Welcome to burnout.

Managed to drag out of bed around 10:30am, succeeded in hauling my ass downtown by 12:30pm. Piddled around looking for Schlotsky’s Deli, which has apparently gone out of business. Grabbed some food and got to the loft around 1pm. Opened my book to Specialized Options.

That’s where it all gets fuzzy.

I put on Dave Matthews Band’s “Everyday” and let it drag me lower and lower and lower. After listening to two turns of that, I put on Pearl Jam’s “Ten” and listened to that three or four times while I vomited thoughts on a bright yellow legal pad. Three hours later, I’d managed to write “Chapter Thirty-One” on the top of my notebook paper. However, I’d written multiple pages of woes on my legal pad.

“Is there something wrong, she said

Of course there is

You’re still alive, she said

Do I deserve to be?

Is that the question?

And if so, if so…

Who answers?

Who answers?”

I left the loft and headed for dinner with Melissa. We’d scheduled it in advance so I could plan around it - I can’t believe I’m having to schedule dinners with Melissa. Geez. We ate and chatted and caught up, because it felt like we hadn’t seen each other in forever. She then asked if I had any “7″ questions, and who can pass up asking a real honest-to-God trainer? She drew me stick people and pictures of banks to explain the differences between pass-through securities and CMOs to me. (And damn, she’s really good! I wish she were teaching this entire Series 7 thing to me - I’d ace it!) Cindy arrived during the CMO section of the discussion, and we chatted for a while. I cannot even begin to explain how good it felt to be somewhere in my brain besides the “Finance” section.

Of course, then my guilt hit me full-force. You know, about the chapter that I hadn’t even read yet.

Once again, I forfeited my time with Justin to work on my chapter. Dammit. On the way home, I called Max to see if he was at the loft. If he wasn’t, I could go back and study there without distractions. But he was. Damn. That meant working at home. He and I were both in very weird moods. He’d just written a oh-my-gosh fantastic song - he classified it as “dark.” I just thought it was great. [Stupid Michelle question of the day: “Is that you singing?”]

So, I’m driving through the pouring rain, he’s smoking a cigarette, and we’re both stalling … Not having much to say but not wanting to hang up. The unspoken thoughts were so loud it was hard to hear anything else. “Come down here!” “I want to come down there!” “I can’t ask you to come down here!” “I won’t show up uninvited!” Back and forth, never ever spoken.

Finished the chapter while watching “Fight Club” (I didn’t learn a damned thing from either) and called Max back. His mood had darkened, and I was wound like a spring. Again, unspoken thoughts back and forth. I fell into bed around 2am, frustrated and exhausted.

This sucks.

Quietly tortured,

michelle