So, as predicted, the main things filling my thoughts the past couple of days have been food food food food food. I am very hungry! It's making me feel weak and sick and shaky. Ugh, and I have to drink this hot water with lemon in it every morning? I know that doesn't sound that bad but the feeling of hot beverages going down my throat makes me almost gag, and any time a restaurant puts lemon in my water I immediately fish it out with a fork. It's so nast. Then I have to drink 8 big ol' glasses of water a day. Not to give TMI (jk! I love TMI!) , but I am peeing like TWENTY TIMES A DAY! It's HORRIBLE! I'm about ready to sit down on the toilet and cry. AND ANOTHER THING! I have to write down everything I eat, and it makes me feel like I have OCD. And you know what? I'm not even following the fucking thing to the letter! That's right, I am slightly cheating on my cleanse. Like today I had 2 servings of lean protein when I'm supposed to have 1, and 4 servings of fruit instead of 3. It sucks this bad and I'm not even doing it right! I've also been chewing sugar-free gum, which I don't think I'm supposed to do! God fucking damn it! And why did a zillion donuts all of a sudden appear in the villa as soon as I started this? There's never donuts around! What the hell?! I've never wanted donuts so bad. Ever. It's only day two!
The other thing that's going on is I got an interview at Glamour Shots and it was far from glamorous. The people there were fucking rude and unprofessional as hell (says the girl who immediately goes and blogs about their shitty business and will continue to do so even if she gets hired). I had to do a sample shoot and go off of these diagrams (every Glamour Shots session is exactly the same) but it was really hard because I have this disorder that makes it near impossible to process visual information (I know, it seems weird that I'm a photographer being as I have this problem, but usually photographic work doesn't involve exactly copying the work of other people). They kept me there for 2 hours, were totally condescending the whole time, and I hated every second of it. Also, Glamour Shots is a total rip and never go there. (I know, why would you go there? Well, maybe you would go as a joke. But trust me, if you want to get cheesy portraits as a joke, go to Sears. It's like 1/10th of the price and the only difference is they have less props, and you can bring in your own stupid props anyway, and Sears doesn't do your makeup. But who wants a nasty Glamour Shots employee all up in your grill doing your makeup all stupid, anyway?) AM I blowing this out of proportion, due to a fear of failure, a fear of success, or just because I hate having a job in general? Maybe. But a staff member came with me as my model (poor thing had to pose for 2 firggin hours, I'm taking her out for coffee) and she thought it was fucked up, too. Allllll that being said, I could still potentially get the job. I wasn't totally incompetent, and my portfolio is really good. (Do they even believe it's my portfolio? I AM A GOOD PHOTOGRAPHER, IN MY WAY). But the Glamour Shots job, it could happen. And I will take it, and hate every bloody minute of it, if that happens. But I will keep looking for something else. I'm rather work at fuckin' Sears again, honestly.
Finally, I woke up this morning with a bloody boob! I had clawed the crap out of my tit in my sleep! Whaaaat is haaaappeining to meeeee? Am I a werewolf? Is puberty finally ending? Heeeelp!

PS
Crystals!

Main Developments Over the Last Two Days

Housemate: I now have another girl living in the house with me and she seems very sweet. It's too soon to tell, of course. These people can turn, and fast. But she really does seem very sweet. And she is from Columbia! The country, not the school. My dad spent years in Columbia, so it's actually a place I know a little about, which is neat. She also has an eating disorder. At first this scared me because I was worried I would gross her out, you know, because I'm so friggin' fat, but the therapist basically told me that was ridiculous. So, OK, glad to have a roommate.

Bicycle: I got a bike! OK, it isn't cool. Everyone at the Villa is under the impression that it's cool, but they are mistaken. It's a Schwinn cruiser from Target. I'm not ready for a fixie, guys! Plus my parents gave me a $150 giftcard to Target, and I could have sent it back and gotten cash instead but I didn't really want to ask them and I don't really have a way to go around and check out used bikes. So, I got the best Target had to offer. The handle bars are kind of weird and low and the ride is pretty bumpy, but I'll get used to it. It will be great to have, finally. I'll be able to get to the house and the Villa and TLLC and everything on my own, plus I can go out into Orlando and check stuff out by myself. So, yay bike!

