2004-01-14 | 3:31 p.m.
bleed all the sweetness away

I do this thing when I am nervous or really trying to concentrate (so, basically, always), this thing of biting the inside of my mouth. There's a nice nodule I've scarred into being over the years, on the lower left corner of my lower lip, on the inside. Not only is it a very creepy and gross nervous tic, my face looks really ugly when I do it. I know there are 90 billion candid photos out there where I am doing just this. Ugh. And I am doing it now. I don't even know why.

Yesterday I updated my website to the best of my current ability and today I am doing stage one of rearranging my room. I have a lot of stuff and my room is not big (about 9'x13') and making it all work takes a lot of planning. I decided I hate everything where it is right now and want to move everything (which will require days of preparation and then about 15 hours of hard labor on moving day). Why do I do these things? Because I can.

Has anyone ever scheduled a pick up with the Salvation Army? I have a lot of stuff to unload. Rice bag upon rice bag of clothing and linens, boxes of CDs, cassettes, knicknacks and housewares, a computer monitor, a futon frame and, maybe even a loveseat. I can't get that stuff to the Salvo on my own and they do offer truck pickups but I am afraid to proceed without having some idea of the process. I am honestly incapable of calling them without knowing what they are going to say, what information they need, etc.

Yesterday on Dr. Phil they had a woman on who was afraid of the phone because she always got bad news over it. Not to be insensitive, but doesn't everyone? It's the only way I ever get bad news. It interested me because I have bad phone fear. I have a physically anxious reaction every time it rings -- I jump, every time. Really. -- and I hate making calls. Partially because I am always afraid that the person on the other end has something much better to do than talk to me (this is the making the call problem) and partially probably because of two horribly shocking phone calls I got as a young child (a series of terrifying obscene phone calls at age 7ish and an even worse call from a flipped out woman swearing I'd stolen her baby. I was 8 or 9).

Something about the disembodied voice strikes crazy fear into my heart, I think because I honestly believe that I could have convinced those people to leave me alone had they been in front of me. I have little problem talking, reasoning with or even (sometimes) asking for help in person. On the phone, I can't do anything. Well, I can. I'm actually very good on the phone, but the near-stroke I have revving myself up to call/answer hardly seems worth it. Even writing about it, I'm biting my lip off. See why getting a job has been so hard? I could be an assistant or even a receptionist, but it would require a serious heroin habit.

... say something, anything (5)