I wore shoes with an ankle strap to work today.
For some reason, the holes on the left strap are closer together than those on the right strap - leaving my left ankle loose in its strappings.

I got all Girl Scout/resourceful Polak on the strap of the left shoe. With the clever use of a staple remover and a paperclip, I was able to work a hole through the leather of the strap in the exact location I needed to insert the buckle.

Now it’s lunchtime and I will spend this lunch break eating my chicken noodle soup (yay! it’s like the cafeteria knew I wasn’t feeling well) and working on my paper. My goal is pound out three pages in the next hour. I don’t think that’s unrealistic.

I called out sick today and slept a lot and drank a lot of water and apple juice. I have some major stiffness in my neck since all that sleep left my back and neck in odd positions, but I am feeling a great deal better.

I’m still extremely tired, so I’m going to hit the hay early - and my tummy is still making some grumbly noises, but I think it’s because I HAD FOOD today and my digestive system is sort of going, “Huh? What? I get food again? Can I keep it?” Which is not a problem since I didn’t feel any nausea today.

The logical side of my brain says it’s all stress and residual depression crap. I have a paper to finish by tomorrow midnight (halfway there and I will work on it during lunch tomorrow) and then another due next week, and I haven’t really had much time or opportunity to unwind with my friends these past (almost) two weeks - basically, since my weekend in NYC… it’s been work and school and family. These are fine, but they don’t provide me with the release of laughter.

Unfortunately, I don’t laugh out loud at movies or TV shows, or else I’d put on something that makes me laugh until I cry and have that release alone. But it doesn’t work that way. Sigh.

So… a book it will be and sleep will come.

All day today I’ve been feeling nauseated and icky. I got a salad for lunch and threw out most of it since I just couldn’t eat it… it wasn’t a bad or odd salad. I just felt like I would be sick if I hate another forkful.

I felt light-headed on the train and tried to nap a little, but the sun was too bright. I sat on the West side of the train so the sun was blazing into my side of the car. When I got in the car, I just sat there for a bit with my eyes closed and my fists pressed into my eye sockets since my head began to ache. After a few minutes, I felt OK enough to start the car and drive home. I got in, had a piece of banana bread (which I also couldn’t finish) and then came up here. It was already 7:00, and the last few hours seem to have flown by… I looked at my assignment for school, but just can’t focus on it.

I’m going to let myself get to sleep and hope that I feel better in the morning. I was going to stop and get some anti-nausea syrup, but just didn’t have the energy. I used to take it when I had persistent nausea related to stress and depression. It’s an over the counter product - called “Emetrol.” But I don’t have the stuff on-hand and I’m just going to have to see if I can relax, get some sleep and get rid of this headache.

If not, I think I can allow myself to take a sick day since I’ve only taken one in the six months I’ve been at work, and that was due to post-wisdom tooth medication nausea. Ugh. And still, I have a paper to write. Maybe that’s part of the stress… no use worrying about it now.

I just took two of my sleeping pills since I’ve been in bed for over 2 hours and have yet to shut off my brain. I am tired, physically. The flesh is willing - the spirit, however, is not willing to cede control of corporeal command.

I’m also peeved. This whole “insomnia as a symptom of depression” thing is getting really old. All it does is provide me with additional time during which I can get angry at myself for things I can’t possibly change at 11:49 on a Sunday night. Things like losing weight and finding happiness. If I could find a way to make either one of these possible instantaneously at 11:48 on a Sunday night, I’d be wealthy and famous beyond my wildest dreams.

There’s sort of a disconnect. During a conversation earlier this week, a friend told me that I wear my self-loathing like a badge and that people can sense it. I didn’t reply to that then, but I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t think I harbor feelings of self-loathing generally. As a matter of fact, I think I have an almost unhealthy degree of self-love, in terms of thinking that I’m pretty great. Sure, there are things I’d like to change, but I have a strong sense of my own value for myself. When depression hits, it’s like I have this “other” sense of self that wears the badge of self-loathing and calls all the other feelings into doubt and question. I no longer have the confidence and strong sense of personal value because I begin to doubt whether other people in my life share the sense of valuing me as a person/friend/etc.

While I might normally feel fierce and lovely by putting on a pair of high-heeled shoes and doing my nails, Depression prevents me from feeling great even if I was a size 6 beauty queen wearing high-heeled shoes and a perfect manicure.

