Based on my calculations, it’s been about 12,037 days (give or take a few) since the sexual encounter that started my life. I’m still not sure how I feel about the planet Earth, or the human experience. Eating is nice. Bathing can be fun. Putting on clothes is hit or miss. Definitely not keen on work.

I’m wrapping up the last day of my third-to-last week of work in my current profession (Unix Systems Administration). The end can’t arrive soon enough. No-one seems to know what to say to me, around the office. I wander by my coworkers’ offices and try to chat, but they give me lifeless smiles and keep their bodies pointed toward their keyboards … bad body language. Maybe they’re just jealous I get to escape?

Of course, I’m just escaping to another kind of work, another way to avoid having to grow my own food. One of my co-workers summed it up well, a few days ago. “My wife says that I still haven’t figured out what I want to do in life, but she’s wrong. I know exactly what I want to do: nothing.”

Better get back to it.

I have kept this secret for a while, since people at work know about this blog (although I doubt they look at it), but I can now safely announce that I’m going to law school. I’ll be a “1L” at the University of Colorado, starting August 21.

So please, everybody, do whatever you can to injure your necks or get sexually harrassed in the next three years so that I have some clients when I get out. Much obliged.