I fixed that last entry, where I had underlined everything by mistake. I noticed it last night, but the nipple is still missing from my keyboard, so it was too much of an ordeal to try and fix it. So I just left it. Isn't that wonderful?
I found out today, hooray hooray, that Jennifer still loves me. I guess I have just been extra sensitive lately to how people FEEL about me, just like an angsty teenage girl. I have this theory about myself how I am aging very slowly in terms of emotionality. Like, I am about 4 years behind--four years being a measurement of sorts, the time spent in each stage of school (elementary, middle/junior high, high school, college). At any rate, I hit the junior high emotionality in about high school. I think I hit high school in college. ANd now I think I am back to a junior high stage. ALso in terms of sense of humor, unfortunately!! I am a giggling gaggling obnoxious nitwit.
Did you know there are psychiatrists who specialize in ex-Lyme Disease victims? this is music to my ears. I wonder how damaged my brain got when I had the disease all those years ago. I bet my little brain gnomes keeled over and died, leaving empty husks of dreams and ambition. At any rate, my mother told me this the other day, and also told me that lots of psychiatrists still psychoanalyze, a la Freud. What??!?!?!?! was my reply. Is this true? Do they still do this? I thought the Psychiatric/Psychological professions were trying to bury Freudian analysis deep in the annals of forbidden brain thought, never to be heard from again. Although I do want to find out which stage I am stuck on, the anal or the oral.
I had a good day at work today, and realized I have a new workplace crush. Uh-oh. This is hard because my dad works there. Not that anything ever comes of it, but it always makes life a little bit easier to have a muse, even if it changes weekly!! (see what I told you about being a giggling gaggling nitwit? I sound like I am being all bOYcRaZy. Only, I assure you, I am not. I hate most people. Really. Especially "cute" boys. UGH SHOOT ME. I want to marry a Hell's Angel MUSCLEMAN.)
My nose is a stuffy.
I think I am beginning to feel my writing mind coming back. I need this practice, this stupid daily recounting of events to actually start to think again. Pathetic, I know, but when you understand the types of television and other forms of media I've been exposing myself to lately you'd see. See what mush my frontal lobes have blobbed into.
I NEED A DRINKING BUDDY. WHERE IS MY DRINKING BUDDY? It is time to get hard-core liqua-style happening on, suited on me like a coat of velvety lushness.
I came up with a miracle diet yesterday. Just slice steaks off your stomach and eat them!!! See, you can eat ALL THE FAT you want, because it is your own fat, and you will burn a lot of calories in (a) the act of cutting flesh from your body and (b) the trama your body will go through when you slice it and dice it!! Plus, (c) MASSIVE BLOOD LOSS!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a fatty miracle diet. I am going to market it, and then go cry with morbidly obese bedridden people like Richard Simmons, and I will heal them.