enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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I am such a slob--I've dropped flakes of dates on the floor around my computer. I guess I ought to pick them up!

I've been an awful bore lately. Even I am bored with this depression thing.

I'm digging myself out.

Work was hell today, but I'm not going to think about it. They want me to pull something out of a hat without any prior knowledge of the subject and with really no familiarity with any of the scattered inhouse documents, forecasts and tidbits inconsistently catalogued on the network.

Could they not have asked someone with "corporate knowledge" to do this rush job?

(I have a distinct feeling that I'm going to get hammered later in the week over this.)

C. is supposed to come over to watch a movie, and yet he hasn't appeared. Hmmm...

And I'm supposed to meet A. for a drink tomorrow after work, and tomorrow of ALL days I will probably feel horrible about leaving work by six because of this ridiculous project. And there's a big stupid, jealous--I've missed too many boats--part of me that wishes, wistfully, that he didn't have a girlfriend. But I had my chance and I let it go, for good reason.

But all of this is serving at least to anger me. I'm so over wasting my life not doing fun stuff.

So I'm going to do fun stuff! Copious fun stuff in the next week!

And beyond.

The most difficult part of anything, I believe, is starting.

Like picking up my pencil to start drawing again after nearly two years.

Like picking up a book and starting to take pleasure in reading again. (Like I did last night! Yay!)

This makes little sense. I need another grape juice popsicle. It's very muggy here. I'm not complaining, mind you--the weather's been quite disappointing lately given that it's supposed to be summer.

I just can't seem to bring any levity to things at the moment--my apologies. Though I feel quite good. I'm definitely doing well, or at least slowly mending.

Part of the problem is that my mother and I had a fight a couple of weeks ago and she hasn't been speaking to me. I know that it's not my fault, but it still makes me feel awful. (That guilt complex of mine, richly and tightly woven around me through the years.) She's making a conscious effort, as she always does, to make me feel worse.

The foundation for the whole fight was that she tried to make me not feeling good at the moment about her, because I told her that I didn't want to come to visit her in her most recent new house this summer. She started reminding me that I'm the executor of her will! And she started asking me stupid questions about whether or not I'd want to be informed if my grandfather were to die! (He has a minor illness at the moment.) I was grossly insulted by this remark, as I have always been dutiful towards him in spite of his complete lack of concern for or interest in me. (He concerns himself only with his male grandchildren.)Sigh.

I mean, I told her that I've been feeling depressed and that I'm trying to work through it with all available tools.

She didn't give me one word of encouragement, just pressured me to meet her needs.

I get tired of these things. People are complicated. Mothers even more so it seems, sometimes.

I do wish that my father were still alive. But that is not a productive thought and so I refuse to have it again. Or at least I refuse to dwell on it. :)

C. is coming over right this minute--he just called--with apricot beer and a friendly smile. Good enough! ;)

9:02 p.m. - 2007-07-09

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