Holy shit am I depressed. I transported myself back to 1997 for that last post, and 18 year old me decided to stick around a wee bit longer. I was up until past 6am this morning watching fucking anime because I couldn't think of anything better to do, and that included sleep. It still took me almost an hour to fall asleep, and the suns rays were peeking around my window blinds by the time my eyes shut for good.

I am back at the point where I feel like a total fucking loser because I'm not popular enough or something. It's so hard to explain how I'm feeling right now, but nice of it to drop by while I basically have no health insurance and no money and arghfuck. Or maybe that's part of the reason why my emotions have gone down the drain. Hello any future employers: want to hire me now? Also? Clue: perhaps depressed people shouldn't go out and drink alcohol. You know, because it's a depressant.

I have let things get away from me, and I just need to reign everything in again.

Hopefully back to the regularly scheduled non-whining fuckwittage eventually, but I make no promises. I'm going to sit here in my robe and watch some more teevee-on-computer because I don't feel like getting up to get breakfast yet. Yes, breakfast at 1.10pm. Judge away.

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I step into the shower to wash away the scent of a night at the bar. The hot water cascades around me, and I

Look in the shaving mirror and see someone beautiful, lips full and cheekbones abrasive. In my mind, my life is much more dramatic. Me, such a non-dramatic person. I have feelings and issues that are life-changing, but I can't explain them to anyone around me, for fear of judgment and reprisal.

In reality, I see tired blue eyes, possibly more gray than blue, ready for bed, with deep impressions underneath, which should melt away with the morning.

In my mind, I have 2 options, one more interesting than the first, possibly, but even less realistic than those options available in real life. I see adventure, desires, fulfillment, everything, all divided into two.

In reality, I see 2 options as well, one conquering all, the other stifling. I feel the eventuality of alone, alone, alone.

Or have I just been reading too much Sylvia Plath? (Always a reason, ne?)

I step out of the shower and hold the towel to my face, breathing in the scent of fabric softener, clean again.

Good after-midnightish: I have a rather bad bout of insomnia. This is completely unsurprising, however, considering that I spent the time between 8:30 this morning and 12:30 this afternoon attempting to sleep, only to be waked every 15-20 minutes by The Miscarriage and the copious amount of pain it is causing my internal organs. I think I have now basically gone through something v. similar to labor (without actually going through it, natch), as the pain came on quite suddenly, splitting my body into 2 lovely-feeling parts (a head and a pair feet) with a canyon of stabbing and "fuck, ow" and burning, burning and an attempt at doing some Lamaze-ish breathing until it subsided, about 3 minutes later (but really an eternity later) and I was able to get on with my life as a whole person, head, feet, and everything in between.

Enough with the run-on sentences, shall we? And on to something completely different!

A confession:
Due to unforeseen circumstances, I feel like a huge sellout right now. Earlier this evening, I, with no gun pointed at my head, typed "Britney Spears" into the search engine at the iTunes store. After perusing her discography, I selected an album to purchase: Greatest Hits: My Prerogative. I downloaded said album, loaded it onto my iPod, and went about doing some household chores before getting into bed (and we all know how well that part worked out). I made the bed to the (not v. well done) cover of the Bobby Brown classic (lyrics still known by heart from 1991, thankyouverymuch), flossed and brushed to Toxic, did the mouthwash thing to I'm A Slave 4 U, folded towels to Oops... I Did It Again, and skipped past Me Against The Music, Stronger, and Everytime (is that the one she did about breaking up with Justin?) to ...Baby One More Time, which I played twice in succession while putting away dishes and feeding the cat.

Being a notorious eye-roller wherever Britney is concerned, I'm trying to figure out where in the hell I learned all of the lyrics to her songs, at least the Top-10 stuff. Then it hit me: Zach. 1998ish: We were in Seattle, sitting on the beds at the Travelodge 2 blocks from the Space Needle when ...Baby One More Time came on the clock radio, and Zach turned that shit right on up, sang along, and blah blah blah. Since then, most of our friends have subjected me to at least 1 video of hers, played on repeat for a week or so until the synapses between blobs of gray matter in my head were pulsing with the beat, and we went on to something else. Why, pop culture, why? I have finally succumbed to the temptation and I'm afraid to even play the album over proper speakers, lest it be heard by the husband or someone else I know. So for now I'll continue listening in private via headphones and possibly in my car...

Off to eat something so I can take a little white pill that will hopefully help me go to sleep and not wake up with the dreaded body-tearing cramps tomorrow morning. Also? I kind of have this creepy feeling that someone is watching me through the living room window, so I have to hide in the dark while I'm eating, away from the glow of the monitor.

Ciao

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Boy, what a raucous time this has been. It's finally time for me to write something down about what's been going on; I can't put it off any longer. Ben has just left to do some work at his office, and the cross-alley neighbor has been vacuuming her car for the past hour. Seriously. She must have had a dust storm or a very stinky body littering her vehicle.

I found out this last Wednesday that... well... there was never a baby inside of me. More specifically, there was a placenta, but no embryo. So, as I sit here typing at my desk, my body is rejecting and ejecting some bits in what is commonly called a miscarriage. I've been really silent about this with even my close friends (and I haven't had the heart to call my mom about it yet), as I don't deal with sympathy well. I've never felt comfortable actually accepting others' sympathy towards me, not that I've had many experiences in my life that would cause such an outpour from those around me. The main issue now is actually dealing with the fact that I now have to put forth some kind of communication to all of those people we told when we found out I was pregnant. I'm not sure how much longer I can put it off, so I'm kind of hoping that everyone will just check this website and keep the comments to him/herself. It's really my fault for letting the excitement get the better of me - there's a reason a lot of women keep things quiet until after the 3-month mark.

Uncomfortable dealings aside, I'm pretty okay with it. I mean, it really kind of sucks in a way that's rather unexplainable, but supposedly this has no bearing on my future abilities of popping out puppies, so as long as that's the case, whatever. I spent the remainder of Wednesday after my doctor appointment crying my eyes out and stuffing myself with raw fish and sake. Take that, miscarriage! Now that I can eat all the stuff I wasn't supposed to be eating and I can drink all of the hard alcohol in the house, I'm having to limit my intake of such things, as to not start destructive habits. I had the want for a cigarette for about 5 minutes, and once that was over I was grossed out again. So that's that.

On the up side, I had a fantastic interview with the No. 1 company I want to work for on Friday that will hopefully equate to a job within the next couple of weeks here. I plan on getting called again to come in for a face-to-face interview, at which point they will be wowed by my charming personality and brilliance in general, and will offer me a highly-paid position immediately. I'll let you know how that goes. Being unemployed really really really sucks. I'm trying to not let it get me down so much, but it's just really fucking hard to do anything but. I keep expecting to win the lottery, but I always forget to purchase tickets.

That's all for this week. I think I'm going to get another coffee. As long as I can keep a caffeine high during the day and a slight alcoholic haze after the sun goes down, I should be able to get over all of this bullshit unscathed.

xox,
Devlyn

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