Working on puzzles all day and night with Julia because we're super badass.

I wrote this today. I'm gonna post it and you're probably not gonna read it and that's okay. It's just the first thing I wrote since this grad school app shit finished and I want to put it somewhere.

Like if you had never seen a banana before, would you say, “I should peel this.” Fruit has skin and flesh and in that way, we identify with it. I was told once that baby animals develop features like baby humans so that if their parents die, we will take care of them. A nannie goat tells her kid son who is standing on top of a very high rock, “Baby humans develop features like baby goats so that if their parents die, we will teach them how to climb.” On average, humans are fifty-seven percent water. In this way, we are all half-lake. When listing off nationalities people say, “I come from the sea, but only on my father’s side.” We can categorize nutrients, make lists. It’s amazing that one fruit can contain the same things as another when they grow on different trees. There’s a limit to substance. My father keeps telling me we have used over half the oil and I keep asking him how his life will change. This isn’t about conservation though. We could kill all the birds and wait several billion years and have more. When I was a kid I used to copy words out of the dictionary, as though this second handwritten dictionary would have more meaning. Everyone I know gets lonely at night, even though after we are done playing peek-a-boo we know that just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. It is always alarming to fall down and discover that you are made of bones after all. In 2065, when we have finished categorizing the Earth, people begin to feel lonely in the daytime. They talk about fruit and what the skin is made of, only instead of talking they take pictures of their brains and read what the colors say.  

Lay around in bed all day. Julia is coming back. I'm hungry. Writing a prose poem.

Okay, I might still cry when I get mad at people who used to be my friends, it happens.

This will only encourage the fuel but, FUCK YOU.

I WANT CHOCOLATE SO BAD.

Barbell strength class was excellent. I feel excellent now. Really good. Love it. Think I'm gonna pop some ibuprofen, sit on some ice, knit some socks, and then go to yoga this afternoon.

Day #3 of trying to work out with a bruised tailbone. Today: barbell strength class.

It's okay to sit around by yourself, watch way too much tv, knit socks, and feel things you should never ever feel, right?

Apparently my stomach pain might be caused by my tailbone pain according to this one website I found. Everything is connected.

Also I had no concentration. I know exactly why. Unfortunately it's not one of those things that just gets resolved, but instead one of those awful intangible things that will continue to exist in my consciousness for quite some time.

Look at my pretty new purple yoga mat and slightly less pretty new sports bra. Also, my tailbone hurts quite a bit after yoga. Not enough to stop me from doing yoga again before it heals, but enough to sit on ice for awhile. 

Generally I think working out is mind over matter. So, I am going to use my mind to ignore my tailbone pain and go to yoga and my pretty new purple yoga mat.

So sleepy. Got drunk off wine and champagne, managed not to fight and eat pie, but didn't sleep much and woke up with horrible stomach cramps. Still have Christmas dinner to get through. My new yoga mat is beautiful.

Things are made a little better by buying pies with my dad, getting stuff my knit socks, and eating a delicious sweet potato curry soup for lunch.

Pus is still draining from my knee. It's an attractive yellow color. I feel sort of heartbroken. I always use words like "sort of" because I like hedging a lot. It seems inappropriate to say totally and completely heartbroken, that I really don't know how to deal with Christmas without my house, without my dog, without a real Christmas tree, that I keep crying over a stupid holiday. The one and only time I went over to my mom's duplex I just felt this festering and couldn't bring myself to talk or look at anything because they were all the same things, just in the wrong place and it seemed so terribly wrong. My brother kept chastising me, suggested that maybe he lead the conversation. My mom kept saying things like "When you were going to live here" and I kept replying "I was never going to live here" and then she said "I mean before Austria" even though before Austria she claimed that my house would still be there when I returned. I don't want to go buy a holiday French silk pie that I don't want to eat, I don't want to open presents from my mother that I don't want, I want to sit with my dad and drink wine and not feel horrible. I am grateful at least, that I have one parent that I like pretty much all the time and prefer seeing over most people in the world.

Hurt my tailbone a couple of days ago. Lots of actions hurt. Am really tired. Want to eat a sandwich and or the giant bag of rolls on the counter that's meant for Christmas Eve and Christmas. I don't want to spend Christmas with my mother. I hate wanting things. It's never rational. I constantly degrade myself. I need to shower.

Saw my mom today to plan meals for Christmas Eve and Christmas. Of course she brought up everything I didn't want to talk about and when I repeatedly said "Stop" and threatened to leave she still continued talking until I actually stood up to leave. She just wants to feel like it's not her fault and that I'm not angry at her, but it is her fault and I am angry with her.

There are two types of people in this world: people who pick at their zits and people who don't pick at their zits. As a person who compulsively picks at their zits, I'm not quite sure the second type of people exists.

Getting up an hour early to go to the Wednesday barbell strength class because I can't go to the Thursday barbell strength class. Yeah.

Wake up to find myself broke, fall down walking to the treadmill, feeling very angry for most of my workout, but after burning around 1,000 calories I feel a bit better and wholly excited for my sandwich.

I console myself with the fact that even though I am completely broke I can still go to the gym (assuming I can put gas in my car), I have food to eat, and beer in the fridge.

Doing laundry is one of the least fun activities I know of.

Why having a boyfriend would be nice: so he could give me a back massage.

Plans for the evening: yoga, go out to dinner with my dad, if I get really ambitious laundry and taking out the recycling, but I'm probably not that ambitious. I suppose if someone calls me I will see people, but even without that the day sounds very satisfying.

I have annoyances that are not appropriate to publish on the internet, but just know that I have annoyances.

I couldn't get to sleep last night until late because I took a nap yesterday from 4-6 and apparently that threw off my entire sleeping schedule. When I finally got to sleep I had all these dreams about people talking about how they had to be quiet because I was sleeping, but I was some sort of authority on something. It was very confusing, particularly the part where my computer restarted itself and hulu began playing and through my sleepiness I had to figure out which tab was causing the noise.

Making it to bed is so hard. Especially when you've done nothing all day aside from yoga and sending two emails because your body is not tired.

"I miss the way the fourth slice of pizza tastes. The fifth even more."

I realize this girl lost way more weight than me. But I totally relate to all of these statements.

I am always hungryyyy I just want to eat chips I have a chips addiction. They need to make no calorie chips. I realize they wouldn't make me less hungry, but that is a minor issue.

One time I apologized to someone for them breaking up with me. Like 10 times. It was all I could say. 

I want to cuddle with almost anyone right now.

Stupid. I hate who I think of when I'm drunk.

It disappoints me, that I can't make people want to talk to me. I am not particularly alluring. I am moreso to people who actually talk about things, versus people who say nothing, but that who I wanted to talk to me so I say a lot. These are not the people I should try to appeal to because it doesn't work.

I might be pleasant if you are not in my head. This is why I think people stop liking me. They get too close to my thoughts and they can't deal with it. I can mostly deal with it. It has taken a long time. This sounds so morbid, but it's not. I just don't like thinking really serious thoughts and I do a lot.

