[The Troops]

I've been doing nothing since November 18th, 2005.

You really don't realize how long it's been until you type it out like that.

You don't think about it that much, to be honest. It becomes routine. You get up. You check your email / forums / RSS feeds. You eat some cereal with 2% milk at your desk. You don't move the bowl after you do. It might sit there a day. If it seems like a good day out, you take a shower, on the off-chance you might actually open up the front door. Who knows, maybe you'll have to sign for something or pay for a pizza.

So you turn the bolt on the bathroom door and strip down to your underwear. You bend down and touch your toes a few times, because it seems like you're working towards something, and it's easy because you're lanky and flexible, and it's actually something you can feel good about. You look at yourself in the mirror and think about how many years it's been since a girl has seen this. It's not being wasted, you think. I'm just waiting. Waiting.

The water beats your scalp in thirty-two places, and you work your nails and conditioner into it. You haven't had a haircut in six months, and you can't really tell if you like it this way or not. Just give it another week, you think. You manage with exhaustive force to draw yet another tiny gob from the Clean & Clear Deep Action Cream Cleanser tube. You really, really hope it's not empty for good this time, because you're terrified of what the cashier might say if she were to ring it up.

The door opens with a rumbly roll. Out comes steam and two boney ankles. You feel really tired. You feel like you've accomplished enough for the day. Being clean is the most important thing, right? You sit in the window cill clipping your toenails in your towel, and you listen to the rustle of life out the window, and watch all the cars go across the bridge. They'll keep coming for as long as you care to look. Where are all those people going? What's it like to have a life?

Last summer I . . . I went through my first drive-thru. What an ordeal. Why oh why is Coolata such a gay word. I feel more at ease when I genericize trademarks, but who knows if "Iced Coffee" is something different? And why do I have to specify French Vanilla or Vanilla Bean? Being that specific was almost too much to bear, so I just said I didn't know, that I was picking it up for a friend, and took a gamble. I dropped change. I squealed off and cursed and banged the wheel all the way home. And I sipped my iced coffee.

I'm terrified of opening up my preferences/tastes to others. I feel so inferior when I talk about music. When I go into a store in the mall (extremely rare), I'm paralyzed. I'm afraid to look at anything, because I'm afraid someone might see me looking at it, and think I like it, so I tend to just rush in with a target in mind, looking at the floor the whole time. I try not to time my footsteps to be the beat of the music on the overhead speakers, because I'm afraid they'll think I like that too. It's much harder than it sounds.

I hovered over the submit button to the Graniph thread for ten minutes, afraid I would draw some kind of criticism I couldn't foresee. Everyone seems to hate everything I like or do. Except here. People are pretty nice to me here. But I'm still very, very careful. I only actually post one out of four posts I write. I have a very limited understanding of what's okay to say and do, and what makes people mad or laugh at me. The real world's always moving, in real time. I feel like I can't rehearse or plan or consider consequences. I always think I'll say something stupid. It's really scary, and my heart's always pounding when I'm talking to someone in real life.

I probably couldn't survive a job interview. I'd have to lie, which I'm not very good at either. They'll ask why I'm 22 and have no prior job experience. I guess I could say I was at school. A year ago I filled out two applications and handed them in. I never got any calls. I thought life was trying to tell me something, so I just stopped trying. I'd like to work behind a counter. I'd feel empowered. Like I'd conquered my fears. I'd be the one judging people this time. I can smile and speak happily. I just think I'd feel really guilty directing people to the products with the highest profit margins and pestering for trade-ins or Halo 3 pre-orders. I'm too docile for all that.

The best part about having no life is keeping an irregular schedule. You don't have to get up for anything, so you drift from week to week. You get to see a lot of sunrises. You can take the dog for a walk at seven in the morning, when you've been up for six hours, and you might cross a girl in a hoodie on her way to school, and she might say, "Cuuuuute!" and you can spend the rest of the day wondering whether she was talking to you or the dog.

On November 17th, 2005, I was in a Sociology class. There were a lot of criminal justice majors. We need a lot of those in this city. No one ever talked to each other in that class, despite the name. Everyone just arrived and scribbled and left, because they had to. This is why I stopped going to school, because from the beginning I had absolutely no reason to be there, and never expected to finish (very low expectations of myself). I was only there because it was the only place where I could be with other people my age, without seeming like I wanted to be there. Now I really don't know if that place even exists. The Dead Parents Life Insurance Fund is down to $50,000. Maybe less. I'll have to find a way to make money somehow. But right now, to me, it feels a lot like that novel you've been waiting to write. Something off in Somedayland.