As usual time is rocketing forward, keel-hauling me behind it as I try to stomp my feet down and say god-dammit I want to stop here. I want to grab a piece of this and keep it for a while. Let me get a hold of some of this before it's gone.

A day, a week, twenty days. A blur of plans and paperwork and cardboard boxes. Days are gone in a breath, weeks in a sigh. I didn't even feel this month pass. A summer that never took hold flows into crisp, cool fall without a blip.

Despite a list of highly tangible positives, everything feels like that final scene in Fight Club when “Where Is My Mind?” comes on as buildings crumble. A very strange time. But with the promise of a freshly cleansed beginning.

Time continues. And I continue to have no idea what I'm doing.