I didn't know that what I was feeling was a prefigurative pang of mourning for the next five years of my creative life.

Don't you hate it when you feel as if you are on the cusp of something that will define your life? I do. Boy do I do.
The week has brought W-2 forms, coffee breaks, sore legs. The kind of thing that normal people go through, which throws abnormal people (me) into a state of shock. Borders is a great place to work, it's fun, not very challenging and I get to be surrounded by tons of books and DVD's. Books and DVD's mind you, that cost a much less than some ordinary Joe off the street would pay for. Ah, the benefits of retail.
I really love Chris Onstad's blog. He captures the feelings of so many generic male adults it's not even funny, but to the point where we have to nervously laugh at ourselves. (Check it out.) He created Achewood which is also amazing.
I've been to 2 out of 3 Amy/Lisa/Ryan/Soto(?) going away parties. I do love Amy. I'm going to miss her. I'm going to miss game night. The parties are all going well, much hoopla they deserve. Their exit is grand. I hope to have the same for everyone leaving this year.
I got a mad case of Joe Jackson's hit single at the party tonight, perhaps I'm not being the dashing inamorato that I could be, but I try so very hard. So very very hard.