stupid things I do
January 28. 2000
Today at 7:30 pm I found myself on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, crying, hiccuping and snotty with Patti Smith blaring on the stereo. I was tired, hungry and so upset I was going under the speed limit.
I really have no idea how I got to this nadir, because in hindsight I really did have a good day. 3d ended up being a lot of fun, Daniella liked my proposal for the clock assignment, even though it was, in my opinion, pretty half assed. Drawing went well also, where another half assed piece of art produced by me received a positive critique. I was able to get my hours set up at the computer lab for this semester. Yes, life was looking just peachy.
Somewhere between 6 and 7 tonight it just sort of fell apart mentally for me. And I don't know why. I was faced with another night of having no life, all my friends had either gone home for the weekend or I couldn't find them. So I was sitting in my room, feeling sorry for myself. Then I got the crazy idea of just going home. For some reason, I began missing my parents and home with an incredible intensity. I stared at the phone for a while, picked it up, dialed home. The answering machine. "Hi, Mom and Dad, it's me...um, I know this going to sound stupid given that Dad was just down here today to drop off the car, but uh..I'm coming home for the weekend, because there's basically nothing to do here and I'm feeling kind of depressed, so it's...7:30, I should be home a little after 9. I'll see you then."
The drive home, which I had hoped would be kind of refreshing and calming, ended up being neither. I intermittently broke into tears during the hour and a half home, all the while chastising myself in the back of my mind for being such a baby and also wondering what in the hell was making me so upset. There was no conclusive reason, no horrible thing had happened to me, as I said above, I had had a pretty damn good day, and it had continued to be a good day up until about an hour before I left for home. This whole episode leaves me at a loss, really.
Home ended up not being the tonic I hoped it would have been. I had steeled myself to walk in there and not be crying, but as soon as I saw my Mom, I started crying again. The next few hours were spent with my parents looking at me in concern and puzzlement and probably wondering if I had finally snapped. Once I calmed down and ate some breadsticks and tomato soup, and I was able to think somewhat rationally, but I still had no answers as to why I just sort of fell apart.
The rest of the weekend was relaxing. I took a lot of drugs and slept like the dead on Friday night, then got up, hashed through some more website redesign stuff. My parents and I went out to dinner at the Thai restaurant, where they expressed their displeasure at finding a pack of cigarettes in my bag. Nevermind that I pointed out that I had had the pack for three weeks (their staleness attesting to this) and had smoked maybe four cigarettes out of the pack. *sigh* We then went to my sister's County Chorus concert, which was somewhat mediocre. Because of the weather, I went back on Saturday night and arrived at school at around 11.
I'm writing this several days after this happened, and since then have questioned my own sanity at times and read up on bipolar disorder and wondered if I was indeed psycho. Sometimes I really am convinced there's something wrong with me. I thought about trying to get some help, but the thought of therapy completely unnerves me, and there's also that pseudo new agey kind of vibe that I get from it that I really detest. But at some times I am perfectly okay, and I don't think I need any help. I wish I could figure out myself, honestly.
music: Kate Bush, The Sensual
food: cranberry juice
read: John B's manuscript
sight: mental mess
i bring you love and deeper understanding
-Kate Bush, Deeper Understanding
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