So here's the question: keep moving or stop moving? Assuming I even have the choice.

I don't know. I really don't. I'm afraid of all the unknowns. That's what it always is. My failure to act out of fear.

Say, this is a nice keyboard.

I need some wallpaper.

I would like to keep in touch with Prof. He's a strange one. Maybe we're kindred spirits. I wonder sometimes if he's more like me than I realize. Except he talks way more.

Oy, the reading's coming up. I practice everyday, but I need to practice in front of someone eventually.

Speaking of down to the wire, it's time for the dreaded test. I have three months and three chances. Three shots. I can do this. I can do anything. The power of positive thinking, right? This is where I scoff at Optimistic Voice. Yeah, O.V. everything's going to work out great. I'm gonna get my license, a job, an apartment, a form of transportation, all in the next few months and I'll be settled and happy and have no more problems except relationship ones but that's okay because all adults have relationship problems, it's a part of the plan, a package deal. And someday if I work hard and catch a break I'll be published and not just somebody's mother. Or somebody's colossal failure of a daughter. Something to someone. But I am something to someone. We just haven't met yet, I guess.

Job. Income. Settled. My own family. That's all I want out of life. I'm just another mouse in this maze, giving up on ever finding that cheese.

Something has to give.