I just finished No Man's Land  by Eula Biss. I don't usually read nonfiction. I say this, but I've read a number of nonfiction books this year. The part that particularly touched me in this book was the last story where she talks about heritage and how we identify ourselves with these groups of people that we really shouldn't be identified with at all. She concludes the story by talking about being harassed by a black student at a high school she was teaching at, reporting the harassment, and then being apologized to by a  completely different student. When she points out that he was not the one doing the harassing, he says, "No, but it might have been my cousin." In this way she shows the value in white people, in white culture, apologizing for crimes in white history, regardless of what any single person's ancestors might have done. This is a sentiment I very much agree with and have gotten in many discussions about it. I have white guilt, I feel guilty for my privilege, I feel guilty for crimes of the past that I took no part in. I am still living the life created by the people who committed these crimes and therefore I see the value in apologizing, in trying hard to reverse these things.

Walking is so hard and so painful. Clearly the solution here is to go to another yoga class.

Or maybe taking a day off.

Two yoga classes in a row. First yoga class was not satisfactory so I did another one and mid side-plank I hated all of my thoughts and decisions and at the end I felt really pleased with myself and could see vague arm muscles instead of just squishy stuff.

Maybe I will try going a week. Maybe sometime in January. I will have to figure out breakfast and lunch alternatives as right now I eat processed food (bread, milk, mayonnaise, jam, sliced turkey?) in both meals. I want to be good to my body.

I want to stop eating all processed food for a month and eat mainly vegetables in season, but I cannot find a proper definition of processed.

I can't imagine picking up and moving right now. The concept seems so hard. A tearing almost.

I actually had a good time tonight and enjoyed all the people I was around. It was a really nice feeling. Shockingly people can interact without making other people feel bad. I did not realize this.

Sometimes I think I like being alone better than anything else.

Things that contradict this: see all of last year.

Put on my New Years Eve dress several weeks early and am now wearing it around the house. It is the same dress as last year that I didn't get to wear out. My roommate came home and told me my dress was really pretty and I said, "Yes, I'm taking pictures of myself on the computer to put on my blog." Yeah, shut up. 

I also figured out how to turn up the heat in my apartment. Basically everything in my life got way better this morning.

I know hearing me talk about weight and food and working out is annoying and you're probably judging me just a little for caring this much or maybe I'm judging me just a little, but I've lost 31 pounds and I'm super excited, so excited that I'm going to go eat a sandwich (mostly because it's lunch time and I eat a sandwich everyday).

Based off Pinterest the only books people read are Harry Potter and The Hunger Games.

Today a man was improperly doing kettle bell and his junk was waving about.

There was a substitute at yoga, but a banker told me I look BA so I think I broke even.

My clothes didn't dry fully in the dryer so I just spread them out across the floor. This is a grown up solution.

When people are nice all the time it doesn't really mean anything. When someone is sort of awful to you most of the time and then is nice once it feels so special. Clearly the key here is to be mean and terrible most of the time.

I like hedging a lot. Minnesotans like hedging a lot. Like "I'm going to tell you something bad, but it's going to be okay, okay?" I am being criticized for this. It is deserved.

I'm watching "I Used to be Fat" to motivate myself to get out of bed and go to the gym.

I don't eat enough and then get really hungry and eat an apple and a bunch of crackers. I need hobbies that aren't dieting and working out and doing really hard puzzles and watching tv online.

Inner Voice 1: Stop working out right now. This is the least fun thing ever. You've worked out everyday for 10 days. You are tired.
Inner Voice 2: Think of how happy you'll be to lose another pound. You love losing pounds!
Inner Voice 1: You've already lost 2 pounds this week, losing more than that per week is unhealthy and you love being healthy!
Inner Voice 2: You ran yesterday. You're not being lazy.
Inner Voice 1: You really need to work on grad school applications. Think about how much work to do. Think about how behind you are.
Inner Voice 2: That's such a good point. I can almost agree with that.
Inner Voice 1: Just push the stop button.
Inner voice 2: Yeah, just do it.

I'm hungry so I'm cleaning. I'm turning into a 1950's housewife. Next I'm going to start taking valium. Have you ever noticed how you can never get anything as clean as you want it to be?

Whenever I feel at all down I take lots of vitamin D pills.

I finished Mindy Kaling's book, Is Everyone Hanging out Without Me, the other day. I was naturally drawn to the title and I mostly enjoyed Tina Fey's book and figured this would be of the same strain. It is, and it disappointed me in all the same ways. However, I do like all the sections they have about dieting, because I enjoy talking about eating and dieting all the time and like to pretend someday I can have a book where I express my secret desire to look like a Victoria's Secret model.

So I sort of did this today. By sort of I mean my feet were only a few inches off the ground and after I bit I loudly fell over. But still. 

I am a smart person. I know this above all else. I know I am more smart than attractive, like it's a competition. It is though, if you're a female. You have to prove yourself. You can't be smart and someone everyone wants to sleep with unless you are specific exceptions from the rule. Primarily I am smart, but as I get older fewer people recognize this.

Everyone opposed a conversation on feminism this evening.

Hey, remember that time I sat down and finished a grad school app in an hour and a half? It was great.

Go to finish this fucking 50 page writing sample this weekend. Just gonna sit down and do it. My disappointment in a multitude of people makes it easier to write because I have no desire to talk to those people. Okay, I always have desire to talk to those people. Talking to them always just proves to be disappointing. Working on a story and realizing this girl is a bitch. Making her more of a bitch. They aren't going to let me in because they are going to think I'm a bitch too.

Me: The turkey looks good.

Dad: How can you see it under all that bacon?

Me: Well the bacon looks good.

First 10K. My goal is to finish. No time goals, no other goals, just to finish.

Cooking a million dishes in one day is intense.

Stuffing done
Cranberry sauce done
Sweet potatoes in the oven
Mashed potatoes on the stove

Still need to do:
Mash mashed potatoes
Green beans
Apple pie

Well obviously the answer to the question in my head is that there are just some people you care about more than others even if logically the amount you should care about both of them is the same (very little).

My whole body is constantly sore. In December when I'm on break from work I think I'm going to start going to two yoga classes on yoga days. Then I will be sore more than constantly, but eventually will be able to do a forearm stand.

The baffling thing about winter is that everything is so bright and gray and the same time. I am already tired of this.

Sometimes I get crabby because I'm hungry. This happens. It might be happening right now.

I really like that Andy on Parks and Rec is taking a Women's Studies class. Seriously, Women's Studies classes are the best. Except for Women's Lazers. Which would be the best if it existed.

Anti-climactic end of weekend feeling. I feel bummed. I'm going to watch things and pretend I don't feel bummed until I wake up tomorrow morning feeling happy again because this is what happens during the morning. Maybe it's a doing-the-laundry feeling.

Sometimes working out just feels so good.

Some stuff about wanting to be close to people. Some other stuff about how I was supposed to forget and not think about it and didn't. Things change and happen and everything is still the same. I need to stop thinking about [person]. It's too long, expiration date, I'm done.

