Monday, Jun. 30, 2003 | 2:01 PM

I�m feeling terribly depressed and out of sorts today. And I know why. It�s because I have PMS. I hate when the source of my sadness and despair is nothing more than a physiological process. It makes me feel less like a human being and more like a lab rat.

I mean think about it�as science and medicine become more and more adept at pinpointing what causes all sorts of problems�from criminal behavior to schizophrenia�we can all distill ourselves down to a series of chemical reactions. Are we all nothing more than equations, some of us balancing out correctly and some not?

I miss Ivy. I haven�t seen her in a little over two weeks. She�s getting back from vacation today, and I want so badly to talk to her that I feel like crying (again, PMS�I�m not like this usually. Well, not anymore anyway.) I miss her voice and her brain and her body. I miss her heart. I miss her laugh.

I have decided definitely that I am going to make a homemade Mexican meal for our dinner on Thursday. Mexican Chicken. Guacamole. Red beans and rice. Sangria. Yes, lots of Sangria.

And I miss so much also having a project to work on. I know I know� my show was only a couple weeks ago, and immediately thereafter I went on vacation. But I can�t stand not working. I mean, I am working�I�m working 60 hours a week right now at office jobs. But I can�t stand not working on something creative. I feel itchy and antsy and pissy and not myself.

What�s so irritating is that 90% of what I want to do relies on other people�there�s so much collaboration involved in putting on a play or a performance of the type I want to do. There�s only so much I can do alone�practicing alone gets old.

And this time last year was so bad-- hands down ranking with the very worst periods in my whole life. I�ve been having bad dreams about it for the past couple of days. The weather brings it back. My ability to remember the smallest details is both a blessing and a curse�the later in this situation. I feel warn out and nervous. God it would be so nice to just get over things. For the memory of it all to blur and run like sidewalk chalk drawings on a rainy afternoon.