I think my defenses are down in the wee hours. I'm able to write without hesitance or doubt or distraction. I'm just more comfortable. I need a routine where I sit down at certain time every night and blog (or at least write) like a peanut-butter Mofo. But right now I have to borrow computer time from people who can afford internet access. But I have some ideas for getting around that . . . we'll see.

Anyway, I've discovered that certain songs or albums provide amazing inspiration for writing. The song "Shimmer" by Fuel is perfect, and so is Brandtson's whole "Fallen Star Collection" album.

My most recent job interview sucked. Maybe I'm not good at selling myself. Maybe I shouldn't inform potential employers up front of all the time-off I will need because I have a life I care about outside of my job (i.e. Cornerstone Fest, Speech and Debate trips, eventual honeymoon). Maybe I just need the perfect job. No . . . I need ANY job.

So here I am, back in IL for Thanksgiving, wondering why my parents are not disgusted with me; bewildered at how their son can't seem to get anywhere. The truth is: I love my life in Arkansas! I have friends around me who I care about and can share so much with. I'm in a church that I value like none I've been to in a long time. I'm investing my time into activities I actually care about and are fun for me. . . . But none of this is enough to support me financially. I'm not allowed to live this way. Do I have to go out and find a daily grind job that means nothing to me in order to survive? I'm hoping the answer is "no" because I've gotten nothing. Not even a factory job offer! Was my education worthless? . . . I've been looking, dammit! If it is because I'm not willing to sacrifice, for money, the things I love and make me happy, then I don't feel guilty at all! Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a loser who can't get anywhere with all thats been given to him. Maybe I'm just no good at selling myself. Maybe it's just Arkansas. I don't know.


I'm gonna go raid the fridge for turkey. I hope there's some dark meat left.