There are two groups of young adults: people who haven't stopped working since their twenties versus people who've had at least a year off. Speaking as a candidate for presidency of the latter group, I wonder at what point the former group throws up their hands and says, "I need a break!" I hope the answer isn't simply "retirement." For people who are near my age, that's almost a decade of straight work. That sounds crazy to me.

How can you go ten years without having not taken more than two weeks off (and probably not consecutively)? I guess people can break up the work monotony with school or some such thing, but there are some people I know who've never stopped. If people are worried about escaping the rat race, isn't this exactly what they've been engaged in? Where's the exit lane?

This is like having stellar attendance in school. What's the point? You get recognized with a ribbon or a special announcement at graduation but then you start to think, "Wait, what is this award for?"

If you're going to go down, why not go down slacking?

I need a little bit of snark in my life. Okay, a lot of it. Earnestness, sincerity, cringing at un-PC comments, those things don't do it for me. I like people who can step right in and start launching sarcastic salvos. And do it quickly. I like my drinks sweet but my conversations bitter. Perhaps if I switched to unsugared coffee this perspective could change. Is that possible? Or even desired?

Today at a cafe I saw two guys pull out a stack of familiar looking books. I cruised by their table on the way to bathroom and my suspicions were confirmed. They were flipping through D&D guides. Through the rest of our time I kept glancing over in order to discern if they were a random bunch of friends or perhaps meeting as newbies and strangers. I hoped for the latter so I could stroll up and introduce myself. Alas, I couldn't figure it out so as we were about to leave, I just went up to them and said, "Hi, I couldn't help noticing your books and was wondering if you accepted new players..." This was after half an hour of hyping myself up mind you. I've been less nervous approaching girls before.

The trio returned my greeting half-heartedly as I tried to sneak in some banter indicating my experience and enthusiasm, eventually forcing my email on them. I sure hope they contact me -- maybe we can Wave together. D&D, you complete me.

Yesterday I gave someone I met just hours ago a deep man hug. The occasion? We shared the same favorite science fiction author. I believe he whispered "I love him!" into my ear as we both delighted in meeting a fellow (male) reader. I think I've only ever hugged four guys like that in my life. Sometimes you drum up temporary enthusiasm with a fellow human ("high five!") because of the moment, or alcohol, but sometimes you just feel like you've known the other person for awhile and am yet still excited to find out more. So yeah, it was that kind of night.

I'm trying to challenge myself to blog in here every day. At least 100 words, but no more than 250 (and am using a Firefox extension to keep track). I've fallen out of the habit of daily blogging and want to get back into it. What I'd like to do is capture mini-moments, to get my writing down to short and pithy paragraphs. I'm terrible at that because I'm a rambler and can't control my words. Unlike her, whom I'd love to learn from and emulate.

And I read about someone who just titles their post whatever the song playing in the background is, I think I'll do that too. This feels like a breakthrough, for no good reason at all.

People have asked me how long I can conceivably go crashing on friend's couches as my friends get older and acquire families. What I discovered during the trip to New York is that my accommodations have actually gotten much better. Friends have houses now, and apartments that have extra bedrooms, or just really nice singles. No more crashing in mini apartments with acquaintance roommates and cramped spaces. One friend even gave me her bed, made up with fresh new white sheets, even though I insisted that I was very happy on the floor. Yes, as I've gotten older, I'm made the transition from "couch crasher" to "guest."

The next step is to visit cities and be able to afford hotels and stuff like that. That's truly the adult thing to do. In the past, the only reason anybody's ever rented a room is because they had a significant other accompanying them. Now people figure a couple of hundred dollars is worth the non-host hassle and I can see their point. Although I doubt I'd ever want to rent versus harass my friends. Thanks friends.

I might lose a tooth. Not from stress or anything. That would at least be a good reason. Instead my reason was that a little cyst developed two weeks ago above my left incisor. Painless, unobtrusive, nothing particularly harmful or dangerous about it. Or so I thought. Instead of the check up and quick puncture I was expecting, I walked out six shots of local anesthetic later, mouth throbbing from dental surgery. They cut way deep into my gums and cleaned around the tooth. It was a bloody mess. And I watched the whole thing by holding up a hand mirror. Ugh. It turns out that the bone around my crown/root had disappeared and there's a good chance the tooth won't be able to heal or something like that. We'll see in three weeks. Keep your fingers crossed for me. It's times like that, stuck in the dentist chair, when I realize how lucky I am to never really be bothered by physical pain or sickness. I guess all that good health karma upends itself when it comes to my teeth.

I have some plans to eat healthier, consume less candy, and to slow down on the coffee and cigarettes. After my first draft of the next book is over, I'm going to start figuring out what leads to my constant ups and downs in energy. Is it as simple as "I'm a night person?" Does my energy only rise as the sun sets? (My current theory) Or does my consistent inconsistent intake of one meal a day, candy at will, coffee whenever I'm awake, and all the weird eating habits I've acquired through the years actually make a difference?

It would be nice to believe that my body is just some sort of fantastic machine where I throw crap in and good things come out. But lately I've started to come around to the idea that maybe my post-thirty body isn't quite as resistant as before. Or maybe I'm only a fast healer because I can afford to sleep twelve hours a day. Some experiments and trial-and-error are in order. As soon as I'm back from the East Coast.

When they say, "It's all downhill from here," they ain't kidding.