Maybe this is an excuse. I don’t know. I just know that there’s definitely a different feeling and sensation and thought process in place when I’m depressed and that I don’t normally walk around hating myself. I normally walk around a little pompous and narcissistic, but also as my own worst critic because I am aiming for perfection.

After having that conversation with my friend last week, we spoke on the phone for a while and had a good “bad” conversation. “Bad” in that I think we were both afraid of the things we needed to talk about (in terms of my mental state and how it affects our friendship) and good in that it all turned out OK.

That night, I had a chock-full-o-symbolism dream. It involved nudity, but nothing sexual. I won’t spell it out in detail lest I sound like I’m trying to turn it into something sexual, but basically, I was naked, it was a non-issue, and conversation and laughter ensued. It meant to me that I could be totally honest (more so than I already am), exposed, not afraid to say things, not embarrassed or feel like a burden, and that it would be OK, and that I would still have my friend’s support (and friendship) in the end. Not terribly deep, I know… but it’s nice when even your subconscious gets in on the “everything is going to be OK” action… if only in terms of one friendship. That can be the most important thing in the low periods; knowing that there is a safe harbor.

And yet, I am sobered by the idea that I can’t allow myself to become reliant or dependent upon this friendship because that’s not fair to either party. I sort of have to view it as a “safety net” - knowing that it’s there is good, but I shouldn’t make a habit of falling into it all the time or I’ll never learn anything. Also, if you fall into a net too often, and from great heights, you will eventually wear or expose holes in the net.

My wrist has been hurting me tremendously all weekend. The only thing I can think would be affecting it is the weather - changes in temperature and humidity. Oh, well. Doctor on Thursday.

Today, my father asked me if I’d have to wear my wrist brace while on vacation in Tunisia - “it’s sort of ugly.” I resisted the impulse to snap back with something horribly rude. Instead, I opted for humor and told him that I was looking forward to the awesome tanline I’d have on this arm as a result of wearing the brace, and that, yes, I would have to wear the brace - even in Tunisia - since I won’t have surgery (if that ends up being necessary, as I think it will) until after we return from vacation.

I love that his main concern is my esthetic presentation while on vacation rather than a concern for my physical well-being, pain or health.

Whatever. I wish these damn pills would kick in so I could sleep already. I don’t want to be groggy in the morning and I can’t miss the train. I mean, I can - but it would be stupid to do so.

My stomach has been feeling a little weird all weekend. I’m going to take it especially easy in the food arena the next few days.

I should’ve started my paper that’s due Wednesday, but I didn’t. I just feel icky. I’ll do that tomorrow and if I have to leave work early on Tuesday - or call out sick - I just will. With this stomach/gastrointestinal drama, it might be legitimate. I guess I’ll see.

These holiday weekends are always lonely - friends all go off to spend time with families and significant others, and I am left in this none-too-pleasant and mildly toxic home environment of mine.

Such is the way. I am watching “The Strange Love of Martha Ivers” for the 5th time this week since I’ve been watching it late at night and keep falling asleep before the end. It’s an interesting movie and one of my favorite kinds of “old” movies - somewhat overdramatically acted and requiring a good bit of suspension of disbelief. It’s almost laughable at times - like when Martha Ivers “kills” her grandmother by almost brushing the air near her head with a fireplace poker (or was it a walking cane??) So terribly done, but funny funny funny.

I’m going to skip past the scenes I have almost memorized by now so I can actually watch the end of the film before falling asleep. I need to get up about 90 minutes earlier than usual so I can do some laundry and whatnot prior to breakfast. My mother is actually going to church in the morning (all of a sudden, she wants to incorporate religion back into her life) and while my father has never been religious, he always wants us to be dressed nicely at the table for these Catholic holiday family feasts. So… I can put on my “work pants” and a clean shirt for that instead of going downstairs in pajama pants.

My head hurts a little, but I think that’s from the drastic climate change today. It was 80 degrees and sunny and bright and humid. I had to turn on the A/C to keep from falling asleep in the house because of the warmth. My wrist is also continuing to hurt a lot from the weather change… SUCKS. I just have to try to forget about it and last until my doctor’s visit on Thursday. I won’t get surgery then, but worrying about it until then won’t make it any less annoying or painful. If I don’t think about it, I can do the mind over matter thing for a few more days. Or so I am trying to convince myself.

