"come on, it's such a joy"

I've spent most of this week reeling from the sudden change to my schedule. When I was unemployed, I'd usually stay up til 2 or 3 am, sleep til 11 then spend the rest of the day reading and going to class. Now, I feel like I'm back in my undergrad days. I'm particularly unlucky to have acquired a job right in the middle of midterms; I put off a midterm that I then realized was due a day earlier than I had originally assumed. This midterm is important to me because a) it's for literary criticism, a subject dear to me and b) the teacher is someone I very much hope to impress because I would like a recommendation letter from him when Ph.D time comes. So I worked from 10pm until 5am. I decided to go to bed at that time, because I only had a few more quote to organize and a conclusion to write before I turned it in later in the day. But I drank a huge glass of iced coffee around midnight and had paper-writing jitters, so I rolled around in bed for an hour, despite employing every single old method for overcoming insomnia that my old therapist gave me. The last time I looked at the clock, it was 5:35 and I guess I dozed off somewhere around there. I woke up at 6:50 and took a hot shower. That water could not get hot enough. I felt clammy and sick and I just wanted to be warm. I got out, wrapped up in a towel and finished the paper on the bathroom floor. Then I went to work and, later, class, on one hour of sleep. When I was finally able to sleep last night, it was my deepest sleep in recent memory. I haven't really been sleeping well since the breakup, waking up at least twice a night and sleeping very lightly. Last night, I slept for 11 hours, slept so hard that I don't even remember dreaming and when I woke up, I felt like I was still asleep. 

But I like the job well enough (though apparently I walked right into some sort of lady secretary turf war that my trainer keeps trying to enlist me in). I actually hope they give me more work than what I currently have, otherwise, I think I'm going to be bored a lot. I have my own office, I'm working for 4 very friendly doctors and most of my co-workers seem amiable enough. But there is one thing--everyone there calls me Amanda. This started because it was what was on my application and resume. When they called me for an interview, I didn't want to establish any kind of casualness for fear of looking unprofessional (yeah, I don't know.). Then I felt silly saying, "By the way, call me 'Mandi'" after 3 meetings. So I've been answering to and introducing myself as "Amanda." This has also happened in my English class, because I was intimidated by my teacher at first. Being called "Amanda" is uncanny for me in a way. I am just extraordinarily unaccustomed to it. The only time I'm ever called "Amanda" is when my friends are joking with me. My mom has called me by "Amanda" 3 times, ever. Even just seeing it typed out is strange to me--I have a "that's not my name" feeling toward it. I've slowly started correcting a few people here and there, so maybe it will change. But admittedly, there is this part of me that likes the feeling of having assumed some sort of fake identity (in the form of my "real" name). 

One thing I don't like about the new job is that I only get paid once a month, at the end of each month. Because of that, I've had to go off a lot of medication, including my birth control, which is $47 until I hit my deductible. The birth control will be the first thing to come back when I get money (trust me when I say that I am not a good person to be around when not on my BC) but the rest of it may have to wait, because I'll be playing catch up with this first paycheck.

I'm glad that it finally feels like life coming together, that it's getting good in a fuller sense (i.e. not just good moments in a sea of "okay" or sometimes "not okay" and "bad"). Autumn is here, accompanied by some absolutely gorgeous weather. I have an income. I have three stories on the roster for GoodNola. I am having a mild flirtation with a guy in my class. Classes are going well. I've lost (more) weight. I met some people and hopefully I'll work up the nerve to hang out with them again (I don't think I'd realized how bad my social anxiety had gotten until I was nearly overcome with fear when I went to meet Nancy the other night and there was a large crowd of strangers in her midst, strangers I knew I would have to talk to. I ended up having a lovely evening and meeting a new friendly person). I've gotten into a habit of writing little cards and notes to people, which makes me exceedingly happy because I find great joy in handwritten messages (sorry about my penmanship, everyone). I made up with an old old friend and we've talked on the phone twice this week. He's coming to visit and take me to the aquarium this weekend. It feels good to do things. I know that's the simplest sentence ever, but it's true and it is. 

I just can't do people. Why you gotta be so expensive, birth control?