An Alone Day

I have been for a few days, but today it hit me hard, and I felt as though I were encased in a suit of lead, swimming through a pool of molasses. Churchill evidently called this mood "the black dog." There are other great phrases for it too. I call it being "sad" and Darin hates it. I can't blame him--I tend to wallow in some pretty negative thinking when I'm down like this.

This is one of the black moods, where everything seems hopeless and I've messed everything up. I lay awake for two hours this morning, the two worst hours of the day: 4:30am to 6:30am.

I talked some to Linda today--I absolutely needed to talk to someone--and she's feeling the same way. She's not sure if it's depression or simply emptiness, having gone like the hammers of hell for so long and then stopping completely, left aimless and alone.

Today Darin and I went out to have breakfast, and then I dropped him off at the Boys'. He asked if I minded if he spent the day there, and I said I didn't--I wasn't going to be much good to him, being a sad, depressed little lump. One of us should have a good time, at least.

In the afternoon I decided to go see a movie, so I drove over to Westwood and saw Dangerous Beauty. It was better than I'd been led to expect--it's certainly beautiful to look at. (Of course, this led to a bout of depression about how everyone's better looking than I am, and when I was young and cute I never took advantage of it. Trust me: I'm way depressed.)

Since then I've watched a documentary on Studio 54 on VH-1 (knowing full well I would never have gotten in) and a strange show on Mystery that I tuned in to late, but one can never hear enough in the way of British accents. (Because a British accent makes one cultured and intelligent, and I'll never be either.)

You'll be the first to know when things are better, honest.

Actually, the line about the British reminds me of a funny exchange Darin and I had in the car (one of about 10,000--we had a long car ride):

"You moved to Northern California and went to college...to Stanford. Then you moved to Southern California and went to college...USC."

"Have I forgotten to mention to you that we're moving to England next?"

"Yes, and Cambridge isn't good enough for you, only Oxford, and it has to be Caius."

Well, it had us on the floor, relatively-speaking.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics