dianaschnuth

I’ve mentioned this before, but I hate having effed-up dreams wherein Aaron and I have weird relationship issues. Even though I know we’re perfectly fine in our marriage, it always makes me wonder if my subconscious is seeing something I’m not.

Last night, dream-Aaron and I got married after having done a courthouse wedding a week or so before. (That was an odd dream sequence in many ways, but not particularly disturbing.) Then we went out and partied, but the bar was playing a song that Aaron associated with bad memories from high school, so we left and went elsewhere. Later on, he left me alone to go hang out with some guy friends and have a bachelor party of sorts. I wandered the streets alone, and found him some time afterward standing in a doorway with a friend or two, smoking a freshly-lit cigarette — which I immediately called him on.

Both before and after the bachelor party, I remember that we had some serious and deep dream-conversations about us. I don’t remember what they were about, specifically, but I awoke disturbed and uneasy.

This couldn’t all stem from the fact that I didn’t do the dishes last night like I told Aaron I would… could it?

Aaron went back to work today, after two weeks of vacation. Two weeks of coming home to my honey at 5:15pm and not having him leave for work fifteen minutes later. Two weeks, granted, of being less productive than I should have in the evenings, thanks to spending quality time with my honey.

I should be happy tonight, though. I have a job lead that is (bad news) a good 40-minute commute away, but (good news) would pay literally double my current salary. I should be so effing stoked right now.

Instead? I’m in a weird, lonely, unmotivated mood. I’ll probably curl up in front of the Food Network shortly, and call my evening a wash.

My husband is on vacation for the next two weeks. We should be having snoo-snoo EVERY NIGHT, given that we usually see one another for a grand total of 15 minutes on the weekdays, and this Evening Togetherness thing is quite a treat.

Instead? Yesterday I made myself too much dinner, and ended up too full to… well, you know. This evening, I’ve been totally exhausted, on top of having the most fascinatingly uncomfortable gas cramps. (TMI? Yeah, I know.)

So, yeah. I feel like a doofus. Tomorrow is aikido and zen meditation, both of which I should really attend, since I didn’t go at all last week. But that means I won’t get home until 9pm. Assuming I don’t feel like this tomorrow evening, that is; if I do, there’s no way in hell I’m going to aikido.

Dammit. I go off The Pill to get my libido back and stop being so goddamn cranky, and now we can’t even manage to have Happy Time at all.

*sigh*

I have another week and a half to get my mojo going. Plus a camping trip on Sunday. If that doesn’t at least engender some grab-ass… I dunno.

When blogs first went mainstream several years back, there were a couple of complete strangers whose blogs intrigued me. Not because we had a lot in common — I don’t know that we had *anything* in common — but because their designs were eyecatching, and mainly because the authors were so intentionally vague. The ambiguity of their posts made me wonder about them, and read more. Eventually, I found answers to some of my more basic questions: age, orientation, relationship status, things like that. But the topics of each post remained purposefully unknown.

I don’t have very many vague strangers whose blogs I read anymore; most of them are either not vague at all (except with given names), or they’ve gone AWOL. One person whose blog I used to frequent has stopped blogging altogether; I grew bored with another’s continual daily two-line ultra-depressed teasers with no informational or emotional payoff. With the advent of friends-locked entries and (relatively) secure social networking sites (and a distinct lack of interesting design in free blogs, which was what drew me to view certain blogs in the first place), there’s little chance I’ll ever completely recapture the odd sort of voyeurism I once enjoyed.

Every now and then, though, I read an intentionally vague entry by an acquaintance or a complete stranger, and I’m reminded of that delicious confusion in putting the puzzle together. “Isn’t he living with his wife? Don’t they have a kid? Why is he mentioning seeking out sexual relationships, then? Who is [insert cryptic name here], and how does he know her?” And so forth.

Many people are more guarded about their secrets than I.

1. I am, in fact, currently depressed. This is for a number of reasons, both biological and circumstantial. Yes, I am PMS-ing, but I am also surrounded by people at my work who either a.) have interviews lined up, or b.) have definite jobs lined up. This is a big part of my depression, being that my ego thinks I’m so much more worthy than many of these people. (James: not you, necessarily, although I do admit to a touch of jealousy at your pimp-ass DBA gig.)

   Yes, I know that the solution is to apply for more jobs, and to eventually secure one. This brings me to:

2. I have now officially applied for seven jobs. Of these, I have received one “hire” (just got the check for last month’s task of worthiness today) for undervalued part-time website coding; one request for an interview that never got to the scheduling stage for some reason (on their part); and one polite and standard e-mail confirmation. I have no room to bitch until I reach at least one dozen apps out, and until I’ve followed up with every blessed one of them at least once. I haven’t applied for anything I haven’t gone all googley-eyed for when I read it, since I don’t want to settle on another sucky job. Yet.
3. My computer now has 2GB of RAM. This makes me somewhat happier. You want systems experience, do ya? I installed my new RAM in probably three minutes, and that was including the minute that I stared stupidly at the RAM before I remembered that there’s only one way it’ll fit in the slot. That was $130 well spent.

Addendum to #1: One person at my work chose: option c.) quitting work entirely to be with her newborn son. She’s one of those who is very open with her feelings, and has shared with everyone her incredulity at the amount of love she has for her son. Being that she sits one cube over from me, the sound of her joy is rarely out of my range of hearing. This, of course, makes me sad. (If you don’t know why, you missed this post in January.) I think this has a big part to play in my current depression, whether consciously or subconsciously.

All I know is that I’m getting seriously pissed at being so depressed. My depression always manifests in overeating and not giving a shit (about overeating and about Life In General). Therefore, even being pissed about being depressed is only mildly helpful, until the anger and frustration outweighs the depression. In any case, I wouldn’t want to be around me right now.