Home is where your car is parked.

I slept in my car this morning. For the first time in my adult life I slept in my car in the parking lot of the library. Not for the entirety of a night, by any means. But for a solid hour and half I slept waiting for the library to open. I didn't get much sleep last night and had to wake up dreadfully early to get Clay to work and the Montana Coffee Traders got too busy and here is what I thought:

"I am not unmotivated but I am being inactive. How do I force myself to do things like call back places to get a job? Then again, I was cursing myself this time last year for not reading more and at least it is very true that I have changed that much about myself. But now I feel I am making up for lost time. Will time always appear as if it is being raced or challenged or saved or lost? Apparently, I have the absolute worst taste in music. Albums and artists I can't get enough of make others want to vomit. I start to play something during a casual hangout and within minutes someone in the room is asking me to change it. and it verily bewilders me every single time. I can't believe they aren't enjoying it! not even 'as much as me' but not at all. Then again I know that when others are playing their beloved music I constantly want them to change it too. And what a shock it always is to them that I don't enjoy Oasis or Linkin Park! The problem is I think I don't want the responsibility of being an adult or possibly I am just really, really poor at it. Like right now for instance- I mostly just want to sit in Montana Coffee Traders for the free wifi but I'm too anxious/weirdo to just go up and ask for the goddamn passcode and apparently I have also become one of those annoying coffeehouse regulars that says passcode instead of password. Anyway, what do I do instead? I write in my journal and make a playlist on itunes and sip cold coffee (because I also don't want to ask if I get a refill). I desire to get outta here and go find some cigarettes and go to the library with the fellow weirdos and where I already know the passcode. Damn it all! I forgot I need to eat and a slice of their quiche would be perfect... Clay has already been at work for an hour. I wonder what he is doing? I truly, madly, deeply need to get a job. What makes others more employable than me? How much courage is it going to take me just to print copies of my resume at the library? Why can't I function like a normal human being?"

Instead of going up there and getting some more coffee (because who would really stop me or say anything?) and asking for the passcode or purchasing quiche for breakfast I packed up, stopped to buy cigarettes, smoked two of them on the way to the library, realized it wasn't open, and decided to sleep in my car.