I miss my friends on weekends like these; it really sends me into a funk.

I took a nice warm bath earlier. I might make this my Friday night ritual going forward. If my family hadn’t roused me from bed at 10:00 p.m. to dye Easter eggs, I’d be asleep already since the warmth and cleanliness of the bath got me right into sleepytime mode.

Other nice things about taking a warm bath: when you don’t have a significant other around to provide you with a nice warm hug, the warmth of the water is a nice substitute. Also, there is something womblike and cozy about it as well, for those of us who occasionally find that comforting. There are definite meditative elements as well, such as watching the steam rise from the surface of the water, submerging your head just until your ears are covered by water and then listening to those sounds or lack thereof, depending on what’s going on in your home/plumbing/tub.

Unlike a shower - which is my daily morning ritual to wake up, the bath is a relaxation ceremony, and as such, invites sleep. Or at least restfulness.

I can’t take another bath now just because I would feel awful about wasting that much water. However, had I not been interrupted, I would be fast asleep right now, enjoying the warmth and comfort of another wonderful relaxation place: my bed.

Now I am stuck in “awake” mode since there was frustration and crappiness downstairs and agitation/annoyance wakes me up and keeps me awake. I’ve got my bottle of water, a good book and a movie I’ve seen a million and one times playing on the TV to provide a certain level of “white noise”… but not.

This weekend is going to go by far too quickly. I have a paper to write for next Wednesday, Easter preparations, as well as some letter writing to do to contest a medical insurance thing. Impacted wisdom tooth extraction is covered - but it seems to have been processed incorrectly by the insurance company or the doctor’s office since they’re saying the procedure was not covered. All inquiries and requests for re-evaluation have to be submitted in writing, so I need to gather the info and set about the letter-writing campaign that this might turn out to be. I wish I could just make a phone call. I will call on Monday before I mail the letter, but chances are they’ll tell me to put it in writing. Yay.

I also want to carve out some time for exercise. I can’t do any Pilates or anything of that nature because of my wrist pain, but I can run on the treadmill. My wrist is exceptionally painful today, and I think it’s because of the rain and storminess we’ve had today. It’s horrible; I am an old woman and can feel the weather in my wrist.

I have another follow-up with the doctor on Thursday, and I think we’ll be getting down to brass tacks in terms of the word “surgery.” He’s tried a bunch of things and considered several different diagnoses. However, my gut tells me that the surgery he wanted to consider as a last resort is indeed going to be necessary. I will have to wait until I return from Tunisia and Poland in June for that to take place, and it won’t be pleasant wearing a cast throughout the hottest of the summer months… but it beats the pain.

Well, “Double Indemnity” is rolling and “To Kill a Mockingbird” awaits. It’s like I’m reading it for the first time since the first and only time I read it up until now was in freshman year of high school. I shudder to think that that was 14 years ago. So I can say - at least about this - “wow, I haven’t read that book in over 10 years.”

Although we aren’t even mildly religious anymore, I’ve agreed to accompany my mother tomorrow afternoon to take our food to be blessed. It’s really become more of a tradition than a religious observance. I still think it’s a little “wrong” in some way; I feel like it’s disrespectful to the people who ARE faithful and devout. But there are two sides to that. The people who are devout might be thinking that “at least” some people hold onto these traditions and not resenting the once-yearly food blessers at all.

If nothing else, it will be amusing to note that I don’t burst into flames upon crossing the threshold of the church. I ate some meat today, after all. That’s a big Catholic no-no on Good Friday. I was hungry and headachey… and why am I making excuses??? Ugh. Force of habit.

I wore my new spring shoes today - without any pantyhose. This was rather foolish of me - since I usually sit with one leg tucked underneath the other, I put pressure on the shoe against my toe and irritated it to the point of cutting/blistering the skin. Ouchie. I got a band-aid from my friend Krys and covered the cut/blister. It’s OK now, but it stings since I took off the band-aid, cleaned it and put a fresh band-aid on.

