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So as I was driving home today from work, I realized something: I think I'm a little depressed. A lot of things are coming to head a bit too fast (or slowly) for me, and it's freaking me out a bit. Not "I'm going to stay in my bed for a week, and then when I'm strong enough hurt myself in some way to end up back in an asylum" freaking out, but more like "I need to get a life of my own" freaking out.

I tried to cheer myself up by listening to the B-52s, but even "strobelight" didn't work. So I put on the Carpenters in all their beautiful, inherent depressingness.

Things have just been making me feel weird lately. While I haven't been unemployed for the third week now, and will be unemployed again in less than two weeks, and I think I might have fucked up a permanent gig by returning to my old, temporary job. (This, of course, is theoretical and all in my head since I haven't heard back from the ad agency in over a week and they may very well not think I'm some fuck-up they shouldn't hire.) I've been having no success in my freelance work, either.

My best friend Tanya and her boyfriend are moving to Dallas, and even though she says it's not that far away, it really, really is. Especially for me. You're talking about someone who won't drive to Brownsville to see his friend Elvia, the only friend I've retained since middle school and haven't seen since 1999, because, well, Brownsville is fucking far away and no matter how much I miss her, I don't want to make that fucking drive because it's a fucking hassle. Dallas is worse. I hate Dallas. I hate the mess of going to Dallas. And I hate Dallas. Which means I won't be able to see Tanya and Matt as much as I'd like. It means no more sporadic trips to San Antonio so Tanya and I can go window shopping (or shopping when there's money), no more trips to the mall so we can go to Williams Sonoma (white-people food), no one to tell me (in person) that drinking Lone Star is bad and leaves a banana aftertaste, no one to watch Fat Actress with and marvel at the insanity of Mayim Bialik (ok, so we only did that once), no one to have Sex and the City marathons with, no one to get my private jokes, no one to tell me my Terri Schiavo jokes are disgusting, no one to tell me about her mother's gay teacher, no one to tell me (in person) "don't be straight." Yeah. That's a lot.

I have to move before the end of the month. I haven't found a place yet. And I'm still procrastinating about it, even though the situation has gone way past the point where I can procrastinate. I've reached the point of "you need to find a place to live or be fucking homeless again," and being homeless is not something I would ever like to be again. But I just can't motivate myself to do it. Also the fact that I know I will be moving all of my stuff on my own. Because I'll have no one to even help me minimally this time. I'm trying to find a way to fit my bed in my car. That's all I have to say on that.

The fact that I have to set up a new local support system is probably what's freaking me out the most, even though I previously posted that it wasn't freaking me out that much. Leanne and I haven't been all that close lately, or in the past year. Rebecca and I were just getting close again, but then I started working again. And I'll be moving to Austin soon, while both of them will still be in San Marcos in school. And that's about it for people I'm close to. I'm kind of disappointed (read: really really really disappointed) with how things turned out with Jennifer. I thought we were really close, or at least getting there, and, well, I haven't heard from her since the end of May. I'm trying to think optimistic about it (and anyone that knows me knows that me thinking or even trying to think optimistic is very, very hard) and say that she's just really into her new guy, or that she's in Costa Rica because she said she might go there. But a part of me just feels like maybe our whole friendship was just a sham, that it's just something I built up and let others build up. Like maybe her and I were never really that good of friends to begin with. And that hurts. And it hurts me to think that I have no close friends, besides Tanya and Matt who are moving far away. And Leanne and Rebecca who have their own lives (and school) to deal with and don't need to be burdened with me. That I've met all these cool people that I'd like to be friends with, even close friends with, but that I still have this fucking mental block up to not let people in, because people hurt you. And these people already have their own lives and don't need another friend or at least a friend like me that really has nothing to bring to the table.

And I haven't felt this self-deprecatory (cq?) in a long time. In fact, recently I was actually feeling good about myself, as opposed to the usual indifference I feel about myself. I was actually feeling like things were going good, things were going my way. And that should have been the first sign that things were going to start to sour and soon.

OK, there are no more words. And I should go to sleep. I just really needed to get this off my chest. I'll be fine. I know I will. I guess all this has just been building up in me, and I don't talk to anyone about it, because I don't wanna be Debbie Downer or anything. But my problem in the past has always been that I don't talk to anyone about this. I don't write about it. So it just stays in me. And that's not healthy. Or at least that's what the therapists I've seen and all the psych classes I've taken have to offer. And things could totally be worse. I could be starving, homeless, and have AIDS in Africa. I could be a paraplegic. I could be in an asylum. I could have been the victim of a hate crime, because, you know, not everyone loves the gays. Or hispanics. Or smokers. Or drinkers. Or men. Or people with glasses. I could have been in a horrible car accident and been left a vegetable, and not a tasty one with sour cream and chives. I know how lucky I am to be alive, to have a job, to have a semblance of friends, to have the luxury of air-conditioning, cable, a computer, Internet access, food, a car, clothes, etc., etc. I just need to focus on all that good stuff. And I mean as in the "lucky" sentence, not the horrible B-52s album. I just needed to get this out in the air.

Now, of course, I know Tom Cruise is going to have to put his two cents in on this ... hey, at least I never lost my sense of humor, eh?