So much worse than undergraduate depression.
I couldn't sleep last night, and no, I'm sorry, I wasn't up puzzling about the economy. Indirectly, I guess.
So I'm a privileged spoiled bitch. If you call getting the opportunity to go to a nice liberal arts college, but pay loans the rest of your life, spoiled.
Either way, being in college, I got depressed, like any other person. Normal stuff. But there was this degree of self-indulgence about it. Oh this time in my life, oh this boy, oh my friend, oh my passion. I don't really feel that way anymore.
It's not fun to wallow about being broke. Or having another failed relationship, to the point that you wonder if you will ever meet the right person, and you hear yourself in your head sounding like one of those Sex in the City thirty-somethings. And you've got a fucked-up situation with your roommates, of course. And you don't have a "real" job.
No, I don't want to get drunk and pout about these things, hoping someone will think I look sad and cute.
I want to break shit.
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Just don't break shit you'll want back later. I seriously fucked the body on two of my guitars doin that. I suggest a (classic late 90s style) cordless phone or remote control - they smash into a satisfying number of pieces and have an 80% rate of working (sometimes better) after you cool down and re-assemble them. Cell phones and mp3 players are iffy; but I did chuck a cell phone out a seven story window and it still worked, I just had to put scotch tape over what used to be the front clock LED shield. The mp3 player did not survive that same fall.
having a roommate situation is at the very least preferable to being depressed on your own, in a spacious loft. with no tv.
i need to learn to make myself satisfying sunday breakfast sandwiches. i think then my life will have meaning. or at least a shallow semblance of such - baby steps.
oh kate, im sorry. i try to be good to you.
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