Exactly ten days later.
My computer got sick. My apologies. I was going to write ten mini-blogs detailing what I did on the days that my computer was on the fritz but I decided against it. So, I'm going to blog every day in May. Yeah. It's my birth month anyway, it'll be more exciting.
I did write this blog on Friday, though:
"Today was my unbirthday. Maybe it was yours too, if so Happy Unbirthday. The past two weeks I’ve been trapped in this hazy fog of borderline depression. I’ve been severely depressed before and now, since I recognize the signs it’s like I stand on the shore instead thrash in the water. The events leading to my toes digging in that muddy bed involve three best friends, a betrayal, a boy, and trust issues. Make of it what you will. I’m sure the imagined versions will be much juicier than the live action version but I digress.
I was told to get out of bed and get ready to head into town with my mother, so I did just that figuring we had errands to run, a stop at the grocery store, maybe the bank…the usual. But when she reappeared she told me we had to celebrate my unbirthday. Color me suspicious.
Deciding that the fast food restaurant I chose for lunch was still a bit too clogged from the lunch hour we opted to go to Old Navy to pass the time instead. It’s a shocking day when I enter Old Navy and discover everything on display is hideous. Still, I managed to find a few cute things and some new flip flops. Bag in hand, we glanced at the line still wrapped around the grease hut and tried to waste a bit more time by stopping in at Books-A-Million.
Unfortunately they didn’t carry my Listography book and I didn’t feel like putting the effort out to explain what it is and where to order it from…that’s what Fred Flare is for. As I perused the shelves in the photography section, almost buying The Fashion Book but deciding against it after several minutes of deliberation, and discovering that while my love of Andy Warhol and all things pop culture runs deep it isn’t fifty dollars deep. My love for The Beatles on the other hand does run $19.97 deep. I also stopped to try and find the Vonnegut section, which I did to my elation.
We left there with a canvas bag of Beatles and Slaughterhouse Five goodness.
After lunch we stopped at the mall. Where I had a surprise. I was very nervous about this surprise, seeing as how Boy from my standing-on-the-shore days works there. She gave me two hints. Alice and Wonderland. Purple and White.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out she’d gotten me a giant Unbirthday cookie cake. I was pleased to see the icing spelling out: Happy Unbirthday, Carrie Jo in purple icing. I can only imagine the strange look she got while ordering it. Sadly, not many people are familiar with unbirthdays. Pity.
On the way home we ranted about my pointless teenage drama.
After consuming a slice of my cookie I grabbed a beach towel, Vonnegut, and some Sour Patch Kids and headed out to the back yard where I contemplated death, time, Tralfamadorians, and why they always put loads of yellow kids in the packs of Sour Patch Kids and four or five red kids. So it goes. "
So there's that. I've begun reading once more, because depression isn't going to take that interest from me anymore. No sir.
I did write this blog on Friday, though:
"Today was my unbirthday. Maybe it was yours too, if so Happy Unbirthday. The past two weeks I’ve been trapped in this hazy fog of borderline depression. I’ve been severely depressed before and now, since I recognize the signs it’s like I stand on the shore instead thrash in the water. The events leading to my toes digging in that muddy bed involve three best friends, a betrayal, a boy, and trust issues. Make of it what you will. I’m sure the imagined versions will be much juicier than the live action version but I digress.
I was told to get out of bed and get ready to head into town with my mother, so I did just that figuring we had errands to run, a stop at the grocery store, maybe the bank…the usual. But when she reappeared she told me we had to celebrate my unbirthday. Color me suspicious.
Deciding that the fast food restaurant I chose for lunch was still a bit too clogged from the lunch hour we opted to go to Old Navy to pass the time instead. It’s a shocking day when I enter Old Navy and discover everything on display is hideous. Still, I managed to find a few cute things and some new flip flops. Bag in hand, we glanced at the line still wrapped around the grease hut and tried to waste a bit more time by stopping in at Books-A-Million.
Unfortunately they didn’t carry my Listography book and I didn’t feel like putting the effort out to explain what it is and where to order it from…that’s what Fred Flare is for. As I perused the shelves in the photography section, almost buying The Fashion Book but deciding against it after several minutes of deliberation, and discovering that while my love of Andy Warhol and all things pop culture runs deep it isn’t fifty dollars deep. My love for The Beatles on the other hand does run $19.97 deep. I also stopped to try and find the Vonnegut section, which I did to my elation.
We left there with a canvas bag of Beatles and Slaughterhouse Five goodness.
After lunch we stopped at the mall. Where I had a surprise. I was very nervous about this surprise, seeing as how Boy from my standing-on-the-shore days works there. She gave me two hints. Alice and Wonderland. Purple and White.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out she’d gotten me a giant Unbirthday cookie cake. I was pleased to see the icing spelling out: Happy Unbirthday, Carrie Jo in purple icing. I can only imagine the strange look she got while ordering it. Sadly, not many people are familiar with unbirthdays. Pity.
On the way home we ranted about my pointless teenage drama.
After consuming a slice of my cookie I grabbed a beach towel, Vonnegut, and some Sour Patch Kids and headed out to the back yard where I contemplated death, time, Tralfamadorians, and why they always put loads of yellow kids in the packs of Sour Patch Kids and four or five red kids. So it goes. "
So there's that. I've begun reading once more, because depression isn't going to take that interest from me anymore. No sir.
posted by CJ at
9:21 PM
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