I don't know what's happened today, but suddenly, I hate it. I have good reason; I'm not just being crabby. My head is killing me since after my therapy appointment this morning. Both Jon and I went and yet I was the only one talking. Jon hates the process of therapy: enter the room, sit, in silence, struggling to figure out what you're supposed to say. Jon sees Dr. W. looking at him and Jon just looks back. I know this process. It's a way doctors fish to see what kind of mood you're in. How you're doing. Maybe, sure, they just have nothing to say and so figure they'll let you decide in what direction therapy will go that day. I think in Jon's mind, if we aren't in a fight, then we're fine. So I blurted that I had stumbled upon some insights. That I have somehow inadvertently hung the happy-responsibility cloak on the back of my poor boyfriend Jon, when in all reality, it should be hung on me. Dr. W. thought this was an important insight, as well as the others I mentioned. He asked me patterns with past boyfriends, about how I came upon these insights, about how it was working for me, about what do I think brought on the easy slip into dependence on another, to which I answered lack of trust, fear, etc. I told him my current fear that I will easily fall in again and that at least I realized when it was happening this past weekend. In short, I talked, Jon listened or nodded or zoned out, which I sometimes do. And that's okay. Jon doesn't have to clap me on the back and say brava; he just has to know I'm realizing something that indirectly involves him in a very direct kind of way.

I get too far ahead of myself.

Since therapy, I've had a headache. I brought my Motrin IB home with me a while back and so had nothing at work to take for the pain. To top it off, I've been reading the archives of journals and making my head dizzy by not wearing my computer glasses, which have the wrong prescription anyway. Plus, my monitor is kind of far away from me so I lean on the desk with my shoulders hunched up, my head sinking directly down into my chest, causing intense pain in my shoulder blades. I should really have learned my lesson by now, but curse only my eyes, which make me lean forward to begin with.

My new current fear is that Jon will be lured away by some healthy-minded, athletic female body at the campus bookstore. My mind will never cease to bother me. I should turn it in for a new one, only this one has too much otherworldly wisdom to part with. Curses.

Of course, there is another reason I think I may be feeling a tiny bit antsy today. I start my new job tomorrow. Tomorrow. What will I wear? Where do I go? Will my car get towed because I don't have a parking pass yet? The woman I know who already works there told me I'll be doing a lot of reading and shadowing. I already feel like a second-grader, nodding, saying yes, hoping I can find a question to ask soon so that they'll know I'm interested. I hate being smart sometimes. People look at you with this annoyed, squishy face... they purse their lips ever so slightly and say to you, "Any questions?" because you haven't asked on in the last hour and they expect that you'll have them because everybody does and maybe even they didn't understand everything when it was explained to them, so naturally me, the new nitwit, must not be paying attention and maybe she won't do well at all in this job. So I'm sure I'll say something benign like, "And when I call in sick? Do I just tell the woman at the front desk?" or "Where do you keep the post-it notes?"

Yes, I'm nervous, and yes, I hate to admit it, and yes, I know I'll be fabulous and great and look stunning and all that other good stuff, but still! My head hurts (insert pouting and little dog-like whimpers here).

I'm assuming that since I'll be shadowing tomorrow, I won't have time to investigate my own desk and computer and sneak in a few quick notes to you all, who care so greatly for me. I'll try, but I'm assuming I'll be busy. I do hope they give me time to just sit at my desk, but that would be silly (if I were them) because I'd have no work, right? I do know that on the 14th, they already have me scheduled to go to a day-long conference. That's exciting, I think. Oh, the nerves! My mother was thrilled when I got a job with benefits, the process of which just confuses me, and now I'm actually salaried. Salaried! It's like... it's crazy.

Oh, just thinking of all the excitement has me furrowing my brow. I can feel all the muscles above my eye twitching and flexing and tiring and hurting and complaining: just stop worrying, already! Well, dammit, I'm trying my best. You try being a perfect human being for once and see how nice and flat-foreheaded you are! Humpfh.

Last night I went to Borders for a few hours by myself and wrote for a full hour and then searched out some books. I was happy and proud of myself for going somewhere by myself and for myself, but my stomach hurt the entire time and I was either headachey or cranky, but either way, it wasn't comfortable. I was also sweaty, which can be annoying. I blame all this on the pressure of waiting for my period. I'm not sure why this is bothering me so much, but I'm stressed that I'll start bleeding at my new job or in the car, or at work, and though I haven't had an unplanned period in years, I remember very well exactly how stressing for me it was. Too stressing. Ridiculously stressing, really. I just don't like not knowing when it's coming! I hate surprises. Even good ones make me nervous. I remember the first time I saw my high school therapist Janet. I burst in the door 20 minutes late because I was so confident about my sense of direction, I didn't stop and ask for directions. I just burst into tears, angry I had been late, frustrated I had made somebody wait for me, embarrassed that I could hold myself together.

Anywho, I ended up buying three books and another I put on hold to get tonight (I had to go home to get my coupon before buying it cause it was the most expensive one): I got identity by Milan Kundera, who wrote Slowness (I loved it!) and The Unbearable Lightness of Being. He is a great writer; writes like music sounds. I also got This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolfe. I had to read the first two pages because I'm always curious how other writers begin their memoirs. I loved his! I also got Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I had only read Henry Miller on Writing and was amazed a person could think the crazy, historical convoluted way he can. I'm also intrigued by the fact that he and Anais Nin were lovers and both write wonderful erotic literature. I love erotic literature. Tonight, I'm going back for Hideous Kinky by Esther Freud. Very excited to read these. I just added A Passage to India on my wish list too. I want to read and devour them all right away! So much to read, so much to live, and yet the time is awasting.

I want to write more; I have two more hours at work and I'm so ready to leave now. I want to rest a little. Not wear jackets or sweaters. I want to lie down and not feel the bed or pillow or blanket. I want to eat and not feel oil or salt or dirt. I want to drink and not taste aftertaste. Watch TV and not get a headache. Lie on the couch and not get itchy. Love and not get lost.

I wrote about my father Phil last night. There's a portion of it I want to share, but left my notebook at home. I'll try to remember to bring it later. On the plus side of having no access (weird choice of words), I do have a little mac at home that has only 96 megs of ram (must buy more soon). Word runs on it just fine, so I may just type up entries at home and then post them chronologically when I get a chance to. My plan is to do that with writing as well. Here's hoping.

Have a fabulous day. I wish you all well.