2001-04-23

Blog this!

As I was saying to Jess the other day, I haven't really been letting you, the readers, in on the full extent of the li'l breakdown I've been having in fits and starts for the last month or so. The reason for this is twofold: this diary is billed as "virtually crisis-free," and quite frankly, you don't need to hear about my pithy, white-girl problems. God, they're so boring. Depression is boring. I'm always amazed by the number of diaries and bloggers that detail the ups and (mostly) downs of every purported mental disorder under the sun and in the DSMII. And the thing is...they're popular, these diaries. It's amazing. I wouldn't be in the least bit interested in reading about what goes on in my head at any given moment, which is why I'm so careful about what I post in here and what I don't. I mean, what on earth would my blogger look like were I to automatically vomit up the bizarre urges and thoughts that pass through my brain?

4/23/01 9:03 a.m. EST: Every time I have to work on a spreadsheet, I have to fight the urge to run downstairs to the theater lower lobby, break into the liquor closet and drink my weight in cheap Chardonnay.

4/23/01 10:17 a.m. EST: Just now I created a document called "Lisa," created a shortcut to said document on my desktop, then right-clicked and chose to delete it, just so I could see the warning window that read: "Are you sure you want to send Lisa to the Recycle Bin?"

4/23/01 1:08 p.m. EST: So, in an effort to muster up some enthusiasm about my job, I've taken the time to dress a little bit better in the morning, instead of trudging in wearing jeans and old bowling shirts like I usually do. The problem now is that I can't smile at the little punker art school kids on the subway. They look at me like I have a third eyeball in addition to the tidy rayon blazer. I have to learn to not take this personally.

See what I mean? Stupid! Puerile! The online equivalent of holing up in my bedroom with 2 or 3 pilfered wine coolers and a pack of clove cigarettes, listening to the Smiths while feeling very, very sorry for myself.

lisamcc at 3:01 p.m.

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