Also today I bought a winter jacket, boots, tights, and a turkey.

It's a cycle.

I like this website. It gives a different perspective on weight.

And you sort of start to hate yourself when the story you are writing starts to turn into an indie romantic movie where people say overly clever things and they go on dates to museums, even though you have gone on dates to museums and they've already been to a bar and you can't think of anywhere else for them to go and the female love interest becomes quirky because you'd actually like to be quirky, just fail at doing so in reality.

Trying to write about love and attraction and instead all that is coming out is boring. Maybe love and attraction are boring. Maybe it's because I started this story when I was 18 and now I'm 23 and all these feelings feel different and more tired.

UGhgghrgkeslbrshekjnbfdeb

Failed to work out today. Have written a paragraph. I need to do better.

Writing with Twilight on in the background. I don't think I would enjoy kissing someone who was trying their hardest not to eat me.

All I want to do is look up recipes for Thanksgiving, not work on grad school stuff. This is a reasonable desire.

Some comments on food:

Last night I had a nightmare that I went out to dinner with my mom to a Japanese restaurant and they served me a giant bowl of noodles in a white sauce and I ate the whole thing and I spent the rest of the dream panicking about how I would ever burn off all those calories and perplexed as to why a Japanese restaurant was serving Italian food.

I ordered rolls and the bread part of stuffing from Breadsmith today and noticed they had an entire case of soft pretzel products. It was like being in Austria all over again and instantly my mouth started watering until I caught sight of the nutritional facts and one soft pretzel has the same amount of calories as my breakfast and lunch combined, so I stifled my urges. I still ordered a dozen rolls for 3 people though.

Second job obtained.

Just spent two hours hanging out with my brother rather than working on grad school stuff.

Interview went well despite giant wound on forehead. Yoga went well despite muscle ineptitude. Everything is going well.

I was nervous last night about my job interview today so I picked a giant wound in my forehead where formally there was a completely unnoticable zit. Now I have a giant wound. This is my life.

I've realized that I have this terrible fear of people thinking I'm stupid just because sometimes I say stupid shit.

I like most people better when they are single, including myself.

I scored in the 99th percentile on the essay section of the GRE. I've lost 25 pounds. I feel so good about myself right now. Now time to go to yoga and get my large ego in check.

My Strange Addiction: I'm addicted to doing jigsaw puzzles. I just drove crazily to multiple store to find one to help me calm myself. Jeeze, this is worse than alcohol.

Current level of self-respect: -25

Remember last week when I went to a level 2 yoga class and felt like the master of strength and flexibility? This week I am the master of sore arms and failing to do a headstand.

Going to the post-office is a very high stress situation. Somehow I kept doing everything wrong and all I was doing was mailing stuff.

I just had to call my dad and get him to drive me to pick up my birth control prescription because I had too much to drink. I'm very in control of my life.

I want people to want to be in my life.

When I drink all sense of self-preservation leaves.

I find this thing about Ke$ha weirdly appealing. 

Working on grad school stuff with a bloody mary. With 5 bloody maries. Okay, Just 1 for now.

It's strange how only personal things matter. Not that there's anything going on in my personal life. There is a distinct lack of something. But it's like, everything can be going really well in everything, but some fucking girl or boy makes you feel bad and it ruins all of that. Or everything can be really shitty in everything, but some girl or boy makes it better. I'm just not going to have a personal life because grad school matters too much.

My life is quickly turning into a cliche where I completely shut myself off emotionally in order to avoid getting hurt by anyone ever.

I need to take care of myself and not let myself do reckless things that I know will hurt me.

Didn't get the things done today that I needed to. Shit. Tomorrow, then. Pretending that some people don't exist. This doesn't always work.

Conversations in my head: You know what? I don't care. I like myself whether or not you like me or talk to me. Yup, that's fine, don't talk to me. I'm busy talking to these other people over here. I could go drink right now if I wanted to. I could. I don't need you. I don't care about you. Look how much I don't care!

I'm the worst liar in the whole world.

I was walking into Dunn Brother's today, as I do most days, and another regular (I recognize all the Dunn's regulars and Lifetime regulars despite my terrible facial recognition skills which tells you just how often I go to these places) was talking about all the things wrong with him or his life and as I walked by, he burst, "And I am surrounded by absolutely beautiful women!" So just for fun I am going to pretend that was directed at me.

I try not to be bothered. I am though. The important thing is that involved parties never know I'm bothered. This is easy to achieve, I just have to not tell them.

I seriously feel like putting my face down on the table out of frustration and being over-caffeinated. 

Man sitting across from me just commented on the grimace on my face.

Look I am in the exact same place as yesterday and my hair is frizzing due to stress. 

Normally during yoga I feel bad for thinking about boys. Today I felt bad for thinking about writing and grad school apps.

I didn't feel like hanging out with people last night. I don't think I've ever not felt like hanging out with people before.

Oh my god, there's an article about me in the newspaper. And by an article about me, I mean an article about women. 

So much work to do for grad school. Trying to wear hats to increase my productivity. 

I have officially figured out the twelve schools I am applying to. This is scary. I have so much to do before the applications are due.

Yoga was really good and now I feel like a beacon of strength and flexibility. I have rollercoaster self-confidence, but for at least most of the day I like myself.

Last night pictures of me from right before I started losing weight were posted and it scared the shit out of me and now I am extra re-committed after many weeks of lots of drinking and eating. I'm going to a level 2 yoga class today for the first time ever after doing yoga for years. I think I'm going to die.

I am an example of pose and purpose who doesn't drunk text people no matter how snubbed they feel. Also I AM WEARING MY DIRNDL.

I feel dizzy and tired. I.e. I am hungover. Why do they have art classes for children on Saturdays? Who wants to do art on Saturdays? I was very good about not drunk texting last night. I wanted to. My phone was in my hand. But I didn't.

I'm wearing the same outfit as I did last week, but I looked cute, right?

I cannot decide what to wear tonight. I might have a trying-on-dresses rampage where I walk around my apartment in every dress I own until I pick the perfect one to go out in. I have many dresses, but apparently not enough to keep up with my frequent going out/infrequent laundry habits.

I am trying to prove something to someone, but this someone is totally abstract. I want to hold up tonight and be like "look, I had a good time. I drank some beer. I talked with some people. And it was all good." I'm caring about people the wrong way. It confuses me terribly. I get upset about inconsequential people and then convince myself people that matter a lot, really don't matter at all. But that is all irrelevant. I had a good time tonight.

