The best part of coming out of a depression funk is being able to identify that I was in one. Like, I was all weird and not motivated and just wanted to sleep all the time and I don’t know why, but I didn’t recognize it. Then yesterday, I was all like “I need to start eating better again and working out more consistently so that I will be happier.” And even just saying to myself “oh, I am depressed… I should shape up” helped. I’m even considering not drinking for the next month, but that is probably me just being an extremist. So, now instead of eating mega stuf Oreos (which are SOOOOO good by the way) I am doing laundry and finishing up my grant proposal that is due tomorrow.
Growing up, when ever I did something bad but felt so guilty I needed to tell my mom, I would ask for an immunity necklace. She would always grant me one, I’d tell her what I did wrong, and we would move on. Once and a while I’d get a sigh or a short lecture, but I think she valued my openness more than anything. Also, clearly I knew I had done something bad if I was asking for an immunity necklace in the first place… maybe she always felt I learned from my own mistakes. Which I did. Usually.
Then there are other times when you think about telling someone about something that you did. You play it through your head a hundred times. “How will they react? Mad? Indifferent?” “How much ‘cute’ should I lay on him?” Until finally it just comes out. Other times, you tell him in a blog post, like I just-so-happened to do with Joe when we were first dating. (See: An okay day in corporate land).
Which brings us to the today, where I need to tell someone something I’ve done. It isn’t bad. In fact, I think it is really awesome. But I’m nervous about it because I’m buying a condo and apparently I should be more fiscally responsible. Plus, it is probably mostly Joe’s fault anyway for even getting me started on twitter in the first place.
So what did I do? I backed a kickstarter. A kick-ass kickstarter. I backed the Veronica Mars Movie. [This is where Joe says to himself, “but Kate, I already knew you backed it, you told me yesterday”]. Now that I’m a “backer” though… I get all the update emails. Including the one that said they released more/new rewards for backers, including tickets to the movie premiere and after party. And luck would have it, that since I was at the gym like a good girl because I promised Joe I would go, I was on my iPad and saw the email come in right away.
On my sprint/slow walk back carefully, carefully considering what I was about to do… I tried calling Joe. Just to like, run it by him. But, he didn’t answer. And then I remembered I’m a big girl and don’t need to ask permission. So, in what some may call the heat of the moment, I pledged for that reward and am damn sure proud of it.
In an effort to curb my depression, Joe and I have a rule that there is to be no TV watching unless it is dark out. The one exception is if we are at a rooftop bar and baseball is on.
So, when I got home today, I was like “ahh.. I just want to sit down and watch some terrible Gossip Girl. Oh crap. It’s still light out.” Then I began rationalizing that maybe it is just a rule we enact once we are in our new condo. Which is my way of telling the world our offer was accepted and we are buying a condo!
Anyway, it is already 6:30 and it is still light out which seriously makes me a happy camper. I doubled my medication in November when things were starting to get bad… just waking up in the morning was a trial. And it really helped. Except now I’ve gone back to normal because it is getting light out and I’m just so excited for summer.
Anyway, I’m going a little crazy about condo planning stuff, and, if you are like me and totes love pinterest, I invite you to check out my “dream home” board because its got all my most favorite things. Include sinks that don’t aerate because in reality, who wants that? http://pinterest.com/katekate20/dream-house/
During my semester at NYU, I took a class titled “Museums and Galleries of NYC.” In the course of visting nearly a hundred museums and galleries, one artist stuck out to me. It was at this exhibition at the Sloan Fine Art Gallery – “The Only Living Boy in New York.” I fell in love with his work from the moment I saw it, and have been coveting a peice ever since (not a specific one… just something in general).
Chris Berens is his name. He is from the Netherlands. I’m not like an art connoisseur or anything (even though I did read Seven Days in the Art World), so I don’t have tons to say about his technique. It’s just something about his work that speaks to me.
One day I think I’ll stumble upon the most perfect piece, probably from his “Lion Heart” series. Because they are beautiful.
I’ve always loved Christmas. And my birthday. Mostly just winters in general because all of the best holidays fall within it. I think it boils down to the fact that I love to celebrate. Whether it is Easter or my best friend’s birthday – I’m first to arrive and the last to leave.
Which is why it was such a shock for me to learn that Easter actually falls on a Sunday. The Bunny always came on Monday evening – why on earth would he come so late? Same with Valentine’s Day. We always celebrated on the 15th. Totally normal, right?
My mother created this lovely illusion that holidays’ fell after they actually did. What sounds terrible from the eye of an onlooker, was really joy in the eye of a child. Anything on a discount meant I got that much more. 20% off? 20% more! 70% clearance candy? Yes, I will have 70% more please.
So, when “santa” came a couple days after Christmas, I wasn’t even taken aback. I got a few great gifts – fake barbie dolls and a few coloring books. But… why was Christmas coming for a second time? Hadn’t Santa already left the loot?
Somehow I knew that it was really Toys for Tots bringing me my presents. But, Toys for Tots didn’t mean anything to me. Sure, we were on welfare and sure, I was in a single parent household… but… does that warrant free Christmas gifts?
To this day I struggle with it. I feel so less deserving than kids that truly grow up in rough times… Yet, I didn’t grow up in a basket of roses. Was Toys for Tots created for children like me? Am I really the target audience?