Comfortable With Conformity
Tuesday late afternoon
I weigh 141 pounds. That's fat. I'm 5 ft 3.
Enough about weight. I went to a job agency this morning called Special Counsel. The lady there went over my resume, changed a few things around, and told me I was qualified to be a legal secretary or file clerk, and eventually a paralegal. I always looked down on paralegals, the same way I look down on nurses. It seems so half-assed-- if you're interested in medicine, be a doctor. If you're interested in law, be a lawyer. That's just my elitist self talking. I just think if you're gonna have a career, make it matter, don't let it be something "good enough".
But actually, I've found that paralegals make a good salary, anywhere from $40k-$50k, so it's not something to dismiss lightly. So maybe I'll become a paralegal. Who knows?
I'm tired. Anita says depression makes you tired. I'm tired all the time. I'm not exactly depressed, not in the clinical sense of the word. I'm depressed cause of logical reasons-- nothing to do all damn day. In other words, I'm depressed for a real reason, not because chemicals are fucked up in my brain. Still, it sucks. I love being busy. Love it. I was semi-busy today, what with the morning interview, a trip to Barnes & Nobles and grocery shopping (where I stepped on the scale and weighed 141.). Oh, and S and I are *finally* going to spend some time with each other tomorrow, so I have that to look forward to.
Ok, I need to workout tonight. The thing about working out, you've got to set it in your mind that it's not optional. The question shouldn't be, "Will I work out tonight?", but "What exercise should I do tonight?" It's sooo hard to get back into that mindset. But there's no freaking way I'm staying 141 pounds.
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