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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Mi scusi. A little bit cross.

OK, I'm going to be honest: couldn't shake the crappy mood I was in all day.

Work was not impaired - in fact, work was a solace (busyness, you know) - but I felt like crying all day. I did in fact cry once or twice - not a lot, but enough.

I try not to feel sorry for myself, for that is stupid. Today though I could not help but feel so damn tired of endless weeks of getting up and heading to work like a dog, with no personal reward of companionship or romance or anything at the end of it.

I was already feeling tired when I woke up this morning. I wasn't sure why. That email from Marco came in. Or rather, I read it. I should have left it to the evening. It was exactly the wrong thing, at the wrong time. As I said to C. today, it was a poorly-timed reminder of what I don't have - what I never have - here.

I know it's pathetic to wallow in self-pity, but wallow I did for a few moments today. I feel as though I work hard, do all of the right things...and yet as an introvert I struggle to go to enough "things" in order to meet someone.

The online dating is such a waste of time. I mean, any guys who have seemed even remotely "average" (and I'm not even talking about guys who could come close to my education, experience, athleticism, etc.) have turned out to be playing the field, so to speak. The other guys are barely literate (I'm not exaggerating), inappropriate, kind of vulgar.

What's the point. The alcoholic Italian with the rearranged face and the questionable friends - and again, I'm not joking - was the best I encountered through that site. He wrote to me today, and believe it or not I'm half considering going out with him again.

That's how low I've sunk.

But the thing with days like today is that inevitably the feeling that I'm experiencing at the moment passes. I move on to other things. I know, as Anna wrote in her entry, that I could make my life outside of work a permanent art class, if I wanted to. That would make me happy. Also, I've selected the paints for my apartment and I will begin painting next weekend. I could also do more volunteer work, as I haven't been doing much lately.

Bon. Fin, I suppose.

I know this is a phase. Things will eventually get more interesting. I will either move to Italy or I will take a course there and meet someone fabulous on the plane.

Or something like that.

The thing is that I love my approach to life and I love the things that I have learned and am learning. What happens though is that there comes a point at which you become completely BORED WITH YOURSELF. I can only knit so many sweaters and prepare so many fine meals and read so many books. I mean, I have probably read fifty books or significant portions thereof since I moved to this apartment in the fall. How many fucking books can a person read? How many movies can they watch??

The Artist's W@y lady said that this would be rocky. She was right.

OK. Now that I've vented, I feel better. I'm going to make some bruschetta and...read.

Oh well, what ELSE is there to do in my apartment?

Italian was fun though. It always is. It makes me smile. Checkmark for one great activity of the day.

Monday over. Thank goodness.

XOX

9:42 p.m. - 2010-03-08

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