Thursday, April 10, 2008

and then

I've been miserable these past few days, all full of dark thoughts and woe, so thank GOD I feel less like a huge black hole and more like my usual self.

I finished up watching the entire series (again) of Six Feet Under last week, viewing pleasure that ceased the evening before the morning of my Dark Mood appearing, so I blame that. Which is a welcome change from blaming my upbringing. Oh, kidding. Of course I blame that above and beyond anything else for my every so often morose self, but if you've ever sobbed your way through the last three episodes EVER of Six Feet Under, you'll understand why I woke up the next day wondering about the meaning of life and if it, indeed, was worth all the damn fuss. You've probably also felt like that much shit apres the final viewing too, if only for the fact that that's it. IT! No more Six Feet Under EVER, never mind that Nate fucking died.

Which, if you've never watched it, may or may not be a plot spoiler. If that's you, take this -> *punt* That's a kick up your ass. Please deliver it to yourself so you can up off it and go rent the dvds, borrow them or download them all. And Nate doesn't die, I was just kidding.

The other thing too, about Mood Watch 2008, is that I should probably slap myself upside of the head before continuing with some wisdom like "Dear self, well DUH you feel low, you idiot. You've just been through a cancelled IVF cycle, so not only did you get to experience that particular joy, you also got to experience the special kind of fun it is to cancel one right at the end.". Then I'd go on about all the other baggage that went along with the whole party like, how about that NEGATIVO ON THE PREGNANCY THING, SUCKAH, and my true self would be all "Oh yeah". But I prefer to think I'm bullet proof and immune to all that pussy emotional shit, so I'll continue to blame my emotionally fraught childhood instead.

You know what I think it is though? These rare yet boringly periodic dips in the Ocean of Blah, I think that when I'm distracted with processing issues (like the fallout from an IVF cycle)(or that fucking Nate dying) that have been stamped "Urgent, your immediate attention is required" by my brain, my entire cerebral staff drops what it's doing and heads off to deal with the crisis at hand, and does so spectacularly well.. All the regular shit though, the baggage that is left over from an unsteady foundation, is left unattended, so while I usually don't notice that stuff either, I find that it's all I can feel when I'm in the middle of something that should be occupying my emotions. So yes, I must usually have some brain related resources dedicated to making sure the boring daily shit remains unnoticed. Which it does unless a crisis intervention is required, which is when they scurry off, which brings us back to the beginning of this paragraph.


The weekend was a blur of activity. If by "blur of activity" I mean "I went to the store for less than an hour" on Saturday. Big fat whoop, eh? But it was fun and my friend got me out of the house and feeling useful as I'm her personal dresser. She'd bought a dress for a christening on Sunday and needed me to pull The Look together (note upper case T and L. This is because we fashion professionals like to use uppercase as much as we like to use words like "team", "pull" and "accessorise") . Picture it: white dress (which, seriously, is not your first impulse to grab her by the neck and scream "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??!") with a kind of Grecian feel. And that's it. I didn't choose the dress for I had not the time to shop with her in the morning, which is when she made the totally unsupervised purchase. My advice at the time was to "go forth and choose something you'd never dream of wearing", so she did. GOOD GOD, the challenge ahead of me. ANYWAY, one pair of gold (but not brightly so, more like an ancient yellow/amber gold) strappy sandals later, one khaki with gold flecky whatsits through it, and one awesome pendant and a pair of gold hoop earrings later, and I was all eating my words and saying shit like "Girl, that is one HELLUVA dress", because apparently fashion experiences make me start talking like Oprah Winfrey.

Then on Sunday we......did nothing, to the best of my recollection. Monday? Monday...hmm. Oh yeah. I worked with the Vietnam vets, and then Daniel chose to NOT nap for two hours (which, joyous), and then I packed the little shit up and we went to visit his proxy grandma and granpops. Except he calls them "grammer" and "pop-offs". It's so nice to visit them. Mostly they baby sit him when I work every other Tuesday evening, but yesterday I got to sit around while Grammer entertained my son, then Pop-offs came home and entertained him some more, and Daniel was stuffed full of sugar and other rocket fuel type crap, and I silently worried and kept my complain hole shut about the cab loaded fool I'd be dealing with on the way home, and as al this was going on, I thought , I bet this is what real families are like.

In a nice way.

Then Tuesday was a flurry of I have no idea because I achieved absolutely nothing and yet found myself at the end of the day wondering how the heck I'd got through it all. Oh, that's right, it involved poo, a lot of it, in Daniel's underwear, moments before we were due to leave for work. GACK. I was all swooning from the horror and saying things like "well go you dude, good job on the quantity". Is it wrong that I also said "if it's the potty you've taken issue with, maybe next time take a dump on the floor?"?. Then I whipped out the baby wipes and worked some incredible kind of magic because I got him to daycare and arrived at work with minutes to spare. Then yesterday with the irradiation which brings us back to today.


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