My weekend was an utter cockslap, but I am actually feeling pretty good right now. It might be the caffeine, or the bacon, or the inspiration power rock streaming from my iPhone, but whatever the cause – I’m feeling good. I will try to hang onto this feeling.

Oh, I think I know what it is. I’m out of my normal brain medication, so I took some stuff I found in the bathroom closet – expired, double strength and prescribed to someone else. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Abuse someone else’s medication in the pursuit of happiness?

I suppose I should put up a disclaimer that I’m not *really* abusing anything, except the facts don’t do me any face-saving justice – the straight truth is that these aren’t my pills, and a smarter person who didn’t spend most of their weekend alternately giddy and hating the universe would probably have made the time to get a refill. Oh well. Maybe what I needed all along was to increase my dosage. I seem to be much less dissatisfied with my life at the moment – maybe passionless and boring isn’t so bad after all!

There is a sad shriveled lemon on my desk. It is depressing me, so into the garbage it goes.

Today I am wildly erratic and irrelevant, but my shirt has a dragon on it and also some waves and flowers and a pagoda or two.

You know, it’s a good thing that I’m not planning on running for office anytime soon. If people are scandalized by mildly racy pictures, I can only image the heart attacks that would follow should I announce my intentions to seek out any sort of power. It would be kind of fun, though: I wonder how far I could get as a cleavage-baring, scooter-riding, baby-hating, drug-abusing, abortion-having, swear-happy, unphotogenic funny-looking fat girl.