I just went for a run to Astoria Park and I got at least 3 grins, a thumbs up, and a wave, and on the way back I ran into Carrie on her way to the park too. And suddenly I feel like myself again. Which is kind of amazing, since I haven't felt like myself in at least two months- and had I known it only takes short-sleeve weather and a quick conversation on the sidewalk, I would have stayed in hibernation until today and saved everyone the trouble of trying to figure out what's been wrong with me.
I think I must have had the worst case of Seasonal Affective Disorder ever, which, hello, duh. Every year since I can remember I have been depressed at some point during the winter, for little or no particular reason, even when I lived in NC, but I guess it just hasn't made me feel like a completely crazy person this long until now. And during school at least I had a reasons to be depressed and stressed and crazy-acting. But now, not so much... I am actually a very lucky person and it is high time I quit wanting to cry over anything that slightly bothers me, like traffic and mean people at the post office. Because that is just dumb.
Today it was finally beautiful weather on my day off, and suddenly, my faith in God and New York City has been restored.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
So, what the hell?
Yesterday I saw a big macho looking man crying on the subway. He seemed to also be halfheartedly mouthing the words to whatever was being piped through his headphones. He was wearing a leather jacket and I thought maybe he was Irish- he was cool in that way that Bono would be if he were a little taller and not so full of himself. If he had been italian looking and wearing gold chains and had gel in his hair I would probably think it was funny. But it wasn't funny, it was quiet and sad and it made me sad. And it made me think of all the people I've seen cry on the subway, and all the people that must cry on the subway, and all the times I've cried on the subway because I was either drunk or just couldn't take it anymore, or both. And I kept wondering what he was crying about: a woman, his mother's sickness, his life? A job lost? A love lost? A dream lost? And something in me wanted to know- to know what allows a grown man to sit, red-eyed and purse-lipped, among a bunch of strangers, and not care who's staring? And also I wanted to say that it's ok, I know it sucks to be this miserable in public, it happens to me all the time. Probably this is some sad sort of scheidenfrued, because I felt a little less bad about all the things that make me want to cry.
When did I become miserable? On a 60 degree day, no less? Maybe not so much miserable, as generally dissatisfied with my life. Thinking about almost anything for more than 3 minutes fills me with a sense of dread lately, and I'm not sure why. I'm antsy and I think about moving somewhere warmer and less expensive and that fills me with dread too, because I can't imagine living anywhere but here, even though here (New York City) is different and and sadder and emptier than it was before. I feel the need to "put things in order" ALL THE TIME even though I haven't the slightest clue what things need to be put in order, or how to go about doing this.
I'm hoping to chalk this all up to the bitter winter that is hopefully almost over, because it's been a particularly crap winter this year. So far 2009 has kind of been particularly crap. But when I have a brief moment of clarity, a fleeting moment in which my brain works logically, I know that there is nothing miserable about my life; on the contrary, I have all the things I've ever needed and most of what I ever wanted. I am a happy person. I was meant to be a happy person. So, what the hell?
Any ideas on how to make my brain work in a logical fashion more often are gladly welcomed.
When did I become miserable? On a 60 degree day, no less? Maybe not so much miserable, as generally dissatisfied with my life. Thinking about almost anything for more than 3 minutes fills me with a sense of dread lately, and I'm not sure why. I'm antsy and I think about moving somewhere warmer and less expensive and that fills me with dread too, because I can't imagine living anywhere but here, even though here (New York City) is different and and sadder and emptier than it was before. I feel the need to "put things in order" ALL THE TIME even though I haven't the slightest clue what things need to be put in order, or how to go about doing this.
I'm hoping to chalk this all up to the bitter winter that is hopefully almost over, because it's been a particularly crap winter this year. So far 2009 has kind of been particularly crap. But when I have a brief moment of clarity, a fleeting moment in which my brain works logically, I know that there is nothing miserable about my life; on the contrary, I have all the things I've ever needed and most of what I ever wanted. I am a happy person. I was meant to be a happy person. So, what the hell?