I have two final assignments for my grad school classes this semester. One is due next Wednesday the 19th and the other is due April 27th. So… I know what I’ll be doing this weekend when NOT preparing for Easter. My mother wants me to come along on Saturday to bless our food for Easter Sunday. I am a little torn about that since we’re really not at all religious anymore and it smacks a bit of “going through the motions.” We’re beyond Christmas and Easter Catholicism - we don’t go to church for either holiday.

The next few weeks are going to be somewhat busy… final papers for school, preparing for a conference at work, holiday, birthdays, doctor’s visits (follow-up for the wrist, dentist, gyno, eye doctor, etc.) and perhaps a trip to the salon for a haircut, if I can fit it in.

I’m getting to sleep. I have to be up early to visit the bank and get gas.

This morning, I noticed that the color coating on my metal eyeglass frames had some little dings and chips in it. So, after work, I went to the optician and selected some new frames (Anna Sui) and ordered a new pair of glasses.

With the whole Passover and Easter holiday thing, they’ll be here in about 10 days. Still, that’s fine by me. Now I just have to find out how to file a claim for reimbursement through my work vision plan since I opted for funkier frames than the free ones included in the plan. I think I get reimbursed for more than half of the cost, so it should be all good.

(I just filled out the reimbursement form online in about 3 minutes. Tomorrow I’ll just photocopy my original receipt and mail it in along with a print-out of the form I just submitted online. How I love it when a plan comes together.)

It’s time to make a rather horrible admission: since last night, through this morning, the entire work day and even now, I have been captivated by a really kinda bad song. I hate to admit it. I do, I do. But sometimes, the worst songs musically are the catchiest. Britney Spears is a testament to this. Well-produced and fairly talentless. However, this might be worse than my short-lived “obsession” with the Britney Spears’ “Toxic” remixes. My poison right now…

The Pussycat Dolls’ “Don’t Cha” (Ralphi Rosario’s Hot Freak Mix). If it’s not that mix, I don’t care. I heard this one on an episode of that Bravo series “Blow Out” about a narcissistic hairstylist guru/entrepreneur. His sister is the founder or manager of the Pussycat Dolls and he was helping her audition a new “doll” and then styled her hair for her first show. The song they kept playing at the audition and which he then installed as a ring tone on his phone and played constantly throughout the episode was the Ralphi Rosario Hot Freak Mix of “Don’t Cha.” The lyrics aren’t particularly profound, but this mix of the song is 9 and a half minutes long, and really makes you want to STRUT or writhe or something. A portion of the lyrics:

I know you like me (I know you like me)
I know you do (I know you do)
Thats why whenever I come around shes all over you
And I know you want it (I know you want it)
It’s easy to see (it’s easy to see)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be home with me

Dont cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Dont cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Dont cha, dont cha
Dont cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me
Dont cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me
Dont cha, dont cha

Some of the funniest moments are the spoken words bits where the “lead Doll” speaks to the rest of “the dolls” saying (after lots of heavy breathing, sighing and moaning, “dolls… are you ready?… let’s dance…”, except that she pronounces “dance” as “day-ance.” It’s saucy. I’ll give them that. And I can’t get it out of my head. Usually, listening to a song several times dislodges it from my brain. Not so in this case.

Anyway - I started reading the newest Haruki Murakami this morning - “Kafka on the Shore.” I’m enjoying it tremendously and will probably re-read “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” after I finish this just to bury myself in his little world for a while.

This weekend, I might bleach out my color since it’s getting to the point where my ends are much darker than my roots… then after I’ve bleached out the color, I’ll color it back to a nice warm light golden brown. I think that might be a good way to go. I’ll have to stop by the beauty supply store and purchase the necessary chemicals and such. I don’t remember whether or not I have Easter Monday off… I don’t think I do, but I can take it as a floating holiday if I choose. Hrm. It might not be worth it. I can probably use that elsewhere.

Time to get into bed with a good book.

The long weekend “away” was quite beneficial to my mental state. Somehow, being an independent city-dweller for five days improved my self-esteem a great deal - especially since I managed to use the subway system (which I really dislike) without any problems or errors or strange people bothering me.

I guess it’s one of the benefits of being a little chunkier than generally desirable; you don’t get cat-calls and strange men thinking it’s OK to talk to you in the street.

I think I’m well on my way out of this most recent bout of depression. I am feeling a little tired, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. It comes with the territory.