Parents: I talked to them in a Family Session with my therapist. It's getting ridiculous. I get so frustrated and worked up I feel like I'm gonna barf out tears. I don't know if this is ever going to change.

Nutritionist: So I went to the Nutritionist. This is because I'm a fatty and a picky eater and have very little self awareness and self control and self esteem and blah blah blah blah self self self self. It's going to be a six week program, but the first week is gonna get me. She put me on a week-long cleanse and all I'm allowed to eat is 3 servings of lean protein a day (that basically means chicken, seafood, nuts, or beans. Oh shit I forgot to buy beans!), 3 servings of fruit a day, and, hooray, all the vegetables I want (I don't much like vegetables and I rarely eat them, so this is little consolation). Aaah I'm scared! I'm going to be so hungry I'm gonna freeeeeaaakk! I don't wanna do it. But I gotta do it. I think that being fat really is OK and it really shouldn't be stigmatized the way it is and whatever weight people are most happy at, that is where they are most beautiful. That being said, I am not PERSONALLY happy with being fat. My self esteem is too fragile, I care too much about what people think, and I care too much about clothes. Plus size stores are not acceptable, y'all! They are for old ladies and goth teenagers. I just want to wear regular sizes so I never have to go in to one of those stores ever again.

Stank: Apparently someone told my therapist that I don't smell good! And bad hygiene is a sign of worsening mental illness so they are always all over that shit. OK, I want to be very clear, I don't stink! I just smell like a HUMAN. It's OK for people to smell like people! All the other girls here smell like flowery fruit chemicals and it's disgusting/ Who decided that humans should smell totally artificial? Was it those same geniuses who decided we couldn't have body hair? Are we eventually going to start lacquering our skin and turning into mannequins? Turn into hairless beings who can't touch anything without hand sanitizer (preferably scented like rose mango or some such grossness)? Even though being informed that one person thought I smelled bad on one day was super embarrassing and makes me inclined to armpit paranoia, I can't let it. I'm plenty clean. I wear deodorant, I take showers, god help me I even wear make up and shave my legs. So fuck all them haters! I am woman hear me roar! (Someone also said my room stank and, admittedly, it does. It's clean. though! But I've got to find some shit like Febreeze or whatever, in a scent that doesn't make me want to die).

That Picture Up Thurr:
That is seriously what is above the main door in the Villa. The decorating sense here is distinctly Liberace-ian.

Yesterday started off OK, in that we finally went to Gator Land, which was full of kitschy goodness. All the signage was written in a thick red neck dialect of some sort. I saw a (truly) giant alligator that had narrowly escaped being put to death for eating dogs. My only complaint was that the gator wrestling routine involved a bunch of sexist jokes? Why?
I've been drifting further and further away from the "group" and any semblance of popularity. These people are just too lame and they clearly don't get my thing and think I'm just some kind of nerd who watches movies with subtitles or whatever. I wish I could say it doesn't bother me, but I am just a person who needs a lot of validation, even if it's from morons. I place a lot of importance on other people's opinion of me, perhaps too much. I guess this is teaching me a lesson, but it still sucks. I even felt this way in Sacramento. Being just a little bit on the outskirts of the gang because of not drinking or mild agoraphobia or being married or just not being as cool really made me sad and kind of desperate. I guess this is teaching me a lesson, then, but it still sucks.
Later in the day things turned awful. I had two extremely horrible and pain inducing phone conversations. Basically cried myself to sleep. There are people back at home, several people, people who I am very very close to, that I feel like have all but given up on me. These are people who are not supposed to do that. There are some people in this life who, I think, are tied to you in such a way that they should just keep trying, no matter what. And I'm here, in an unfairly horrible situation, doing the best I can to work on myself, and it sucks to feel like very important people in my life aren't gunning for me, and aren't even necessarily going to be there when I get back. I'm really not a very trusting person, I EXPECT people to hurt me and leave me. Just not these people. I'm not blameless, but it shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter what I've done. I'm here trying to make amends and they are supposed to be in my corner.
So I cried and cried and cried, which is very embarrassing considering there is always fucking night staff out in the living room, people paid to monitor me all night long. I know, they are just doing their job, but I hate them. And one of them stole my fucking gum.
Today I woke up still very upset, but I managed to get up and I had a talk with my therapist and then I felt a little better. Not better enough to go to the YMCA, but better enough to go watch "True Grit" later. It was pretty good, but I don't have much to say about it.
Writing this stuff is becoming harder. When it started out I didn't want to censor myself at all. But in my excitement I think I told too many people, too many people, because soon there were readers who I DO feel like I can't be totally balls-out with. And, frankly, some of what I do here is just flat-out wish I could be having sex and smoking weed. Or both at once! Agh, sorry. See what I mean? It sucks that, like, my UNCLE is going to read that. The other thing is, I never meant this to be funny. Sometimes when I am writing seriously it comes out funny, because that's just how I talk or whatever, I don't know. But when people started telling me how funny they thought the thing was, I started to feel like I needed to KEEP it funny. Not that I'm mad at people for lol-ing or anything! I'm flattered! It's totally my own hang-up. But now I stop myself from writing long soliloquies about my complicated feelings and shit. And sometimes I even feel like I need to stay in the "I fucking hate this place and I want Sacramento" mode and like I can't say "Maybe this is OK" or "I am falling into a decent routine" because people at home are going to think I don't care about them or I've gone soft or take it as an admission of craziness. I don't want that. But then yesterday someone told me that they couldn't really tell much about my mental state from the blog and that it wasn't very introspective. Some people are less easily charmed by me than others. I don't want to only be writing a sad, confused, completely inward account of my time here, but I also don't want it to be a log of my daily activities plus jokes. I just want to impress people so much. It's becoming impossible. Blog feelings! Nuts!

