Everything's back to normal again. I've got the migraine headache, I'm scheduled to teach high school English tomorrow, and my hands smell like photo lab.

I've avoided work since returning from New Orleans, since that's the luxury of being a sub teacher (you can actually say "No" to work). I'm slowly paying down the college loans and still thinking about the future. I've always wanted to go to art school, but somehow, I or someone else has always convinced me that it's not practical. Which explains why I've resorted to community college art courses whenever time and money have permitted. In the end, I simply think I'm thinking too much and not going out and living enough. But here's the question: what is living?

I have several jobs. I'm taking a class that I've wanted to take for years. I see my friends about once a week. I've travelled numerous times this year. I attempt to exercise regularly. I cook everything from beignets to carne asada. What the hell else is there?

I guess there's love, but that's a chapter I've left behind. Or not so much left behind as tried to make true for myself, instead of channeling those energies outwards. Ultimately, I still feel that there must be more than this.