But first, a cheerful comic:

I've been biting my fingernails more than I can ever remember doing it before. Today I have two bleeding cuticles and it hurts to hit the space bar. This makes me feel really disappointed and guilty. Why am I regressing? I hadn't bitten my nails in over a year and they were gorgeous and now I can't stop. I can not stop and I can't remember what ordered the cease and desist in the first place. They really were gorgeous. I don't remember what it was that motivated me to stop, but I remember that I replaced the biting with incessant filing and then once they were even, I just let them grow like crazy. It's time to go back to keeping a file in my back pocket. Now I'm just looking at my ugly, stumpy fingers thinking to myself, "what the hell did you do that for?!" I've relapsed a couple of times over the past year but this has been going on for weeks. I can't help feeling like it wasn't an accident. I think that as much as I've grown to love myself over the past few years, there's still a little bit of me that wants to sabotage all the good and make my cuticles bleed. I think it's the same bit that zooms in on pimples and tooth-gaps and slouching in pictures of myself that other people seem to really like. Why we must insist on keeping ourselves in the worst light imaginable, I'll never know.

I'll tell you what I do like, however. My haircut. I've been talking about getting it cut for weeks but knew I wouldn't really do it. Then, last weekend, I was hanging out with Alyssa and we were bored. I said, "we could get haircuts" in a yeah-right sort of way. Next thing I know, she's scheduled us 1:30's at Regency. We were the only people in the place and we had a great time. I told the girl that I had no idea how I wanted it cut, just long in the front and short in the back and lots and lots of short layers. And together we came up with this--the most grown-up haircut I think I've ever had. And I still have yet to get a photograph. I love it. I don't even mind that it's still two different colors.

I have started to hate my job--kind of a lot. I noticed that everyone there hates it and talk about how they should quit but they've all been there for almost two years. So I thought that I should fix things before I'm in the same position as them. And I started applying for jobs that I think I would be good at and that I would like. I applied at the hospital for an Admissions Clerk. That's my kind of jam. I called them today just to make sure that they got my stuff and the HR lady was so excited to talk to me. She said that they're not accustomed to getting resumes for non-certified positions and that they're very interested in me and she knew my name as soon as I introduced myself. I think that looks promising.

I don't know if this post shows it or not--but things are looking good from my perspective. I'm excited for the future. I sign my lease in a little under 3 weeks. If the hospital job pays enough (and it should) and, of course, if I get it--I will even be able to exist sans-roommate. I like the idea of having a guest room for my visitors. It'll give my little brother a place to crash when he's here on leave and it will give me an office where I can hopefully write. I can't wait to have a writing space. But, if the universe decides to land me with a roommate--it will be alright. I'll not worry about it, it could be a great situation. That's still weeks away.

Sugar and spice and everything nice,
Libby