Mmm...chocolate....

First thought: "Mulholland Drive" sucked so bad I won't even post it as a link. I got it, and still didn't like it. Why the hell did it get so many awards??

Second thought: Getting car insurance is a bitch if you're a new driver. Even if you're on the brink of 23.

Third thought: Finding that recipe for the chocolate walnut tart is...is....I'm running out of profanities. Fuck. I'll post it now so I don't lose it. It's super easy.

1/4 c. brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 c. molasses or corn syrup
2 tbsp. melted butter or margerine
1 c. chopped walnuts
1/4 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips
pie crust
cool whip (optional)

Pre-heat the oven to 425 or whatever temperature you feel like, and put the pie crust into a 9"-11" pie plate....Mix everything but the cool whip and pie crust (duh) in a bowl...I've found it best to at least double the chocolate on this one. Put it into the oven for 9-11 minutes (not hard to remember), put it out to cool... Then put the cool whip with your slice if you're not feeling fat conscious. It's great. I've made it a few times before, but I manage to lose the actual recipe every time in between. So this is mostly from memory, partly taken from another couple of recipes on the Internet. Most of them are telling me to put strawberries and/or burbon instead of chocolate. Ick.

I meant to write more, but this is it, for now.

Rock. Hard Place. Me.

Haven't written in a long time, as usual. Incredibly depressed. Hadn't touched email in three weeks until yesterday. This, coming from the woman who checked her email at least five times daily before moving here. What is it that makes me this way? I need help. Again. One would think that 15 years of therapy would be enough. Apparently not. I used to pride myself on the fact that I was the only one in my family not on the old daily mind altering medication. Now, I'm not so sure about doing this without that kind of help. I don't like medicine. I don't like doctors. I don't like the possibility of playing around with different things till I finally get the right one(s) for my body.

But it stands that my anxiety is out of control. This makes me depressed. I am almost at a point where I can't get out. I worry when my roommates leave the house. I wonder if they'll get into car accidents. I worry when I don't feel like I know what's going on, to the "T." I am often told that I've asked the same question half a dozen times. I've had an impeccable memory for detail, but I'm forgetting so much, lately. I've been sleeping in later, buying and buying those minutes before I really need to get into the shower before work. I stepped on the scale the other day, and came to the stark realization that I've gained back the 20 pounds I lost in Chicago, plus one, if that scale is accurate. It's utterly depressing.

I didn't mean for this to be even this long. I just meant for it to be a shorty. But hey, what can I do?