Normalcy

I did a lot of work today. I finished one of the books I was working on, started another, and worked on another one but didn't finish. I haven't done any of my research. I really need to get something going on that paper. Tomorrow I'm going to be working from home, so I hope I'll have a little extra time for me stuff. I take my time at the office anyway, so it seems plausible. My living room, however, has paper strewn across it since it has become my art studio. Good thing I don't have a lot of visitors. The jerk boy was going to come over tonight, but then decided he was too tired and cancelled. I'm kind of glad. If he'd come over, I wouldn't have gotten any work done, probably would have drunk too much vodka, and would have most likely ended up doing something I don't really want to be doing. All sorts of blessings, I guess. Now that I think about it, maybe it's a good thing that everyone ignores me, since it gives me more time to get my work done. The universe is helping me to graduate. I guess I should just keep telling myself that. Maybe that will depress me less, but I doubt it.

It was good to talk to you. I know I lean on you quite a bit, but you're one of my oldest and most reliable friends. You've been there for me when no one else was, so I keep turning to you in desperate times. My only other friends is the one in New York, and she has a tendency to judge me for my weaknesses. She also doesn't understand why I get so lonely, so she tends to be unsympathetic to my issues, especially since she always seems to have issues of her own that cloud her ability to pay attention to what I'm telling her. Plus it takes her an hour to tell a 10 minute story, which drives me crazy. I love her, but I just have a hard time showing my vulnerability since she'll most likely answer with a "hmm...bummer" and then ask me what kind of organic ice cream she should buy since she's in the grocery store. Which also inevitably involves a story about what her cat can eat as well, which also makes me more hesitant since she sounds more and more like a crazy cat lady every day. Sure, the cat is cute and fluffy, but he'd still scratch her eyes out if she pissed him off.

I'd like to think I'm not a crazy person. I don't have any cats and I don't talk to myself (usually). I do repeat the same things over and over again and expect outcomes to be different, but that's a whole other sort of crazy that's only a part of me being desperate for something to be different and not knowing how to make it different. But I'm not crazy house crazy. Just boy crazy. Or something like that.

Anyway, we should talk more often. It's nice to talk to someone who knows about my particular brand of insanity and acts like it's completely normal.