1:54 p.m.||||2001-10-11
once again. kinda in the dark.
I have to admit I am geocities dependent. I love journals here but whenever I want to do one I want GRAPHICS.
Baby up, feed baby, play with baby. Baby gets irate for some reason, fly baby around until he giggles. Baby is sleepy, refuses to sleep. Baby watches mommy make coffee, mommy drinks coffee. Mommy holds baby on lap whilst participating in e-mail chain. tres interessant. Mommy tries repeatedly for hours to get pagebuilder to load, to no avail. Baby and mommy watch, in procession, Teletubbies, Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow. Not all the way through. In fits and spurts.
Sometimes when I'm having a momentary blip in consciousness, I fantasize about being back in college. Many of the people I knew there have gone on to have interesting lives. At one point or another we all co-miserated about what hell, what debt, what point, and then they all went on to make theirs.
Sigh.
I feel old, but then, not really. That shit is SO relative.
I had such a bizarre weekend...played open mic night and had to spend the next coupla days, head in hands, in remorse. Because, I can't drink. Can't handle my liquor. I still feel like crap today, what, four days later? I think what we (friend and self) played went over o.k., I boosted his show more than we really PLAYED my songs...I instantly wished I'd gone up alone....which is in no way a criticism. I just have no balls...
Yesterday like today it was raining and I woke up in such a black mood that I felt real fear. I thought it would turn out to be permanent, a call to Zoloft - wait, that shit made me relapse, too heady. Something. Prosac was the wrong drug for me, also. If Paxil didn't come so highly contraindicated by those I've known who've taken it, I might have considered that.
Why'm I talking about psychotropics? Oh, yeah. I'm not as depressed as I thought. A friend came over and held the baby while I cleaned up, did dishes, marinated chicken, etc., and we talked about fear for a long time...and addiction for a while...and stuff...felt better.
I often feel like: I live in a shoebox. I interract with no-one: I'm not working, I'm at home with a prelingual infant. I am immobile: no car during the weekdays. This place can be like a living tomb. My environment cultivates in me an unhealthy isolation...driving on the weekends is a nightmare - I panic. When we go out, we both overcompensate...not always, but sometimes. Those times are really a reality check, because none of the stakes are the same. It feels like a box I cannot climb out of.
Motherhood is the best thing that ever happened to me but it did NOT give me instant purpose. And while it is defining it is not the thing THAT defines me. So everything is open-ended still. With a nice close-up on consequence.