And the worst part is

I don't even have time to read. Yes, readers, you know your life is dangling around by your ankles and dragging you into a jagged chasm of despair when you don't have time to read.

I mentioned this to Sarah the other night and she commented to the effect that going days without playing with your son and seeing your wife might also give you a clue about the state of your life.

But it's not exactly true; I have been able to see Sarah and Alex on the weekends at least, and some lazy Thursdays. And it's not exactly true that I can't read. I have several textbooks to read and things to learn. In fact, I am basically drowning in things I need to get up to speed on.

But I am starved for stories, for fiction, for a little escape from the grind. I don't read when I walk around campus, on the bus, on my breaks. So my emotions are getting duller too, I think. And I bring a less lively mind to my problems. I am not being surprised and joyful at the new things I'm learning, even though they're incredibly cool. And I have this permanent headache now, throbbing while I listen to music.

Music is great, but it is a poor substitute for a glimpse of real life beyond this incredibly hard semester. Music just makes me feel asleep these days instead of awake. I am not bringing my humanity to it, I am not singing along.

And I worry that my life may turn into this permanently, a furious struggle to get out of debt and make someone else's dreams come to life, then die.

God, let it not be so; show me something to read.