So, uh, I'm a less than impressed to report that I spent most of last week in quite a bit of a funk.
As in a sit around feeling sorry for myself not getting anything done funk. You know what's lame about that? It gets me absolutely nowhere. I can whine all I want about life giving me some bad cards, but it doesn't change anything. I'm just sitting around with the same hand waiting for the world to change for me. Which just doesn't work.
This coming week is going to be different. The weekend is a break, as usual. I'm not holding myself to any promises. But during the week? I want to be back to at least 10-15 resumes out (a couple a day, average) plus some other stuff. I'm hopefully going to go visit an old roommate on Tuesday, so we can hang around, play games and catch up.
I miss this chick like crazy. It's like that with most of my friends from university: I miss them, but we just aren't in the same places to make hang outs easy. It's all intercity busses, and for some of them it's plane rides in between. The unfortunate thing is that these are generally the people who know me inside out, who know how I act and react and what I want and need out of life. The people who know when to tell me to put on my big girl shoes and get over myself, or if it's just time to let me cry for awhile.
My best friends, almost without exception, come from this time in my life. These are the peopel who where there with me during growing, exploring and fun. During more than one mental breakdown and fuck it moment. It's just a different quality of friendship, during that giant emotional growth spurt wherein you are just reaching to figure out those things that define you as who you are. 3am crying jags, essay all nighters, strange explorations of city, self and mental state, partying so hard you've never known the like. I feel like people who knew me in university, and still know me, have this kind of before/during/after picture where they know about how I got to be who I am, and understand and appreciate that.
Where they can see a little glimpse into who I might continue to become, in a way that many people can't.
They know the weird little things about me. Like how sometimes even if I'd really like help they need to offer because I just won't ask. They know that I love napping in other people's beds, but only while the bed owner is in the room and a good friend. How I adore shopping but am not ok with the spending money part. That even though I'm not a woo girl I do know how to party - and also that if I'm saying "no" to a drink or a night out that it's probably because I can't handle it (and they know how those nights end if I do go out). They know that my mind works in a slightly oddball manner and I think about things from a slightly skewed viewpoint. That I'd much rather smoke a joint than have a glass of wine. That I can't have a beer, on fear of death. (Literally). How even though I'm a bitch at times, I care probably too much about the people who matter.
I could really, really use more quality time with these people. I saw L last week, and I'm very excited to see A potentionally this week. She's pretty much a "kindred spirit", as Anne of Green Gables would say, and I think we are both aching for some time together.