Update:
As of 11:59 p.m. on 11/05 I have 5,432 words.

Morale:
Good - I'm ahead of last year, and I'm not running low on material.

But my big triumph of the evening was resisting a very tempting invitation to see Alien at Cinerama. Why does all the good stuff happen in November, dammit?

Excerpt of the Day:

This is the third date. We are still exchanging personal history trading cards. So far he�s given up Few People Really Get Me, Right Now I�m Working at Dad�s Firm But I Still Keep a Studio, and I Wouldn�t Call My Mother Domineering, Exactly. I�m already beginning to lose interest in collecting them all.

I put Working Class Background on the table next to my previous offering (Bookish Fat Kid); he hands me Hardships Associated with Having Wealthy Parents. I try to be empathetic, but after a while I just don't have the imagination for it and channel my flagging energy into trying to appear empathetic.

"It�s like a constant struggle to feel independent. I mean, I even took student loans for school, so my parents would have less influence over my major."

This, at last, piques my interest, and I suppress the urge to ask the question that comes naturally to anyone indentured to Sallie Mae.

He notices my interest, and turns coy. "Come on, I know you want to know. Ask me."

"It�s awfully personal, don�t you think?"

"Tell me yours, and I�ll tell you mine."

It's an intriguing proposition, but I�m not sure I�m ready for that much intimacy with a man I�ve just decided not to have sex with.