to Stephanie:

I played scrabble today and got my first-ever BINGO. The word was CEMENTED, and the D landed on a triple-word score. 92 points. I felt I’d finally redeemed, in some way, the 15 quid I fed an unsympathetic fruit machine in a London pub last week. It is certainly more luck than skill. My scrabble partner later turned it into UNCEMENTED, but it was too late, I had already cemented my victory.

But uncemented is exactly how I feel. The fact that it isn’t even a word makes it that much more poignant. I wanted to organize my thoughts and projects this weekend, or even do some work on them, but my only thought is: What the hell am I doing?

With or without a lush palm-treed Floridian landscape to stare at, I ask this question a lot. Is this the underlying undying question of twenty-five-year-olds the world over?

I think it’s the undying question of us all.

So I’m off to get my bearings (that is, clean my room and perhaps make a list).