Misery + Company = True Love

I've worked myself into a premenstural fit of anxiety that is the equivalent of walking on a highwire over a valley of self doubt. The subsequent effect could possibly be implosion or a panic attack.

Come on... you love the metaphor! And you love the melodramatics. It's not that serious, I've justing been thinking too much about OPP (in this case, the last P is for "problems").

There have been things, issues, topics and controversies eating away at me slowly for some time now. Although I've been maintaining a happy-go-lucky attitude the past few days while I've been alone (Mike is visiting friends in Miami), I'm starting to crack. Human contact has been minimal and holds on jobs (a rarity for this time of year) have been released. My apologies to all that have witnessed my emotional vomit today.

Needless to say I need to speak up for myself more often to avoid getting myself into such psychological pickles. However, when I do enter such a state of mind, my writing becomes very flower-y. Hence the cheeseball metaphors.

Just trying to meet my quota for the day and unfortunately doing the same emotional vomit thing to you, dear readers, as I have to a few friends.

Anyway, there are people with bigger problems, real problems (mine are more or less a result of overanalysis and lack of communication with particular individuals). Natasha Leyonne being one of those people (I'm watching Slums of Beverly Hills).

I'm going to go make pastina now. It's good for the soul.

P.S. For the record, not a tear has dropped over my current internal conundrum. I just wanted to let that be known.