I'm stuck between time zones again, who knows why. I got up early to try to force myself back to a decent sleep schedule, but all that did was knock 50 points off my IQ for most of the day. I felt like a grouper.

By my count, I have had two good ideas all day, neither of which had anything to do with this paper I've been staring blankly at since about 10 this morning. O god, the paper. I want to write it but I can't think.

I was wondering the other day if there's anything going on with Our Bold Hero that I'm not aware of. I could be secretly sick, or super-secretly depressed. I mean, I don't feel that sick, and I certainly don't feel depressed, but I need something to explain the lethargy and this weekend's slightly bizarre 11-hour sackouts.

I've also had a cough since I visited Lawrence a few weeks ago. This might all be the Co-op's fault. Unsanitary paper cups.

Whatever's going on in my sinus and/or subconscious, this week promises to be pretty awful. The final draft of the thesis is due on Monday and suddenly I'm discovering more sources. I should hear back from a few places I've applied to this week, and the hope is that I'll finally know what state I'll be living in this June.

I couldn't tell you right now where I'd rather live, the Cities or D.C. I really just want to go somewhere, and stay put for a little while this time.

I've been in this limbo a few times before. You're still uncertain what you'll do during the encroaching summer, and the gap between now and then is steadily shrinking. The whole situation has a way of souring the promise of summer and school's end.

Summer on a college campus is one of the things I'll really miss. The campus feels empty without all that greenery, but with summer it's finally whole again and the place starts to feel like an environment.

Something I won't miss: realizing I haven't heard my voice all day. When you live alone and you don't have to go to work or school or to run errands and you didn't answer the phone and yes, you had a bunch of conversations but they were all on IM, then sometimes you go a day without talking.

It's very strange, because although I don't mind it — this day was lousy but that's because I spent most of it as another species — I still feel guilty afterwards. Call it the last gasp of my extrovert side. Extrovert Dan seems to think tired procrastinists have an ethical obligation to be social on a Monday night.

(And they would, if tonight was VR night.)