Any ideas on how to make my brain work in a logical fashion more often are gladly welcomed.
A Waste of Life-time
At work, I make lists of all the things I have to do each day and then I cross these tasks off in different colors. It is very enjoyable and makes me feel quite productive to see list after list, red-lined and finished. Even really inane things make these lists, because I WILL get chewed out if I don't verify something about license renewal for the third time or grab my boss a small coffee with milk on my way back from the post office. It recently occurred to me that if I had theses kind of lists for what I do in my personal time, they would be even dumber. And maybe, just maybe, if I start making lists of all the stupid things I do with my precious spare time, I will actually realize how much time I'm wasting and will be motivated to become a more productive person. We'll start with this:
-play with the Clipiola Italian paperclips from my office and think of ways I can use them at home, simply because they are spiral and look cool
-look at wedding and baby pictures of people I disliked in high school but am still, for some unknown reason, friends with on Facebook
-look at pictures of myself on Facebook to make sure I'm not tagged in anything really weird or terrible (although even if I was, I'm sure I'd probably leave it up anyways). simultaneously verify that there are at least a couple pictures in the first page view in which my hair looks nice and I don't look fat, and in which I appear to be happy
-search for on-sale flat screen TVs online for my bedroom, because even though I spent 600 bucks on a nice 32" only a few months ago, I am too lazy (and cold) to go to the living room and watch it
-re-read my journal, which is a bad idea because it gets me nowhere, wastes my time, and makes me extremely sentimental and/or emotional, neither of which is useful at this point in my life
-search craigslist for a new, cheaper apartment and get depressed about how much I pay in rent, this depression turns to anxiety when I think about how much I pay on top of rent for health insurance and utilities, anxiety turns back to depression when I realize that the only way I can fix this is to move out of New York
-refresh weather.com to see if the temperature has changed since I started wasting time on my computer. get angry about the crap weather that inevitably returns every time I have a day off
More to come later, when I am wasting my time in ways other than writing on this blog. Post office time now. List making time later. Hoping for some caffeine in between.
-play with the Clipiola Italian paperclips from my office and think of ways I can use them at home, simply because they are spiral and look cool
-look at wedding and baby pictures of people I disliked in high school but am still, for some unknown reason, friends with on Facebook
-look at pictures of myself on Facebook to make sure I'm not tagged in anything really weird or terrible (although even if I was, I'm sure I'd probably leave it up anyways). simultaneously verify that there are at least a couple pictures in the first page view in which my hair looks nice and I don't look fat, and in which I appear to be happy
-search for on-sale flat screen TVs online for my bedroom, because even though I spent 600 bucks on a nice 32" only a few months ago, I am too lazy (and cold) to go to the living room and watch it
-re-read my journal, which is a bad idea because it gets me nowhere, wastes my time, and makes me extremely sentimental and/or emotional, neither of which is useful at this point in my life
-search craigslist for a new, cheaper apartment and get depressed about how much I pay in rent, this depression turns to anxiety when I think about how much I pay on top of rent for health insurance and utilities, anxiety turns back to depression when I realize that the only way I can fix this is to move out of New York
-refresh weather.com to see if the temperature has changed since I started wasting time on my computer. get angry about the crap weather that inevitably returns every time I have a day off
More to come later, when I am wasting my time in ways other than writing on this blog. Post office time now. List making time later. Hoping for some caffeine in between.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Things I Should Do That I Don't
1. Run a marathon > my best friend from college just ran a marathon this weekend. While he was carb-loading, I was trying to decide if I should get off my lazy ass and put on enough clothing to last 20 minutes in the 43 degree afternoon wind. I did not do so. And then when I remembered that he was running a marathon, I felt like a big fat loser.
2. Stop eating white cheddar cheese popcorn > this will never happen, so I should just give up now and call it a day. I'm not even sure why it made this list. Probably because I am trying to convince myself not to go through 5 whole servings a day. Which will also never happen. Maybe 4 servings. Maybe just two. But never none.
