pondering a possibly eternal state of grumpiness

it's like a coat i can't shed. made of moleskin. i don't exactly know what moleskin is, but i have to figure it's some sort of oppressive, possibly hairy substance, uglier than Hagrid's suit for special occasions.

here's the last thing i want: to become my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. DeSantis, who before she was pregnant, was the World's Coolest Sixth-Grade Teacher and afterward, was the Scariest Teacher in School. red-faced, uncomfortable, accusatory. downright mean.

i've never been good with excess hormones. right now i feel like my hormones are sitting in an ugly little ball in my stomach. i throw them up in the morning, sometimes. but the supply never depletes itself. they make me not want to eat anything, and then when i do eat, they cause the food to just sit there, hatefully. they cause me not to want to exercise, ever again, a venture i have been successful with for about two or three weeks now.

i wonder how i would feel about my hideous, hateful job if it weren't for the hormones. probably i would still view it as hideous and hateful, but would i handle it better? would i not dream about it at night? would i be able to put it into perspective a little better, like ahahahaha, these silly people and their little cell phones, taking it all so seriously when in the grand scheme of life, it's not. would i still fail my calls? i'm sure. would i care? i'm not sure. do i care now? still the jury is out.

i made brownies today. brownies are happiness.

penelope out.