2006-11-03 - 2:27 p.m.

Typical entry would look like:

The shortest path is a straight line from the bed to the computer (and back again).

Different/same kind of honesty in text form:

So ... I'm sitting in my comfy, messy room with tissues everywhere and clothes and books scattered everyplace (from rewriting on whiteboards, dressing up for Halloween, and adding books to my LibraryThing) and I've got plenty of emails in inbox from teachers asking where I've been the past two weeks. My homepage is set to a graduate assistantships openings page and I think my father has been calling me but I don't want to answer because I'm almost out of minutes and I think he wants to ask me to come to Minnesota for Thanksgiving.

I am in a tussled state that my brain refuses to acknowledge. I was doing really, really well for a while but then I visited Chicago and the discrepancy between what I was and what I am was too great for me to relive again. I should not go to Chicago and have a good time. It will only make me sad.

But, I am eating well. Last night I made:

  • carrot soup seasoned with corianderseeds/ginger/limejuice/chilipaste that I ground up with a mortar and pestle
  • mashed potatoes buttered with thyme/rosemary/lemonjuice
  • cold cucumber salad in a three mustard (Grey Poupon, honey dijon, and spicy) dill dressing
  • plain cookie cutter cookies because we ran out of chocolate chips, but they were shaped like broken hearts. Full hearts would have meant there wouldn't be enough cookies for everyone.

So I guess I should devote the weekend to catching up with my classes, finding a job, and all the other stuff I've failed to do for two weeks. I would say this has been the worst two weeks of my life.

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