Quick Breath, Then Back Under
<<2003-02-11 - 4:13 p.m.>>

I am, at present, in a good mood, but I know how fragile it is. I've been upset and uneasy and frightened and tenuous and generally off my game for the past few days. Weeping through therapy sessions. Didn't even get a buzz from Tai Chi (and I'm sore as hell, because we practiced the toe kicks several times in immediate sequence yesterday).

I have been doing a greater percentage of my schoolwork than I have done since maybe seventh grade. Which is to say, just about all of it. Suddenly I understand why people here say that they have no time.

I'm even easing my way into extracurricular involvement. I did some copy editing on this issue of the Quest, which was/is in desperate need of an editor—when I picked it up today, though, there were loads of errors on the pages I did not edit, and they hadn't changed all the corrections I'd made. Nevertheless. Next time I want access to all of it. I produced a literary magazine with not a single error (you know, not to toot my own horn or anything)—just let me at the Quest.

And I went with Rowen to an organizational meeting for a group called FatGirl Speaks. They're trying to put together a big event for International No Diet Day in May (yes, I would be quite the paragon of hypocrisy). I have a terrifying hunch that I'm going to end up not only perhaps doing a monologue about weight and me, but wearing the sleeveless red babydoll dress I bought a couple of months ago. Horror!

And now I must go read the Aeneid. Why yes, I am trying very hard to have very little time for introspection. Perhaps I will discuss my general tumultuous confusion later on. Perhaps. Right now I'm enjoying its brief hiatus.

By the way: sign the guestbook. Right then.

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