I found this flash fiction I wrote and kind of like:

They clung to each other as the world was ending, having met only a few hours before. While everyone else lay dying in the street they talked to each other about childhood pets, the houses they had left behind, and their favorite things to eat for breakfast. As the sun came up on the almost empty world, they slowly realized that they had made a grave mistake and didn’t really like each other after all and they stood up, stretched their sore muscles and began looking for someone else to love, but the sea had been emptied and all they had left was each other. When they are feeling particularly jovial, they both agree that the world ending on their first date was a rather unfortunate stroke of luck and perhaps if they had only gone out on a different day things would’ve gone better. They wander around, picking apples off the trees and sometimes they find each other again and every time he comments, “You know, it’s a lot of pressure being the last man left on Earth” and she agrees, but adds, “It’s even worse for me, I’m expected to repopulate.” He nods and they talk about it and they both agree not have a baby, because it isn’t the right time for them. They were both planning on waiting. They should at least wait until they have a stable way of killing animals and finding shelter. 

The amount of blog posts while I am writing is inversely proportional to the number of pages I've written. That's right, I'm now writing negative pages of my grad school portfolio. I had 18, then 16, now 12. Really good. Definitely getting in.

Flirting techniques: not looking or paying attention to attractive people.

Current boyfriends: 0

In which I become flustered due to the incredibly attractive boy serving me coffee and we make eye contact while he steams the milk and it seems like a moment until I remember that incredibly attractive people have moments with everyone. With certain people, everyone can go on a date with them and it seems like there is feeling, but really it's nothing. It's just something they emit.

Also in which my mother's ex-boyfriend who has my cat comes into coffeeshop and I become more flustered then previously, already a large amount.

Also I want to blow my nose, but that is the least attractive thing to do, so I am abstaining momentarily.

For about five minutes after a really good yoga class I feel amazing and wonderful and really thin and strong. Then I go into the locker room full of muscly somewhat emaciated people and all these feeling vanish. My great achievement of the day is doing a side plank modification which the teacher called "The Angry Rainbow." The Angry Rainbow looks sort of like this, only the top foot isn't on the ground and the hips are higher and my yoga pants aren't that crazy.

Yeah, so Danny is in the hospital again, but he's not dead and I'm making the worlds healthiest casserole. Seriously. The worst ingredient is a few sprinkles of salt.

When really terrible things happen I get surprisingly numb and calm and sleepy.

I keep waking up in the middle of the night scared of demons. Sometimes, when I really care about somebody (so not recently) I think about what it would be like to have them there spooning. Thinking a demon is in my room is a similar feeling.

Writing is making me feel sad about things I haven't felt sad about in a long time.

Yes yes yes yes yes. I went to the doctor. She does not think I have a stress fracture, but that due to my horrible ankles that bend inward am putting lots of stress on the muscles and stuff on my leg and need to take a week off running and buy new running shoes and I should be good. This is much better than expected.

I deal with my ankle/calf/shin injury the same way I deal with boys. I feel really terrible about myself and then try to comfort myself with writing and then realize that writing doesn't replace anything and write lots of stories about loss.

I have all these people stuck in my head because they used to have a place there and now they no longer do. I don't mean to think of them. I wish they would just leave and I could forget about them entirely, instead of just mostly or sort of.

Sometimes I feel like I live my life for other people. I do things so I can say, "Look what I did, see, I wasn't thinking about you."

Remember that time I was pretty sure I had a stress fracture in my ankle and went out and danced and drank anyway on only a few hours sleep and it was really fun?

Shin splints suck. I can't decide whether my shins hurt really badly or whether I am being over-dramatic about it and just didn't feel like running today.

My car battery is dead. This does not bode well.

Maybe I am bothered. I thought I wasn't.

I fell over 500 times today in yoga. I am so graceful.

I tried to pick up my tabs today for my car. The car is under my mom's name. They informed me that I need to get her to fill out a form giving me permission to pick up the tabs. I haven't seen my mom since June. I then called my mom in the DMV, which is probably not entirely logical, but I knew if I didn't do it then I would never do it, thus why I am trying to pick up tabs 12 days before they expire. She was happy to hear from me. I asked her why she hadn't called. She said she thought I was mad. I am. I asked her out to dinner because I knew she would never sign the form for me to get my tabs otherwise. She would rather have me pay loads of fines. She said yes, but wants to take the food back to her duplex in the hood (my words). I said that made me uncomfortable. She wanted to know why. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. She asked if it was because I was afraid she would be upset. I said I was afraid I would be upset. She said it upsets her that I don't want to talk about it. I said talking about it upsets me. She told me I have to come over to her duplex. I said I did not have to. She told me I had to for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I said nothing. She asked if I wanted to see Kirby, my cat since I was 12 that is living with her ex-boyfriend. I said, you have Kirby? She said that she will if I go over there. I promptly started crying in the DMV because my mother is trying to manipulate me with my cat. We made arrangements to meet for dinner. I walked outside and instantly felt like no one cares about me because that is a logical reaction. Every time I get really upset I feel utterly alone though I am not. This is the worst. Probably no one is still reading. I want to get drunk before dinner but I have to drive. I want to drink now. I want my roommate to be home. I should not post these things. Fuck.

My computer died due to lack of battery while I was writing and I had to take a reading break until a table near an outlet opened up and I got annoyed with everyone for not being concerned about my inability to write due to my dead computer. Maybe I need to start handwriting things. I need a new notebook. When my finances have recovered from the month of fun (i.e. October) I will do this.

Also I take pictures of myself so I can put off writing for longer. Writing is a state of mind more than typing things. Some people disagree with this.

Do extraordinarily beautiful people feel different from ugly people when they sit in coffeeshops? As I consider how I feel about myself today I have to wonder this.

I feel very strange. Not upset at all, just very strange.

Returning home I go back to the normal things. I get up and take up my clothes and weigh myself. Am shocked to discover I gained no weight at homecoming. I spent most of last night on the couch researching graduate programs and then watched Paranormal Activity 2 curled up against my roommate. I like my life. It is quiet and there are so many nice things about it. I am not upset often. It was nice though, having things exciting for a few days. Seeing people I was so happy to see. Being anxious and excited at the same time. I have gotten so good at shutting my head off.

It occurred to me that afterwards this can be done. No more speculation. I hate speculating. I don't even like discussions anymore really.

I should just stay at the gym where the worst news I ever get is that I am not as in good of shape as I want to be.

Danny keeps me from feeling utterly lonely, but he cannot be a boyfriend replacement. So sometimes I still feel lonely. Then I read things and it makes me feel lonelier because when I read things I want to share them with people and I have no one to share reading-sorts of things with right now.

Here is a nice sentence about loneliness:
Similarly, a beautiful concert or an unusual autumn sunset makes me feel restless if I'm by myself, wanting someone with whom to share it.

I feel this way about most things.

Ahhhhhh I am soooo excited for homecoming. Ahhhhhh I've had far too much coffee. Ahhhhhh. Ahhh. Ahhhh. I have only written two sentences today and I've been here an hour. Ahhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Maybe I will go home and do laundry.

I want everyone I want to go to homecoming to go to homecoming. Sadly, this is not happening. But if you're not going, you should. You should. I will keep repeating this until you do. You do.

What is the use of going to write in a coffeeshop if your favorite barista-crush isn't working?

Can we just note how I am exactly the same 21 years later?

Waiting for the storm to hit. I fucking love thunderstorms.

