Thursday, January 31, 2008

Melanie opens up

Melanie and I hiked all over two boroughs, visiting far-flung clients in their homes. I'm exhausted and a mass of aches, but it was a good day. We spent a lot of time on trains and in the car, too, and we talked about a lot of things at a more personal level than ever before. She described her recent vacation, which was intense and moving but apparently not too restful -- Cambodia is a pretty heavy trip. She even started a blog to describe what she saw and post photos. I was tempted to ask for the URL, but feared that might be a boundary violation.

We also talked about her illness and recovery. She actually mentioned her family and friends, which was unprecedented -- she never discusses her personal life with me.

"My mother almost insisted on coming here when she heard I was in the hospital," she said. "Yikes. But I texted my two best friends, and neither of them visited me!"

"I would have visited," I said, "but I wasn't sure if it was appropriate."

Before we started our concrete hike, we had a nice supervision session at a Starbucks -- their coffee is terrible, but their ambiance is pleasant until 11 a.m., when they start blasting the smooth jazz. We hypothesized that I might work full-time with the team after I graduate.

"Although if I did that, I know it would be different from being a student," I said. "I've been given so much latitude. I don't have to do all of the grunt work the full-time workers have to do. I get to do whatever I want!"

"It's true," said Melanie. "I don't know why I give you assignments!" Truth in jest, but she said it kindly. She acknowledged that I've tried to work on several of the assignments she's meted out, and some didn't work out for reasons that weren't my fault. But I had to promise to write more process recordings. For my own good, of course.

Melanie also condoled with me about Dean Evillene and her villainous plans to force me to work 200 extra hours without pay or benefits.

"Has Dean Evillene even contacted the agency about this?" asked Melanie. "She's expecting me to continue supervising you for free."

"She expects everyone to work for free," I snarked.

"That's quite an assumption," noted Melanie.

"She puts the 'ass' in assumption," I said.

Then we came back to the office for team meeting and enjoyed our favorite sugar cookies with frosting. Melanie had hoped the cookies would be served at her first team meeting back at work, and I've been eying them as they sat in the program director's office, but as always, they were worth the wait.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

In a funk

NDD gets around -- he's apparently met someone else that he wants to concentrate on. Which I guess is for the best, but I feel unappreciated. I was willing to consider dating a newly divorced man with teenage children -- shouldn't I get some kind of medal? His ingratitude, along with the internship department's intransigence, has put me in a funk.

I sent a nicer, less confrontational version of the letter to Dean Evillene. Focusing on the fact that I'm working at an advanced second-year level, and overlooking her department's gross incompetence. Her response was brief and chilly:

Ms. Survivor:

This email is in response to your letter of January 29th which was laying [sic.] on my desk when I returned to my office yesterday.

To complete the degree here you must complete the number of hours in Field [sic.] this School [sic.] requires. You must make up the 200 hours that were not completed in your first 2 semesters.

You ended your letter by saying "I hope we can resolve this matter at this level." This is the resolution at this level: this School requires 1200 hours of Field for the number of credits allocated regardless of how advanced the student may be judged to be in their practice. This policy applies to all students in your program.

I have copied Ms. Eleanor Feckless on this email response. Your letter was copied to Prof. Fun and Dr. ED-DHRSJ, but it is Ms. Feckless who was responsible for your placement and to whom you should have first addressed your concerns.

Dean Evillene

Sigh. Now I have to file a grievance against her and her incredibly incompetent department. I'm so tired of all this.

Also, I'm apparently the worst daughter in the world. It was my mother's birthday last Sunday, and I forgot to send her a card or say anything in our weekly phone call. Largely because our weekly phone calls are hazardous to my serenity.

Mom was worried about the gap on my résumé between leaving my last job and starting at my current school -- i.e., my distinguished tenure at The Bad Place. I told her I didn't intend to mention it. That apparently wasn't a good idea, although she couldn't tell me what I should say instead. She just kept repeating and repeating that I couldn't lie or completely omit that experience. She also intimated that Dr. Arnold was right and that I needed to discuss my Bad Place experience with Dr. Roda some more.

