August 18, 2007

Yang.

It's been unrelenting positivity on this blog since I got to Portland. Just about every post I've made since moving has been enthusiastically categorized as "this is precisely what the fuck I'm talking about". But people who've known me for more than ten seconds tend to figure out that there's a limit to how long I can sustain that. Hence: tonight.

I'm sulky about getting blown off last night by someone I was trying to meet, and I came home melodramatically exhausted and depressed and lay supine on the couch wishing for the universe to sense my need for dinner and provide it for me. It didn't happen, so I went upstairs and tried it again on my bed. This led naturally to my waking up at 11:30 feeling ravenous, disoriented, and if anything more exhausted and depressed than before. For some reason neither of my roommates has come home yet, including the one who told me at lunchtime that she wasn't going out tonight, and my phone is mysteriously failing to contain any messages from the person who should be calling to apologize for being such a jerk yesterday.

In this spirit I give you Dianna, sitting alone in her large and empty house at midnight on Friday night, listlessly eating toast and listening to the Smiths and suddenly feeling the 629 miles separating her from the nearest person likely to give her a hug. It's all very well to be brave and independent when it's high summer -- even in Portland -- but what am I going to do in November in the gloom and cold when every day feels like this? There was bound to be a point at which my beloved Portland project started to seem questionable, and that point is right about... now.

Last night my renting roommate tried to tell me that because I am a Taurus, I'm loyal and have good follow-through. It's because of statements like these that I'm not becoming any more convinced of the legitimacy of her astrological assumptions than I ever have been; I'm hardly an objective judge of my own character, but once in a while I manage to recognize the glaring emptiness where a trait should be. For instance: the reason my friends aren't around to make me feel better is that I have, as ever, nonchalantly ditched them to go do something else. What are you going to say to that, daily horoscope?

Posted by dianna at August 18, 2007 01:03 AM
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