well, i interviewed. that was over a week ago. still waiting to hear. i've pretty much decided that i'm not getting it; that if they wanted me they would have let me know by now. i have no reason to believe this, outside of the nasty depression that i seem to be slipping into. but that sort of thing is persuasive.
yesterday i pretty much didn't get out of bed. i did, technically, eventually. at about 12:30. but i couldn't find a convincing enough reason to stay out of bed, so i got back in. tried getting out again at about 4, and again found the non-bed world sorely disappointing. so back in i went, and stayed, until my boyfriend came home at 6pm.
he seemed to think it maybe wasn't the healthiest thing for me to lay in bed and be upset and not leave the house all day. and he has a way of convincing me to do things; i don't know, i tend to believe that he has my best interests at heart and knows how to take care of me, even when (and perhaps especially when) i'm really down and out.
so i got up for him, put on shoes for him, left the house for him. and we walked. and walked and walked, places i've never walked before in the neighborhood. and at some point i realized that if we just turned toward the river, according to the map in my head, we'd land smack in the middle of astoria park. lo and behold, we did. and it's beautiful. with the bridges, and the sun just so casting redgold shadows, and the water of the hellgate swirling and daring small vessels to tempt its currents.
i was still sad, but that is a very nice park.
we ended up on ditmars, and being hungry and knowing the area a little, we called up my best friend (who lives up there) and all had dinner together at wave thai. it was a satisfying resolution to a day that had seemed to hold little promise. not that everything was suddenly wonderful; just that with the help of my boyfriend i was able to feel a little bit alive, a little less buried, at least for a few hours that evening.
a huge and heavy weight is still laying on my chest; i can't name it or get my hands around it. i don't want to go to work tonight, or tomorrow night. i don't want to do anything, really, other than get back in bed. but i'm forcing myself to stay up. i got up at 11am today, which was ridiculous seeing as that i spent all day yesterday in bed and then went to bed again at 11pm. of course i couldn't sleep; i spent hours half awake and half dreaming, terrible stress dreams about unsuccessful art shows and coffee shops with no espresso beans. i don't know. it's an exhaustion i can't shake.
but i got up at 11... and then got back in bed. a little before 1 i dragged myself back up, and i'm determined not to lose today like i did yesterday. i only have five hours before work; any more bed time and there won't be anything else for me to do.
so i'm up. i need to go get coffee. i need to go to the studio and work on some paintings. and i need to go to work and not be running late, because that's too stressful a way to start a night shift. i wish that i didn't have to go, but it's probably best that i do.
i just... i'm not going to last long like this. i don't put enough weight on my own endeavors to make them enough to base my life around. which is really a shame, considering how much i have to do, if i would only convince myself that it's worthwhile to do it. i know how much i want to do these things when i don't have the time to touch them; it's only now that i have all the time in the world that i lose sight of my own worth. maybe, deep down, i've actually been convinced that if it doesn't make money it's not "valuable". maybe they did get every little last piece of my soul.
i don't know.
you tell me.