How I wish I could feel normal again

Let's count the signs of Meg's impending doom:

-I have spent the last two days at home, in my pyjamas, trying to work but have only produced 5 pages.
-In the last two weeks I have skipped out on everything that is important to me, from time with my girls, to time with my fiancé, to classes, and my job, and I have nothing to show for it.
-The last two nights I have been up past three in the morning (the night before last it was four am), mostly just surfing the internet. I was too mad at myself to let myself go to bed, so I just sat in my chair and did nothing for about 5 hours. Each night.
-I have now become so desperate for procrastination that I will cycle through my favourite websites for about an hour. Once I have reached the end, instead of stopping, I cycle through again just to see if anything else has been posted.
-Yesterday I woke up at 11am, procrastinated for an hour, and then decided I should try finishing my essay that was due at 2:30. So I work madly until 2pm, get dressed, eat 2 pieces of toast, and rush off to school to hand in my work. I then go to the gym hoping exercise will help me feel better, but I start to black-out because the only thing I had eaten was two pieces of toast. I then go home and fall asleep (yet don't eat anything!) and waste another four hours.

I could fill a room with stories like these. Why do I get like this? And why do I feel like I'm the only one that does? It's not like it's my actual work that's the problem - the end results are usually okay; sometimes borderline mediocre, but I attribute that to my lack of clear thought and time for revision. No, my work isn't the problem, so what is?

I wish that I knew. I wish a great many things. Mostly I wish that I knew how to just start writing, and not care how it sounds or how coherent it is. Sometimes it's the thought of starting that makes me stop myself, and sometimes I'll be working okay and then stop because I think what I have written is really dumb. Other times I'll get so excited about a point that I'll stop and do other things instead of following through with my inspiration. In other words, I get myself coming and going.

I don't really know why I posted all this, I guess I just needed to talk things out.

Oh wow

Can I please be as cool as this when I grow up? Please?

Everybody else is doing it x2

Meg needs...

Meg's staying power is second to none. Now Meg needs to learn to let go.

Meg needs to find something to sell, give away, throw out or burn.

Meg needs mega purrs please. (sure do!)

Meg needs an item but cannot remember where she put it.

The Meg needs to be of the same type as the calling Meg.
the calling Meg needs a handle to the Meg that is to be invoked. (beware the calling Meg, when she is invoked!)

Meg needs a lot of attention but will give you undivided love. (are you calling me high-maintenance?)

could she possibly get into up there with nasty old Meg listening in? (come on, I'm not that bad, am I?)

And Meg needs a stable relationship instead of all this hoo-ha-ing around. (why didn't someone tell me this before?)

Meg needs a drink," laughed Susan, "and to go to the Bahamas and find a man. (uh... You might want to explain that one to Karl - although I like the drink idea!)

The other thing of course is that Meg needs as much continuity as possible. (you bet I do!)

Due to her condition, Meg requires the use of a walker. (hahaha)

Meg needs to work hard to retain the loyalty of fans. (I have fans?)

Meg needs some physical activity to help keep her mind off of John. (this is wrong on so many levels)

Meg has to have braces. She's got 2 fangs that need to be pulled down (fangs, huh?)

Meg needs Abby. (Sorry, I don't swing that way)

I'm Thinking Meg Needs A Nudge. (now, if you'd said Meg needs a hug, then we'd be getting somewhere!)

the last thing Meg needs to be is sexy-smart. (Okay, can I just be sexy, then?)

Sleepy Meg needs you! (Is that a bit like Uncle Sam?)

Oh, Lord, Meg needs you so much these days (you betcha!)

But I think Meg needs to learn to play the drums.

Instead of biting or growling at the birds, Meg needs only to "give them the eye." (No! not the birdies!)

The last thing Meg needs is another dead body (you got that right - except I don't remember the first one..)

Meg needs to get some competent employees.

Now all Meg needs is some pointy ears. (oh wait, I already have some of those)

Meg needs buttering up. (boy, do I!)

Everybody else is doing it...

So why don't I?

A little free association, care of Trisha.

