My therapist has finally decided I can be spending more time at TLLC, which is more living skills than therapy. She thinks I'm doing really well, and, I mean, I AM, but why now? Because honestly this has been one of the worst weeks since I've been here. I've totally cut myself off from almost everyone, due to them all being morons. Look, I don't totally hate the normal. They can be nice and even funny and they teach you important new things about expensive hair procedures and video games. They're fine! But it's been too long, sir. I just desperately wish for someone who doesn't think my style of dress is out of date (it's RETRO, ok?). I wish, that when someone asked me what kind of music I like, I didn't have to answer "Animal Collective" because that's the only thing there is a chance people have heard of. And I actually don't even listen to Animal Collective. Other ways to explain music to boring people: "It's not on the radio", "I guess... punk?", or "Sort of like the Juno soundtrack." This is all woefully inaccurate but I've lost my ability to explain. And, again, WHY are these people so grossly average? Crazy people have a reputation for interestingness and I call total bullshit.
I went to the doctor because I am trying to solve the mystery of my right big toe, which has gone numb. This time the doctor was a nerve specialist and he didn't find anything. After sticking needles into my foot and sending electricity though my nerves (it sucks hella bad, ok?) he found nothing wrong. X-Rays proved equally worthless so I have decided to stop wasting time and money and being hurt and exposing myself to things which potentially cause cancer and just live with one numb toe forever. I'll be an invalid, but whatever. Do you suppose it's psychosomatic? Do I just BELIEVE that one of my toes is numb? Because, I've got to say, that is a pretty lame delusion.
Oh, then later in the day there was this amazing thunderstorm where when the lightning went off the sky shone bright purple. You know that Hole lyric "And the sky was made of amethyst, and all the stars were just like little fish."? Sure you do! They're the first lyrics on "Live Through This", off of "Violet". Anyway, it was just like that. I already told you that Hole is My Favorite Schizophrenic's favorite band (sigh...) but I've found ANOTHER patient who says they're her favorite, too! I have no choice but to conclude that people in psychiatric facilities are much more likely to love Hole than the general population, which, yes, that makes sense.
So, I download 4 different TV shows every week. If "Mad Men" and "United States of Tara" were on then it would be more. Oh, and I think I'm going to start watching "Portlandia" (it's a sketch show about Portland hipsters! It totally captures the uncomfortableness that is going in to a feminist bookstore!) But, anyway, the shows I currently download are "30 Rock", because JOKES and also Tina Fey is my imaginary best friend (well, her and Rhianna, but Rhianna doesn't have a TV show), "Big Love" because it's basically a high-brow soap opera, plus I love prairie dresses! And then "Saturday Night Live" because it IS still culturally relevant! And, finally, the very best, which just started up again, "RuPAUL'S DRAG RACE"! It's like "America's Next Top Model" if "America's Next Top Model" realized how stupid it is. And, you know, drag queens instead of self-serious skinny girls. It's so good and makes me totally jealous that I will never get to be a drag queen, even though it is probably my true calling. So, I suggest, if you want to improve your life, download "RuPaul's Drag Race". It will make you happy, if only for an hour.
Ugh, I feel like this post is too upbeat and totally not indicative of my mood, which is lonely and bleak. I feel like as soon as I let myself think "yeah, ok, I could do this, I could be a writer" everything went to shit. Last week I thought I could do it and this week I am positive that I couldn't. I have no education, no networking ability, and if I have any talent at all I am VERY distrustful of it. I have to figure this out or I am never going to get home.

