sinking?

When one starts eating a dinner of canned tuna and canned corn standing over a kitchen sink with a plastic fork, one begins to feel that perhaps it is not too far to the days when someone else is guiding the fork towards my mouth....
I have to admit, things are not going fantastically. I have $8.95 (minus my 30,000 film school debt) in my bank account, am desperately trying to finish fixing up this apartment with no end in sight as I think I'm allegeric to the dust, feel too distracted to focus on my screenplay, have an unfinished film that I am scared to show to anyone, and am really annoyed that I liked the last New Yorker piece by Miranda July. I want to be able to say, why yes, I can do that, write good stories and direct indie features and get published in the New Yorker, but it really feels like I can barely figure out how to buy nails at a hardware store in Paris. My phone is not yet working and if I didn't have the internet I think I'd really be losing it alone in Paris on this chilly Saturday night.
Okay, one tiny bit of nice thoughts since I don't want to drag you down or worry my parents- I saw the documentarian Fred Wiseman at the cinemateque today, a rare opportunity to be sure. He spoke in French with a very similiar American accent and slightly broken French to my own, so I felt a little better. Maybe someday I can give an interview in French at the cinemateque. Honestly if I have to wait till I'm 70 that's okay with me too.