Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

weasels ate my hair and it's raining.

Saturday I went to a holiday bash here in Seattle with fan friends. Had a great time. Ate pudding with hard sauce. Died happy. Came back to life Sunday morning. On whim I went to see Ocean's 12. Just the night before I'd mocked the title and declared I wasn't going to see it, on principle. But it was great--better than the first one. I think I had an edge, too, not even having seen a preview. It was fun and funny and relaxed and absurd and had beautiful scenery, including Vincent Cassel, who is the supple cat-muscled love-child of Methos and Stuart Alan Jones. I thought it petered out more lamely toward the end, but no big.

In other viewing this weekend, I lay among a litter of wrapping paper, strewn clothes, and chocolate crumbs and watched stuff on IFC, like Die, Mommie, Die! and some weird little flick about a pyromanic serial killer and Bob Odenkirk's wildly cool Melvin Goes to Dinner.



I'm having ups and downs and they're not evening out very well. I feel like I'm trying to keep an armful of apples and the apples keep slipping loose and falling. I find myself thinking seriously about quitting my job and focusing on feeling better, but if I got off the career Autobahn and wanted to rejoin later, I'd wind up idling on an on-ramp, watching the other cars zoom by, and they wouldn't open up a gap for me to dart back in, and eventually I'd run out of gas and they'd tow me away and I'd wind up in the gutter, hunting for aluminum cans and spare change.

I am full of useless metaphors.

It would be stupid to leave, because I'd lose health benefits, and editorial jobs are scarce, and there's a new position opening up soon that's perfect for me, and the manager has written me three times to make sure I'm still interested--he's waiting for bureaucratic VP rubber-stamp before they post the position--but meanwhile my life feels like it's falling apart again. My downs are really, really down. I'm starting to lose focus at the edges at work, I've almost entirely stopped working out during the last week, I'm only erratically doing laundry or cleaning or shopping, I'm drinking, I'm spending too much money eating out, I'm having mood swings of fury and despair. Blah blah blah. "Fury and despair" doesn't really convey much, does it. Just words. Thursday night I was so desperately sick of my life. I had bad thoughts. And when I hear my co-worker laugh like a ninny I seriously want to dig my nails into his fucking throat and kill him.

Then the tide turns and everything's bearable for a little while, but then it rolls back in.

When I'm like this is usually when I also get really wound up and go back and forth about whether to say anything, and overthink and stress about social nuances to a grotesque degree, and revisit grievances and suspect everyone of harboring critical thoughts of me, so I'm going to try not to do any of that, and just post this, as my thoughts for the day.
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