of a coffee shop] anyway.

I also took another employment test for the Census Bureau yesterday. In fact, it was the same test, same form letter, same questions, even the same old man who was giving it. It was only me and another guy taking it this time, who actually knew where Dalmatia was! which is very rare even for people living in the same county.

Why did I have to take this test again? I don't know, but it doesn't matter to me because it was easy; the insult-to-my-intelligence type. And hopefully this means getting a job with them will be a for sure thing. Although, I feel like I've been saying this a lot lately...

"Gather ye peeps while ye may..."

Happy birthday Phanatic! I'm watching the Phillies game, lounging on the living room couch with my Galapagos T-shirt on in lieu of every one's favorite mascot. I watched last night's game too, with Ibanez proving his worth as Burrell's much anticipated replacement. And I will soon be listening to game 3 of the Pens/Flys playoff series simultaneously. With that said, I should probably spend my time outside, since spring weather is finally happening. Yesterday I got an ever-so-slight tan after washing my truck the old school way with a hose, sponge, and cut-off jeans. Just kidding, I wasn't even wearing shorts... it's not that warm out yet. :-P

A sunny Sunday afternoon also signifies nap time, if only... I feel like I am underwater, I'm so tired. My sleep has been declining more and more in the last 3 weeks. At night my mind is heavy with overwhelming thoughts, emotions erupting uncontrollably. I hold myself up pretty well during the day, then the sun goes down and I'm suddenly confused and lost. I think I just need to follow my own advice and suck it up. That's the best I can do right now.

I was invited to a party tonight that I never even RSVP'd too. I have no reason not to go, and it's not that I don't want to go either. I'm just not. It's weird I know, but I don't feel like subjecting myself to awkward encounters and forced conversations. Actually, I would rather be in Oregon for the Stumptown Comics Fest so I can meet Jeff Smith.

By the way, keep your fingers crossed this week. I should be getting a call soon about a possible job at the coffeehouse. I also received a call from the Census Bureau to schedule me for either another test or the same test I already took or something, I don't know. Whatever it's for, it's on Friday, which will also hopefully lead to a paycheck.

Oh my gosh. THIS is amazing. A literary classic now with "bone-crunching zombie mayhem." Who knew?

"Nothing is worth more than this day."

The Phillies lost their voice today.

And what was I doing? Taking this amusing picture of cats underneath the birdhouses.



Actually, I was tracking down another potential job. It's at another coffeehouse off of the red brick sidewalk in college town Selinsgrove, and they happen to be looking for someone exactly like me. So I jumped in my truck and hauled my ass over there to talk with the owner.

I've been at the Kind Cafe several times before over the years. It's one of those places that usually displays artwork from locals on the walls. And it's right across the street from my favorite antiquarian bookshop - D.J.Ernst Books.

With my "usual" double shot Americano, I absolutely had to go in the bookstore and I was excited to find the same man still working there for as long as I can remember. I've always wished I could sit and have a long intelligent conversation about literature with him.

As I was perusing he said, "You're doing a good job." For as tiny of a bookstore it is, I have been browsing for a long time. I turn to where he's sitting behind the counter and innocently ask, "What's that?"

"You're doing a good job looking at every title."

"Well, I don't want to miss anything."

At that point he changed the 40's crooner-type music to something more bluesy, telling me he "wants to play all his cassette tapes before they rot."

You gotta love this guy. And I cleared off some space on his shelves by the time I left with a nice paper bag full of books. I think my next project is to reorganize my now filled bookcases... *she casually states, but unable to control the enormous grin that immediately encroached her lips*

"Everyone f*cks up, it's gonna be okay."

It was snowing earlier... what the heck!? It's Spring: Easter is around the corner with all its pastel ornamentation, the Tar Heels totally dominated March Madness [leading me to a victorious bracket], and baseball is officially underway with the Phillies off to an unfamiliar start defending their title.

And I just finished another ink sketch, but the satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment one usually gets through completion seemed brief. I have yet to clean up my palette and pen and I am already pondering my next project.

I am returning to a previously known state of restlessness. I must keep my mind occupied, constantly working on something, always feeding the little workaholic inside me. I've been making impossible to do lists and then become vexed when everything is not crossed off at the end of the day. [But these lists are seriously impossible...]

Yet I have to keep my mind off of other things. I keep myself busy to refrain from retreating into the negative, the pessimistic side of every thought. I channel my thwarted communication into that which is useful, purposeful, giving a sense of progression. It keeps hope alive as I maintain this level of sanity.

I am just trying to figure out the point of all this. My positive thinking has been helpful to my well-being, but my patience is getting pushed a little too far. What little plans I make are obstructed, but I think I am simply envious of those already moving ahead, forgetting about the ones still left behind.