So, as perhaps you guessed, we did NOT get to go to Gator Land yesterday. It rained for like one minute and everyone pussied out. The extreme lack of creativity here is oppressive. I didn't even realize how spoiled I was back at home. Everyone there is so brilliant and interesting! No one wants to get the Chinese character for "love" tattooed on their ankle, no one BUYS and WEARS shirts with logos of friggin' ENERGY DRINKS on them. These people aren't stupid, they are just BORING. I had no idea how the rest of the world rolled.
So, guess what we did instead? We went bowling. FOR FIVE HOURS. I could've died. That is lethal, I'm so serious. You take away a woman's Gator Land and then expose her to seemingly endless bowling, you are seriously risking fatal results. I made it through, obviously. I mostly just read and talked to a few people. I do enjoy some of the conversations I have here. In fact, at closure group, two different people mentioned that the best part of their day had been talking to me and that I was really helpful with their shit. And then the nurse pulled me aside and said that I should really consider becoming a therapist. The more I think about it, the more I realize I really kind of WANT to do that. I had considered it previously, but always decided against it because I thought it would be too scary. WEll, now I'm around psychotic people all the time and I'm not scared. But with this realization comes the hard truth that if I wanted to go back to school, I'd have to pay my own way. Like, get loans AND work a full time job while studying and all that shit. And I'd have to go to grad school too, oh lord. But I really wanna gooooo! I just can't think about the future right now. I need to do this shit right in front of me. Things will fall into place.
One amazing things that happened yesterday was we had CINNAMON LIFE CEREAL for breakfast. Yessss! That was like the longest I'd gone without Cinnamon Life since I had TEETH. It's good, though, that we've only had it that one time because my life was kind of being governed by it. I had a real Cinnamon Life problem. Man can not exist of Cinnamon Life alone. But, I had it this one morning, and it was a beautiful thing.
Very little happened today. They changed the combination on the doors so that the kicked-out people can never come back! Heavenly! And we went to the ceramics place where I painted a mug very excellently, neon green on the outside and orange on the inside (Nickelodeon colors!) and then decorated it with a hamburger, a hotdog, and a piece of pizza. Radical!
The book I am currently reading is "Banvard's Folley" by Paul COllins, which is about momentarily famous eccentric people who have been forgotten by history. It's mostly quite good but I must admit I skipped two chapters. Sowwy. Next on deck is "Atmospheric Disturbances" by Rivka Galchen. I'll keep you posted. I hope you don't mind all the book talk. In fact, I hope you pick up a copy at your local library!
Please write to me. I'm pissed at you for not writing! But I still love you.

