Last night was a good one for star gazing, a large shower of meteorites moving through the north-eastern sky. I sat out alone and watched perhaps two dozen light pencil lines sketch themselves hastily in fornt of the constellations. The nights are one of the good things about being here. Quiet and dark, the calm flow of the milky way visible in the infinite and remote blackness. The big swiss cheese of space, filled with all that dark matter, punctuated by some gauge-bosons.

But that same emptiness is also the down side of being here. Erin, my friends, are far away, and so are job prospects. This does not help when hunting for work, and the intarweb is not gonna cut it. A total of five people have looked at my resume since I put it on Monster. A bit discouraging. Perhaps I'll need more than this tiny thread to find me a job. I'd hoped to have already sent out CDs with my work on them by now, but things here seem to move slow. At least I seem to.

There's the crux of it. Me. I need to get off my ass and move faster. It's just that. Hm. After five hours of shovelling horse shit I really don't feel like sitting down and working on a presentation for prospective employers or clients. But without the manual labor, I can't save money to move.

God. I repulse myself with my whining. I build those catch 22 situations really well. They take the pressure off, I guess, by making it seem that things are out of my hands. Of course this is not the case. In reality there is no paradox, I just have to work harder.

"So. Work harder", I says to myself. "OK", says I, "let's go shovel some shit."

"Beats advertising", says me.

"Same difference", says myself.