I got completely frustrated, agitated, and fed up. And when I remembered, the next day, that I hadn't wished her many happy returns, I didn't call. Talking to her just does not help. She ruminates, and worries, and repeats herself endlessly, and it's like she's taking a cheese grater to my brain.

Fortunately, talking to Alona and Adir does help. They recommended that I say, "I was enrolled in a doctoral program, but it wasn't a good fit. I called a former professor of mine, who had taught in that program, to talk about things, and he advised me to consider social work. I visited the school, spoke with some students and faculty, and developed a real appreciation for the social work contextual approach. I also thought it would be great to have a licensable degree in less than two years rather than five or six."

Essentially what I had said to my mother at some point, amid all the rumination and repetition. If I weren't so guilty about missing her birthday, I think I'd feel more justified in hanging up on her.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Monday, January 28, 2008

Not a bad date

For a first date, it wasn't half bad. The Newly Divorced Dad (NDD) and I went to Edgar's, where the waitress was incredibly dedicated to her craft ("Do you have everything you need? May I suggest the chocolate mousse cake -- it melts in your mouth! Would you like some more water? Some more cappuccino? Shall I bear your child as a surrogate?").

He's a nice guy, good father, smart, good-natured, down-to-earth. He was willing to give me as much of his cake as I wanted, and didn't take a nibble of mine.

At the end of the evening he said, "So... what happens now? Do I call you, do you call me...?"

"You call me," I said. We'll see if he does.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Should I or shouldn't I?

I wrote to a divorced guy on Frumster. He sounded interesting, said he liked reading sci-fi and doing crossword puzzles. So do I, which seems to be more than I have in common with most of the guys I date these days.

He told me he had three children, two boys aged 14 and 15, and a girl aged 7. That's a fair number of kids, and teenage stepkids are no picnic. But I thought, "What the heck, it's not like I don't come without a fair amount of baggage."

We spoke on the phone last night -- and it turns out that he gave his wife a get three weeks ago. He left the house last Succos-time, in October.

Is the Newly Divorced Dad (NDD) too recently divorced for me? I have had numerous bad experiences with the too-recently divorced: Hude, RD-SOB, Narcissus, Little Marty, etc. Moreover, divorce in New York State takes at least a year. This guy won't be free to remarry for that long. Also, if he got married for the first time at 22, isn't he going to want to play the field for a while?

I said I'd go out with him tonight, but I'm wondering if it's just a waste of time. At least he's not blond and big-headed, like my toxic type.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

At least....

...her ring's not ginormous. My young classmate, that is, who just got engaged to her pro-athlete boyfriend. It's a cute ring, but not incredibly huge or originally set, and the cut's not spectacular. The athlete must have got it at Fortunoff's. Maybe he shops with that control-freaky T.A.'s boyfriend.

And at least my classmate won't be a vapid waste of space like Posh Spice. She's going to make a positive difference in the world.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Ayelet the Amazing Intern!

My supervisor, Melanie, is finally back, and unfortunately I'm stuck in school all week on a special project. Although it's apparently a competition, and for some reason I'm getting incredibly competitive about it -- I really want to win! Probably because the school put out fresh coffee this morning and I drank two cups. I was definitely the cheerleader for my team, who, fortunately, took it all in slightly amused stride. (Amazing how sensitive people with bipolar can be to almost any chemical substance. Good thing I never got into the habit of drinking.)

And working on the group project was a great opportunity for me to show off my editorial chops. A classmate messaged me:

Ayelet, your leadership and focus was not unnoticed by me. I speak for myself but I want to thank you for stepping up, the draft and more importantly how you incorporated all of our ideas into the draft is a skill that is so important in the work we do..... Luv ya energy and teamwork abilities, Jason...
I went into work yesterday to tie up a bunch of loose threads, and today Melanie emailed me:

I got the client update information you left for me today when I came in. Thanks so much for leaving that. With our computer system down there’s no way to read any progress notes online, so that was really helpful. Also, thank you for all your hard work and coverage. I see you had a lot of client contacts this month. Great work!

I have the process recording you left for me and will try to have it ready for you when you come back. Let’s try to meet on Monday. What is your schedule like? If things have not changed too much I’ll have supervision with the program director first thing in the AM and then will be available for the rest of the day, as far as I know.

