Nothing to Say...

You ever try to transcribe an inner life?  Like...to write out what is going on inside you?  Virginia Woolf made a very successful career out of it.  But I can't seem to make it happen.  I suppose one must have a very real and concrete sense of what is going on inside them if they plan to put it on a page.  Maybe that's my problem.  

Not sleeping.  No appetite.  I've been here before.  

Yesterday a lady at work offered me a donut.  Doughnut.  From a local bakery.  My stomach flipped over inside me at the thought of it.  Progress, I say!  "I'd rather eat the pear I brought."  And for once, it was actually true.  Maybe I'll lose my middlecakes.  That'd be the li'l band of blub that rings my middle...probably from cake.  But not eating offered pastry?!  That's scary!  New!  Who knows...maybe those dreams where I find running to be a fun and exhilarating experience will come true and I'll be set.  

Although...this bum shoulder I've had since March is stopping me from doing ANY kind of shoulder-related exercise, which means no chest exercise...which, vain as it sounds, it actually really bumming me out.  I want a chest, damnit.  More than an eleven-years-old girl!  

Well...I might have a full-time position at my branch of the bank come August 1st...and if not, guess I'm job hunting again.  Seriously.  If they split it into two part-time positions (again), I'll flip my shit.  What bank needs twelve tellers?!  But I've got the seniority at my branch as far as part-timers go...so I should be first in line.  Anywho...all that is to say that I might finally have insurance.  I might finally be able to go get my shoulder looked at.  See what the deal is.  Have done with this friggin' ridiculousness.  

We can dream, right?  Alright...off to do dishes and play some Animal Crossing...and work on my jigsaw puzzle...and maybe play some Far Cry 3, since I haven't finished my game for the month...running short on time!

Out