But a phone call reassuring me that we are, in fact, still going out might have been nice.

Yeah. So didn’t happen. I came home, and everyone in the house was already asleep. Again.

Being an actress, dedicated to her craft, is no joke. I mean, now I know how Meryl Streep must feel, stumbling home at all hours of the night after rehearsing whatever Academy Award–winning movie she’s in. I will never again think that acting is an easy career to have.

Anyway, I am taking Tina’s advice, and Giving Michael Some Space. The way she does with Boris when he has to learn some new Bartók.

And I can’t say I really blame Michael for not calling or e-ing me, since I’m obviously not the most stable person he knows. I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to prove I was a party girl when I’m so not. Basically, I was just trying to manipulate Michael, and that is never a good idea. I mean, unless you’re Grandmère or Lana, who are masters at the art of manipulation—particularly the manipulation of the laws of supply and demand.

But that doesn’t mean it’s right.

Seriously. Just because you CAN do something well doesn’t mean you SHOULD do it.

Like my short story, for instance. I mean, sure, I can write.

But does that give me the right to write a story based on someone who actually exists, who might possibly read that story, and get upset about it?

No. Just because you HAVE the power doesn’t mean you should USE it. Or, at least, ABUSE it.

Which is what Grandmère and Lana do with the whole economics thing. If you are lucky enough to HAVE a talent—like mine, for writing—you have a moral obligation to use that talent for GOOD.

That’s what happened with the Michael thing. You know, when I did the sexy dance? That’s why it backfired. Because I was trying to manipulate people. Which is evil, not good.

I’m an evil economics abuser. I’m—

SOMEONE IS IMing ME!!!!!!!!!!

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT

Oh. It’s Lilly.

WOMYNRULE: You know, it was really presumptuous of you to have kissed him if you don’t even like him that way. What if he gets the wrong idea? You already sexy danced with him, and now you’re going around kissing him? For someone so worried about hurting his feelings, you sure don’t seem to have thought that through.

!!!!!

FTLOUIE: Oh, yeah? Well, for someone who claims not to like him as anything but a friend, you sure do seem concerned about him liking me.

WOMYNRULE: Only because I THOUGHT you were dating my brother. But apparently one guy’s not enough for you. You have to have ALL the guys.

FTLOUIE: WHAT??? What are you talking about? I DO NOT LIKE J.P.

WOMYNRULE: Sure you don’t. I bet if I looked at your nostrils right now, they’d be flaring.

FTLOUIE: OMG, I am NOT lying. Lilly, I love your brother, and ONLY your brother. You KNOW that. What is WRONG with you?

WOMYNRULE: terminated

Wow. It’s a good thing her parents aren’t telling her about their separation just yet. If this is how she acts when she DOESN’T know about it, I hate to think how she’s going to act when she DOES.

Unless she DOES know, like Michael suspects, and she’s just PRETENDING she doesn’t know. That would explain a lot about her current behavior.

But regardless, at least I know what I have to do now. My mission is, at last, clear. A feeling of calm has descended over me.

Oh, wait, that’s just Fat Louie, sleeping on my feet.

Still. I have a plan.

About how I’m going to keep J.P. from reading “No More Corn!”, I mean. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the rest of the mess that is my life.

But I know what I’m going to do about Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole.

And truthfully, I think Carl Jung AND Alfred Marshall would approve.

From the desk of

Her Royal Highness

Princess Amelia Mignonette

Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

Dear Dr. Carl Jung,

Hi. Sorry about my last letter. I was kind of…you know…cuckoo.

Well, you know all about that. I mean, you devoted your entire career to the study of cuckoos like me.

Anyway, just wanted to say not to worry. Things are better now. I think I finally get it. You know, the whole transcendence thing. It’s not about what’s happening INSIDE you. It’s what you put OUT that matters.

Well, not, you know, put out like sex. But I mean what you put out into the universe. It’s about being kind to others, and telling the truth instead of lying all the time, and using your powers for good and not evil. Like, if your boyfriend is having a party, you should just go and try to have a good time, instead of resorting to elaborate schemes to try to make him think you’re a party girl.

And if your friend is going to run a story in a magazine that could really hurt someone’s feelings, you should stop her.

Right?

Anyway, I’m seriously going to devote the rest of my life to Telling the Truth and Doing Good Works. I really mean that. Because I know now that it’s the only way I’m going to achieve self-actualization, and that people like my grandmother and Lana Weinberger who resort to lies and blackmail and abuse the law of supply and demand will never find spiritual enlightenment.

Anyway, seeing as how I have now pledged to walk the Path of Truth and all of that, do you think there’s a chance that part of my self-actualization, when it comes after I perform all my good works, could be getting my boyfriend to forgive me for being such a freak? Because I seriously miss him.