3:00 snapshot #333, plus noticing the year 06/14/08
Yesterday morning I took Charlie swimming at a pond behind a warehouse on RT. 9. In the median strip in rt. 9 in Brookline, in the areas they haven't rebuilt yet, there is a thick monocultural herb garden of blooming chicory, my favorite wildflower. It's raining right now, for the first time in over a week. The plants Alexis put in our front area were starting to wilt and shrivel, so hopefully this will help.
We went to Carrie's house last night to welcome her new dog. We ate really well, and played rock band. I felt like being social was just what I needed. I've been in a funk lately, but I don't even know why. The weather has been just as I like it, and the rest of my life ranges from acceptable to exceptionally fortunate.
I know that depression doesn't have to have an external reason, that it's a chemical problem inside me. I'm also aware that I don't have it bad enough to warrant seeing a doctor about it. I still go to work, and indulge some of my hobbies; I don't stay in bed all day, even though that sounds nice.
So while it was fun to finally get over my inhibitions and really belt out Blitzkrieg Bop, part of me wonders if I was just having a drunken good time. I mean, I was, but I was also enjoying the company of friends. Is it really breaking through a depression when you do it after four bourbon and cokes? I definitely feel like interacting with people in a social, non-work setting dispels some of the fog of self-hatred; I don't feel like drinking interferes with the process (quite the opposite), but it does feel a bit like self-medicating, and for some reason I suspect a doctor would disapprove.