'With what I most enjoy contented least'...

That's right, I'm quoting Shakespeare sonnet 29, my favorite sonnet of his here, and there's a very good reason for it...it seems that all my webwork is taking another one of its heavy, taxing tolls on me...it interferes with my close relationships...but I've always known that. It just seems to be doing it so much more here lately. Instead of feeling worthwhile, productive, helpful, accomplished, beautiful, and even proud, I feel...miserable, like I'm really helping no one--least of all me. Instead of geting thank yous and praise, the demands keep coming and the 'what have you done for me latelys'. The more I work and give, the less I am appreciated, the more I seem to let down and disappiont. Is it me...I don't know. I don't really have the drive I need to do this like I used to. My Heather O'Rourke site drives me particularly crazy with this issue. I rarely get thanks for my very hard work there. If it weren't for the fact that I love Heather so very, very much and I know that no one else--except occasionally Paul--works as hard as I do on the site, I would've given it a rest long ago...but I cannot let Heather down. Not when I put so much of my life and effort into her. She, herself, alone makes it worth the lack of praise and thanks.

My mother is again upset with me for the same reason she usually is but she need not worry as I am going to close my account again, and this time forevermore. And it's not like I'm overdrawn this time, either. ''Distructive behavior'' she calls it, as though I am on illegal drugs or self-mutalate myself...well, compulsive, continuous buying is an addiction, but not one that disrupts and gambles with my health like a substance abuse problem. But it is a problem, yes, and it causes me emotional anguish. I have a feeling this problem of mine is not superifical, nor is it easily fixable--it is psychological. I do not say this to lean on a false crutch. I don't feel as if I'm fabricating this although I can hear my mother laughing bitterly and saying, ''bullshit, daughter'' so it's more than likely best that she not know my theory on why I do this so much. It could be that I am so lonely I want to get any sort of attention from her, be it positive or negative. I am not entirely sure.

I seem to rarely get any positive attention by day. I have always prefered evenings and nights over the garish, demanding, rude day for it is then that I am reminded that I AM loved indeed. I can be simply myself at night and finally wear no masks, no brave, stoic or business-like faces. The night is my ally; it belongs to me. I can recharge my ''batteries'' and forget who I am and my problems and troubles most times when I am asleep. Night is bliss compared to hellish day.

Ay, my ranting is almost spent...hooray, hurrah, hoo-zay, huzzah...I am deeply cleansed once more by the river of my own words.