Pretty Pretty Princess

How do I let the Boy I actually Like know that he's the one I actually Like? So far I'm showing it by saying really dumb shit to him while I flirt easily with all the other Boys. I don't think that's the best plan. Are his mixed signals a symptom of him doing the same thing? If so, he needs to fucking call me. Ask me out. I have tried to invite him to things twice when he was validly busy, but I am not inviting him to a third thing without some hint of reciprocation. Ok, I have hints. I want more than hints. It's his turn. That's how this works. I'm done. I quit. Only I don't really quit because I'm clearly still interested. He meets all of my most basic qualifications (clever, has depth, and I'm attracted to him) and that's exciting. Poor James Spader is extremely smart and clever, and he has more depth than I give him credit for, but I'm not attracted to him. NBF thinks James Spader and I should run off together and have hyper-analytical socially awkward sex all the time, but NBF doesn't give me credit for being capable of working a social situation. Then again, I frequently forget I'm able to work a room. The Colombian and the 8-year-old boy who said "You look very pretty" as we passed on the street and the older CTA worker who told me on the train "You are a very pretty girl...a very pretty girl," I'm still not entirely convinced they are not all figments of my imagination. Hallucinatory side effects of the drugs, or schizophrenic delusions, or I'm asleep or dead and none of it's real.

I have an easier time believing I'm crazy than believing I'm pretty.

That's not fair. I'd say it's about an equal chance.

Why would I be pretty now when I wasn't pretty before? People think I'm prettiest now in certain outfits (my cherry sundress, which isn't particularly showy or revealing, seems to get the most vocal approval) wearing mascara, some mineral foundation powder and blush, and Burts Bees Lip Shimmer in Nutmeg. But people still respond to me like I'm pretty now when I'm rolled out of bed and looking like crap. Did something vital change? Mature? Relax? Wisen? Unfurrow? I feel stupider lately; does that make me pretty? Or that I'm finally working through all the layers of gunk over my heart and really changing things about myself.

I've stopped being late to things. Since I still have no internal clock or sense of time, I'm frequently insanely early instead, but I've learned to leave way more time than I think I need, because I am aware that I don't know how long things take and if I leave with just enough time if everything goes right, something will go wrong. Then there's plenty of time for traffic or lifted bridges or impossible parking or whatever else comes my way. I have my therapist to thank for this.

My condo is 100 times cleaner than any other space I've ever lived in. Right now it's messy and it's bothering me and I'll clean all or part of it in the next 24 hours, I'm sure. My house is cleaner than my parents house. The maid service that used to come every other week is now scheduled for once a month and once I convince myself to clean my own damn bathrooms again I can eliminate them completely.

[Side note: lately, I haven't been able to write much. Today, it seems to be the only thing I can do. Write write write!]

Maaaaybe done writing for now. I can feel the barometric pressure changing in my head. Very strange. Trying to do my biofeedback relaxation. Pressure in the forehead, relax the forehead. Still haven't figured out how to relax my temples. If it doesn't rain or relax soon, I may have to lay down and/or take my Norflex/Vistaril cocktail.

Have you ever wanted to shoot a cloud?