I am still to this day catching up on freelance stuff. I’m still taking work home with me from my day job. I’m finding that I become reticent to push away my friends because I can only think about the work in front of me. I miss my friends.

I have recently discovered through word of mouth that the only girl with whom I ever fell in love, who subsequently fell in love with a much more befitting guy, is now married; this makes me feel old in a very new and jarring way.

My Xbox360 has the Red Ring of Death again.

In Los Angeles summer heat, the air conditioner I moved into my room is as effective as when it used to be a fan in a window; this is a waste of hundreds of dollars.

A colony of ants is staging a coup near the kitchen sink.

My bank account is merely a conduit for the money I make to move towards the institutions that then devour it and demand more.

I am running on little to no sleep.

However, my roommate makes ridiculously delicious pizza.

I feel fine.

Pizza: 1
Monday: 0