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2004-03-25 - 3:32 p.m.

Yo. I just ate two big pieces of cake. I'm ashamed of myself. Itís just chilliní there, in the bottom of my stomach, calling me a failure for caving in to excess. I usually can eat one piece and leave it along, but I got all excited because I took a body fat test and it was 19.4%. Thatís pretty good for a hag my age. The trainer thought I was 5í4Ē, which was very flattering. All that yoga must give me an aura thatís four inches taller than my normal height. Then he asked my age and I said 26. He did one of those ďREALLY?!?!?Ē type things, that are embarrassing both for the person saying it and the person who is used to eliciting that response. I guess the fact that everyone assumes Iím 20 is a good thing, and will get even better the closer I get to 30.

Wow this is quite boring. Why am I even writing this? Creativity is hovering slightly above zero today. This is most likely related to the 30-page manuscript I spent the day editing, on the heavenly subject of Muslim women and psychotherapy. Itís a wonder Iím not hanging from a Pencopal-created noose in the ceiling. My brain is still struggling to understand the articleís juxtaposition of Islamic principles and Rogerian Therapy. Damned article gave me a fucking headache.

I have to give a presentation tonight on postmodernism and popular culture. How cutting edge. Iíd like to pass around a joint and play a song or two by the Clash and Madonna (these were the most recent examples the theorists could come up with), staring intently at the class. At the end I could stand up and say, ďSo here you can see postmodernismís relationship with popular culture. Thank you.Ē The students would give me an A, thatís for sure. Not so confident about the prof.

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