Didn't Even Have To Use My AK

A good day. In the morning, we had toaster strudel. I didn't eat any, but I enjoyed thinking about it. Invented by the father of Gretchen Weiners, you know.
The doctor is changing my sleeping medication to Ambien. I wake up like 4 or 5 times a night, which is normal for me, but apparently not good. And my current sleep meds are making me drowsy during the day. So, good. Have you heard about Ambien sex? I hear it's pretty freaky. Not that I will be partaking, obviously. I finally got my library books, hooray! I have already made my way through 2 of them, "Sterling's Gold: The Wit and Wisdom of an Ad Man", which was, disappointingly, just a collection of Mad Men quotes; and "The Selby is In Your Place" which is fucking lovely. I've always adored the Selby and it's particular brand of hipster home-decor fetishism, and it is one of my fondest ambitions to be featured on their website.
Ten Items In The Selby Book That I Wish Were Mine:
1. Erin Wasson's shoe collection
2. The Neistat brothers' couch with the lyrics to "Juicy" by Notorious B.I.G. on it
3. Philip and Abigail Smiley's moon lamp
4. Jacques Grange's Narwhal Tusk
5. Jacques Grange's bottle of sleeping pills prescribed to Marilyn Monroe
6. Garick Gott and Terence Koh's albino peacock taxidermy
7. Oliver Zahn's collection of vintage paperback erotic novels
8. Lou Dillon's two-headed rooster taxidermy
9. Lou Dillon's Tracey Emin bag
10. Melia Marden and Frank Sisti Jr's prawn phone
Anyway, now I've moved on to "A Better Angel", which is a collection of short stories by Chris Adrian, who is the author of "The Children's Hospital", the book I was previously raving about. It has a lot of the same characters and situations, as if he took all of his stories and shoved them into one magnificent novel. I am a little bit saddened to see his picture in the back, though. When you admire someone, you expect them to be, if not outright attractive, at least wise-looking and well dressed. Such is not the case. Oh well, that's OK. Boooooooks!
I spent the whole day at TLLC today which is so calming and productive and nice. We worked on budgeting (which is a skill I really must learn, although it is hard here when all my needs are being completely taken care of as if I was a child), job searches (something I also need to perfect, and fast), we went to the Y (stationary bike and Top Chef All Stars), social skills (assertiveness, which I think I'm pretty good at, except sometimes with people I'm extremely close with, I can get pretty passive-aggressive, and also just plain aggressive. So I guess maybe I could use some work), and cooking (chicken brian, gross).
Then, the icing on my good day cake. Awful faux-gangsta white boy got Baker-Acted! (That means he was forcibly taken to a psych ward by the police!). Maybe he won't be back! And despicable skater boy got dismissed for continuing to fuck other patients and using drugs! Yes! I am winning this war! For sanity!
And tomorrow is going to be awesome because we are going to GatorLand! Aaaahh! Expect a radically gator-centric post tomorrow!

Sunday- In the morning, the people at the villa were seriously watching a television program called "My Dog Ate What?" On this episode: a tennis ball, a zipper, and rat poison! I was totally transfixed. How could this exist? They even had dramatic re-enactments! By the way, the worst thing my dog ever ate? A baited fish hook.
Later in the day they took us to a bike trail. Almost no one wanted to go, which was fine by me. It was really nice and overcast out, and I saw a fenced-in emu. Riding a bike with your headphones on is such a god damn treat. It's so meditative. Although my ipod shuffle has been driving me crazy by not being shuffle-y enough. Apparently I ONLY want to listen to tracks off "Nuggets" and "Nirvana Unplugged"?
Monday- Bloody awful. Couldn't go to the library. Couldn't go to turn in applications. Freaked out because, after promises of letting me advance, they only increased my TLLC time by one day (a little less, actually). Crying, not "yelling" but voice-raising for sure.
There was an INSANE community group with people going totally nuts (although MY comments got called "heroic" by the leading therapist. Yeah bitches! I am better at therapy than errybody!).
Oh God but THEN I had the most fucking terrible family meeting over speaker phone. I just, ugh. I don't even want to talk about it. Awful awful awful. Awful waffle.
Oh, and I also missed going to Super Target, which, usually, what the fuck ever. But, remember when my credit card got stolen?? They didn't mail me a new one until TODAY (and I'm not allowed to use it until I make a budget with my therapist, and my use of it is going to be monitored) so I haven't had any money in ages. I did, however, get a $150 Target gift card from my parents. So I did, begrudgingly, want to go to dumb old Super Target, but that didn't happen. I was so pissed. I just spent the whole day angry and sad.
Today- Wanted to get a lot done, but got very little done. OK, that isn't entirely true. I went to the gym, and I went to the groups. The gym is actually pretty groovy (I KNOW SO LAME), if I can find "America's Next Top Model" on TV. If not? Fuck dat shit. The groups were Medical group and THought Disorders, where the topic was self-esteem. In Medical Group, the psychiatrist who prescribes us meds explains brain functions and chemicals and how the meds affect it and stuff like that. I kind of wish I had studied psychiatry in college. I dig it. Too late now. As for the self-esteem thing, well, I have shitty self-esteem, but don't we all? I pretty much feel too doggish to live. I can't see that changing.
I went to the mall to try to turn in an application at the JC-fuckin-Penney's portrait studio, but they were closed. For the zillionth day in a row, no one could drive me to the library. But I will try to concentrate on the good things. It was better than yesterday.

