The internet tells me I'm a quietly heartbroken tennis player. It's true, once my father bought me a tennis racket and was going to teach me to play. I left it in the trunk of his car, which was then borrowed by my older brother, who drove it to a bar downtown and parked it on the wrong street. It was broken into, and my racket was stolen, and I never touched a tennis racket again. Wow, that's dramatic, isn't it? True stories sometimes are.

I've been having fantastically mundane dreams, dreams in which I get my hair cut, dreams in which decide on a pair of shoes to wear, dreams in which I go to the supermarket and linger in the tea aisle. And then I wake up thinking, "My hair needs a trim, I haven't worn those shoes in a long time, I really am out of tea..." I like these dreams, when my dreams are this boring it feels like I'm getting quality rest, like I'm doing things right for a change.

During the day I keep thinking about the same couple of things over and over again, but the over and over of it turns it into a thousand things. I never get anywhere and it eventually degenerates into, "Man, oh man." At least twelve times a day, I think to myself, "Man, oh man."

I don't know what to say. It's like that thing Michael does on Wednesdays when he tries to predict the future. He says, "Okay, here's what I think they'll ask," and he tests me, and what I don't know he tells me, he says, "Memorize this," and I do, because memorizing things is fun. It doesn't matter that it's never right, because the comfort doesn't come from knowing what will happen, it comes from thinking you do. But everyone knows that. All I have to do is write a story in my head, say to myself, "Memorize this," and everything will be aces. I know it's only the very beginning, but this summer is already pretty exciting, isn't it?