Psh, who needs sleep
I've been really bad about posting. That probably isn't going to change, I don't have too many stories to tell now and days, and not a whole lot of free time and energy to spend on new and fun projects that result in amusing pictures. Still, I like to write something other than source code every now and then.
It's been good times all around here lately. You've probably read from Jer that we got the promotion we wanted, I've been hanging out with lots of great peeps on a regular basis ('cept for a certain nameless gal that I'm not spending nearly enough quality time with, but that's mostly my and my hum-drum work schedule's fault), and there's plenty of buzz about Jer and I moving out to an apartment soon. For where I wanna be right now, I couldn't be in a happier position.
Thus, I am naturally still battling with a mild depression. I have been since I graduated from college over a year ago. It's not that bad really. I still have happy moments, punctuated periods of joy and cheer and tra-la-las. They just aren't as common as they use to be, and they never stick around for long. Even when I got the news that I was promoted, I didn't feel happy. I mean, I knew I should be ecstatic. I hopped around, smiled, went through all the motions. I repeated to myself, "you don't have to worry about money any more, how cool is that?" Yet still, no ecstasy.
I'm haunted by memories of good times. Black outs that lead to a living room floor party. Fourteen hour bus rides through the middle of nowhere followed by a smelly sleep-deprived pep game. Twister with gals who fight as dirty as I do. Rum of the Gods and coke, late-night lounge talks, dance clubs, trade-off dinners, bathtubs of beer, make-outs, beach walks, snowy plovers, smash brothers, upside-down math, ultimate frisbee, the crooked necked giraffe. This gigantic web of experiences that form this blinding beacon of happiness that nothing else seems to be able to touch.
But then, look what I have now. A Manchester boss who uses my juggling balls like hacky sacks, cool parents who actually care about hearing the ridiculously dull sounding things I do at work, ridiculously dull sounding responsibilities that are actually wildly creative and give me a wide breath of control over my own job, pretty pretty Serenity with 6 CDs of goodness loaded, JACK FM that inexplicably plays exactly what I want to hear 75% of the time, Davis folks who like my cooking and bode well with weekly exercise, epic Buffy-a-thons, daily home cooked meals, Gaucho the attack bird, a chess partner who's more competitive than I am, a circuit of coffee-shop haunts, weekends with Nate and whoever else we can recruit, and a great friend who dug me out of my real depression three months back and probably doesn't realize just how sane she's kept me over the last several months.
So yeah, I like my life right now. I may not be as joyous as I was before, but I'm not as stressed out either. One day I hope to get back to the way things were. Every day being a new experience, dozens of good friends just around the corner, excitement and stupidity and fearlessness. For right now, though, I'll just have to settle with turning into a mature adult. Bummer.
It's been good times all around here lately. You've probably read from Jer that we got the promotion we wanted, I've been hanging out with lots of great peeps on a regular basis ('cept for a certain nameless gal that I'm not spending nearly enough quality time with, but that's mostly my and my hum-drum work schedule's fault), and there's plenty of buzz about Jer and I moving out to an apartment soon. For where I wanna be right now, I couldn't be in a happier position.
Thus, I am naturally still battling with a mild depression. I have been since I graduated from college over a year ago. It's not that bad really. I still have happy moments, punctuated periods of joy and cheer and tra-la-las. They just aren't as common as they use to be, and they never stick around for long. Even when I got the news that I was promoted, I didn't feel happy. I mean, I knew I should be ecstatic. I hopped around, smiled, went through all the motions. I repeated to myself, "you don't have to worry about money any more, how cool is that?" Yet still, no ecstasy.
I'm haunted by memories of good times. Black outs that lead to a living room floor party. Fourteen hour bus rides through the middle of nowhere followed by a smelly sleep-deprived pep game. Twister with gals who fight as dirty as I do. Rum of the Gods and coke, late-night lounge talks, dance clubs, trade-off dinners, bathtubs of beer, make-outs, beach walks, snowy plovers, smash brothers, upside-down math, ultimate frisbee, the crooked necked giraffe. This gigantic web of experiences that form this blinding beacon of happiness that nothing else seems to be able to touch.
But then, look what I have now. A Manchester boss who uses my juggling balls like hacky sacks, cool parents who actually care about hearing the ridiculously dull sounding things I do at work, ridiculously dull sounding responsibilities that are actually wildly creative and give me a wide breath of control over my own job, pretty pretty Serenity with 6 CDs of goodness loaded, JACK FM that inexplicably plays exactly what I want to hear 75% of the time, Davis folks who like my cooking and bode well with weekly exercise, epic Buffy-a-thons, daily home cooked meals, Gaucho the attack bird, a chess partner who's more competitive than I am, a circuit of coffee-shop haunts, weekends with Nate and whoever else we can recruit, and a great friend who dug me out of my real depression three months back and probably doesn't realize just how sane she's kept me over the last several months.
So yeah, I like my life right now. I may not be as joyous as I was before, but I'm not as stressed out either. One day I hope to get back to the way things were. Every day being a new experience, dozens of good friends just around the corner, excitement and stupidity and fearlessness. For right now, though, I'll just have to settle with turning into a mature adult. Bummer.