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11:17 a.m. - July 18, 2005
Feeling talkative. Sure this isn't a sign of mania?
It is a relief to feel good, to look forward to early mornings reading the paper and drinking my orange juice. Another relief is my worry of bipolar highs and lows - I'm not low, but neither am I manic, most unfortunate when there's much to accomplish.

In a small voice I say: I will begin seeing a new therapist in September.

I have the day off, work tomorrow, off Wednesday, fly out that evening. I'm surprised to realize how excited I am to go to DC, to reclaim my Visiting Professor office, to lose myself in the rush of downtown and the exquisiteness of the metro. I will teach morning to afternoon, write in the evenings, spend weekends outside, think of what to do during the week off I have the last week of August. That is a weakness to address when I have the inclination and time: If I'm going to slog through my life, I would like to feel comfortable traveling alone to the places I want to see.

Hold on - phone.

Nothing exciting.

I'm off to... do laundry.

Read The Scarlet Pimpernel last night. I wish I had read it by flashlight under the covers, or by candlelight or by firelight. Classic thriller in the can't-compare-to-Christie category-but-good-anyway. I would have read Harry Potter #6 but foolish me, I had the book sent to my DC address where it waits my arrival. What am I going to read on the plane?


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