If a brain cell dies and there's no one there to hear it...

Friday afternoon. Some days I really wonder what I'm doing here. I don't just mean here at VLSCI (stands for "Very Large Software Company Inc." for those not familiar with my nickname for my place of employment), but here as in on Earth. I don't have much ambition unless you count my insatiable need to claim the title of Queen of Having Too Many Expensive Purses or Girl Most Likely to Buy Another Pair of Black Shoes Even Though I Already Have Five Pairs Too Many. Marla has her artwork, slp has her writing and her acting, Mystie's a world renowned chef, and Meta takes some of the most amazing photos I've ever seen, but I have nothing of the kind. I remember when Dr Karen (my therapist) asked me what I was passionate about and I was silent for what felt like an hour while I scoured my mind for anything and came up with not a single thing. Perhaps that's part of why I have such a struggle with my self esteem? If I had something outside myself that I loved and could focus on, perhaps I wouldn't be so focused on every little defect of character? It's a thought.

I did my walk last night. I've been eating according to plan since Tuesday night's Ice Cream Incident. You know, it's tough to find stuff to write about when it's going well. You won't all leave if I get this figured out and don't have any more angst-riddled entries, will you? (Written as though I've got simply scads of people hanging on my every word!) I love each of you dearly but I think that staying fat just to keep my journal interesting would sort of defeat the purpose. I'm just going to have to start doing new things until I find an interesting hobby to write about. Perhaps I could start with fencing? Um, on second thought, something with less potential to put an eye out would probably be a better idea.


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