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Parents, especially mothers, have a superpower--SuperGuilt. They have a way of being able to dispense advice about something they know nothing, making assumptions about their children based on what the child did when they were five, and then making the child feel like crap even though it is 25 years later and they are a complete, developed adult who is usually very in charge of their life. Had a series of mom-altercations this weekend. And, with the experiences of the last 24 hours, I now am able to pinpoint most of the reasons behind my eating disorder in college when I was a failed anorexic (I ate what an anorexic would, but gained weight). And now, in order to not fall into that self-loathing pattern, I am opting to tell my mother to either not give her "helpful" advice or simply f*ck off for a little while/go to time-out.

The weekend was very blah and relaxing. Time was spent at the gym and watching good and bad movies while cleaning my apartment, going through paperwork, and doing needlecrafts. I had a friend over yesterday evening whom I haven't seen in a couple months. He remarked on how "skinny" I've become, which was nice since I can't really tell what, if anything, has been lost. We then played Battlefront II and Tekken 5 and watched The Ringers.

There are times I am convinced I am a geek. I mean, hell, I game and find math to be soothing. However, it embarasses me to see the supergeeks in The Ringers and other gamer-geeks in action. Hell, the SCA crowd usually embarasses the hell out of me. Remember kids, just because you have a cloak doesn't mean it is something to wear in the mundane world...especially when waiting in line for a movie over 5 days in advance of the movie opening. That's just plain ol sad sad sad.

I also had a chance to think and grow irritated about an old friend. I flicked him on the nose a couple weeks ago regarding his seeming inability to treat me as a friend. The result? Daily emailS--yes, plural. I don't know if he is emailing because my flicking on the nose removed any delusions of strangeness, demonstrated my own knowledge of topics of great interest to him (thus, he wants to talk to get more info), or if he really realized that he was being a putz and should talk to me. Now, I wonder how long it will last until I suddenly am once again on the backburner of his attention-radar and what will cause it.