black chevrolet

I have a bad feeling about this, this whole thing about where I'm living, what I'm doing...

Too much TV, not enough GRE, and nowhere to put my feet up. The temptation to go rent a motel for a week has never been stronger. I'm collecting parts but not installing them; wasting time and not doing anything about it; brooding on the past and not moving ahead. Why should one try to know oneself if not for the purpose of improving on who one is? Why do old impractical dreams never die? Why does making money taste so bad? Everything in my life is perfect except I have no structure and no home; what do I have to complain about? Nothing, really.

Why do I miss life, when living it is so impractical, so hard to justify, so contrary to first principles? Where did my first principles come from?