WORST news this morning which is that My Favorite Schizophrenic is leaving us! My heart is broken, I love him so... I'd been writing less about him recently, because his meds are stabilizing him more and more. He's less inclined towards nutty pronouncements and has started to almost kind of have sensical conversations. (Although before he left, he did mention a belief that Pink Floyd laser shows could cure cancer.) But every day, as I watched him do convulsive, imaginary kung-fu out on the smoker's patio, I was confident that he would be here forever and always be ours. But he left! Today! He was the best part of this shitty experience. I guess I will be forced to take up the mantle of pacing and mumbling about dead rock stars. Not that I was very far off from that to begin with.
i got extremely close to finishing the NY Times crossword puzzle this morning. Only 2 spaces left open, and I could have EASILY filled them in if I allowed myself the luxury of google. I may seem like someone who is good at crosswords, but I'm not. This is the best I've ever done, almost finishing a Monday puzzle. But, by repeating this ritual every Monday, eventually I will get better. Better at crosswords! And I thought this place was pointless!
At the gym I could barely work out because I was so disgusted by sweating. Ick. Do you suppose they have a water aerobics class, like for old ladies? I could do that. Too bad I didn't bring my adorable vintage swim cap!
At Target, I meant to buy groceries, but I froze when I got there. I don't really know how to grocery shop. Does this ever happen to you? One of the main problems is that I'm supposed to have protein with every meal, but handling raw meat is nastified and totally out of the question. Plus, Target groceries? Gag. SO I inwardly freaked and couldn't buy any food at all and then I got a candy bar instead. Stupid idiot.
Then there was DBT group. DBT stands for dialectical behavior therapy. It's supposed to be about mindfulness and managing emotions and shit. Stuff that would actually be helpful to me if we EVER actually got to it. Unfortunately, people are always using community issues as examples and it invariably degrades into exactly what ISN'T supposed to happen, ie people yelling and slamming doors. I never get involved in this stuff because I don't GIVE a shit about these people, so there is no way they are going to work me up that bad. I mean, I'm angry. I dislike almost all of them. But what will it get me, to call them all on their absolute stupidity and selfishness? Nothing but being on the bad side of a bunch of crazy people. And, like, YIKES.
I don't dislike all of them. I'd say there's about one in four that I can stand. And my new Colombian house mate is a sweetie pie. I really like her, even if she wants me to watch that Miley Cyrus movie, the "serious" one. Despite that, she is a super nice and smart girl. I worry about her, though, because she's pretty meek and has a sad past. But Jesus is she ever better than most of these assholes.
Speaking of which, there is another new girl. The new people are coming fast and furious. I didn't even mention the arrival of the hardcore boy who dresses like Criss Angel (haaa), or the triumphant return of the sex addict, who has supposedly changed her ways. But, yes, new girl today, and already it's, like, uh-oh. At dinner she said to me, like "Oh great, these people all seem like freaks." And yeah, they are, duh. But bitch, you just GOT here. And we don't say those things out loud, anyway. And if you want to be friends with me, you can start by not coming to me all obnoxious first thing. If you want to talk shit to me, make it clever. Then, the girls who I guess would be classified as "popular" (haaa) (barf) were singing "Who's That Lady?" and she, (and this is directed towards me, once again), is all like "This is not appropriate for the dinner table." I guess because it has the word "sexy" in it? Whoa girl, wrong folks to mess with. Those girls will tear you apart. And don't get me involved! Shit! You are hella bad at integrating yourself! Even though I hate everyone, no one knows. Ever since that jackass white boy got kicked out, I have no enemies. I may be two-faced, but at least no one is going to yell at me.
Finally, I did a conference call with my therapist and my parents. I kept it light. I guess that's all I can do right now. Shit's hard, dudes.

Every step feels heavy and my chest feels all empty. I find myself closing my eyes at inopportune times. And absolutely nothing is able to hold my interest. It's all I can do to even write this right now because it's so BORING.
I know that I don't want to be a photographer anymore but being a therapist is expensive as hell and being a writer is too risky and I don't think I'm special enough. Oh, and I'm super fat. That's the constant, of course.
Feeling like shit makes me really want to call people, which of course isn't fair, to only call when I am having a bad day. But I am pretty much sitting on my hands to keep from calling. I'm sorry! I need to come home. I'm just going through the motions now, I swear it. I don't talk to anyone- I think I've said fewer words today than I've ever said on any other day of my life. Not a single conversation.
I am failing at this blog, even though right now it's about the only thing in my life that I care about. But boring, repetitive days lead to boring, repetitive blog posts. There's this Kimya Dawson lyric that goes "write and write and keep on writing, just make sure your life's exciting." Whoopthy! I've got half of it down. You'd think being a mental patient in Orlando would be pretty exciting, But it's just... I don't know. Not exactly pointless. I can't even classify it. It's just... wrong for my life.
Oh, I saw "the King's Speech" and it was totally whatever. Have you read any reviews for it? Yeah, it's basically like that. And I find Geoffrey Rush's nose freakish and distracting. But, on a good note regarding noses: I have decided that I like mine/ I guess that's one less thing to worry about.
So, "The King's Speech"- yawn. Geoffrey Rush's nose- whaaat? My nose- good job. Now if only I could stop these olfactory hallucinations. I am smelling imaginary chemicals wherever I go. Going to the nuthouse first and THEn losing your mind= totally me.

