I started taking my Prozac today. I haven't noticed any side effects of any sort so far, which is nice. Of course I haven't noticed any improvements either, but that is not a surprise, as my shrink told me it would take 4 to 6 weeks to reach full effectiveness. I'm just hoping this stuff will work for me, and not end up causing anything too nasty in terms of side effects - some of the known ones freak me out a bit. I'm not sure if reading the FDA reports and all that was a good or a bad move. Anyway, it's a light dose (10 mg the first three days and 20 mg from there until at least the end of the month), and mostly the major side effects were reported by people taking larger doses, in the 40 to 60 mg range.

I found a large roach in my apartment today. I have hated and feared roaches intensely ever since I first encountered them when I moved to the East Coast. I sprayed it with RAID and it quickly died, leaving me with the task of disposing of the body. I couldn't do it. I really couldn't. I would get within 3 or 4 feet of it with a piece of paper to scrape under it, and then I would feel totally paralyzed. Finally I smoked some pot which let me stay calm enough to get somewhat closer, but not quite there. I had to stand there for some time (it felt like minutes and was probably more like ten seconds), getting my nerve up enough to actually go up to it and get it onto the sheet paper so I could toss its dead ass out the window. Finally I did it and after much nervousness got it out the damn window.

I really didn't feel like cooking after that, so I went to the Brickskeller to get a few beers and some dinner. I thoroughly love that that place does dinner until at least 1 AM. There was a cute bartender there who I have seen once or twice before. She was having a bad night and she was starting to get somewhat frazzled when I showed up. We talked a bit and she gave me some recommendations on beer; as another aside, I love that the bartenders there really do seem to know the characteristics of every beer they have. As I was leaving she told me her name and that she works there on Tuesdays. While we were talking she also mentioned she is starting school soon, to get her masters in psychology. I want to say she said she was going to American University, which is a couple of miles away from here, but it was somewhat loud and I'm not sure if I heard her correctly. Anyway, I got the feeling she was potentially interested or something. I can never tell with these things. I really can't. Earlier in the night I saw her talking to a couple of guys down at the end of the bar, and while they were talking the three of them seemed to keep taking turns looking down the bar at me. At first I was kind of worried she was saying something like "Hey, check out that freak at the end of the bar", or something, because, well, that just seems to be how my brain is wired. That is, to assume that a) people might be talking about me, and b) if they are, it is something bad. But she was quite friendly with me while I was there and especially when I was leaving, so perhaps that is not the case at all.

So hey! An uneven night. In some ways maybe I should thank that fucking roach, because without him I would have just made some dinner and gone to bed instead of going out to eat and meeting a potential new friend or <insert other possibilities here>.

Here I am in my dorm. Very hot, there's no air conditioning. It's Boston, but September is the worst dorm month because I'm sweating. I've half unpacked, and won't finish unpacking for another couple of weeks. Lazy.

I have to go to the doctor. The doctor wants to do blood tests because I have high blood pressure. I've told him I'm just nuts and I've been treated for anxiety disorder. I've tried to explain to him that the benefits from having blood work done are far outweighed by the anxiety it causes me to know I may have some horrible disease. He doesn't seem to get it. Must find diseases at all costs. When I told him I'd just kill myself if something went wrong, he suggested the mental health clinic. I told him been there, done that.

He wants me to lose weight. He goes to this chart which shows I'm slightly in the overweight range. The chart doesn't account for the fact that I'm much more muscular than average for my height. I mean, I'd like to lose weight, but doing so would give me washboard abs. I hate this pudge though. I'm such a fatty.

My next-door dormmate is an African American. He's about 6 inches shorter but I bet his cock is 6 inches longer. A few doors down there's the Asian hottie. I need to start leaving my door open and making loud slurping sounds with noodles to attract her.

I'm thinking about buying a bottle of sherry to drink before I go to the doctor. It freaks me out so much. Damn this shit, he should just leave me alone. If he gives me shit today I'll tell him to fuck off. Just let me take some medicine for it. I KNOW i eat too much sodium. I don't CARE if I die, I just don't want to know I'm dying, OK buddy, is it that difficult to understand?