At long last, an Update.

Soooooo..... It's been awhile since my last entry. How sad. For awhile I was updating every few days, then the move happened, then dial up happened, and somewhere in there complete and total depression came. A lot has happened, but most of it bad. I don't always like sharing the bad things. Actually, I kind of like locking them down and pretending they're not there. Silly me I know. It is not a healthy thing to do in the least little bit. However, it is something that I do seem to do quite often. I only write when I feel like I am coherent enough to do my thoughts justice. Lately I have not been coherent enough to do a slurpee justice. How sad is that?

Anyway, needless to say this has been a "down cycle". The move has made my mother deliriously happy and left me nearly catatonic some days. I have written a very large chunk of people out of my life forever on the general principle they are lying fuckheads, but at the same time I have half welcomed one former person back into my life without question. This has been hard given my previous relationship to this person. He is still a bastard but I can't bring myself to hate him.

Everything seems to be adding another layer of confusion to my poor mind. It is very sad. I mean... the way it is, the way it makes me be... its all rather depressing really.

It probably doesn't help that I am lonely for home but know going only makes me sick and sad all over again. I had gotten to the place where I was pretty ok, I was at least getting up everyday and trying to do new things. I was honestly giving it the old college try. Then we went home and for the last week I haven't wanted to move out of bed period, let alone before like noon.

I have decided the best cure for what has been bugging me is insane amounts of Tori, a nice long bubble bath, and bursting into tears at least three times a day. Also, for this endeavor I will need a large bottle of vodka. Very Large. Maybe two.

Not really... though if someone has extra Vodka lying around... I will be your bestest friend if you share [because Peasy got shit faced last night and I didn't even get to be around for the fun part. The Biotch.].

Anyway, now that you're all caught up on the general misery...

Today was a bust. My alarm didn't even go off [though really, why do I even set that thing anymore? I either ignore it or hurl things at it from across the room. I have deadly aim. I could be.... a Ninja... you know, a really fat/slow one]. I set it with the intention I would get up and clean the living room since I randomly took off this weekend and spent the night at Teh Auntie's. I was all gung-ho for like the first twenty minutes, until I realized the only person whose laundry I was folding was my mother's, and the person whose garbage I was throwing away also = Teh Momsters. Now, I realize that I have no life, and I have to earn my keep, and all of that really great bullshit, but I don't remember "Being my Mother's House Bitch" being part of the agreement.

So... I got unmotivated and dumped her clothes on her bed for her to fold before I started slicing and dicing for my nummy stew. Now, I like to think while I am not a world class chef, I am not a fucktard either. I really believed that until I almost sliced my finger off peeling a potato. I don't know what the fuck my issue was today but I've had like no hand/eye cooperation going [and yes I know the accepted term is coordination].

So then I laid on my floor and listened to this bizarre mix of like Blue October, Seether, Imogen Heap, Tori Amos, Ani Difranco, Joni Mitchell, Velvet Revolver, Godsmack, and then [this part makes me giggle] Big and Rich and Bill Withers. Some Alicia Keys snuck in but I had to throw it out because it just didn't fit my mood. I know Jodi says the reason I'm depressed is because I listen to depressed music, but really, lets face it, I've been depressed for a hell of a lot longer than all this.

I was actually thinking that today. I don't really, truly, believe that I am any unhappier than I have been. I really don't. I believe that for the first time in three years I don't have something else to blame it on. I don't have school to worry about or my friends to fret over. I am not in the middle of everything running around like a chicken without a head. This is the first time since my first semester I have only myself to think about and deal with. If I could make myself be productive, this would be the year to bang out my book, to polish up the stuff I've been working on since last fall. If I was dedicated and good and all that shit [you know, words that I NEVER use to describe myself], then this would not be a wasted year.

But I am me.

That statement sums it up pretty prophetically actually. I am me and that means that I will waste this year, I will stew and sulk and be petty. Maybe not quite that bad, but I do tend to spend too much time in my own head. Its like... even when I'm doing something, like shopping or cooking or cleaning, there is a part of my brain that doesn't shut down, you know? Like, its always humming, with thoughts and ideas and remembering... but the ideas it things and the things it remembers are things that most people work most of their lives to forget. Its like every little hurt, every little mistake, it still lives in that back part of my brain and before now I could ignore it. I could... be bigger and better and..... in complete and total denial about how I've been and the people I've let down under the guise that they let me down first.

It's funny, in a way, I'm always talking to Erin about how people are, and how they never act like the people they could be. I've told her a dozen times that when I look at people all I see is their infinite potential, and all the time I know I'm a hypocrite [with a big butt]. I know I am not half the person I could be. I know that I talk about enlighten and being bigger than your emotions and all of that bullshit the Pop Psychologist try to sell with their yoga and deep meditation. I have come full circle to see that I expect so much but I give so little. I've been running this rat race and pretending I'm headed some place and that I am so fucking well adjusted despite the absentee father and guilt dodging mother and insane old bitties who dominated the way I viewed myself the first nineteen years of my life... I lost the fact that sometimes being maladjusted is better than making yourself crazy trying to be "ok".

I don't think any of this is really a big deal. I think I feel like it's a big deal because I haven't ever had left over energy to think about it before. I mean it was always there and it influenced a lot of the things I've done in my life, but I've never had time to just sit with it and think about it.

Frankly, I like not having time. Having time to process makes me feel all fuckin Emo.

Yick.

[Sloppy Kisses]
-Sara

It should be noted I do not hate all Emo, some of my best friends are so Emo it hurts. I do not, however, enjoy feeling like a big fat Emo Head.