It was great having Glo here. I want her still to be here. I want everyone to be here all the time and I just want to drink and dance.

Oh, you know just a zombie dancing. 

Just two zombies on the bus. 

Zombie at the bus stop. 

Writing is all that matters. Writing is ALL that matters.

This is a lie I tell myself continuously and never ever believe.

This morning I was woken up by a leaf blower. What happened to rakes?

It's illogical the things that hurt us. Not to devalue friendships, but I tend to be less concerned about those than other types of relationships and thus it's extra shocking to me when a friendship ends, even apparently years later. It's a strange feeling to return somewhere and feel like all these people  had made decisions about you while you were away, but know how it happens, because you talk about people too and analyze them and think you know things about them and you wonder what people know about you that makes them disdain you so. Other things that should be bothersome and are less so. Maybe it's because it ended so anti-climatically, maybe because I don't really believe it's over, maybe because I know absolutely that I did nothing wrong. Maybe that's ultimately what is important, remaining blameless.

I am excited for too many things and it's putting me on edge. When I get excited I get worried about the ruin of my happiness. This makes no sense, but it's how I am.

My grandpa's named was Captain Rex Sherman Coryell. He sounds so impressive.

There are people you talk to and you know that those people are the same as you and that's why you get along and that's why you fight. Then there are other people that make you feel good about yourself for whatever reason and so you think you care about those people, but really you just want them to make you feel good about yourself.

A leaf just landed in my latte.

Sitting in the back of Dunn Brothers and writing. There are leaves everywhere. 

Why do I feel like I can't be a writer if I'm not thin and beautiful? It's not about boys, not really, boys have liked me at all my various weights and haircuts, but writing is something different. I wanted to be validated by writing and I don't know how to be validated so I try for validation in other ways which makes no sense because I could be fat and ugly and still write the same.

Totally and completely failed at running today. I biked to the gym and got on the treadmill and I just couldn't do it. My whole body was sore, I was tired despite letting myself sleep in and I can't stop thinking about stupid shit like my mother and boys, both of whom make no attempt to contact me in any manner. I keep telling myself that these things happen, that I ran four miles on Tuesday and three on Sunday and Monday and my body is just fucking tired, but I still feel shitty even though it's beautiful outside. I just feel shitty today. I need some love and some drinks.

I felt like reading the Dickmans this morning. I pulled out Matthew and then remembered that Michael got lost in the move because I left him on my bed when I went to Austria. I remembered a moment of a dream from last night when I had an IV and my mother insisted on being there because I couldn't get away. I am writing a story about my mother who has dreams about her mother. I then thought, even though it's stupid, I want some silly boy to lie around reading poetry with me, smoking cigarettes even though I don't smoke and drinking wine out of the bottle. We will like each other until we don't and then we will resent each other horribly and the whole process will be entirely satisfying until I am hurt. I don't know where to find poets. I need to find some poets.

I had a dream I was at homecoming and I had a baby and nothing went right. The nice thing is, even if homecoming is utterly disappointing, I will definitely not have a baby.

My legs feel really nice. Like smooth and muscly. I know you were dying to know how my legs feel today.

Do you ever see people you are pretty sure you know (know like they went to college with you but you exchanged exactly zero words) but you aren't actually sure if it's them so you don't want to say anything, but keep giving them strange looks instead and look like a freak? Also it's really hard to take a picture of yourself when like 20 people are sitting behind you and you don't want any of them to realize you are taking a picture of yourself.

The lawn gets mowed every Wednesday at 7:30 in the morning. Every Wednesday I drag myself out of bed to shut the window, which only helps so much and wonder why they have to mow the lawn at 7:30, why not at 9, why not at sometime that more people are likely to be up. Then I spend the rest of the day in a crabby fog. That's where I am now, the crabby fog.

Recipes take me so long because I over look parts like "Cooked brown rice." Did you know four cups of brown rice takes 50 minutes to cook? I did not.

I am awake and feel awful and I don't know why. Excitement for things makes me anxious. I guess I feel anxious. I need to have fewer expectations.

I'm done with Couch 2 5k and start Bridge 2 10k tomorrow! Woooooo.

Writing makes me feel like binge drinking.

This woman across from me keeps looking at her phone and smiling. I bet a boy texted her. I smile like that too when boys I like text me.

Sometimes I get sad and read poetry and think that maybe I will never love other people as much as I love perfect sentences. When I run really hard and sweat is dripping down my face I don't need anyone to love me, but when I write I feel absolutely alone.

Nooooo alcohol tolerance. I am drunk. Wine with dinner has turned into being drunk and making too many plans and still not going anywhere. I just want to go drink with people and dance motherfuckerssss.

While I realize that calorie counters on exercise machines aren't accurate, I am just going to pretend that I burnt 1000 calories this morning at that gym. Also, I legit reached my 5k speed and time goals. I feel fantastic. Holyshit.

I just want to be a party rocker. 

I act stupider than I am. I think most people do. It's terrible to admit the seriousness in our heads.

A roomful of people with their headphones on staring at their computers.

Relearning the writing process:

Get a drink with caffeine. Preferably black coffee, but in reality a skim latte.
Sit by the window.
Stare out the window a lot.
Read everything on the internet.
Watch people outside stuff tree trimmings into a wood chipper.
Write a couple sentences.
Start gritting teeth from caffeine.
Be jealous of girl at neighboring table who is clearly still in college and reading poetry.
Gloat at all the people in the coffeeshop looking for a table.
Write blog post about everything done since entered coffeeshop.
Feel frustrated.

In yoga I prefer poses that are not particular difficult but make me feel like I am really flexible and amazing. Like this one. Nevermind it's the King Pigeon pose and I fucking hate pigeons. I was as pleased as a pigeon in Venice while doing this pose. 

Life is okay right now because I am looking forward to Glo coming and Homecoming and Ayanthi's birthday and Halloween. What happens after that?

Lonely tonight. Just how it is.

Okay, so one time I had what felt vaguely like an orgasm in yoga and apparently that's normal.

I had my first running failure since starting couch 2 5k. Normally I run about four times a week. This week, due to work starting again, I ran three days in a row, which I managed, though I was sore. I also eat around 1200 calories a day. Sometimes I eat under that, which I realize is vastly unhealthy, but I do it anyway. Then today I went to yoga. Yoga was great. I was pretty sure I was the strongest, most flexible person in the entire room and thus after yoga I should absolutely go running. My body did not like this. After 23 minutes out of 30 minutes of running I had to call it quits, which was disappointing because I was so close to the end, but my heart rate was near the point of explosion and so I decided to call it quits. I don't feel that awful about it. Okay I feel a little awful about it.

High school is so very faraway.

Today I was trying to figure out why I was so happy post cry-fest Saturday and I realized it's probably because all I do is work out, write, read, do art, and hang out with people I like. I also realized that it's probably short lived once my phone is silent for too long.

Impromtu trip to the hot tub. Inspired by the saunapants. No, we do not own saunapants. If you don't know what saunapants are, look them up. No, I have not been drinking. Yes, I just look like that. 

