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.