Server :: waitress
Charlotte :: Brontë
Jackson :: Michael
Resentment :: hard heart
Controlling :: factor
Intense :: Kathleen pretending to scalp someone on halloween.
November :: My birthday!
Donkey :: ass
Weave :: braid
Satisfies :: snickers really
Colourblind :: Mr. K (a teacher I had in school was colourblind)
Shallow :: vapid
Figment :: of my imagination
Eviction :: notice
Composed :: What I would like to be all the time
Chill :: shiver
Girl :: boy
California :: Arnold!!
Bond :: James Bond
Political :: Yes I am, thanks
Concentration :: poopies (long story)
Fish :: on Fridays
Lunacy :: raving lunacy
Red :: door and I want it painted black
Imply :: why not just go ahead and say it
Recognize :: what I don’t do of people often enough
Sexist :: feminist
Commercial :: break
Stricken :: from the record
Roadtrip :: to Saskatoon
Honey :: yuk!
Flanders :: fields
Vampire :: Dracula
Justice :: Supreme Court
Marine :: nautical
Protractor :: professional tractor
Rubber :: What the brits call it
London :: England
Jerry :: O’Connell
Only you :: can make this world seem right
33 :: 44
Foundation :: How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord
Accidents :: are scary
Hometown :: crowd
Natural :: woman
Bombastic :: Shaggy
Bachelor :: pad
Far away :: so close
Tony :: award

My Cat's Breath Smells Like Cat Food

Yes folks, I actually though these words this morning. Roommate C's cat stuck her nose in my face because she wanted to be petted, and I thought to myself, "Ugh, Molly - you smell like cat food." Like, duh. She's a cat. I have now transformed into Ralph Wiggum.

Not much has happened in my life this week, at least wedding-wise. No, wait - that's not true. On Tuesday Karl got a sample wedding service from our priest, and it's as high Anglican as you can get. It was beautiful, but I think we may need to adapt it a bit for our needs. It's great because I've had all sorts of fun ideas for our service, and this confirms that I'm not far off the mark. I'm really looking forward to putting this together (uh, with Karl, of course).

Other events of the week included having dinner at Earl's with Andrew for his birthday. He turned one year closer to the age that I will be for another 3 weeks. Sigh.

Last night Karl and I had dinner with Mike & Julia, and Karl made a fabulous dish of Indian butter chicken. We had spinach and tomato salad (finding out afterwards that Mike doesn't like tomatoes! Thankfully he picked them out), and I used that opportunity to buy one of my favourite wines. Fortunately for me, that particular Riesling goes well with Indian food. Okay, why do I know things like that? Because I'm pretentious, that's why. M&J and I had lots of fun conversations while Karl cooked, including a great debate about the purpose and usefulness of unions.

In other news, I am the most forgetful person ever. No, really - I am. I was supposed to meet with a couple girls for coffee on Tuesday, and I completely forgot. And I was the one that set it up! They even tried phoning me to see what was up, but I had turned off my cellphone because it was almost dead. Grr.. I was disappointed when I found out I'd missed them.

Finally, I'd just like to give a quick shout-out to the monkeys that work at CIBC: thanks for preventing me from doing my online banking for an entire month while you lied to me. Yeah, I sure didn't need some magical temporary password to sign on. An especially big shout-out goes to the last monkey who tried to make me feel stupid as I explained to him what the other monkeys had told me, and as he "talked" me through the sign-in process. I say "talked" because he essentially shouted out rapid-fire commands at me and I couldn't keep up, forcing him to have to repeat himself. Yeah, a big thanks to you all.

On that happy note, I'm off to eat lunch. Bye!

-M.

My complete mortification

Maryanne once entitled a post of hers by these words, and I feel that I now need to apply them to me.

I had just finished my French exam (and of course, it wasn't nearly as hard as I had imagined - but I'm still not convinced I did well) and there was a girl from my class who followed me into the elevator in the library. We made the usual pleasantries like, "what did you get for this?" "I put this, but I think you're right," etc. The bonus question on the exam had asked us to write about an article presented in class by another student. French girl mentioned what article she had talked about, and I asked her who had presented it. She responded, "I don't remember anyone's name.. I mean, except yours, because we went to high school together."

I am now completely mortified. I do not remember this person at all. Excuse me while I go home and tear apart my yearbook.

-M.