Good news!

I met with the school psychiatrist today. And I told him that I very rarely remember to take my meds, which is a lie. I haven't taken them AT ALL in almost two months. But the point is, I'm fine, and stable, thanks to a combination of a) therapy, b) group therapy that focuses on the most distressing problem I have, c) my dad constantly telling me, every time I go home, how much thinner I look, d) realizing I actually look kinda pretty when I wear makeup and big hoop earrings and do something semi-decent with my hair, and e) not thinking about every guy I meet as a potential date opportunity, thus not getting disappointed when he invariably winds up having a girlfriend.

All these factors have improved my overall mood, and none of them are so hard to maintain (unless Daddy decides I'm not loosing weight after all or something) that I can't continue to pass as a normal, stable human being. And as long as that's the case, according to the doctor, I don't have to take mind-altering medication.

BASIORANA's DRUG FREE! WOOT!

Well, not quite, I mean, I still have pills to take, but everything I am currently putting into my body is a dietary supplement, all-natural food, or whatever that stuff in the cafeteria is. The all-natural stuff is rare... But still. I swore I was going to be off my meds by senior year of college- how awesome would it be if that goal was accomplished freshman year?

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Mistake has invited me to go with her and some of her friends to a frat party. Don't worry, none of the group intends to drink- I mean, it's got Mistake and Closer, and they're good people. They'll probably try to find a party that's a little less alcohol oriented. Also, the very fact that Closer will be there means it's gonna be fairly safe, since the really bad parties don't let guys in if they aren't in the frat.

I will mostly likely go and spend much of the time in the corner being nervously non-social and still feel a sense of accomplishment for getting out of the room at all. Then I will be able to say I went to a frat party during my college career, and thus one-up both my mother and my sister. Mind you, my sister's lack of frat parties in her social resume is probably more because Brandeis doesn't HAVE frats. Besides the Jewish one, which is intercollegiate. But a lack of frat houses tends to indicate a lack of frat parties.

Mummy just doesn't like parties. She's like, more shy than I am, only she doesn't particularly care enough to make an effort to change, especially not NOW.

Oh, speaking of parties, if anyone reading this knows my sister Shrewd, TELL HER TO GO TO HER SENIOR SEMI FORMAL. Because Shrewd didn't go to Prom, and this is her last chance to go to a big dance with all her friends until the weddings start. The issue is she doesn't want to go alone, and she has a friend she could go with, but she's too shy/awkward/embarrassed to ask him, despite the fact that it's not a DATE date, and it would be awkward for about FIVE SECONDS after the asking. Unless she has a friend like Mistake around who would make the entire circumstance much more awkward than it has to be, and thus provide her with emotional blackmail for the next five or six years of their friendship. (If you don't know this story, it's probably for your own good. That time period was the closest my life ever got to a soap opera, contrary to what Closer believes.)

But I digress. Tell Shrewd to get over herself and ask her buddy to escort her, because she needs a dance-like experience on her social resume and I want to have a picture more recent than senior year where she actually looks pretty, and not like a deranged chipmunk in junky old clothes like she does in EVERY FAMILY PHOTO, because she's usually laughing her head off.

Which says a lot about her personality, in that she's a cheerful sort, but also something about her chuckling, in that it needs work because laughter should not make one look like a deranged chipmunk. Not that I should talk, my laughter sounds like either a donkey, a woodpecker, or a pothead monkey. But I LOOK fine.

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Last weekend, I managed to come back from my visit home without leaving anything important. This is good. Not so good is that instead of forgetting stuff, I brought stuff with me. Specifically the key to the Contour, the car I was using to get to interviews. I discovered the key in my coat pocket. So I called and informed Mummy, and then she asked me where the spare key was. I said, "This is the spare key." "Then where's MY key, that I gave you on Saturday?"

Oops. That would be the bottom of my purse.

Thank God, there was ONE key I left behind, which ironically was the one that was actually mine, and on my key chain. So if it snows before I can get home, they can at least move the car...

Is it just me, or do I seem to be the sort who, if she ever got plastered (like that would happen), would wake up with a traffic sign she'd never seen before, and no pants?

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In other news... Basiorana needs to stop procrastinating. Like, NOW. Time for homework.