I threw a bunch of shit in a crock pot and supposedly in four hours it will turn into sweet and sour chicken curry while I work and go running.

I have this song stuck in my head. Apparently I miss going out in Austria. I sort of do. Bars closing at 2am seems too early. There are no durums for me to eat late at night.

And my dreams are all like, "Don't be fucking stupid, these people are all going to hurt you."

Instead of writing I am looking at the obituaries of my cousin and my grandma. 

I need a plot for my story. So far, a boy and a girl hook up. That's all I got. This is reflective of my life. A boy and a girl hook up and that's it, that's all I got. 

Okay, so I am still pleased with my decision not to go back to Austria, but I really do wish I could go to Oktoberfest. I could wear my pretty dirndl and drink lots of beer and it would be excellent.

Second broken kindle. People aren't meant to read things off appliances. But Amazon Support is super nice and I am still covered under warranty, I get a new one. I spelled warranty warrantly. Because that's a thing. The one year warrantly.

When I think of being little I think of never really being anywhere. As existing entirely in my head. Sometimes life is still like this.

The problem with waiting for people to contact you is that everything is done on your end. The other person can do whatever they like at anytime and the waiter is simply forced to wait perpetually.

I primarily enjoy watching sports games because it is acceptable to partake in the consumption of all sorts of things that are bad for you.

Running feels good because I don't think about things because it's too hard to think about anything else.

I've been crying for like hours. Fuck tonight. Fuck this month. Fuck fuck fuck.

It's really not fine.

The worst is when someone you thought wouldn't fail you starts to consistently fail and make you feel awful, but you don't do anything about it because you care about them too much.

Do you ever feel sick when you see someone you made out with pose with a gross politician? Oh wait, you haven't made out with as many gross people as me. No, I should not eat some pizza even though I want to. Yes, I did eat half an organic frozen pizza for dinner, which was like 300 calories on top of the like 400 calories I had already eaten today plus 43956430967067945 calories of wine. I hate losing weight. In the words of a friend "It's much easier to lose weight when you have a lot of weight to lose." I am a healthy fucking weight, so losing weight is like pulling five teeth at the same time. I am clearly drunk to be talking about weight loss on the internet this much. Also texted people. Stupid. Will regret tomorrow when they don't soberly text me back. But have nice plans tomorrow with nice person. What if nice person reads this? Shit. Nice person will know I like them and think they are nice. Also spent time with nice people tonight. But not Nice Person. I tried to capitalize that whole sentence. I wish I weren't almost done with Misfits. I got Atmospheres newish album today. It's better than lemons. SPahhhhhgdfhfh i;hhi;t

My grandma passed away.

File this under: people I used to talk to and now don't for reasons incomprehensible to me that I am not going to question.


I got home at 8:10 and my roommate was already asleep and now I am kind of sad and lonely, but I made the choice to come home and not be social, so I can't really complain. Stomach is grumbling. I should not eat dinner at 5:30.

Do people apply for MFA's in writing that don't really want it? I keep thinking if only I could send more than a writing sample, if only I could present myself as a whole person that would make a difference. But this is probably true for everyone though. Everyone is probably equally as alluring in person.

I want feather earrings.

I have not been very confident lately. I don't know why. I don't feel ugly or stupid or anything like that, I just somehow find myself lacking. Today in yoga I did a wheel pose. In the beginning of the summer I attempted a wheel pose and I was so shocked that I could actually do it that I promptly fell down and today I just did it and knew I could do it, despite not having attempted to do it for a couple of months. It felt good to have faith in myself. I rarely have faith in myself. I rarely have faith in other people. Faith is not something I am good at. Yes, I look just like this when I am doing wheel pose and all the time. Also my gym is surrounded by sparkling blue water. We do yoga on floating mats.

I need to order decaf next time. The caffeine is making me restless, making me want to go home and clean.

I'm writing. Like legit. Like pages. I have that thrilling feeling I get like "this is genius, I will definitely get into grad school," and probably in several hours I will have that normal feeling like "this is somewhat less than mediocre, I will never get into grad school."

Today in yoga I was sweating so much a drop of sweat fell of my face and landed on the floor and it made me feel oddly proud. Then I ran for 25 minutes and then biked home in the rain and it was a surprisingly pleasant Sunday morning.

I have an absurdly large purple flower in my hair. 

I have been cleaning for an hour and a half. I haven't eaten lunch yet. What is wrong with me?

Shit is way too close to home. Sometimes I think everyone's life is actually the same. 

Today I am going to write. Today I am going to write. I am not going to take a nap. I am going to write.

If my legs fall off that will be a lot of weight off my body. Sadly, my legs are one of my better attributes.

It smells like fall and my fingers get cold while biking.

I am trying to run faster. It is less easy then it is in my head.

I have felt so restless lately.

Someone should take hiphop dance with meeee.

When I feel happier I don't work out as hard because I am happy as I am. It is only when I am sad that I work out manically, hoping that maybe it will make me happy.

Yoga was good today. Then I walked around the co-op, bought a plum, jam, milk, and organic canola mayonnaise and stared at a lot of food items I really want to eat. It was a nice time.

I want to go to the gym but I keep crying. This is not a problem people should have.

I've felt awful lately and I don't know why. Well I do sort of know. I always say I don't know. It's like hedging for my statements. I think this is why I keep going to the gym. Everyone who is really skinny is happy right?

I finished the GRE and did not have the rush of happiness I expected.

I may or may not be the most scared person ever to take the GRE. I spent a long time thinking about what to wear because obviously this effects how well I will do.

When I try to do jumping jacks or jump in any manner, my knees say "NO" and pain shoots through my legs. I think I am doing something wrong.

I might apply to 12 MFA programs and not get in. This could happen and I will be okay. Alright, who are we kidding, I will cry hysterically for days and think I am a failure.

Also I like my tea better with milk in it. I don't care what that says about me.

This letter directly clashes with everything I've heard about MFA programs. Instead of taking it's advice into consideration, I am going to ignore it and continue down the path that I am on. This is not an abnormal way of making decisions.

The thing about being upset is that no one knows you are upset until you post about it in your blog.

I guess I am nervous because being smart is what I am. I am not always pretty or always nice, but I am good at academics and when I fail at that it feels awful.

I can be a patient person. I am being patient.

I got puss from my elbow on the treadmill. Also was on the elliptical in front of MSNBC which is just replaying it's 9/11 coverage and it was pretty horrific and everyone was working out staring at the tv with their mouths open (but that might be because they were breathing hard from working out). I find something so awful about the coverage, like a tragedy is being abused. On the brightside, my heartrate was real high the whole time so I burned a lot of calories.

Some activity I'm doing is scraping up my elbows. First my right elbow was scraped (to which Ben made the sassy comment "Just kiss it and it will feel better," knowing I cannot reach my own elbows) and now my left one is. It's particularly infuriating because I can feel the pain, but have to look in the mirror to clearly see the wound.

