mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My teenage angst entry... at age 27. Hey, guys... Sorry I haven't updated lately. I had some special duty stuff to do last week. All week long. Six days of it, actually. Straight. No days off. Yeah. It sucked. But it wasn't too bad because I had a two hour lunch break every day, which, in my book, equals a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an hour-forty-five for nap time. The weather's been grey and bleak for the past four or five days. It has looked a lot like a 1950s movie. Cold, dark, black and white, ice covering leafless trees. Even the pines have forgiven themselves of the burden to show color. When the chance comes along that we do see blue sky, we only have about six or so hours of daylight per day. 'Tis the season to be fucking jolly. I've been having my head problems (depression, for those of you who don't know) worse and worse over the past month to month and a half. It's the Grendel to my brain's Heorot. It has completely broken through the meds and is doing lots of damage. I guess even Beowulf was killed in the end. There are also things that go on up in there that I haven't ever told anybody about. Why? They'd put me in the loony bin, for one thing. I'd also get that weird stare and slow, loud, paced out speak that people give others that have this thing. It wouldn't be pleasant. But it's been getting just as bad as the depression. It's a condition I've had for... gosh... just as long as the depression. I've adjusted to it. It came in a lot more gradually than the depression, so I wasn't thrown off. I don't want to say what it is because it isn't diagnosed. No way am I going to let someone diagnose it. It just sucks, but I have to live with it. I don't know if it is the lack of daylight, a sudden relapse of the disease, stress, or something else that has spawned the latest attack, but it is getting increasingly hard to deal with reality. I don't want to talk with anybody about it because I don't want to burden them. This is a very happy season for a lot of people. If I could just lock myself in my room, turn off all of the lights, and pretend the rest of the world has disappeared, I think I would feel better. I'm just glad Christina never reads this. She would be worried, and I would then feel bad about making her feel worried. They say light never escapes black holes. I think I'm the first person to experience it from the first person perspective. Sorry this is such a downer of an entry. I was the Santa Claus for the weather squadron's Kid's Christmas Party on Saturday. Never before have I felt like a celebrity than when I walked in there. I might as well have been the resurrected Elvis walking into a midget convention in Las Vegas. These kids FREAKED. OUT! The parents secretly brought their kids a Christmas present and put it in a bag for me to bring in and say it was from my little elves. Except the bag I carried in wasn't the big, red bag you typically see in storybooks and cartoons. It was a Hefty Hefty Cinch Sack�. The kids didn't mind because they were getting their loot. They were all cute as buttons and loved having Santa calling them by name and giving them presents they mysteriously asked for. This one little girl kept coming up over and over to tell me things she wanted for Christmas. I ended up telling her what I wanted instead of milk and cookies: Liver and onions with a coffee cup full of ketchup. She made a scrunched up face and said, "Ewww." I expect an email in the next few weeks wondering why they have to put out a cup of ketchup. Christina got onto me for ruining kids' idea of Santa. I don't know about the real Santa, but I know I would get sick of millions of stale, cold cookies and room-temperature milk. Liver and onions isn't really good at all, but it would even out the blood sugar rush at least a little bit that fifty million cookies would cause. I bet Santa has diabetes like a mofo. He's not the poster figure for gastronic health, if you know what I mean. They should print a picture of Santa getting his legs amputated due to loss of circulation from eating way too much sugar over the years. You want to get kids to act a certain way, threaten them with repurcussions from Santa. You want them to loose weight? Show Santa wheeling himself around the North Pole without legs because of diabetes. That'll learn'em. I've been swimming a lot lately. Well... a lot, to me, means twice in a week and a half. I have been swimming laps mostly. And, for some reason, it makes my neck feel like I paid Barry Bonds to swing his steriod-fueled bat across my neck. It hurts like what I imagine whiplash would feel like. But it isn't keeping me away from the pool. The pool is indoors. The place where I go has a "sportbad" or an olympic-sized pool for diving and swimming laps. They also have a waterpark thingie for fun swimming that has a wave pool, lazy river, and water slides. One fun thing about the waterpark is that a little jet of it goes outside. Where it is 20 degrees. The water is nice and warm, but your hair gets a little crispy if you stay out there too long. It's brisk, baby. I think I may go back tonight. I've been wanting to hit the naked spa. I haven't done that in a while. Ok. That's it. Sorry for the whining and crying up top. Sometimes ya just have to let it out, ya know? 9:04 a.m. - Tuesday, Dec. 14, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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