The various deadlines that have cowered above my livelihood are slowly descending upon me. Throughout the summer their distance warranted limitless neglect and indifference on my part; those shapeless, formless little beasts simply weren't near enough to be seen clearly, and thus the imprecision of the threat gave me plenty of room to breathe and be merry. No worry, though, my darlings, no worry: I'm plowing through the bureaucracy of the UC to register, and I'm working five doubles a week to buy the computer I need. I'll make it, but barely, as I always do. I live by an effort/return ratio, after all, and there is but one sin that summons my penitence: working too hard. I studied just enough to just barely pass the written driving test last week when I transferred my license, and good lord, did it show; I was a question away from failing. I'll slave and slave and slave away for a 90% but not a bit more. When it comes to deadlines and various ordeals that need tending, I've adopted General Prescott's methods: I shan't shoot 'till I see the whites of their eyes.

Though preparations for the fall obviously haven't whipped me into a frenzy, it depresses me a bit all the same; I feel as if the first leaves have fallen, so to speak, and the summer's warmth will succumb to a blustery autumn any moment. My summer has been pleasant and much has been accomplished, but the laziness of summers past is nowhere to be found upon recollection. Gone are the days of exploring gullies and building nations in the backyard, gone forever. Money and its various complications are now permanent fixtures in my life, and their arrival marks the departure of young carelessness- or at least the forgiving carelessness that youth affords, for carelessness waxes as strong as ever in certain aspects of my life- and has chased away those lazy summer days. No worry, though, my darlings, no worry: this is all part of growing up, I suppose.

I feel all too grown-up, however, when I realize that I, a fellow multiple-job holder, have fallen into the cesspool of wide-spread employee dissatisfaction that is a strip mall. Granted, it's a brand-new, upscale strip mall, but all the same: the joy of shopping melts away when the employees helping you are not faceless, as they should be, but rather coworkers from either your first job or your second; they are not wall fixtures, they are people, and upon this sick realization the whole outing becomes dispiriting. I toss a glance through their uniforms and I see their wispy, withered soul; they do not come to work to help me and their fate is my own; I am them, I will see them at Lonestar when I go to work at six. Thus it is nothing more than an gross extension of my working hours, and the pleasure I once basked in is sadly no more. At least I have found a blessing amongst the scattered rubble, that being a money pouch generally left untouched by shopping, and in a couple of weeks I will be able to purchase my pretty new computer. I also give Lonestar my two weeks notice next week, and leave for a trip to Salt Lake in three. See, dearest readers: though I mourn the season's end, I recognize the welcome changes it heralds.