I love Thursdays. I love Thursdays even more than I love Saturdays. On Thursdays, I get off work and don't have a goddamn place to be until 8pm when I am to be stationed in front of my television watching some surprisingly interesting documentaries on health. Between 5:30 and 8, I could work out, I could shower, I could sleep for chrissakes and I wouldn't have to email anyone an excuse as to why I was not where I said I would be. Love it.
And in a few weeks I'm going to love Thursdays even more thanks to the return of the O.C. I kind of hate how excited I am, but mostly I just want to know, did Seth really think he could make it to Fiji in a catamaran?
If you know anything about my boyfriend, then you have probably already guessed that he was first in line to purchase the Star Wars trilogy on Tuesday. We watched the second one last night and had a glorious time making fun of Yoda who, it seems, is constantly constipated. This little bit of knowledge makes the training scene that much more fun to watch:
Luke: But my friends are going to die! I had a vision!
Yoda (eyes shut tight, visible strain in his little puppet face): Let me just pinch this one off before I comment on that...
Aaron, NPR freak that he is, told me about a study he heard about. Apparently, people who reread their journals obsessively are more fucked up than people who just write in them and don't bother looking back. The reason for this is you end up reading about the really disastrous times in your life and you're reminded of all the shit that you went through and you can't get over it. So . . . yeah. When I go to link back to the "year ago" entries, I generally skim past all the ones from college days (but I still get kind of queasy and cringe just knowing those are out there). I have a lot of trouble reconciling the whole "to know your future know your past" with the notion that you should "prepare for the future" while simultaneously "living in the now." I try to relate difficult experiences that are happening now with the fact that I've endured more difficult experiences, but then I end up thinking about what a shitty, sad little life I've had (see: current entries). I try to be as prepared for a successful future as possible, but then I get really sick of waiting for things to happen (see: college years). I try to appreciate what I have right at this very moment, but then it's a year later and all I've succeeded in doing is a lot of drugs and one-night stands (see: Seattle years).
Derrick told me he doesn't think I'm crazy, just extremely depressed. That, of course, made me even more depressed. It's better than it was in college because (a) I'm not slicing up my arms everytime someone doesn't say hi to me, (b) I'm able to get up in the morning and get to work and I'm keeping up with school really well, and (c) I'm not on the antidepressants that made me morph into a giant walking sad face. Also, I'm only thinking about killing myself 30% of the time instead of 90% of the time. So, you know, that's an improvement.
Incidentally, I got a solid B on my math test. Rock.
one year ago today: "'I am absolutely livid!'"
two years ago today: nothing.
three years ago today: "maybe i'll give laundry a shot."
