_Can't sleep, waiting on a load of laundry to finish anyway. I figure it's best to keep writing until morale improves, like the movie says, "A writer writes. Always". Looking back on the month of April I have to confront my personal definition of connection, it's a word I typically use in these entries and before starting I should get real about what that means. Connection—how I see it—is another one of those basic human needs that's just a tick higher than clean water and physical protection. They call it a loneliness epidemic for a reason and before I get to using words so flippantly it's best to call it what it is. Per the usual deal I have the desire but not the ability, in this case that being the ability to socialize, connect.

The problem hits on a spiritual level, too. There's that sense of being cast out, rejected, being denied access to the party before leaving the house. And here's where the mask comes on.

_All in all I'd chalk the day up to boredom. A quick nature walk helped but my mind was too occupied to enjoy it. I feel like it shouldn't be this way, though, like there should still be some gas left in the tank following some course corrections. Last month I registered for school again and I'll be attending in the fall—got tired of unskilled labor. Water Technology was logically the safest bet for a career and my advisor told me it's a fast ticket to the West Coast. Plus the job really gives me Fallout 3 vibes which is appreciated.

Nevertheless I'm stuck in the same place socially and artistically. This stagnation is becoming nauseous. My mom says that the town I'm in ain't the place for me. Environment plays a part but if I can't be happy with myself then locale is only a small factor. After a quick self-analysis I'd have to draw the problem towards an internal lack of stability, that failure to stay on task when it comes to pursuing a goal. It's why Rottweilers made poor police dogs, easily distracted. With that on the table all I can say is that it tracks. One objective's quickly traded for another at the drop of a hat. My solution: start low difficulty.

Looking back at the constants in my life I am really good about using video games as a means of avoidance. I don't like it but that habit has several years—if not, a decade—of internal wiring. Start low-speed, low-intensity, fucking game journalist difficulty, anything to get the ball rolling.

My dad was getting on my case about that, about not having set anything in motion since leaving my waste management job. I can see what he was getting at even if he was being a dick about it. I thought getting readmitted to school was enough but hadn't set my sights on a career path until recently. But what about putting plans into motion artistically and socially? The best part about dumping your purse on the table is that the answer falls out right in front of you—Chat GPT not required. Don't think, just do.

I think I said that already...

_Instinct is a good guide. That ability we have for critical thinking and logical reasoning worked well to get us out of the caves but it's a real ass-kicker when it becomes an obstacle. Today I had the problem of losing sight of what drives me. Instability came from a lack of vision in life which turned into that ennui I was telling you about. Everyone's got something that gets them out of bed in the morning and it can easily be misplaced in memory if we allow ourselves to think too much.

Just like the AI in Halo, we can literally think ourselves to death. So feed your mind, mind your feed. Keep a happy delusion so long as it gets you out of bed in the morning.

_What does this mean now? Well, I can only speak for what I want from tomorrow. I would like to meet with somebody, pick their head for a potential story idea—I won't say what. There's got to be a way to go with the flow while still being an active participant in the ride. Like kayaking down a river, that sounds like a good metaphor.

I remember a dream I had about April and Sakura. They were the only two aboard a spaceship called the Moth Blossom and they were both looking over a map of connecting star systems, weighing their options about which would be the best destination. Because they didn't have any faster-than-light travel to conveniently take them there. No, they had to skinny-dip into hyper-sleep for a full year before waking up outside the space equivalent to a truck stop. The two cleaned themselves off with Everclear of all things (95% abv) and sat down at a booth in a poorly lit bar to order chicken nuggets.

I think that's the direction I want to go in for now, until school starts again.

—Errant out