Absolutely nothing has been going on, and I say that DESPITE the fact that we finally got to go to Harry Potter. That's right, Harry Potter theme park and I'm not even enthused. We were there for like half an hour. The ride was pretty cool but, just, ugh. Sigh. What is the point of fun if you have no money, no time, and no one to enjoy it with? If I'd been there with my friends, believe me, we would have torn Hogsmeade UP. But as it was, I was just kind of sad. Way sad, eve. Fucking bummer, dude.
Wednesday they gave me this career aptitude test and it thinks I should be a comedy writer. I want to do that! But I don't know how. I can't write jokes. I feel so boring. This is a crappy, rainy, uninspiring day. So was yesterday and the day before, except for the rainy part.
Um, there was a murder like a block away from the Villa and I guess there was one like six months ago, too. So now we are not allowed to go anywhere by ourselves. You know, in case we get MURDERED. Floridaaaaahhhhh!
I finished "Gob's Grief" which took a long time because it was about the Civil War and machines and stuff. Hard to read stuff. Now I am reading "Super Sad True Love Story" by Gary Shteyngart but you know how sometimes you are so bored that you can't even manage to do something that will make you less bored, and instead you just sit around and listen to the same song over and over again? Yeah, it's like that.
I finished writing my crush history but I can't decide if I want to put it up here because, although it is honest and kind of funny, it is also embarrassing and could potentially bring sorrow into the lives of others.
Blah blah blah shut up little girl.

My god, so totally little to say. The last few days have been a total haze of hunger.
I'm back to eating today, but it was a total trial by fire. Eleven pounds in six days. I should feel great but I feel like shit, my body is all screwed up. I'm clammy and tired and I can't concentrate.
When I went back to the nutritionist she has a whole 'nother diet ready for me, I basically has to say "gimme a few weeks to recover, lady" because I could not even begin to wrap my head around another week of strict meal planning and everything. I might just go it alone and try to manage with just portion control and exercise. We shall see, but for the moment, thank god it's over. I'm going to have to buy all new bras.
On Sunday we went to a very lame "African" themed miniature golf course. (I got a hole-in-one! But lost anyway!) There were, like, these Tiki idols everywhere (ooh African. Very totally real, and for sure acurately African) and I SWEAR TO GOD they were painted up like minstrels! I was totally agog, but no one else shared my shock, or even seemed to pay any attention. The bizarre fucked-upness of the world continues to blow my mind.
On MOnday we had some groups and meetings and such but I was too cloudy from hunger to be able to make much sense out of it. People clapping because I'd lost so much weight, while I lay prone on the sofa, shaking and sweating and moaning. Good Job. Today I could FINALLY EAT but my body is still pretty pissed.
I went to an animal shelter with TLLC (somehow this qualified as "cultural group"?). It was nice to see the animals and not have to feel bad because it was a no kill shelter and all, but I DID NOT GET TO HOLD A CAT! Do you realize that I have not pet a cat since I got here? Dogs are always out on walks and are easy to pet, cats are much trickier. I miss my Phaedra so terribly. I just want a kitty to hold, dudes.

New Me?

Behold, the first photograph of a continuing transformation. Hair back to brunette, bod 21 pounds lighter since I left. Brain healthier? Lets not get ahead of ourselves, but maybe.

I'm very weak from the cleanse now. I can barely lifet my pen (I write everything out on paper and then transfer to the computer, it's the only way I can think. Although the paper trail makes me feel like Harriet The Spy, ie, like I could get in trouble at any minute should it fall into the wrong hands). I know I know, I am such a horrible complainer because there are real African children and anorexics in this world, actual starving people. But this is my 4th day of almost only vegetables and water and I'm weak and feverish and shakey and I am probably going to die. I am a total baby, and I am totally dying.
I can barely even read, which is sad because I really want to get into my current book, which is "Gob's Grief" by Chris Adrian, who I have obviously become totally obsessed with.
Speaking of obsession, I have been playing therapist with a patient who has fallen into a strange sexual obsession with a therapist. Quite a tough nut to crack. Don't worry, I'm allowed to do this, for some reason. I guess they figure my pseudo-psychiatry can't hurt, and may be helping just as much as their stuff? Or they're just glad I'm keeping him occupid? Anyway, I'm fascinated.
My therapist had me write these "anger letters" to some people that I am angry with back at home. It turns out I am a lot madder than I thought I was! I am SO FRIGGIN MAD! Now I'm scared to turn it in because I don't want her to think I'm a rage-filled crazy person! I mean, I will. Give the letters to my therapist, that is. Because I want them out of my notebook, I feel like the letters are posioning my journal.
Today we saw "The Green Hornet" which was good because Seth Rogan, Michel Gondry, Surprise apperance by Franco, and non racist portrayal of Asian men! Ok, he was still good at math and karate. But so much more!
There are rumors of going to "Holy Land" soon, which is a Christian theme park that really does actually exist. I sincerely hope this happens because I LOVE fucked up shit.

PS
Never bum a fox.