I decided I needed to take my pants off. It improved my disposition greatly.

I’m just a regular woman, living in Michigan, 22 years old, 2 cats, there’s nothing extraordinary or fantastic about me, so I assume that my thoughts can’t be too exciting to anyone other than myself. But that’s quite all right, because this blog is first and foremost, for myself and nobody else. This will hold the chronicles of my boring life as I try to change myself for the better, I’m hoping to write every day, or every other day at least, but we’ll just have to see.

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Location: Grand Blanc, Michigan, United States

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Motivation, it's a beautiful thing.

I used to really identify with these lyrics. I still love them, but I no longer feel Rob Thomas is singing words that I wrote...

Could I Be You
Something is wrong with the sum of us
And I can't seem to erase
How can I be the only one
Without a smile on my face?

When now...
And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...

You show your pain like it really hurts
And I can't even start to feel mine
And I'm standing in place with my head first
And I shake and I shake
And I see your progress stretched out for miles, and miles

And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...

This is the sound that I make
These I words I chose
Somehow the right thing to say
Just won't come out...
Just won't come out...

And you're laughing out loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...
And I was wondering could I just be you tonight...


One lone little musebunny hopped out from under the couch and sat on my head for a little, long enough for me to write a page of something that's not really relevant to anything. At least I wrote. I would write everyday if I really had the capacity to. It would all be drivel and floof but I’d still write. Might be the obsessively dark love poetry from years ago, or yet another beginning of a story that I’ll never finish…But I’m happy to have written.

I woke up in a state of complete and total lack of focus. Mentally and physically. My eyes wouldn’t focus enough for me to read, and even when they did I couldn’t digest the words. Cobwebs and labyrinths, they are in my eyes; too fine to hold, too hard to comprehend.

Despite this lack of concentration I’ve gotten loads done today. I unloaded the dishwasher, rinsed the dirty dishes, and tossed them in. I folded some towels that needed to be folded, I’m halfway through painting my nails black. Well, more like, 3/4th of the way. My right hand needs a second coat, it’s always the hardest one, me being right handed.

On top of all this, I spend 30 minutes on the treadmill. I was completely intending to only spend 20, but it was just easy enough to go to 30 today. I walked just over a mile.

Although, I’m afraid I might be a little manic. I can’t tell. I have an odd feeling in my chest, my heart seems to be beating too fast, and the ativan I took didn’t make that go away. I have a lot to say, I feel good, I feel satisfied, yet I can’t concentrate hard enough to read a news story or a page of a book…I’m not entirely sure if I just feel good, or I might be slipping into hypomania. I don’t know if I’ve ever had hypomania before. I do recall feeling really good, and having my mom tell me to calm down because I’m just talking too much.

C’est la vie! If this continues, and becomes uncomfortable, I'll talk to my pdoc next month.

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