The long dark teatime of the soul

That's what Douglas Adams called 3 am. It's only 1:17 am, but I'm already feeling that way.

Almost finished page 19 of Girl Genius, though, which would catch me up to this coming Monday's strip. I'm still not sure I'll make my next week's deadlines. Death looks mighty appealing right now as opposed to that kind of failure. [/half-joking mode]

Why is admitting defeat so inconceivable? Why not just throw in the towel? Why am I typing this instead of painting?

Questions that may never be answered. *sigh*

The Scarlet Letter

(Just because it's a neat subject line. Nothing to do with Hester Pryne.)

This post is, however, about a letter: specifically, the email I just sent to Kaja confessing that I am still in rough shape and asking her WHEN the specific page deadlines are so that I'll know if I'm about to miss them. I didn't come out and say I might miss a deadline, but I think it was pretty strongly implied.

I'm back swinging the cat on Girl Genius, having no idea why it's wracking me up so badly to do it.

Seroquil, My Love

Finished 3/4 of a Girl Genius page. Took a Seroquil at 4 pm, thus applying a soft two-by-four to the front of my brain. Crashed for four hours. Woke up, ate, actually went out for coffee with George (even though at first the idea actually made me cry). Wandered around the Little Italy neighborhood, found a 2 CD copy of the Les Mis Broadway soundtrack at a used CD/DVD store. Considered picking up Emancipation by Prince, but did not -- will pick up the few songs whose lyrics interest me on mp3. On the way home, stopped at the Second Cup to have coffee on the patio. Ran into Tom, who runs "Bread and Circuses". Discussed many things, including diabetic impact of some of their desserts and other products (note to self: apparently their dark rye bread is used by several diabetics who frequent the store because of its high fibre content). Finished coffee, came back home feeling a little better.

On the walk, George and I talked about how my overall mood has deteriorated over the last several months. It's because of several things, including turning 40, being diagnosed with diabetes, and the death of Micawber (yes, it still hurts a lot), but I've got to get a handle on it or it might very well kill me. Dr. Simm suggested I go back into the regular weekly DBT course, so I have a request in to my psych nurse at Health Sciences; hopefully when she gets back from vacation in a couple of weeks she'll look into it for me.

Also, got a "you have mail at the post office" notice in our mailbox. Ooh? I didn't think I had any more packages coming to me... curious. When I go out tomorrow to pay a few bills and do some running around (oh, lordy, here come the tears again), I'll need to check that out.