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i said something to my friend susan last week that has been sort of haunting me for a few days now -- something about my need to be productive. if i don't get a lot accomplished, i don't consider my weekends to be successful.

it's not that i didn't know this to be true, but there's something about vocalizing a fact like that to make a girl feel like one big fucking control freak.

i get moody when i don't do everything -- or at least a great part of what -- i meant to do. (at least once a month i can blame pms.) i don't mean to be a jerk. it just happens. often i can suppress the outward signs, or, as i told susan, i can break my desired goals into smaller components so i can pretend to myself that i've done more than i've actually done.

really, i wish i weren't so driven about something as ridiculous as whether or not i finished organizing paul's collection of trains. it's kind of embarrassing how worked up i can get. you know, it's actually more than kind of embarrassing, it IS embarrassing.

and it's positively painful how a simple monday morning query like, "hey, how was your weekend?" can put me in the dumps.



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