I have Darling Clementine stuck in my head. I love the fruit, but this happens EVERY SINGLE TIME I EAT ONE and it's really incredibly irritating.

Today I hit the ten hour mark on Wii Fit and my time piggybank turned bronze. I liked the old color! Oh well. I'm really put out by the fact that I didn't splurge over Thanksgiving really, I only had one small slice of my mother's delicious cheesecake and two small slices of pumpkin pie over the entire life span of those desserts, and I am still back up to 173.

I know that day to day fluctuations mean weighing yourself daily isn't a reasonable thing to do, but dammit, for two shining days I was 169 and it felt awesome.

This is silly and vain, but when I go back to Plattsburgh, I want people to tell me I look amazing. I know for damn sure I am not better off in Auburn, but I can at least look better.


In news that is better for my future and more positive all around, today Lisa told me that there's some program that helps people with mental illnesses pay for college-- so even though I won't be getting the Salvation Army scholarship any more, I could still get my bachelor's degree without taking out any more loans. This is awesome news. I would have to transfer, probably to a SUNY school, because I can't go any further at the community college. I could go back to Plattsburgh and do it right instead of fucking it all up like I did the first time. I'm never going to see the inside of the Honors center again, but who gives a damn about that? I could have Dr. Shuttleworth for a teacher!

Brief trip into the past: Spring 2004, I was so ridiculously depressed, I stopped going to classes, chopped off all my hair and dyed the rest black, had about eight different plans to kill myself, was in a really bad way in general. Finally I went to the health center and got set up to talk to a psychiatrist. That was Dr. Shuttleworth, and she was the best thing about the last month of that term. She kept me from flunking out entirely, set me up with a shrink outside of the college, and pretty much made my life bearable again.

The thought of being able to learn from her is like, the most academically exciting proposition I've had in years. I am more psyched about even the possibility of having her for a teacher than I am about getting my associate's.

I just... have to not fuck it up, basically. I know this is all really up in the air, but it's not just a daydream, I could make this happen for real.


Wow, this post really took a turn for the serious. And I still have that fucking song stuck in my head. Quick, someone tell me a joke!