Thanks again for all your work. Returning to work with no clients in crisis is a bonus. Their continued stability is a testament to the work you did/do. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.

AYELET KICKS ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(And Ayelet probably shouldn't have had all that coffee today. I hope I sleep tonight. Maybe just one Vitamin K....)
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Vitamin K

That's what the psychiatrist at work calls clonazepam (trade name Klonopin), because so many clients want to take it on a daily basis to even out their moods and improve their sleep. One of my co-workers thought he meant the real vitamin K, and didn't understand why vitamin K would make people feel so good.

I'm thinking about vitamin K because I took one Sunday night and had a great night's sleep. But I'd also taken several calcium tablets and drunk a glass of milk, and I was hoping that also contributed. I took the calcium and milk but not the clonazepam Monday night and slept well -- so well I could hardly get up. So I took the same calcium dosage last night -- and woke up at 4 a.m.

I don't want to get hooked on vitamin K, but I'm really sick of this insomnia. And it coincided with my use of the light box, so I'm assuming they're related. Which is too bad, because the light box has really helped my mood in other ways.

I read an article that said light boxes are most effective against bipolar depression when used between 12 - 2 p.m. Which could explain why I'm having sleep disruptions. But I'm not eager to shlep the light box into work so I can use it during my lunch break. Moreover, other articles have instructed users to stare into the light in the morning. What's a seasonally affected girl to do?
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Joseph and me

I found a great production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat online and watched part of it last night and part of it today (it takes forever to download). I'd forgotten how much I identify with Joseph. Early years of privilege and love, followed by decades of sibling conflict, suffering, betrayal, tremendous growth, and finally triumph.

It's really a message of hope, which right now I need desperately. I have to believe that things are going to keep going well, at least a good part of the time -- as well as they've been going at my current internship, in my classes, and with my fellow social work students.

(Let's forget about Dean Evillene, shall we? She's just a big homely fly in the ointment.)
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Eating crow

Had a very painful conversation with Dr. Arnold. She's an important psychologist in the area I want to specialize in, so I sent her a groveling apology:

I hope you are well. I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year and to apologize again for misreading your communications to me during that very difficult time last year. It was an extremely stressful situation, and I had trouble seeing things clearly. Now that I have some distance from that unpleasant episode, I'm able to see that The Bad Place was not a good fit for me and I am much better off at my School of Social Work, especially since I'll be graduating in May with a licensable degree. My coursework has gone very well and I am thriving at my internship, where they are quite pleased with my work. I am starting my job search and was wondering if I could talk to you, over the phone or over coffee, about job-hunting strategies.

(I sent her an email a while back, apologizing, but she never answered.)

Dr. Arnold sent me her phone number. When I called, she spent no small amount of time raking me over the coals about what happened at The Bad Place. I told her I'd encountered other challenging environments during my first year of social work school, and had learned how to go along to get along. She said, "It's not just about going along to get along, Ayelet. In your career, you'll experience a number of 'bad fits.' I'm not hearing that you understand what you contributed to those situations."

Ouch. Good thing I didn't tell her about The Other Bad Place, where they hated me almost on sight. I've replayed that nightmare interview a dozen times. It did prepare me for the interrogation I experienced when interviewing for my second first-year placement. I have learned from all these experiences, including what I could or should have done differently. Whether I've learned enough remains to be seen.

Dr. Arnold reminded me that therapy was a good thing, and I reminded her that I was still in it, with a psychoanalytic psychiatrist, no less. Anyway, she gave me some suggestions, although she (and almost every other psychologist in this field with whom I've spoken) was dubious that I'd be able to find a job as a therapist. Master's-level psychologists and social workers apparently only do case management, discharge planning, and recreation therapy at the hospital where she works.

The exceptions seem to be agencies, governmental or not-for-profit, where social workers and psychiatrists seem to have cut psychologists almost completely out of the picture. (I'm starting to think that's the way things oughta be.)

