verbicide | scattering thoughts

Having a really weird food day. Haven't eaten yet today and feel vaguely apathetic towards food. Yet, surrounded by it. Making brisket in the crockpot, which smells good. Defrosting meats for meatloaf for later on this week. Discovered I had some thawed porkchops in fridge and figured better cook them and store before they go bad. Wish I could freeze them again.

Yet I have no desire whatsoever to eat. At all.

Idly cleaning here and there. Picked up living room. Straightened out kitchen and bedroom. Dishes done. Doing laundry. Rearranged hall closet. Should mop, dust, vacuum, etc but don't feel like it. Figure I'll pick up everything, organize and straighten out, and then on Wednesday will mop/vacuum to maximize potential neatness for when I return. It sounds organized, but it's just a great way to put off what I don't want to do today.

Hustling through Hotel New Hampshire for tomorrow's bookclub meeting. Planning on meeting Ellie/Judy for breakfast tomorrow and some light shopping. Then bookclub. Then home. THEN will start Tuesday's project.

I don't think it will take very long. I've got 90% of the re-design done. Now just have to write a stupid report detailing why I did what I did, etc. And prepare 6min presentation for class. *cries* I hate public speaking. It completely freaks me out. I'm awful at it, lots of ums, errs and downcast eyes. Also when I'm nervous, I talk at twice the speed as I normally do, which causes two problems. First, it means I have to prepare a 12 minute speech. Second, it means regardless what I say, no one will understand me.

It was very cool remembering that Hawk had a journal. It sprang me off into looking up other rasfwrjers and that was exciting. It's weird. I started this thing purely because Sarah had sent me a code. I hadn't considered that anyone would ever read it besides her. So how much do you censor your own journal? I mean, of course there's a sense of this being public content, so yeah, don't mention where you buried Hoffa's body, etc. And it's not the same as having an active audience, eagerly anticipating your next pearls, thus feeling the need to produce a worthy document. Well. outside of the realm of wanting a journal to have worthy content to someone, if only oneself.

I was wondering last night what my journal says about me. Why, yes, I am that neurotic: which my journal definitely expresses. I wonder if I ought to be embarrassed by the sheer volume of whine-age. Of complaining about homework. Celebrity lust. Catty comments here and there. Megalomania. I'm worried about how meta this is.

I worry that I worry so much.

I know I could make this friends only. Could have done this from the start and only told Sarah about my lj. Sarah, who is possibly one of the few people I just *am* with, and to hell with the consequences; who, remarkably has stuck around despite it. Or maybe because of it.

It's weird to have a place displaying the insides of you, versus the carefully constructed exterior. I wonder what the journal of my exterior self would look like. I wonder what would happen if I could shut off my brain and not think about pointless things that I know don't matter, don't mean anything.

Ok. Simply must stop typing.