Plans, life, more plans, no plans, no life, it all intertwines

'What is this with us meeting at midnight all the time?' Says my Computer to Me. And Me answers back, 'Well, it has something to do with separation anxiety, a little to do with boredom, and a lot to do with the fact that I have nothing better to do.' 'Oh', says Computer. 'Well then, sit down, enjoy the music, stay awhile.' 'Thank you, kind sir. I think I shall.'

Yes, dear invisible (and quite possibly non-existent) audience of mine. Once again it is after the G-dly hour in which humans are meant to be awake, and slowly approaching the red zone, and yet I'm still sitting here. Some of you may ask why. Others realize that is a dumb question.

My life was very happening recently. Or not happening. A lot happened, but I didn't get much farther. Get it? If I was one to gossip, even about myself, I may fill you in. But I have a strict policy against gossiping, which is, never gossip at an unG-dly hour, because quite possibly you will say stuff you will later regret.

There is this rule of social propriety that says, when you see or speak to a friend or acquaintance that you have not seen in a while, you must ask that number one annoying question. 'So what are you doing next year?' And the number one answer, 'Oh I'm still figuring it out.' Really. Does no one realize that we are all in the same boat? Why do people still ask??? I feel like wearing a sign on my head that says, 'NO! I DON'T know what I'm doing next year so DON'T ASK ME! Come back in a few months, and maybe by then I'll have it all figured out.'

If they ask, do they REALLY expect me to give them the full picture? 'Well I was gonna do shluchus but then I changed my mind. Then I changed my mind again. Now I'm looking for an office job. I got an offer but I don't think I want to take it. And then I changed my mind again. Yes, I know I do that a lot. I was thinking about college. Yes! That evil place that Chassidishe girls don't go to! I'm thinking of going there! Ah, but who ever said I was Chassidish?'

And so the conversation goes. By that time the person regrets ever asking. Why bother?

The clock is ticking, and 'next year' starts in 1 week and 5 days. Oh boy.