Levels
I believe my levels are off. Which levels, I cannot say…just that “they” are “off.”
I have been swinging between complete hopelessness and anxiety with, well, myself, to brief moments of “I can do it!” accompanied by trumpets. I don’t feel like writing, or moving, or doing anything relatively interesting except for maybe sleeping. And perhaps I want to sleep because I haven’t been doing much of that lately. This lack of sleep could be due to bad Feng Shui, or maybe just a couple of Satan’s kittens who believe that breaking votives in the middle of the night is a hilarious game.
And for all intents and purposes, I should be on Cloud 9 (or perhaps 9 3/4, which is way more cool and magical) since I just landed a new job which has kick-ass benefits, great retirement, and oh yes…pays for part of my school. I have a great apartment, an amazing boyfriend and cute, fuzzy animals. Instead, I just feel like crawling in bed for a nap, say, for the rest of my life.
I don’t ever remember feeling this run down or useless…and I spent a year at the Word of Life Bible Institute, which is sort of like a work camp for Baptists. I’m checking into possible causes, and I’ve come up with some options:
1.) a severe case of almost-thirty lameness (it’s very, very possible that I am just a boring individual, and I am just now coming to terms with this fact)
2.) a lack of identity apart from major life turmoil (I am not involved in the theatre anymore, nor divorcing anyone, nor making poor choices with my finances…so WHO AM I????)
3.) hypothyroidism (my mom and sister both have this, and dammit, I think it makes you fat)
Wait! Wait! And now I’m almost finished writing and I’m starting to feel a bit better. No, wait…gone.
Maybe I’m just depressed because of Palin’s “foreign policy experience.” Did you know she’s very experienced because sometimes Russian jets fly through Alaskan air space, and, you know, you just gotta, well, know what to do? Or maybe I’m just super glad that the American people now own AIG. Neat.