My name is Spiller and I am a self-help-bookaholic.

Over the past few months I have read books on how to sleep more, worry less, love more, fear less, get organized, stress less, make yoga part of my life, drink less, use my creativity to the fullest, improve my appearance, and (I blush to admit this, O gentle blogreaders) a few dreadful 'how to get a man, keep a man, make a man follow you around like a lost puppy dog when he's not buying you expensive jewelry' books.Those things should come in brown paper wrappers.

Somehow, despite knowing better, I have a deep abiding belief that if I can lug home a big enough stack and read through them without skipping the boring parts I will be a better person.

I am sick and tired of trying to help myself. I am going to go find some other people who need to sleep more/worry less/floss more/curse less/find their soulmate/find matching socks/etcetera and help them instead.

Maybe they'll even return my library books for me.

I am going on a whale watch tomorrow!Yippee!

Have been wanting to go on whale watch since I moved here almost three years ago. The only good thing about breakup is that in between waves of loss and guilt and misery I am allowing myself a level of self-indulgence rarely seen in my life. Last night I went out with a friend to commiserate about lack of romantic satisfaction in our lives and had three green apple martinis in quick succession. Woke up for work this morning with wretched hangover and decided am definitly not Sex in the City girl, am Celibate in the Country girl (at heart) who goes to bed by ten and drinks only wheatgrass juice, with an occasional mango smoothie on special occasions.

Blue whales have ten-foot penises(penii?).That is one of those pieces of information that I just don't know what to do with. Penises the size of two of me.Why didn't God just quit right there?Why go on and make humans?

Spent a good fifteen minutes today pondering names for the West Highland Terrier puppy I intend to have someday- that alluring and hypothetical Someday when I am somehow solvent and stable enough to consider having a pet. At the moment I can't even keep a houseplant alive, and I strongly suspect that a few of them have committed suicide.

My favorite names so far are Entourage, Martini, Titus, and Kismet.