At 105.5.

There's something about being suspended in 175 thousand gallons of water. Of floating on my back, and hearing nothing, all noise blocked out. Even thoughts seem to drown. Just floating, feeling the closest I will ever get to a lack of gravity. I never pretended to understand exactly how physics worked. But I feel weightless.

The same weightless I felt driving fast on the freeway, missing the exit, continuing to drive until downtown came into view. Music turned up too loud. Weightless, rapid acceleration. Weightless. Waitless.

I am not waiting.

"We'd like to offer you a job."

In the music department of Barnes and Noble, so that every time someone asks me for something mainstream, I'll have no idea what they are talking about.

And every time someone purchases a CD, I can mumble how they should have just downloaded it online.

And every time someone comes up to the counter with a country album, I can drop it, and say "Oops, I broke it, go get another one. Oops, I broke it, go get another one. Oops, I broke it. Go get another one. What, there's none left? That's okay, the world is better off without country music. How about this other bizarre obscure artist?"

Laid-off executives are looking for jobs right now. Young professionals and parents needing second jobs. And yet, they hired me today. How do I stand apart from everyone else?

I'm weightless these days.