A Beer at Midnight
Just got home from working a very quiet 2nd shift, and am probably too spaced out to start writing, but now I've started. I'm just not ready for bed, is all.
Today I started to do some heavy duty organizing in the second bedroom upstairs, because I plan on setting up a studio area up there. Right now the room houses my books, clothes, unpacked miscellaneous crap from moving in October, my desktop computer, file cabinet, and a big ol' chair donated to me by my landlady.
The chair, unfortunately, has to go to make room for my art crap. It's one of those really boxy 1930's chairs, was reupholstered in the 1970's with this surprisingly nice pea-green woven stuff. It's super cute but takes up a ton of room. Sorry, cool old chair. I tried.
I decided today that I need to find a way to divest of, say, 1/3 of my stuff. At least. 1/2 would be better. I mean, I have these boxes filled with junk I haven't needed in 3 months. It almost goes without saying that I have too many clothes and books. And shoes. And records. Ya know, vinyl. Heavy-ass shit.
My loose plan is to turn this place over to my sister when I move again. She can keep most of the furniture, including my king-size bed, which I adore, but I'm not moving that fucker down the stairs. I think I've also loosely decided that I will stay here until I find myself wanting to marry or live with someone. That's a very broad time frame.
Yeah, really, the talk of getting rid of shit and giving it away has nothing to do with suicidal urges, something you may have wondered, if only momentarily, after reading the post previous to this. I've stated before I would never intentionally kill myself.
Something I think I've figured out about my current wave of depression - it has a lot to do with not being in a regular work pattern and schedule. I mean, I do work 40+ hours a week, frequently six or more days in a row because of the way the work week is divided - but it's all different hours at all different places. Usually three different places a week. I'm technically "on call".
I have learned with certainty that I do not thrive in the midst of chaos. I love wacky shit - but I function better with a regular work schedule. Part of it is that my mind is usually ready to float off on a tangent to begin with, so having the grounding that comes from a certain number of predictable hours and expectations really helps me. I just feel more relaxed. I'll be applying for numerous positions that have come up recently, so hopefully I'll be where I want to be in that regard sooner rather than later.
It's part of the reason I'm holding my breath about taking medication. One, I might feel better once things feel more regular and settled. Two, if they don't, I'll have insurance to defray the cost of professional help.
Sorry for offering such a journal-ish entry tonight. Thanks for reading it, anyway.
Today I started to do some heavy duty organizing in the second bedroom upstairs, because I plan on setting up a studio area up there. Right now the room houses my books, clothes, unpacked miscellaneous crap from moving in October, my desktop computer, file cabinet, and a big ol' chair donated to me by my landlady.
The chair, unfortunately, has to go to make room for my art crap. It's one of those really boxy 1930's chairs, was reupholstered in the 1970's with this surprisingly nice pea-green woven stuff. It's super cute but takes up a ton of room. Sorry, cool old chair. I tried.
I decided today that I need to find a way to divest of, say, 1/3 of my stuff. At least. 1/2 would be better. I mean, I have these boxes filled with junk I haven't needed in 3 months. It almost goes without saying that I have too many clothes and books. And shoes. And records. Ya know, vinyl. Heavy-ass shit.
My loose plan is to turn this place over to my sister when I move again. She can keep most of the furniture, including my king-size bed, which I adore, but I'm not moving that fucker down the stairs. I think I've also loosely decided that I will stay here until I find myself wanting to marry or live with someone. That's a very broad time frame.
Yeah, really, the talk of getting rid of shit and giving it away has nothing to do with suicidal urges, something you may have wondered, if only momentarily, after reading the post previous to this. I've stated before I would never intentionally kill myself.
Something I think I've figured out about my current wave of depression - it has a lot to do with not being in a regular work pattern and schedule. I mean, I do work 40+ hours a week, frequently six or more days in a row because of the way the work week is divided - but it's all different hours at all different places. Usually three different places a week. I'm technically "on call".
I have learned with certainty that I do not thrive in the midst of chaos. I love wacky shit - but I function better with a regular work schedule. Part of it is that my mind is usually ready to float off on a tangent to begin with, so having the grounding that comes from a certain number of predictable hours and expectations really helps me. I just feel more relaxed. I'll be applying for numerous positions that have come up recently, so hopefully I'll be where I want to be in that regard sooner rather than later.
It's part of the reason I'm holding my breath about taking medication. One, I might feel better once things feel more regular and settled. Two, if they don't, I'll have insurance to defray the cost of professional help.
Sorry for offering such a journal-ish entry tonight. Thanks for reading it, anyway.
posted by Black Egg at 12:14 AM
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