I am back at school. When did that happen? Three seconds ago I was being swarmed by zombie Nazis with my friend Chris, and now I'm back, lost in the desolation that is Central Illinois.

I'm not going to lie to you, dear reader(s?). I'm in a funk. I don't know what it is about school, but I can't seem to get a grip on it. I've always had trouble with school, and the phrase "if only you could apply that much work to your grades, you'd be a valedictorian" has been applied to dumpster diving, urban exploring, wargaming and my Nerf gun obsession. I was even told that about the theatre I did on the side in High School, but now that theatre is the school, I'm losing my entusiasm for it at an alarming rate. Right now, for example, I should be finishing a drafting of a bookcase, and here I am, telling you about how I should be finishing a drafting of a bookcase, instead of finishing a drafting of a bookcase.

The strange thing is, this summer, when I worked in the Prop Shop at the University of Virginia's theatre festival, I had it so together. I was on top of the world, I had fun, the crew more or less liked me, and they invited me back. Why can't that be how it works for school?

I feel bad for the crew building my show, because now there's a shell of a designer at the helm, lashed to the wheel of that terrible dark ship. I better buck up soon.

The upside of this for you, dear reader(s?), is that I'll be blogging much more, since getting life off of my chest here seems like it might help. Don't worry, that doesn't mean I'll be a Debbie Downer the whole time, but just be aware that shit is going down.

On that note, dear reader(s?):