Dear Diary

My laptop is crashing as we speak. It's fun, because there's really nothing you can do to prevent hard disk failure. You just have to deal with it when it happens.

This failure is not the one that has prevented me from posting lately. November's been a tough month, like I knew it would be. It's tough, because I have all this stuff to do and all these things to decide and I can't process it all, even when I separate myself from the rest of the people in the world. It's like at that point I just want to goof off and think about birds and crap like that when I should be thinking about either my novel or my job situation.

I think I'm going to end up pursuing this new job just to prove my doubters wrong. Is that a good reason? I was already leaning towards it. The problem is, it's going to really force me to grow up and put stock in my life, so to speak. Am I just thinking out loud here? I've turned into a 15-year-old girl. How about this: Dear diary, my life sucks. Calgon, take me away. My wife is banging something -- turns out to be baker's chocolate -- in the kitchen. I take comfort in the fact that all that banging will help to produce a pie that will make so many people happy.

My wife makes a bunch of things that my mom used to make. She got the recipes. Isn't that neat?

I feel really really driven right now. Can one overnight become a type A personality? How about I become a really driven yet sarcastic and ice-cube cool guy? In the end, I just want to be Godly. This is the opportunity that's in front of me now, so I had better take advantage of it. God is working somehow.

Laptop's still fixing itself. I don't think it's going to work. Moment of truth to see if I can get data off of it...possibly. I know that's unclimactic, but think about how I must feel. It's happening to me.

Words I use too much in my novel: actually, separate. Words i don't use enough in my novel: squeegee.