I really don't like my life. It's absolutely impossible to get published. I've made nearly 120 submissions and I haven't gotten back a single request for the manuscript. I can rationalize this failure any number of ways, but at the end of the day I'm still unpublished. I have exactly one dream, one goal in life, and even when I'm at my absolute best I still can't accomplish it. I should just give up and content myself to the miserable, unremarkable little existence I've got. For the next thirty years I'm going to be stuck in this pointless rut. All my dreams of success as an author, of moving out into the countryside and living in peace and quiet, it's all for nothing. I'm stuck in this dank, nearly-unlivable apartment, in this concrete urinal of a city, with absolutely no chance of happiness, or even fulfilment.

On the upside, I continue to pay down debt. I expect to be debt-free by the end of next year. Then I can begin saving for retirement. I figure my mid-30s is as good a time as any to start. Hopefully between government social security, my union pension, and any investments I'm able to make over 30 years of savings, I may be in a position to retire by 65.