Humdrum
Went to Ikea and Trader Joe's. Am working on second internship application. Frustrated that the fax machine won't fax. The washing machine has given up altogether, so I'll have to wait till next week at school.
Anxiety about interviews; getting there on time, what to wear, how to answer questions, where to park, etc., and worried that I wouldn't be able to get up early twice a week, take BART into the city, and get to my internship on time.
Christiane Amanpour is arguing with her guest, that's unusual for her. She has an interesting accent; she's Iranian but was raised in England. She doesn't sound either one, to me.
I'm still trying to function at my pre-bipolar level, which means there's still some acceptance and letting go that I need to do. Once I do that, things would right themselves, but I'm so afraid. I'm still holding on by my fingernails, feeling like I'm about to fall no matter what I do. This makes sense, though, because control is an illusion, so there's only so long I can try to manage my performance and my image vis a vis bipolar. I may be coming to the end of my ability to manipulate my life to where I feel and look normal, because it's not real; it's a false front.
I'm wondering if an internship is really what I should be doing, since it's not happening easily; I have to force myself and I don't think my cover letters sound that enthusiastic. I think I'm trying to force a solution, pretend I'm more than I am because I'm so afraid to find out how small I might actually be on the inside.
Must get some references but I can't reach my professors to ask if it's ok to list them. The truth is that I just don't feel like doing anything, but I don't like being bored, either. I wish pilates hadn't ended because it's so hard to exercise on my own.
I got some art and a rug today at Ikea. Everything should be beautiful, including my room. There was a stunning canvas but it's too big for my room.
"I got an angry email from some nutjob up in Oregon. Apparently, Portland does not put hashish in its baby formula. My mistake." --Stephen Colbert
Anxiety about interviews; getting there on time, what to wear, how to answer questions, where to park, etc., and worried that I wouldn't be able to get up early twice a week, take BART into the city, and get to my internship on time.
Christiane Amanpour is arguing with her guest, that's unusual for her. She has an interesting accent; she's Iranian but was raised in England. She doesn't sound either one, to me.
I'm still trying to function at my pre-bipolar level, which means there's still some acceptance and letting go that I need to do. Once I do that, things would right themselves, but I'm so afraid. I'm still holding on by my fingernails, feeling like I'm about to fall no matter what I do. This makes sense, though, because control is an illusion, so there's only so long I can try to manage my performance and my image vis a vis bipolar. I may be coming to the end of my ability to manipulate my life to where I feel and look normal, because it's not real; it's a false front.
I'm wondering if an internship is really what I should be doing, since it's not happening easily; I have to force myself and I don't think my cover letters sound that enthusiastic. I think I'm trying to force a solution, pretend I'm more than I am because I'm so afraid to find out how small I might actually be on the inside.
Must get some references but I can't reach my professors to ask if it's ok to list them. The truth is that I just don't feel like doing anything, but I don't like being bored, either. I wish pilates hadn't ended because it's so hard to exercise on my own.
I got some art and a rug today at Ikea. Everything should be beautiful, including my room. There was a stunning canvas but it's too big for my room.
"I got an angry email from some nutjob up in Oregon. Apparently, Portland does not put hashish in its baby formula. My mistake." --Stephen Colbert
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