3. Clean my room > so I can be minimalist like my boyfriend. He has the biggest room of anyone I know in NYC and he has hardly anything in it. It is amazing. I can make my voice echo AND do a headstand without crashing into any furniture. I secretly want to fill all his walls with the framed photographs I have no room for in my own bedroom. I secretly want to buy him furniture and arrange it because I have no more room to buy furniture for myself. I secretly want to switch rooms with him. This is not going to happen, any of it, because I like him a lot and I don't want him to think I'm any more of a weirdo than he already does.
4. Fold my laundry > folding laundry is the most annoying chore ever: it's like, okay your laundry is finally clean, and now you have to do something else with it? Fold it neatly? And put it away? When you finally get the motivation to clean your bathroom, you don't have to do anything else with it- you can sit back on your porcelain throne and admire your handiwork. Folding laundry sucks. Especially if you have so many clothes that once they are all clean they won't all fit in your drawers. So once you fold it, some of it still has to sit out on your chair until you've had time to wear other clothes from your drawers, at which point said clean clothes can take their place. I would rather wait until there is room in the drawers and then I'll fold these clothes. Maybe.
That's all I've got right now. Back to watching Flight of the Conchords in my underwear and eating popcorn in bed. And maybe updating my Facebook status. If I'm not doing things that I should do, at least I'm doing things I maybe should not do. A reverse productivity, if you will.
2. Stop eating white cheddar cheese popcorn > this will never happen, so I should just give up now and call it a day. I'm not even sure why it made this list. Probably because I am trying to convince myself not to go through 5 whole servings a day. Which will also never happen. Maybe 4 servings. Maybe just two. But never none.
3. Clean my room > so I can be minimalist like my boyfriend. He has the biggest room of anyone I know in NYC and he has hardly anything in it. It is amazing. I can make my voice echo AND do a headstand without crashing into any furniture. I secretly want to fill all his walls with the framed photographs I have no room for in my own bedroom. I secretly want to buy him furniture and arrange it because I have no more room to buy furniture for myself. I secretly want to switch rooms with him. This is not going to happen, any of it, because I like him a lot and I don't want him to think I'm any more of a weirdo than he already does.
4. Fold my laundry > folding laundry is the most annoying chore ever: it's like, okay your laundry is finally clean, and now you have to do something else with it? Fold it neatly? And put it away? When you finally get the motivation to clean your bathroom, you don't have to do anything else with it- you can sit back on your porcelain throne and admire your handiwork. Folding laundry sucks. Especially if you have so many clothes that once they are all clean they won't all fit in your drawers. So once you fold it, some of it still has to sit out on your chair until you've had time to wear other clothes from your drawers, at which point said clean clothes can take their place. I would rather wait until there is room in the drawers and then I'll fold these clothes. Maybe.
That's all I've got right now. Back to watching Flight of the Conchords in my underwear and eating popcorn in bed. And maybe updating my Facebook status. If I'm not doing things that I should do, at least I'm doing things I maybe should not do. A reverse productivity, if you will.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The Illustrious Life of Vera
My chair has had a very illustrious existence. I venture to guess it has even had a very long and fruitful life thus far, as I found it in a high end thrift shop (high end equaling fruitful, thrift shop equaling longish). At first glance the chair was (is) a beautiful specimen: matte white leather with a chic black trim, tall, polished chrome legs, the back two which curve slightly.
I think it is safe to say I am in love with my chair.
Even if my chair is a woman (It is totally a woman, only women are this beautiful and well preserved, except maybe for gay men. I don't think my chair is a gay man.)
Upon further inspection, my chair once belonged to Burberry. What this means is mostly lost on me, as I can only surmise that it once made it's home in a high end retail store. Not far from the Burberry client sticker on the bottom of my chair, there is a tiny sticker which says "Made in Italy" AND a tiny Italian flag. Italy! I knew this chair was special- extraordinary, even.
