If you'll excuse the melodrama of this statement, I'm falling to pieces. I haven't been able to summon the strength to empty my bins for about a month, never mind send any text messages. If I'm forced to stand up at work, I start quaking in my (oversized) boots and struggle to fight the urge to hide in the toilets with a chocolate digestive until I can stop the shakes; never mind what happens when the phone rings. My Documents (oh, I've crashed FAR too badly to actually put anything in directories!) is awash with journal entries called things like "woe68.txt" and "angst527.txt" that have time stamps beginning with 01 (well, 09 but only because I can't seem to convince my computer I don't live in Singapore), which I couldn't find the motivation to upload.

This (academic) year was supposed to be relaxing, but I could do with about three months' off work and my insane (though unproductive) social schedule, to catch up with administrative bumph and e-mail and writing down all the stories in my head. And you know, maybe actually read a few books, watch a few films and teach myself the odd chord on the guitar.

(Unproductive in that I get to see my four best friends in this country relatively frequently, and the odd acquaintance, but I never get to spend time with My People. As for the administrative bumph, that which I can instantly think of:

- empty bins, you minger!
- wash non-machine-washable clothes, you minger!
- dye hair, you minger!
- put enormous pile of books up for sale on Amazon and move them to cupboard downstairs (necessary for money)
- work out how to use digital camera again and flog enormous pile of clothes and Warhammer miniatures on niceboots and eBay (ditto)
- claim medical insurance for broken foot (ditto)
- clear everything off old computer (for Dad, who I'm selling it to)
- organise files on laptop (I can't find anything)
- organise files on desktop (ditto)
- combine bits of novels into workable files (ditto)
- sort out forthcoming trip
- sort out Christmas
- get website in working order (necessary for creative revolution)
- find further beta testers for computer game (ditto)

All very dull and time-consuming.)

The urge for time off, I suppose, is reasonable enough: not counting three days of unpacking and repacking in May, I haven't actually had a stay-at-home sort of holiday since summer 2003, which is a lot longer than I've been without one before. It's not going to happen any time soon, though, and it'll be Christmas before I get as much as a weekend to myself.

Much as I would love to ban administrata from my life, I have no idea how to: if anything, I'll end up with more, when I have to start paying my own bills and doing my own laundry and shopping again. Much as I want to spend next academic year trekking around Australia, and the following three back in further education, the very thought of organising these things (which I'll have to start doing soon) instantly makes me freak out and play The Sims 2 for eight hours straight.

Even a day off sick in bed would be nice. I'm immensely tired and my throat's blocked, but because it's not really harming my ability to work (just to set my alarm clock), and it's my parents' business, and they really need me there, and I'm sure I've brought it on myself, running around the country and regularly staying up til crazy o'clock as I do, that's not going to happen either.

Of course I feel bad for complaining about this, because in most ways my life rules. In addition to the making shedloads of money for doing something easy that doesn't extend beyond the correct 37.5 hours a week, and getting to spend every weekend in whatever part of the nation I desire, and getting to go to pretty much every concert I like, other good recent developments;

- I have discovered how much The Sims 2 rocks! Ok, this is actually a bad thing, but at least playing it's cheap, and good popular culture makes my life immeasurably better.

- It's also inspiring me, and the writing style I've been using and the topics I've been covering lately are different, more imaginative and generally better than the fictional ground I normally tread.

- I am going back to Australia! And other eastern parts! In September 2005! Ok, I don't have a visa or a ticket or, erm, money for a ticket, but I don't see any reason why I won't by then. YAAAAAAY!

- I have a plan for after that. My supervisor in Australia wrote to me recently, begging for me to write some programs. Ah, academia, once you've set foot in it, you can never wholly escape, can you? But, because I am Diligent (ok, because I have a terrible conscience and I get co-authorship of a paper out of the deal), I did it (although I haven't actually sent them off yet), and good Mykos, it felt good to be using my brain again! Sadly, it just made me remember how wasted I am in my current occupation.

Also, I'm realising the real problem with working 9-5.30 for my parents and socialising in the way that I currently do: the inflexibility of it. I often get inspired to write a story or do some other task while I'm at work or away somewhere, and there's nothing I can do about it until I get home, by which point the feeling has invariably passed (or, more commonly, the frustration over not being able to do it has degenerated into general depression). At my former company and as a student, this wasn't such a problem. A night out or a computing session never lasted more than a few hours, and lectures and doing about one hour's work a day weren't obstacles in scribbling down some ideas at least.

In other words, everything is pointing back towards further education, post-Australia. Other jobs I'm qualified for are either too easy, too inflexible, or in aid of things I don't believe in. And students get a better social life. And as I've said before, I can't afford to study anything other than more Maths.

Obviously, I'm still not keen on the idea of living la vida studente on my 28th birthday, and spending three years on a single project about five people will read. And obviously, I'd still prefer it if I could write for a living, but I simply can't see any way of making that happen for a few years (if at all, though I'll obviously continue writing to literally live. Apart from the fact that there's nothing I like better, I once went without fictional writing for a few months and I was a wreck. And no way am I becoming one of those people who say, "I really wanted to be a writer, but, you know, it didn't work out." Never!)

I hate being a slave to money, but the creative revolution will come, my friends, I'll just have to actually finish something so I can sell it (either to a publisher, or to my friends, I care not), which is taking a while. (The computer game doesn't count - I'm giving that away as a sample of what's to come.)

Aye, life can either suck or rock, and it really just depends on how I look at it. The Panic is becoming increasingly hardwired in this one, though, and I need to fight it. But I'm so tired . . .