I had a completely full schedule yesterday. My sleep schedule is botched all to hell. I sit here feeling both exhausted and stubbornly frustrated, knowing I have to do the thing with the thing today because I have six days out of seven to do it. Terrible magic comes at a terrible price.

The Great Work is so much harder with mental illness, but I refuse to let my condition limit my power any longer. Three pages. Keep on writing. All work and no play make Jack a dull boy.

I am Jack’s Complete Lack of Surprise.

Ugh, I am so tired, so tired, so tired, so tired.

Today is the last day before I turn 40. If I am to bust out of my chrysalis as the Butterfly I want to be, there are Things that need doing.

I need to tackle Clutter.

I need to re-commit to myself physically. More water, more sleep, more activity, all that.

I need to see to my mind. A good chunk means ignoring it when it lies. This is, not surprisingly, difficult, as HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOUR BRAIN IS LYING TO YOU?

I have to keep reminding myself of what it is I love, which I suppose now is why something like a Happiness Book or Gratitude Journal might be so useful.

I love karaoke and I love holding court, and I love healing people and I love singing in a choir and I love shopping for makeup and perfume.

I love watching my dog run and I love making people laugh and I love watching movies and I love listening to cool new music.

I love doing magic with others and I love kissing my son’s cheeks and I love driving for pleasure.

Anything my brain tells me that contradicts these things, must, therefore, be a lie.

This is Useful Information (TM).

Last night, I came up with the idea of coordinating a Wartime Consiglieres Route 66 Road Trip Extravaganza. It would start in Los Angeles and end in Chicago, following the old Route 66 with maybe a few deviations here and there depending on what attractions we all want to see and which ones we want to avoid. Of course, D—- kinda pooh-poohed it, but I think given enough planning I can pull it off.

And I can plan a motherfucker like Batman.

So I have some reasons for optimism in this area, I’d like to think. This comes right on the tail of another idea, partially hatched by M—–‘s dream about the hiking book discussion group. I was like WHY NOT A BOOK DISCUSSION GROUP.

We shall see, I guess.

Still physically exhausted. Wondering if there is anything other than caffeine or sleep that can replenish the utterly drained feeling I have right now.

Why does Evernote keep creating new versions of this instead of saving just one version over and over? This is incredibly annoying, y’all.

I have become a little disillusioned with A—. It’s not personal, and in some ways, you might even be able to say that it’s just business, but maybe we’re not as simpatico as I thought. Also, you can’t have a friendship with someone who is enmeshed with their job at the cost of everything, up to and including their own health. She doesn’t have time for me, and I guess I’ve got to accept that. This sort of thing just makes me miss K– more, though I honestly don’t know how I would go about getting her friendship back if I actually set my mind to it. If she wanted to be reachable, she would be, and I don’t know if it’s narcissism or anxiety telling me that it’s because she is avoiding me in particular. All I know is that I miss her, deep in my bones.

Would my life be better or more complete with K– and S—– in it? I don’t know. All I know is that female friendships are incredibly hard for me to form in the first place and that this sort of rejection, imagined or not, just ratchets up the difficulty. I could say that I have friends, like A—– or L—- or A—–, but it’s not like we can get together for coffee. Even in these technologically advanced times, we are limited.

Together, we’re UNLIMITED.

Is my drive to reunite with them crazy or rational? Am I like a stalker refusing to let go of a relationship doomed to failure, ignoring all the signs that tell me so? Or am I simply tired of hearing so many goodbyes and fewer hellos? I’m not ENTITLED to having them in my life, but I would be a hell of a lot happier if I did.

What should I do? I’m not getting any younger. I could keep asking myself if I’m worthy of K–, but is that what the criteria should be? Friendship isn’t a meritocracy, it just IS.