Every Wednesday I think something happened and I have a life update to share that's worthwhile. And every Wednesday I blank and post a drawing of a cat or something because my problems aren't that bad and my life isn't that interesting. Anymore.

Quarterly recap:

I had a girlfriend, technically, for about a week. I thought it'd be a good fit since I assumed a much younger woman would have relationship goals that were not very serious and would work with my situation. Nope. She was naive and desperately in love with being in love so I bailed. She also wrote fan fiction which I have about no respect for. She should probably find a man who writes fan fiction. Ignored red flags but didn't stick around and make it worse.

Pretty much done with the grad school application. Now I need letters of recommendation. Which I have no control over. And for reasons I took the same professor in my department like nine times. And he does not use computers. And his wife told me he is recovering from tongue cancer. So even that letter isn't guaranteed. I'm also very upset to hear that and other details from her. I'm not a complete selfish prick.

I got a job and quit a job and got a new job and quit that job. I guess I don't like being micromanaged. And not all similar positions in the same field are in similar work environments. Because individual employees can be colossal dicks. I was incredibly lucky at my last long term job and now I know that. I have two interviews today. When you work for not much money and you can bail easily and not worry too much about job insecurity since there's probably another shitty job closer that pays the same.

I should probably maybe have a date this weekend that's like five years in the making. I've been texting a girl for six months who I kept meeting on the old dating apps repeatedly over the course of said years. I was not in the place to want a relationship or feel anything for anyone but over six months with her I think I have developed something and I've also got over a bunch of my own shit in the interim.

Other stuff too. Whatever. I want to write. Reassessing the direction of the large writerly output I produced last year that I had planned to mostly discard. Sometimes the success of Ernest Cline or Bret Easton Ellis being published at 21 seem to light a fire under my ass but then I just watch MST3K because I deserve to relax or something.