To catch up, on Friday night I went to a tapas bar called “Sol y Sombra” on Amsterdam btw. 82nd and 83rd with Theresa and Kofi. We had some very tasty and strong mojitos (I only drank about 2/3 of mine) and then had one of the best dinners ever… chicken croquettes with homemade tomato sauce, grilled whole shrimp with sea salt, queso manchego with apple slices and raisin nut bread, chorizo, and then four desserts for the three of us: poached pears in red wine sauce, apple tart, Mexican rice pudding and the BEST FLAN IN THE WORLD.

Theresa put it best (if somewhat crassly - but that’s why I love her) when she said, “The caramel fairy just came in my mouth.” Amazing stuff.

Before that dinner, we walked around the upper West side a bit and I bought myself a new writing journal and a pretty silver keychain that’s a lowercase letter “e”. We also amused ourselves terribly by talking like robots - that is, monotonously, and saying things like “this equals fun.”

Saturday, it was rainy and then it hailed. I took Junebug (the doggie I was pet-sitting) for a walk in the morning, then in the afternoon… she HATES the rain. But I got to play with her when I was towelling her off, so it turned out OK. I met up with Theresa at the Lush store on Broadway at 5:30 since she and Kofi were back in NY anyway, and then we went down to the Village to do a little shopping. We didn’t get to the stores we wanted, but we walked about 40 blocks and then took the subway back to 34th street, did some underwear shopping at Macy’s Herald Square, and then met with Kofi and his friends Emily and Chris to walk back down to 14th street to an authentic, homemade Mexican restaurant called MaryAnn’s.

That was also exceptionally delicious. I had a goat cheese quesadilla with shrimp and mushrooms and grilled corn and, of course, goat cheese. I don’t usually allow mushrooms to be included, but I decided to live dangerously. It was delightful and delicious, and then I took the train back home, walked Junebug and went to sleep. Sunday morning was sunny and chilly, and I awoke pretty early for another walk with the Bug. Then there was drama involved in getting home which I won’t describe since it will just get me angry.

Long story short, Theresa and Kofi were CHAMPS and drove into NYC to pick me up, then we stopped at a diner on the way home and enjoyed burgers and buffalo wings. Mmmm. Not healthy, but sooooo good.

I did laundry, I read, and went to work today. I found out that my boss won’t be back from Dublin until Wednesday (she was supposed to be back tomorrow) and this sort of works out since I stayed later than usual tonight and can leave at 5:00 tomorrow to catch the earlier train and make it back in time for a “Welcome Back to NJ” dinner for Theresa, being hosted by Kofi at a local French & Italian restaurant where I’ve never been, but have wanted to go.

So. Yeah. Other things that ran through my mind today were that guys use the girlfriend excuse a LOT to justify what might be otherwise considered homosexual or emasculating behavior. I noticed it today because my friend posted something on a discussion board he frequents about a musical he saw this weekend with his girlfriend. However, the way it was written was sort of telling… discursive, if you will. He started with a defense statement to the effect of “go ahead, make the jokes about my decreased manliness…” and then proceeded along to mentioning that he saw a musical with his “gf”. Blah blah blah, musical sucked, blah blah blah, “but there was a chick from ‘American Idol’ in it (I only know this because my gf told me) and she could really sing.”

It’s interesting how the “GF defense” (as I’m now dubbing it) works. I wrote him, “I think it’s rather funny that the slightest hint of homophobic comments or whatnot are pre-annihiliated by the use of two magical letters - “gf”. Sigh. At least I know that if I’m ever someone’s girlfriend (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha - that’s f’in hilarious), I will be a good one who won’t require use of “the gf” excuse. If something sucks, I won’t be dragging anyone to see it against their will or to prove they care about me. Then again, maybe guys secretly like being able to do/see ghey things and use that excuse. Hrm. A new theory is in the works.”

He replied back that the only reason he used that was because he knew he was going to be entering a discussion with many homophobic males, but the issue for me was not whether he should or should not be using the defense but, rather, how it completely prevented the other guys in the discussion from making comments they might otherwise make… because it was for the “gf.” It’s almost like doing emasculating things for a chick makes them honorable and more manly… an interesting dichotomy.

OK. Enough of this. I want to soak in the tub.