I think I'm still trying to sort myself out. Of course, one rather hopes that she never sorts herself out--after all, life would be a bit boring after she did--but sometimes, a delusion sets in that all is normal. Sometimes, you wake up and realize that you're desperately and horribly overcontent for no reason. That all this time you've been sleeping.

I don't know what it is. I'm probably reading too much again. I'm going through a book a week, which is conciderable for one in IB, and half of them have to make me think too friggin' much. But suddenly I'm looking around my room and wondering when I got all this stuff. I guess that's how it goes when you have a job and no need to pay for food or lodging. Really, though--who the fuck needs it all?

I guess I'm just feeling heavy. I don't have a ton of stuff, but lord knows it's enough to feel heavy over. More than ten pairs of socks is enough to feel heavy over. For every thing you own, you have another worry. For every thing you own, you have another tie to the building you live in.

And what I'm really terrified of is being tied down. Not really for the whole idea of commiting to something, but more because of the fact that it would breed contentment. And contentment is just one step towards being an uncaring bastard who votes for less taxes and cheaper underwear. I don't want to be forty-two and voting Republican and owning and SUV and shopping at Wal-Mart for veal and sweatshop-made lace toilet-seat covers.

It seems like the world is heading hopelessly towards something. It seems like all I can do sometimes is just hop on the kerosene-soaked bandwagon and fly the way there with the rest of society. It's so hard attempting to throw thimbles of water at the fire. I want to fight, but what am I supposed to do? Go to Antartica and staple ice-sheets the size of Delaware back the fuck on?

I guess it's easy to be burnt out. So for now, I guess I'll just do my best. What else can one do?

Still, the temptation to beat people wearing Nike is overwhelming...