I'm no longer painfully uncomfortable in public spaces. I'm pretty uncomfortable, sure, but the edges are dulled quite a bit. It's less like someone punched me in the balls, and more like I just took too many DayQuil capsules.

Actually, this might not be a great development... I've always believed that if it weren't for my crushing self-consciousness I would probably just be an asshole. I found myself subtly insulting someone at a bar the other night. I don't think he picked up on it, but I was at least semi-consciously aware of a distressing change in my motivation: If I no longer long to be liked, then I'm just looking to get punched.

The more astute of you may have noticed this tendancy toward self-destruction demonstrated in my decision to start smoking at twenty-five. The better adjusted of you were probably too busy having lives of your own.

Also I've developed an unhealthy obsession with a woman who told a friend of mine to "pull [his] balls out of [his] fucking purse".

Anyway, I think I'm going to get Saturdays off. Who wants to hit the town!?