Saturday, November 20, 2004

See: pinkprincess.blogspot.com

You want updates? Well, why you gotta be all up in my grill about it, bi-otch? (Cowers) Just kidding. I'll update. I'm updating right now. I'm sorry (and if I was the kind of gal who peppered her writing with emoticons, there'd be a little blushing sheepish-face right here... but I'm not... so there's not.)

Anyway, not much news. I've had a couple of minor breakdowns in the past week, one ending with my mom saying: "you're wierd. What did I ever do to you to make you so wierd?"* and the other ending with my mom saying: "as soon as you get health insurance, you're going back on that Paxil."**

So the first breakdown was at the mall (how the hell did I end up in a mall... with my mom?) after seeing Bridget Jones 2 (perhaps the source of said breakdown.) Granted, the mall can give just about anyone sweaty palms at this time of the year, but my little episode is the worst I've had since I quit taking anti-freakout drugs.*** This one had it all – the cold sweat, the shaky limbs, the acute awareness of every stroller w/ howling child within a 50 foot radius. I actually almost had to sit down (nowhere to go but the food court – I passed and stuck it out.)

To make matters worse, my mom had to go on and on about how strange my adverse reaction to humankind was. I couldn’t explain to her that I react differently to crowds (especially crowds made up of chattering parents grabbing at rayon shirts and plastic watches like they’re going out of style [a note – those things were never in style] while their 3+ slimy little kids dart in and out of clothes racks and wipe their noses on the backs of their wrists) than most normal, adjusted, mall-going adults do. It’s not anything that could have been foreseen or avoided by reading Spock or some shit.

The second breakdown (much less severe) came when I got the COME TO RECRUITMENT!!! e-mail that I knew was on the way. I used to be pretty kickass at that kind of thing. You could set me down in a room crowded with eager freshman girls and make me shake a hundred hands and start a hundred conversations, and I would be witty and charming and totally in control of the situation. And I wasn’t just tolerating it – I was thriving on it. If I had to do something like Rush now, much tequila and breathing into a paper bag would be involved. Oh, and some of that hand-sanitizing lotion. Pathetic.

For now, I’ll just pass it all off as a typical holiday-induced malaise-and-anxiety cocktail. But I’ll need to start working on getting that charming-around-strangers thing back. That thing was pretty cool.



*Thanks for the support.
** That's more like it. There's nothing like happiness-inducing, anxiety-squelching awesomeness all bundled up into an adoreable pink shell. Nothing. (And on Paxil, PINK goes with everything!)
*** ... And I love what you do, but you know that you're toxic.