Who may have sat in my chair before I lugged it up Hudson street, into the Iofredda's apartment building, then back down to the subway, onto the 1 train, transferring in Times Square to the N train, into the Food World so I could purchase toilet paper, and then down 29th Street to my apartment where we climbed the stairs to it's new home?
Who, indeed? My chair has gotten so many jealous looks in even my short ownership. People looking longingly at it's supple leather, as they sat on the hard plastic benches of the N. People glancing sideways and cranking their heads around as my chair passed, the kind of looks normally reserved for leggy blondes. People with questionable glances, wondering where or how they might obtain such a chic and lovely piece of furniture for their own humble apartments.
Oh, my chair. Touched by rich old women, Italian stock boys, perhaps a burly UPS man or an overly tactile customs inspector. And now reserved primarily for my behind. Or my clean laundry. Or maybe I will rest my computer (up until now my most cherished posession) on it's smooth cream colored surface.
I sure am getting old and domestic.
I think it is safe to say I am in love with my chair.
Even if my chair is a woman (It is totally a woman, only women are this beautiful and well preserved, except maybe for gay men. I don't think my chair is a gay man.)
Upon further inspection, my chair once belonged to Burberry. What this means is mostly lost on me, as I can only surmise that it once made it's home in a high end retail store. Not far from the Burberry client sticker on the bottom of my chair, there is a tiny sticker which says "Made in Italy" AND a tiny Italian flag. Italy! I knew this chair was special- extraordinary, even.
Who may have sat in my chair before I lugged it up Hudson street, into the Iofredda's apartment building, then back down to the subway, onto the 1 train, transferring in Times Square to the N train, into the Food World so I could purchase toilet paper, and then down 29th Street to my apartment where we climbed the stairs to it's new home?
Who, indeed? My chair has gotten so many jealous looks in even my short ownership. People looking longingly at it's supple leather, as they sat on the hard plastic benches of the N. People glancing sideways and cranking their heads around as my chair passed, the kind of looks normally reserved for leggy blondes. People with questionable glances, wondering where or how they might obtain such a chic and lovely piece of furniture for their own humble apartments.
Oh, my chair. Touched by rich old women, Italian stock boys, perhaps a burly UPS man or an overly tactile customs inspector. And now reserved primarily for my behind. Or my clean laundry. Or maybe I will rest my computer (up until now my most cherished posession) on it's smooth cream colored surface.
I sure am getting old and domestic.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I Should Move Somewhere Warmer
The above statement is very applicable to what the hell I should do with my life. It's really a shame that I like New York City so much, and that I am fortunate enough to have met people I can't imagine leaving. So what to do now?
Thoughts:
1- Go on tropical vacation (this didn't work last time I tried, and might be a little tricky considering my boss seems to be a big fan of consistency in my work schedule. and I've only been there for 3 weeks yet...)
2- Go to warm places, like the gym (too smelly), yoga (nice, but my arms can only take it a couple times a week), or a tanning salon (totally out since my bout with Melanoma).
3- Hide in my bed until May (not really an option, considering the aforementioned job)
I am fresh out of ideas. I am completely miserable in this single-degree wind tunnel, but it's not even fun to complain about since 8 million other people are in the exact same situation.
In my next lifetime I'm going to be Australian. I wonder if love bagel can come?
Thoughts:
1- Go on tropical vacation (this didn't work last time I tried, and might be a little tricky considering my boss seems to be a big fan of consistency in my work schedule. and I've only been there for 3 weeks yet...)
2- Go to warm places, like the gym (too smelly), yoga (nice, but my arms can only take it a couple times a week), or a tanning salon (totally out since my bout with Melanoma).
3- Hide in my bed until May (not really an option, considering the aforementioned job)
I am fresh out of ideas. I am completely miserable in this single-degree wind tunnel, but it's not even fun to complain about since 8 million other people are in the exact same situation.
In my next lifetime I'm going to be Australian. I wonder if love bagel can come?
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