Pasta was A+. Studying for the GRE is F-

Making linguini with shrimp, grape tomatoes, basil, and tons and garlic and lemon because I am trying to be good to myself.

Unsurprisingly I feel terrible today. Had one of those awful "oh god, I don't remember what I did last night" moments when I woke up and had to check my phone and blog and stuff. My system of eating very little so I can drink more calories may not work.

I'm pretty sure I am still drunk. When I lie down I feel fine and when I stand up everything is spinning.

When i am drunk I disintegrate, I ask people questions thst csnt only be answere dby other peipke. Shit. I fucking hate thing, IU am too drunk.

Good things about today:
I am being added to the lease.
I have lost ten pounds. Sort of. Compulsively weighing yourself until you've lost 10 pounds doesn't quite count, but the scale said 10 pounds less, so whatever I'm pretending I am thin and beautiful.
The rent got paid after accidentally getting paid with a closed account.
Running is going really well.
I am wearing a new dress.

I bought black nail polish so I can be like Allison on Teen Wolf. Sometimes I sort of hate myself.

Three more days of studying for the GRE and then writing will consume me wholly and I will probably end up drinking more.

I'm sorry, Zooey Deschanel cannot play someone who has a hard time getting boys.

My legs don't even feel like legs anymore. Standing on them they feel like jello and touching them they feel firm(ish).

It is really funny to see a room full of adults doing the happy baby pose and rocking back and forth.

I get obsessive in my love for authors. Margaret Atwood, David Foster Wallace. Last night in Skins, Cassie was reading my favorite Atwood book, The Edible Woman, outloud and it was so perfect.

All I do all the time is lie in bed and watch the British version of Skins.

Listening to people in college. The things that used to be important that are no longer important. The only thing I am thinking about is whether or not to buy a cucumber to go with my salad tonight.

Saw Trina. St. Paul is little.

My legs are so tired. I skipped Jillian today because my body and mind are too sore and took a nap instead. Biking to Dunns was hard. I saw Jamie though. That was nice. I feel like it's been a long time since I've seen anyone even though that's not true at all. I saw people yesterday.

It's hard to convince yourself to do Jillian when you specifically feel like lying on the floor, magically drunk, and crying because you can't write, aren't writing, feel unattractive compared to the skinny girl at the gym who hairsprayed her poof in place before running, and miss people that don't want to see you as much as you want to see them, but you can't really tell them that, now can you?

I feel like shit and I know all the reasons why and it's stupid.

Having a terrible time trying to convince myself to finish my workout. I just want to shower and eat lunch and put on a cute dress and bike somewhere and study for the GRE.

I think watching Skins is making me depressed. Their lives are all dramatic and then I want to be all dramatic in mine.

I need my boobs to be smaller. They are giving me low self-esteem. This is ridiculous.

Making squash shrimp vindaloo with rice. I am a stay-at-home-roommate.

My body fucking hurts. Any recommendations to stop getting so many leg cramps?

Again, I really hate it when people randomly burst into song on tv shows.

After discussing things with my roommate I have decided no one is functional, but I have a clean shower and a clean toilet bowl, so I am doing okay.

I am super inept and have all these windows open like "how to roast red peppers" and "how to broil chicken."

What is it about having knees close to the face that is comforting?

I don't how real grownups function. I can't do all these things all at once. I want to lie on the floor smoking cigarettes and I don't smoke and my floor is covered in clothes because I am failing at functionality.

The thought process of the compulsive: if only I get my apartment clean enough, expel all the fat from my body, get a high enough score on the GRE then things will be okay. The problem is when those things still aren't enough and I feel unsettled. I hate giving people the ability to unsettle me.

I felt happy while I was running. It was so strange. I then felt happy in the grocery store, but that is not strange at all. I found out that green onions and scallions are the same thing. Then I came home and got sad again.

Must stay vigilant. This applies to everything. The GRE, working out, not bending to what people want me to do, not bending to what I want to do, but shouldn't.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men made me cry a lot because I'm fairly certain almost everyone I know is hideous. I think it's terrible how much I relate to Meredith in The Pale King, someone who is obsessed with the notion of being seen and not just being seen as a pretty girl, but recognized as a suffering person and ends up with the one person who seems to understand only to find out that she was completely alone. Mostly I think it's terrible because I don't think I'm pretty enough to have Meredith's condition.

This is typical and I shouldn't be surprised. I just wish it didn't make me sad.

I hate intuition.

I am going to cook delicious things everyday for the rest of my life.

And it's like I suddenly realize for the first time that things have consequences.

I feel shitty today. About everything. Sucks.

I just get really distant. And I want you to say, "Why are you distant?" But you don't.

Fair now pleaseeeee. Also I fail at taking a picture with my face and body in it.

I weighed myself today prior to my day of binge eating at the fair tomorrow and I lost another three pounds. I am working on calculations of exactly what I can eat tomorrow. This is sort of ridiculous. Really I just shouldn't eat Sweet Martha's cookies when I am trying to get in shape. But I want to and that sort of trumps logic.

One time I attended yoga class during a snowstorm. Now I am attending yoga slightly hungover. There is no excuse to miss yoga ever.

Last night to make myself feel better I finished off the gin and watched "Cool Runnings" with my roommate. We both agreed our lives would be better with more pushcart races.

Wowowowowowow I feel shitty.

This is so fucked up.

So my cousin Sera has passed away (she's the one on the left). It feels really surreal and sort of numbing and I just want to get drunk so I can drunkenly stumble through my feelings and also Sera really enjoyed her beer, but I am going to save the drinking for a better night. What the fuck. 

Everything in my life can be reduced to a metaphor about food.

So I know her and her sister are pretty offensive and use the n-word in horrible ways and defend themselves about it poorly, but there is something really endearing about this video. I sort of wished I looked like Kreayshawn. Let's be honest, I've always wanted to be a short skinny rapper versus a tall curvy poet. 

I am so hungry. Might have to fly to California soon. I got to see Carolyn and it was nice. I like this constant stream of friends coming into town.

When I drink a lot I feel like I have smoked cigarettes even if I haven't. The throat all ch

I am really upset about my cousin. What the fuck?

It makes me really upset that my beautiful cousin is in a coma. It's hard to rectify this fact. I just can't imagine her passing away, which obviously means she is going to live vibrantly.

I spend all this time thinking about how I could be better because I have nothing else to think about. My roommate said I looked pretty and it was surprising somehow.

So I lost three pounds last week, which isn't bad, but this week I'm determined to do more and better. I am so fucking compulsive.

One of my cousins was prescribed percocet for an ear ache. She is now in a coma and might not make it and even if she does make it she probably has severe brain damage. It's weird because my cousin lives in California, I've spent time with her only a few times in my life, but I still care about her a lot. That's how family is supposed to be right? I keep trying to be optimistic and say that she is going to get on facebook and post a status about how clumsy she is (she posts many statuses like this) and accidentally took too much medication, but is magically okay and suffered no brain damage. But it's hard. Being in limbo with anything is hard. I keep thinking about my other cousin, her sisters, and about what a horrible time they must be having right now. It's just fucked up that someone that can medication because their head hurts and now they might not make it.

