Depression

Linda told me last night she really likes my Act I, she thinks it really moves. We'll see what everyone else thinks tomorrow.

I'm staying in the class I want to switch out of. It's 4 units, and taking any other class would mean I'd have to replace this one class with two 2-unit classes. So I'll just stay in it and work on the Act I of my first screenplay and spend all my efforts on thesis class.

It suddenly dawned on me the other day that Len is probably the best teacher I've ever had in my life and pretty much everything else pales by comparison. So fuck it--I show up to class, I don't show up. Whatever.

Darin and I have started watching our Christmas present: The Singing Detective. Wow. Wild stuff. Probably not the best thing for a depressed writer to watch, but oh well.

Watching the main character's bout with a horrible skin disease brings up this short shameful confession: I suffer the heartbreak of psoriasis. I have a big ol' patch of the stuff at the base of my scalp, on my righthand side. The itching gets worse when I'm stressed out, mostly because I scratch at it all the time. Scratching causes giant white flakes of psoriatic scalp to line my shoulder. If you see me scratching my scalp, that's what I'm doing.

I'm hoping by confessing this I'll be too embarrassed to keep doing it.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

1.5 miles today! Well, kind of 1 mile jogged, the .5 mile walked straight uphill to our house. I didn't knock myself out. That's tomorrow's assignment.

Everybody--where everybody consists of Ceej and Laura--has been telling me to drink more water! After 7 shakes, 8 fl.oz. each, I'm a little tired of drinking. But they've both recommended it as a great way to lose weight and once lost, to keep it off. So I have put the jug of water in the fridge. I'm drinking like a fish.