just now i started feeling better. lately i�ve been in this cycle of doing drugs and then doing other drugs to deal with the aftereffects of the first drugs. (i like variety). i get impatient when i�m tired and anxious and i take something else before my body has a chance to recover. probably most of it is stress from school, because if i just had a minute to relax i could wait out my bad moods. but i haven�t had anything today, not even tea. i felt like shit all day in class. then i came home and i�ve been sitting around eating toast and talking to donna.

i love c. he's so great. the other day we got high together in my kitchen. he had twice as much as me; i don't like it strong. and when he gets too fucked up he starts coming on to me a lot. (he's our 30something friend who's been madly in love with me for the past year, but he's so endearing i put up with it. it's so ridiculous that it doesn't bother me. i just laugh.)

anyway, we were sitting there and he started trying to convince me to kiss him. i kept saying no, no, no, no, but he finally said "come on, it's my birthday, you have to give me a birthday kiss." so i gave him a tiny peck on his mouth. then he made me do it again. the third time, i saw his mouth open a little so i backed off and said, "no more," and resisted his next million kiss requests. he insisted that we sit and hold hands while he stared deeply into my eyes and giggled inane things in his cowboy accent. "i have all these butterflies in my stomach, just like high school! you're so cute, you know that? man, i wish you were older!" i made fun of him mercilessly the whole time but it didn't ruin his romantic ardor. (you'd really have to hear him. his accent makes all the difference.)

we hadn't talked since that night, but he just came up a minute ago because he's giving donna ride. "hey smoocher!" he said, "man, i was so messed up that night. i came to a few hours later and i was like, what the fuck, man! i can't believe what i was doing." i just laughed and said, "me neither. you're completely insane. it probably would have bothered me more if you weren't so hilarious." and he said, "yeah, i know!" he used to apologize profusely when we had one of those episodes (he frequently gets too fucked up and tries to get me in bed). but now it's just routine. i don't know why, but i can't stop laughing.

today i had to take a 550 question personality test that the counseling center wanted me to take. here is a link to a slightly different version than the one i took. these are my favorites (with my answers. true/false):

I like to read newspaper articles on crime. (T)
My hands and feet are usually warm enough. (F)
I would like to be a singer. (F)
Evil spirits possess me at times. (F)
I have had very peculiar and strange experiences. (T)
I have never been in trouble because of my sex behavior. (T)
My soul sometimes leaves my body. (T)
I sometimes tease animals. (F)
I would like to be a florist. (T)
I have little or no trouble with my muscles twitching or jumping. (T)
Someone has it in for me. (F)
There is something wrong with my mind. (T)
I am not afraid to handle money. (T)
My mother was a good woman. (T)
I have no difficulty in keeping my balance in walking. (F)
If I were a reporter, I would very much like to report the news of the theatre. (F)
Everything tastes the same. (F)
I should like to belong to several clubs or lodges. (F)
At times I hear so well it bothers me. (F)
Bad words, often terrible words, come into my mind and I cannot get rid of them. (T)
At times I have enjoyed being hurt by someone I loved. (F)
I have no trouble swallowing. (T)

it took about 2 hours and by the end i was sure i was insane, and i'm pretty sure they think i'm insane too. why else would they ask me such bizarre things? of course i would like to be a florist...

"Addiction, like nostalgia in general, is a form of mourning, an attempt to keep the vanished loved object close at hand by what Freud calls introjection ... And like other forms of mourning, addiction keeps a count--not how long since father died or your boyfriend left, but how many bags a day, how long since I had a drink or 'til I feel the first withdrawal symptoms. Addiction's count, like mourning's, is a defense against entropy, everything running down, collapsing into hopeless chaos. Addiction relies on the tension of enough/not enough, now/not now to organize life and ward off chaos."