michael vick in this bitch

In a weird ass, unproductive, stress eating, nonsense mood. I’m pissed off. Because therapy sucked today. Because my evening class was on some bullshit for two hours. On and on about fucking NOTHING. "Oh but professor, what about ego psychology as it relates to X case which is identical to the case someone else just asked about except for this earth shaking minute fucking detail that really makes no difference clinically." "Oh professor, I have a boring story about a friend of my sister’s mom who once had a client who had a problem like that but I have nothing original or interesting to add to this discussion. I just like the sound of my own voice." I’m dropping 3K for this bullshit. I’m irate. And doodling an intricate stump/vine sketch on my powerpoint slides. I didn’t come toNYU to fucking improve my mad doodling skills. Or to talk for the nineteenth time about what happens when someone is stuck in the anal phase. Thank god for a girl in my class who goes, "that means you wipe your ass a lot, right?" That made me smile. This professor is so fucking disappointing. She has the class playing guess what random word I’m thinking of CONSTANTLY. "Ok, so my client’s wife comes in, guess what he’s thinking of me?" The class goes – "that you’ll ally with the wife?" …. no…"that his trust has been compromised?" …nope… "that the work you’ve done together is falling apart?" AHHH. Who fucking knows what random association you had on that particular day in your life to your client:???? I want to start throwing out "he’s thinking your mom looks like a whore" …" he’s wondering how to make a monkey out of balloons"…" wondering when the mothership will deliver him from the earth"/….. but I don’t. I sit in silence fuming over my stump/vine. Fuming also because my old roommate owed me $600 and I have no fucking idea what to do next. No I didn’t loan it to her. It was supposed to be given to our landlord for rent but she gets caught, makes up a bogus story about her mother’s divorce and ignores my request to be given an estimated delivery time for my check. Things like this make me feel powerless and homicidal at the same time. I don’t know what to do. She and I were cool prior to this. Now I want her to fall into a pit of dirty needles. After mailing me my check. These violent fantasies break in to my consciousness while I’m in research class… while I’m talking to a client about his children being taken away… while I’m smushed between a smelly man and a sweaty man on the subway… all day. I have to resolve this. i don’t have the energy to take her to court. I want her to be eaten by sharks. It feels like there are a lot of loose ends right now. With my money. With my health. With certain friends. With certain new "friends"…. With my parents. I want things to be wrapped in neat little packages and my head is spinning from not being able to make that happen. My self esteem takes a hit when I go through things like this. When I feel someone has power over me, is manipulating me, is ignoring me. When that happens I need a boost. I look to my various male acquaintances for some superficial reassurance and really distraction. But they only serve as brief respite. Nice respite though. A tall gorgeous man I met last weekend when I went out dancing… His texts make my heart beat a little faster and dim the images of ex-roommate being impaled on a meat hook… So many good happy things in my life right now but I have such a special skill of making the bad things paramount and letting them cast a skeivy shadow over everything that is pure and good and sexy and can dance like Usher… I digress. The point is I don’t know what to do with myself. And I go to therapy expecting reassurance and hope and wonder and I get a typical second month session where the tears have dried and the conversation has dulled and she’s sitting there looking at me like I"m supposed to have something magical and profound to say… and I don’t. So it’s awkward. And I feel like a bad dog who forgot how to roll over and beg. I leave not feeling energized or hopeful like I usually do. Just stuck and as though I let the car drive on with me hanging out of the trunk, scraping across the pavement. Powerless. Useless. Dull. A recurring theme in my life I’ll be glad to note with her next week. "Hey! I’m not a loser, I’m just repeating a pattern of helplessness I learned from my father after 18 years of trauma." I just want to scream "listen to me! pay attention! love me!" I feel like I have to prove something to her now. I have to come hard. Maybe I’ll print this off and read it. See how she likes those apples.