DHP and other musings
This past week has been one for tough conversations. Not being able to have the kind of relationship you want to have with someone, due to silly things that have nothing to do with how you feel about each other, sucks mightily--especially when this is the case with more than one person in your life at the moment. Granted, talking about it did help a bit in each of those cases, but disappointment is tough to shake.
Strangely, I seem despite all that to have emerged somewhat from the depression that was riding me earlier in the week, and actually managed to make a few steps toward getting important things done. Problem is, there are many more daunting steps that need to be made, and I'm not doing so well on those. And yesterday I didn't manage to get anything done. Thanks to my internal clock having thoroughly reset itself, I didn't get enough sleep and was thus tired enough to be below my normal level of functioning (which already isn't great), despite the fact that for once I left the Disaster House fairly early.
The party dynamic was kinda weird for me this time around. I didn't get the chance to connect as much as I'd hoped with a couple of people; I got to watch a couple of other people, from whom it bothers me a little that I never get attention, lavish attention on others; and from a couple of other people I got attention I wasn't quite after. I therefore spent an inordinate amount of the evening feeling kinda funky, though belting out silly songs in the garage did pick me up a bit, as music generally does. And I did breathe fire for the first time, thanks to the availability of paraffin (the taste of the 151 was what had stopped me before), plus I discovered that under my stomach fat I apparently have abs of steel (this was rather surprising, as it means my body image needs even more tweaking.) So, an okay party overall, but not up to my usual standard--especially given that my usual standard seems to be pretty high.
The next night, though, some important reconnecting happened, and that did help my mood. Having a summer job land on me, however, would help it even more.
Strangely, I seem despite all that to have emerged somewhat from the depression that was riding me earlier in the week, and actually managed to make a few steps toward getting important things done. Problem is, there are many more daunting steps that need to be made, and I'm not doing so well on those. And yesterday I didn't manage to get anything done. Thanks to my internal clock having thoroughly reset itself, I didn't get enough sleep and was thus tired enough to be below my normal level of functioning (which already isn't great), despite the fact that for once I left the Disaster House fairly early.
The party dynamic was kinda weird for me this time around. I didn't get the chance to connect as much as I'd hoped with a couple of people; I got to watch a couple of other people, from whom it bothers me a little that I never get attention, lavish attention on others; and from a couple of other people I got attention I wasn't quite after. I therefore spent an inordinate amount of the evening feeling kinda funky, though belting out silly songs in the garage did pick me up a bit, as music generally does. And I did breathe fire for the first time, thanks to the availability of paraffin (the taste of the 151 was what had stopped me before), plus I discovered that under my stomach fat I apparently have abs of steel (this was rather surprising, as it means my body image needs even more tweaking.) So, an okay party overall, but not up to my usual standard--especially given that my usual standard seems to be pretty high.
The next night, though, some important reconnecting happened, and that did help my mood. Having a summer job land on me, however, would help it even more.