Another psychologist I spoke with told me that people with ACT team experience are highly sought after, however, so I'm feeling a little optimistic. I also got some very nice words and an incredibly quick response from a psychiatrist whose name I got from a social worker whose name I got from a lawyer friend. The psychiatrist asked if he could send my résumé around, which of course I was delighted to greenlight. I also signed up to take the New York State civil service exam for Mental Health Specialist 2. So my job search is progressing.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, January 13, 2008

All over the map

My mood, that is. Today I felt totally anxious and frozen. Claudia called and asked me to go to a movie, and I had to say no. I was too nervous, and I have to muster my energies for work. I was very proud for accomplishing a few things:

- threw out the garbage
- picked up my prescriptions
- did my nails
- did the dishes
- bought some fruit

I was going to make the bed and shower, but I ended up just watching movies on my computer.

It's hard knowing how much to watch the light box; it's not an exact science. I've skipped it the past few days because I thought I was getting too cheerful; also, when you've got a tramadol hangover, the last thing you want to do is stare into a bright white light. But obviously I need a little more light. I think.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Made it out alive

Survived dinner-and-an-oneg last night. Felt relatively normal throughout. Sometimes I felt ignored or overlooked or interrupted, but overall it was fine. I actually got invited to a lunch for today, but since the weather's been so ugly these past few days my knees have been killing me, so I woke up with a slight Tramadol hangover. Also felt all socialized out, so I just rested today. I'll apologize to the hostess.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Friday, January 11, 2008

Now if I could just...

... get rid of that damn terminal insomnia....
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Turned a corner

I am definitely feeling better. The light box is finally working for me. Sometimes it's still hard to get out of bed in the morning, but when I get to work I don't feel drained or exhausted, and at the end of the day I'm exhilarated.

Partly this is because I feel so essential, and it's not all in my head. Melanie has been out for weeks. In her absence, I've shouldered most of her caseload. Not at the same level as she delivers, of course, but making sure everyone's monitored and no one falls through the cracks.

Sally, the program director, sat me down and explained, very nicely, that I shouldn't feel responsible for making up for Melanie's absence and the team didn't need me to take on all that work. Her second-in-command, Julie, when I mentioned this conversation, said, "That's not true. You are responsible for taking care of Melanie's caseload, we do need you to do it, and you're handling it very well."

And of course everything is still relatively new and fascinating to me, even though I've been there since September. Today I took a client to detox, and it was like a field trip. I didn't know what happens there, or that every admission comes with an EKG and mini-physical, or that they give you Librium to manage the shakes.

It took hours, because the client had to be seen by a social worker, a P.A., and two nurses, and then have a chest X-ray. "You're spending the whole day with me," he said apologetically.

"Well, I'm a student," I said, "and I've never seen a detox facility. This is a great learning experience."

Of course, anytime my mood is good I have to worry whether it's too good. But I think this weekend will tell. I committed to going to a Shabbos dinner and oneg, so this week I can't come home on Friday afternoon, collapse, and not talk to anyone until Sunday night. I might need to spend Saturday in bed recovering, but I think I'll survive Friday night.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Monday, January 07, 2008

I'm enrolled WHERE?

I was wondering what to write about for my 400th post, and the bad psychologists at The Bad Place very considerately supplied me with a topic.

I still get email and form letters from The Bad Place. It always gives me a bit of a jolt; I'm expecting them to finally respond to the nasty letter my lawyer sent them. But it always turns out to be innocuous -- a seminar in torture led by their resident torturer, Dr. Octopussy; a student psychology journal to which I might submit an article; a reminder to register for classes; or some such administrative matter.

This was no different.

January 10, 2008

Dear Externship Director:

This is to confirm that ______Ayelet Survivor_____ is a student in good standing in the Clinical Psychology Doctoral Training Program at The Bad Place, Worthless University in our fully approved APA Ph.D. program in Clinical Psychology. He/she is ready for Externship as of May 2008.


Devona Dragon, Ph.D.
Director of Clinical Program

Jenna Octopussy, Psy.D.
Director of Internship Training

A student "in good standing"? Have they not noticed I'm no longer there?

