Hi.

i don't know what to say here.

i miss opening up this box with something to say and a ton of fascinating things to tell you . . . i miss the feeling of rushing to the computer just to get here and lay out my day and being full of ideas and things to say that i had to write for at least four diaries to get it all out.

Now, i spend my time reading. Reading book after book, job descriptions, other diaries, my past entries, magazines, the toilet paper packaging and the back of the Bisquick box in hopes of finding a new recipe to mangle. i have cooked and baked and done laundry and decorated more in the last month than i ever thought i would in my whole life.

i make more and more elaborate dinners every night.

They get pretty experimental but so far i have only had two flops and tons of great things to repeat. Maybe i should talk some to Deb and see about trading some recipes since i have already pulled hers for chorizo . . .

The only problem is that this is not me. i feel like the Samantha Cain version of Charlene Baltimore, only there was no killing in my last job, no matter how much i'd have liked it. Sure some of this came from somewhere, but it's not what will keep me happy and sane once the concussion wears off and i realize who i am.

i finally got a job, albeit a temporary one. i start tomorrow and i know that they are looking at keeping someone if the person works out. Maybe that will be me.

i'll take tomorrow as it comes.

---

"Mute" ~ Drowning Pool
"Shouldn't have that far to go
The less you think the more you know
It seems the dream is impossible
Never made a difference so why should you
Promise me you won't look at me
There's nothing left here to talk about
There's nothing left
No matter how hard i try
The lonely one refuses to die
Someday i will be a better man
Never made a difference so why should i
Promise me you won't look at me"

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confessed on Monday, Nov. 05, 2001