Tonight my apartment-mates came out of their room and we watched a few Golden Girls episodes together before they went out to a bar. The fact that they spent time with me first made me far happier than it perhaps should have. I hate feeling like people despise me, which is what I've been probably irrationally feeling recently.
In my autopsychoanalysis, I trace this all-too-frequent feeling to finding out that someone I thought was a friend despised me in junior high (or was it high school?). I am very ready to believe that people like me a lot less than they claim to. In some cases, they don't even claim to like me; they just ignore me. That regularly makes me incredibly depressed and irrationally angry. I feel like Rose Nylund discovering that there is no way to make Roger like her.
In positive news, I spent a good few hours cleaning out the TA offices at school. It made me feel productive and useful, despite someone's pronouncement that nobody will care. I like cleaning and throwing away crap. And rearranging furniture. What a stereotype I can be.
Xandra and I are going to a Chinese food place called Mao's this weekend. I will enjoy this extravagantly. It will give me a break from reading Derrida and Spivak. Derrida, interestingly, is recognized by Firefox spell check; Spivak isn't.
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