Obviously the very useless Dr. Bureaucrat hasn't shared the letter from my lawyer with the bad psychologists, but their plan, before they would let me return, was to submit me to further humiliation and degradation after my semester off. I didn't submit to said punishment, and they appear not to have noticed. Apparently they're not just bad psychologists -- they're not even all that bright. (Perhaps it's the onset of dementia -- they confuse the memory of how they planned to torture me with the actual torturing. They really should go for a neurological workup -- maybe an MRI.)

But this is great evidence for me and against them. It's a form letter, but my name is typed into the space and they both signed it. According to this letter, there is nothing wrong with me. There can't be if they're saying I'm ready for an internship. Therefore, they can't say anything bad about me to anyone. Well, they could, but then they'd have to explain why they sent me this letter saying they're willing to unleash me on the unsuspecting world.

I wonder if they'll email me Dr. Octopussy's much-vaunted New York City psychology externship list, the secrecy and value of which she estimated as on par with the formula for Coca-Cola. I was tempted to post last year's list on here, but since I only have a handful of readers it's not really worth it. If this blog's ever published as a book, however, I'll make that list Appendix A.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Sunday, January 06, 2008


My 24-year-old classmate (not Jewish) just got engaged to her professional athlete boyfriend. He took her to Jamaica in November. I am trying to be really happy for her, but it's difficult.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

The saga continues

The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't let YourSmile have the last word. (And it's 3:28 a.m., and I can't sleep.) I wrote him:

If you're sorry we never met, why were you so disrespectful to me?

Or are you just sorry that I never slept with you so you could drop me like a used kleenex?

He responded:

we made a good point in your previous email to me.

if u want to talk let talk on the phone, but let drop the subject of me making love to you.

Loneliness can make a girl a little desperate, or crazy, or both.

fine -- send me your phone #

Who knows? Maybe this is the guy who's fated to take me to Prime Grill.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Saturday, January 05, 2008

How it played out

YourSmile is certainly brazen. I said that after his obscene messages, it would be impossible for me to take him seriously. He wrote back:

nothing is impossible -- what is your name and your cell phone number?

Okay, he obviously needs it spelled out:

After your blatant attempt to get me to sleep with you, you think I'm giving you my cell phone number? Your intentions are obviously not honorable, and you're a creep.

And he withdrew into mealy-mouthed religious frumspeak:

Good Shabbos! Hashem may help you find a husband this Jewish year. Sorry that we never met, cheers

Although reading this now, it strikes me that he's saying Gd might find me a husband but probably won't. With this caliber of candidates, he's probably right.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Friday, January 04, 2008

What I have to put up with

This time I'm naming names. YourSmile describes himself thusly on Frumster:

Since this section is required to have a minimum of 30 words, so I would have to tell you the truth about me and the qualities Hashem gave me: 1) very handsome, 2) energetic, 3) dry to semi-dry sense of humor

Concerning his ideal mate,

I would have to be frank with you again. After I pass your chemistry or attraction test, you would need to pass my optimistic 'person test.' It is not important for me whether you have a college degree, but what is very important that you have studied at least one full year in a seminary. Also since your seminary, what have you been doing to grow spiritually?

You'd think this was a spiritual, aidel guy. You'd be wrong. He IMed me on Frumster saying,

hey demanding chick

I told him that was rude. He said that I seemed demanding in my profile, but he apologized, then wrote:

can i see how u look like. What is your password

He doesn't have a photo posted. I wrote:

how am I going to see what u look like?

He responded:

don't have my pic on site. but can email. my handsome pic. What is your password

I'm not interested in this clown.

It doesn't matter -- I didn't spend a year at seminary, so I'm not eligible for you anyway. You don't need to see my pic.

He responded,

do not give up so easily

Clearly he needs it spelled out.

The problem with email is that sarcasm doesn't come through clearly.

It doesn't take a year in seminary to recognize when a person is deficient in derech eretz (i.e., opens up communications with an accusation/judgment that someone is "demanding"). Furthermore, I have a master's degree and am earning a second, so I think your idea of what is suitable or necessary or desirable in a wife might not match with mine. I'm not giving up -- I was never trying to win your interest.

He started being inappropriate:

do not want to fight with you, we could have been so 'good togetherr?': friends, lovers, or more :)


I'm not looking for a lover or a friend, I'm looking for a husband.

