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i'm promising to be better to you, diary, i promise promise promise.

oooooooh.

ok, no fooling around, now. i think i'm going mental. i wonder if my little brain will keep it up for fred tomorrow (eeew, not like that, perv) - i keep waking up at night, going pee, then coming back to bed unable to sleep. why? because the pee is gone? hmm...no. because i'm scared. i get scared about noises, and about my situation, and that i'm just fucking up royally. this is such a marked difference to the past couple of weeks when i have been HAPPY. that word needs to be capitalized because it's important. HAPPY.

but "fuck it!" says my mind. "i am sick of this stupid, moronic, boring happiness! gimme some meat!" well. meat it is. i am wondering if my inability to garner employment is all part of a grand self-sabotage plot, rather than "bad luck" or ineptitude. ok, so maybe i feel blockbuster is beneath me and therefore do not submit a cover letter with my resume, but...i need money. *I* know that, my belly knows that, my stupid heart knows it...would i really give up the chance to yell "Poison Ivy Three: The New Seduction is due back in seven days...." while wearing unflattering pleated khakis? would i really?

ughghghghghghg.

how did unemployment get so fucking degrading? cover letters for piss-ant jobs. follow-up calls to starbucks. "selling yourself" is just another phrase for "sheer desperate begging, and potential for sexual favours."

on the upside, this new and improved constant eye-twitch is surely burning some calories.