Pure Class. (Start Snitchin')

I want to start off by saying I had a really wonderful, difficult conversation with Jon last night and I can feel my world view shifting but from now on I am not going to talk about Jon stuff. Because, first of all, it isn't very funny or interesting to other people, but secondly, and most importantly, (because really, who am i trying to entertain?), it's none of your business. Blogging about Jon is not helping anyone, so it is gone now. On to your regularly scheduled programming!
Today was classy as HELL. We went to an indoor swap meet, and then a total dirt amusement park!
OK, swap meet first. I will begin by clarifying the difference between a swap meet and a flea market. In my vernacular, a flea market is a joyous event where people sell mostly vintage and antique junk and you find amazing things that totally change your life. A swap meet, on the other hand, is a really gross, semi-shady affair where they sell really cheap, and above all really crappy, NEW goods. Knock off Nike t-shirts, angel figurines, things of that nature. You can still find cool things, but it will mostly be of the kitsch persuasion. (I once found a cigarette lighter shaped like Saddam Hussein's head). So, yeesh, this was DEFINITELY of the swap meet persuasion. I didn't have any money but if I HAD, they had some pins that all represented different Native American tribes, which would have been most excellent bought as a collection. Maybe we'll go back, but I doubt it. Mostly wigs, bongs, and baby alligator heads. Even I was grossed out.
Then, directly behind the swap meet, was Fun Spot. OK, so you know the county fair? OK, that would be EXTREMELY impressive next to Fun Spot. They had seriously maybe half a dozen little carnival rides, a GO-Kart track, and an arcade. That's it. Oh, except they had UNLIMITED SODAS! Oh how we love soda around here.
While the majority of the "residents" (yes, that is what we're called. We're not allowed to say "patients") were trying to win iphones from arcade games (yes that is TOTALLY going to happen) I went on a couple of rides with some people I don't hate. I am a Scrambler fiend! Love that Scrambler! But after that and something called "Paratrooper" it became apparent that it was either time to stop or risk spewing. And, since Garth Algar wasn't there with a tiny cup for me to spew in, I sat my ass down. Then I saw an old man wearing the most terrifying wig of all time. I think it might have been a Beatle wig from the Halloween store. It terrified me to look at it!
OK, so guess what happened in the van on the way home? Well, two things. First of all, we saw Universal Studios on fire. They had to evacuate! A water ride straight went up in flames! I can't decide if I'm glad I wasn't there, or really desperately wish I was.
But, in bigger (for my purposes) van ride news, that asshole white boy with a fucking ghetto complex was talking openly about how he had somehow obtained a fucking BB GUN when we were at the swap meet! And you know what? I fucking told on him. I don't trust that kid with a gun, no sir. I was weighing the options, though, until he started going off about faggots, once again. And when I asked him to stop? He called me a "giant homo cunt". Boom. You're getting told on. Yes, I am a huge Narc. But I do feel bad. Not because I told on that little piece of shit, but because I'm worried about people turning on me. But, yeah, the cops got called, he freaked out all over the place. I just hope he gets tossed out. WIshing negative things on people really sucks, but he's making everyone lose their shit. The cutters are threatening to cut, the Asperger's cases can't stop talking, the schizophrenics are having bad visions. And then I'm the relatively sane girl stuck in the eye of the hurricane. I'm feeling very responsible for everything. Tried to distract one of the cutters by playing "MASH" (it's a grade-school fortune telling game, and you should know it). At the same tried tried to entertain conversations with some of the others. Don't know how long it can hold! This baby's gonna blowwww!