Then he crossed the line:

sure, but u are not a virgin. the process is usually you find a friend, then you become lovers, then more :) what is your pic password and your name

What the ??????

How do you know what I am?

I can't believe this.

u right, i do not know. are u a virgin?

How can this guy consider himself frum?

What I am is none of your business, and what you are is a man with no derech eretz and no yirat shamayim. If I've learned anything from my many years of dating, it's that men don't bring sex up with women they've just met whom they actually want to date seriously. It's a sign of serious disrespect, and as a bas melech, you owe me much more than a booty call.

It's a good thing Yom Kippur is months away, because your record on hilchot bein adam lehavero is seriously sullied.

I didn't think he'd respond, and I didn't care. But apparently he's not just completely rude, shameless, and perverted, he's also not that bright.

how can i date u seriously over the internet?

Let's just get this over with:

Well, now you've made it impossible for me to date you at all, but people meet online to date all the time. They just don't assume the internet = easy sex, the way you do.

Does my lousy mood yesterday start making a little more sense? This is what I have to deal with. The singles' crisis starts to seem completely logical. What is wrong with men???
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Thursday, January 03, 2008

A million little insults

I've been beset with a ridiculous number of minor losses, rejections, and disappointments over the past few weeks. None of them is major enough to blog about. A snotty woman, Sarah (protégé of the lovely Mrs. Mutter), who de-Friended me on Facebook without telling me what I'd done to offend her. A few attempted booty calls on Frumster from men who apply the label "Modern Orthodox Machmir" to themselves. The loss of sundry hats, my favorite vibrator, and myriad other minor objects.

But the cumulative effect has caught up with me. (Also, and I hope this isn't TMI, I'm probably going to get my period in a few days. That often wrecks my mood even when nothing bad has happened.) So this morning I woke up, switched on my lightbox, and just couldn't face trying to help anyone but myself.

I called in sick. Actually, I called my toilet in sick. My landlord replaced it recently, a fairly intricate operation that called for my presence, if not exactly supervision. So if anyone asks any questions, I'll have a good cover story. And I took a klonopin-fueled nap, which seemed to help.

I don't feel too bad about doing this -- after a two-week vacation, Melanie was supposed to start back on 12/31, but she's been out sick all week. I've really been helping out in her absence, coming in when I was supposed to be on break. But there was nothing really major I needed to do today, and yesterday I was scrambling for meaningful work. If Melanie recovered and made it into work today, she probably had enough to do without worrying about supervising me. And if she didn't, well, no big deal; I wouldn't have had much to do anyway.

I just hope I wake up tomorrow morning more ready to face things. It's hard being a mental health worker with a mental health condition. I don't think my clients' moods are affecting mine; however, it's hard to lend clients your ego strength when your ego is reeling in shock from a machine-gun series of unending insults, upsets, and demoralizers. I'm reeling; I can't be cheerful, positive, and clear-thinking, especially since it gets dark so early and the light box's effects seem so minimal.

It's really hard being a mental health prosumer, especially when you have more experience as a client than as a therapist, and today I wasn't up to the task. I didn't have the psychic energy to put into this demanding work. I hope tomorrow I'm better equipped. I don't want to fall into the habit, as I did at my final "day job," which I held before and after getting my master's, of spending days or weeks unable to go into work, even taking time off for short-term disability. Which I was, of course, legally entitled to do, but that didn't stop my boss and coworkers from castigating and ultimately firing me for it.

I like my internship much more than I ever liked my day job, but it's also more emotionally and intellectually grueling. You can't phone it in. I hope tomorrow I can deliver.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Picture's worth a thousand words

I went to two parties New Year's Eve -- first at the friend of Shimona's friend, where I met two random guys, and then another party with the random guys, neither of whom I'm interested in romantically. Drank a lot of beer, had a good time.

Then Shimona sent me the pics from the first party, and they're horrible. No, I'm not dancing on the table with a lampshade on my head -- I'm just enormous.

My New Year's resolution is to dance 10 minutes every day, which I already broke yesterday thanks to my hangover. (Which wasn't as bad as it could have been; I stuck to one type of drink and didn't throw up once.) Hopefully my knees will allow me to keep it today and for the rest of the year.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"