Hung out with John Williams tonight. Now I miss Knox. I want to hang out with my alpha sigma alpha sisters and have stupid boy drama and study and go to parties all the time. Also John Williams does not appreciate my swag.

I didn't get to sleep until 4AM last night. Never drinking coffee again.

I really like this Margaret Atwood poem. It's one of my favorites. I thought of the part about bodies on the way home for some reason, about how they don't lie or tell the truth and couldn't figure out what poem it was from and was happy when I found it. I was thinking about it more in relation to my own body, like how I try to interpret what it's telling me and I just can't.

We are hard on each other

Margaret Atwood

Listen

i)

We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our jagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.

The things we say are 
true; it is our crooked 
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.

ii)

Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.

Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over & over 
perhaps because you own
so few of them

iii)

A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you

is that a fact or a weapon?

iv)

Does the body lie
moving like this, are these 
touches, hairs, wet 
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me?

Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or 
speak truth either.

It is only
here or not here.

What the fuck. My mind is not even thinking [straight]. Once I wrote a story about two people sitting on a couch and it almost got into Catch, but they didn't like the ending because in the end they were still sitting on a couch and nothing happened.

I did it. All the running, the biking. But now my body is exhausted. Totally and utterly exhausted. My mind is slightly exhausted. But less so then my body. I just like, want to curl up on the couch with all of my favorite people and watch anything.

Ughghghghghg  my body is dying. But I bike/run/ellipt on.

Plan for the day:
Battle soreness in approximately all of my muscles and bike a mile and a half to the gym. Do couch25K at the gym and elliptical workout. Bike a mile and a half home.
Take shower. Make self look presentable.
Eat lunch.
Bike five miles to sleep appointment.
Find out if there is something wrong with my sleeping.
Bike 11 miles to Uptown. Sit in coffeeshop for approximately 2-3 hours studying for the GRE and hating myself because I'm terrible at math.
Play pool. Drink drinks that are bad for me and eat food that is bad for me.
Bike 11 miles home.

So if all goes well I will have biked 30 miles and run around 4 and then consumed lots of horrible things which cancels out all of that.

I miss somethings and people from Austria. I miss traveling, sitting on trains, even sitting on the goddamn post-bus. But I am so so so so glad I am not going back this year.

Next trip: Slovenia, Croatia. If I can ever afford it.

Would you still be friends with me if I dressed like him? 

Not going to yoga for a month and then going again is sort of killer.

My new motto: get in shape or die.

Actually it should be: get in shape or be fat. That one sounds more reasonable. But when I'm at the gym I get in this crazy competitive mindstate where I decide I need to be really good at things I'm not naturally good at.

Plan for the day: yoga in the morning, lunch, nap, weights with dad in the afternoon.
Yup, I'm compulsive once I decide to do something.

I have become obsessed with working out. If only I would do it obsessively instead of just thinking about it obsessively.

My roommate and I just found something in our fridge we are both 100% certain we did not buy. I think both of us are thinking "I bet you bought it," and both of us feel 100% certain we did not. Crazzzzzy.

I feel like reading poetry so I'm gonna do it.

Titanic and gin and tonic. Waiting for people to come over so we can go out.

My strapless bra is too tight. It's hurting my ribcage.

Little quiet, sort of out of it tonight. It was raining on the way home and I didn't mind because it seemed fitting. I miss Danny and other people who make me exuberantly happy and talkative. I'm happy Danny is coming home tomorrow.

I completed the first week of Couch 2 5 k! Yes! Sadly, running very little and slowly makes me very sweaty so I got into the shower and there was a giant scary moth! It was so horrible! I managed to kill it though.

Cleaning frenzies are surprisingly satisfying.

Since I prefer not to eat alone (Liz Lemon: Sometimes to feel like I have company during dinner I dispute credit card charged on speaker phone) and Danny is still at his cabin, last night I made chicken cacciatore at my dad's house and it was quite successful. Now that the sleep study is done, this week is working out well.

I'm so excited for my last nap to be over that I don't think I'll be able to sleep through it.

I don't know when I'm dreaming or not. Sometimes I'm pretty sure it's my imagination.

Things I want to do:
Wash my face
Take a shower
Go on the treadmill


Things I don't want to do:
Sit here
Sleep

Things I have to do until at least 5 today:
Sit here
Sleep

"Food can't hurt me, food can't cheat on me, it's like my everything."
-Truelife "I'm addicted to food."

She makes a food addiction sound very reasonable.

I think I got to sleep during nap two. I am too tense for this.

First nap, failed to sleep. Sort of slept. Now I am more sleepy. Ate mediocre omelette and cereal and still feel hungry. Mostly couldn't sleep because my stomach was growling.

Sleep test:
It's weird getting to a medical center at 9pm. Everything is very closed and silent and even though you know you are supposed to be there, you still feel like an intruder.
Then I had to change into my pj's, or my "pjs" since normally the most I sleep in is a t-shirt and underwear. Sometimes I go without the t-shirt or underwear, so wearing shorts over my underwear was a big struggle for me.
I got to try out a sleep apnea mask in case I  had sleep apnea, which thankfully I don't because that mask was crazy.
I got awkwardly wired up. The most awkward one was the one under my left boob, where I had to lift my shirt and breast up for him to put the wire there. I also have wire in my hair which they put in with sticky white stuff causing my hair to stick up in funny directions. I look so hot. I considered taking a picture, but I am just too attractive right now, it would be overwhelming. On the bright side the thing that went up my nose and the things on my legs and around my chest and stomach have been removed and now I just have this fun necklace that the wires attach to. By fun I mean giant box.
Then I watched five minutes of the Teen Wolf finale. I am hoping the episodes are online and I can catch up today.
Sleepy time! They tell you in the literature that despite all the wires people actually sleep very well. Not true. Normally I am a great sleeper and conk out really fast (or have insomnia for several hours, one of those). Instead I awkward try to lay in my normal position with wires everywhere could only think "I wonder what their results are saying right now!? Am I in REM sleep?! Are my eyes moving fast? Would I be able to tell if my eyes are moving fast? Is this a dream or my imagination? I clearly don't have a sleep disorder because I am not sleep yet. I sort of have to pee, but then I have to call for the guy and I am too committed to sleep at this point to talk or open my eyes." *Repeat cycle for what seemed like several hundred times.
In the middle of the night I actually did wake up to pee and then I was up for what seemed like hours, but was probably like ten minutes thinking the same thoughts and trying to figure out my plans for the next few days because that is really important to do in the middle of the night.
Then, at what seemed like 2AM, but was actually 6AM I was awoken and had to pee in a cup, get dressed, fill out questionnaires, and order breakfast and lunch. Now I alternate doing nothing and napping for undisclosed periods of time. I wish they hadn't told me they were undisclosed. Now I am going to sit awake going "I wonder how long I get to nap for. What if I don't fall asleep during my nap time? I wish I could watch Teen Wolf right now."