Self-Loathing

It's a dreary, Monday morning in Chapel Hill. Amazingly enough, I survived the bi-weekly Contract Law class without rolling my eyes, muttering snide remarks under my breath or shooting my cohort, Steve that all-knowing, "I'm bored out of my gourd" glance (not once, I tell you).

So...back to the office I am. I have shut the door and popped in, "Long Gone Before Daylight" by the Cardigans. The volume is considerably loud. I am hoping Jeff does not pound on my door and tell me to lower it. I just want to be swallowed up by the ambient sounds of a bass guitar or an organ for a while.

Sometimes, when I have these quasi-shitty days, I close my eyes and imagine a friend (usually Magnus and his magical hands) rubbing my shoulders or shaking me (ok...that's Melanie's job), telling me to snap out of my blue funk. For this morning, the only thing I have to offer as of yet is....

I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.
I will not engage in self-loathing.

Maybe I will smoke too many coffin tacks. Perhaps I'll OD on coffee. I may even dip into my secret stash of valium. But I will not engage in self-loathing. Even if it kills me.