I finally got Chapter 1 of The Artists pushed out the door so all of you wonderful, beautiful, astute readers can enjoy the first installment of what I hope will be a long project. It certainly has the seeds for it: two young, impressionable, and in some ways intriguing boys; a house full of interesting and artistic people; interpersonal conflicts; a touch of psychological unbalance, just a touch, nothing certifiably crazy this time; straights, gays, and inbetweens; and four years of college ahead of all of them.

The other night when I'd tired of writing, I turned on the idiot box and did not watch "Idol". Sorry, but I refuse to be idolized. What I did watch, though, was "Camp Out," a beautiful documentary about 10 gay Christian teens who go to camp somewhere in the wilds of Minnesota. To many people being Christian and gay is about as oxymoronic as you can get, but these 10 teens were struggling with this very issue. I think the documentary dealt with their situation quite well.

I called the first trucking company I worked for and was told I'm "rehire-able". Now all I have to work on is getting them to shove the paperwork fast enough for me to get out the door and back on the road. If I had my druthers, I wouldn't do this, but there isn't much else I can do. The last company I drove for doesn't provide enough miles for me to make any (enough) money. There is a local company looking for CDL-A drivers, but their dispatch window runs from 00:01 to 16:00 six days a week and I need more structure than that; running long haul generally means working for 8 to 10 hours then having 10 to 12 hours off, during which I'll be able to get the sleep I need.

Well, that's about all I can get out of the ol' neuron bag this morning. I have, what I hope will be my last for awhile, a blood test on the valproic acid level in a few hours so I had to get up early. I am feeling very good, but I've felt good before and crashed horribly soon afterwards. Hopefully, this stuff is actually going to level my playing field.