It's Monday morning at the paycheck dance, and man, do I need to take a breath! Why I'm so hungry for all this extra stuff I'm doing right now is totally beyond me. Do I not value any kind of stability or rest? My eyes are doing this funky, off-focus thing, and I can't seem to slow down at an appropriate time; I always find myself nodding off when I'm alone and intend on doing more with my time, but that couch...that bed...that floor...it seems my whole apartment except for my computer chair is one big off button. Am I doing too much? I'm...directing four plays...writing a song for another...acting in another...and just accepted directing a film. What am I running away from? The mystery girl of my past hasn't written to me since July. The former pen pal is too busy to make me feel guilty for being poor and too busy myself. The new addiction is...let's just say she's unpredictable but she's here at work, so...so theater isn't really an escape from her.

What's going on? It's starting to feel like I'm on one of those little playground merry-go-rounds that the biggest kid powers around until everyone pukes. It's a good thing there was always sand available.

I'm writing poetry, writing plays, writing music...but what cracks am I trying to fill? Oh, God, please don't let me go crazy like so many creative people I've come to know and love.

This is all going somewhere, right?