Hello, long lost friends - those of you who might still be around. I know that following my story off-line has been a rather dramatic ride, sometimes even screenplay worthy. The sequence of events in the last week alone have been so devastatingly ironic that I've been, in turns, tempted to take a baseball bat to everything around me or run to sleep in my parents' room.
And, yet, here I am. Trying to care. That's what I think the most horrific symptom of depression is: losing interest in everything that once gave life zest and flavor. My sister made me inquire about a job at a decadent bakery this week - I actually ended up talking to the Chef about a part time job. But most of me was dying inside from Not Caring and Wanting to Curl Up and Cry. Maybe, just maybe if Martha turned up at the door with a meringue and a blow torch I would get out of bed and change out of my pajamas. Still.
But this is pathetic. I am willing myself to post, as an exercise in creativity and accountability, about the things I am trying to care about. Because, as painful as my situation may seem when read in one light, interpreted another way it is also a very unique time I can choose to take for myself. In the end, I'm the one that I want, as Margaret Cho says. And, as Augustine prayed, "Domine Iesu, noverim me, noverim te."
Tonight I go with my mum & sister to hear Chinese drumming. I love Japanese Taiko drumming, so this should be interesting. And I might drop by the bakery again, to bug the Chef into letting me apprentice.