Posts Tagged ‘Blues’

Self-Eval, originally uploaded by Soasa Designs.

I have something I need to declare, and I need to state it publicly because it’s harder to back out of something once you’ve told other people you’ll do it (I hope.) Starting tomorrow (only because I already can’t remember today’s list) I’m writing every single thing I eat or drink in that little book in the image above (which also happens to be my impromptu knitting idea book, so the incentive to carry it around is good.)I haven’t decided what to do with that information yet.

I think I just need to take stock.

I know I eat a ton of those cute high-fiber crackers with suns and wheat stalks imprinted on them.
I know I eat a ton of lite Finlandia cheese (cream cheese but a lot lighter.)
I know I eat a lot of Activia yogurts, because they have the best flavors…(unfortunately the low-fat one’s suck.)
I eat a lot of tomatoes…

My energy is really low, and I’m always hungry.
I can’t summon the energy to go out with Ceci and friends because I can’t handle having to speak The Language all night.
My mood is swinging violently.
I can’t seem to kick the cough lodged in my chest.
I think I’m sleeping way too much.

I think I’ll add also that I’m keeping track of how much I sleep, how much I get out of the house and how my energy levels feel throughout the day.

Basically I want to be able to write a post like this. Or this. Or this.

I feel like with all the hustle before I left for this trip I didn’t get to do my yearly self-evaluation and re-adjustment and I think now is the time. Something’s gotta give or I’m going to waste this adventure away…


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The Burn Out

I feel a little bit like this. (This being my very first car, which spontaneously burst into flames one day on my way home from work.)

I HATE this time of year. I hate it because it is the most beautiful time to live in New England, and yet I spend so much time in a melted puddle of anxiety and fatigue that I can’t appreciate it like everyone else can. I hate that I feel so disconnected, even though I know there are people who love my and think of me. I’m sleeping 8-10 hours a night, and I fell asleep for an hour in the library today. All I want to do is go home and sleep, even though I know that on top of my regular course reading and jewelry shows I have three tests and three papers and Salt and Pepper shakers to complete in the next two weeks. I think that all my determination to ignore this problem is going to have to bend, because I’m sick of being so unproductive and listless. I think it’s time to go sit on a sofa and have a chat with someone.

Do other people struggle with seasonal depression (because I suspect that’s what you’d call this)? Is anyone willing to share their experience, or what has worked for them?

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could make a lady out of me.

About an hour ago I got home from the fields and jumped in the shower. I washed my hair, bundled it all up in a towel, threw on a comfortable (read: horribly unflattering) house dress and sat down to write a thank you letter to my great uncle (to that extent I am a lady). Upon sealing and stamping this letter I headed out across the street to retrieve the day’s mail, and put my letter in the box. As I stood at the side of our busy road chatting on the phone with my mother I spied the vet, my dad, and his employee standing at the barn door talking. I laughed to my mother that I could not possibly look more absurd with my towel, flip flops (now am I talking about shoes or my unharnessed chest, because I swear I’m too young for this?!) and comfortable house dress.

Little did I know…

I crossed the street with no mishap, and as I grabbed the mail and reached up to insert my letter two giant trailer trucks blew by just feet from where I stood. It was the end, I tell you. I dropped the phone, and nearly dropped the mail as the wind from the trucks blew my towel tower over, my skirt flew up, and tried to rip my letter from my hand. My mother called to me from the phone in the grass, asking what happened. I tried to pretend it was nothing and no one had just seen my bare bottom, but as I turned around to cross the street again, towel hanging limply from my shoulders (along with my pride. Oh and speaking of hanging…can we talk about the girls again?), the employee was waving from the barn with a ridiculous grin on his face.

‘enry ‘iggins, do your worst.

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