July 30, 2003
I've been a big weepy baby for about the past 24 hours. Not depressed, precisely, but the slightest little thing sends me weeping for the Kleenex box. Watching "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" last night, the straight guy they made over proposed to his girlfriend. I bawled. Watching a silly but fun 1940s swashbuckler last night, I got weepy during the happy ending (At Sword's Point, for the curious, notable not only because it was fun but because Maureen O'Hara held her own in every sword fight she was in, and was definitely not a typical 1940s movie heroine--take that, Catherine Zeta Jones!).
I've been touchy and cranky and generally misanthropic for days. I'd say it was PMS but there's no rhyme or reason to my menstrual cycle at all. I don't think that's it, but who knows? And this afternoon I spent some serious quality time with a potato chip bag, also suggesting PMS, or something else requring salty comfort food. Dude, I don't know. I just live in this body, it doesn't tell me what's going on half the time. I was up too late last night as well (see above, re: At Sword's Point).
The only time I've been completely content is when writing. Go figure.
Starting to think all I can do is wait until the storm blows over. I'll be glad to see it go. Getting a little tired of bursting into tears for no good reason.