Friday I did absolutely nothing useful, other than get a mammogram. Instead of doing my homework, I played mindless little games all day. I drifted in and out of Suz's journal all day, feeling blue and sad and disconnected. Nothing mattered on Friday, nothing bothered me nor did anything please me. Rob came home and wanted to get dinner, so we went to Outback.

Several years ago when my co-worker Michelle died, all I wanted to do was eat beef. I had to have red meat, which is generally unlike me. For some reason, I equated beef with a sense of being alive. A friend of mine commented that she too went through a period of unusual mourning where she wanted to connect with life in some way (although she put it: "I wanted to have sex everywhere: in the living room, in the dining room, on top of the refrigerator.").

Now, I don't feel like anything in particular will make me feel lively. I wonder if part of it is sadness about Suz, irritation with my exhusband, worry about unemployment, or my concern about my own medical deal. Today I'm sitting here and my insides are jabbing at me, but I'm not sure if they've always jabbed at me or if I'm noticing because I'm worried about my insides, or if I'm imagining things because I'm worried about my insides. It could just be ovulation.

Anyway, I'm feeling rather dull. I have to write an outline for English (which is rather odd since we've already turned in the draft; correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't it make more sense to outline first, then draft?), a paper for family law and lots of homework for astronomy. But I open the books and end up staring at them and then drifting away. It reminds me of "The Subtle Knife" wherein the Specters absorb the energies and interests of their victims, leaving them emotionally empty physical shells.

Today is much better than Friday, though. And I suspect each day will get a little bit better than the one before.