Constantly

I've fallen back into my old habits without anybody to catch me. Every thing I do here has now become one more way for me to improve myself, work hard, and ignore pain, sometimes causing other types of pain. My method of coping with women has to be "ignore them and pretend they don't exist" so I don't worry and mope around all day (although I admit freely that it's not working entirely well, especially this week). So what sort of things do I do?

-workout, sometimes 'till it hurts
-go to improv, to work on my rampant stage fright and work on my humor
-study and do homework...for hours on end

It's like everything I do I try to attach a number or some sort of measurement to and turn it into something to improve upon. I've even started regulating my food. Nothing, it seems, is strictly for fun or for enjoyment...it's always about getting better.

So why am I complaining? I have a drive...a work ethic that my roommate envies out loud (literally), and my schoolwork is proceeding really well. The problem is that I can't stop. It's a beast that feeds on itself and I can't turn it off. I can't find a way to relax. I remember asking my therapist in high school if I was "getting better" after each session. I remember her telling me that therapy is hardly a linear process, nor is it measured in any sort of sense, but I guess it went in one ear and out the other.

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On a completely unrelated note, Jason just hooked up with Jasmine (a friend of a friend). In the span of a few hours they went from unsure friends to first kiss. They're cute together, but my tolerance for any sort of lovey-dovey "no you hang up" crap is virtually zero. Ah, the joys of college life. I'll be keeping my eye on those two...