Depression on the 1 to 10

I went running this evening for the first time in months. Mainly because I've felt like crying for the last 24 hours and I can't seem to shake it.

A few months ago, when I found myself swimming in sadness more than was legitimately healthy, I started thinking about suicide. Not actually contemplating it for myself, heavens no, but really just thinking about how it didn't seem entirely implausible for other people to off themselves, and how I was kind of surprised more people didn't pull the trigger, so to speak.

I remember thinking that you never hear about people who go out hiking or jogging or something and then decide to kill themselves. And maybe (this is just a guess here, I have done zero research to back this up) if some of those people who decided to jump off a bridge had decided to take themselves on a long walk in the woods first, maybe they would make another choice at that final grim moment. Which led me to the conclusion that if I ever feel really bummed, I should probably get my ass out into the world and get my blood flowing.

I did run the whole way, and my spirits are indeed on the rise, but unfortunately, about 2/3 in, I saw a giant Canada Goose with a bum leg, hobbling around looking awfully pained, and I just about lodged myself into Lake Merritt while my eyes filled with tears. Ridiculous.

My boyfriend told me that he thought I had been physically sick more in the last year than anybody he's known in his whole life. Statements like that don't tend to make the recipient feel much better. And if they're real examine-their-own-lives-to-a-fault type, they'll probably overthink statements like that so much that they create some sort of psychosomatic disease that keeps them sick forever.

This ain't no novel and I'm still not convinced that white type on a black background is indeed easier to read than the other way around, so I'll wrap it up. Fear not, you will not read about a 30-something white woman living in Oakland who slit her throat tonight for no apparent reason. Instead, I'm going to heat up some potatoes that I had previously undercooked (weird), over-easy an egg on top, drench it in green tabasco (the only tabasco that is worth anybody's time, in my opinion), and call it a day. If that doesn't brighten my mood, the nightly antics of a certain Girl Cat and Mr. Meowsers are bound to make me laugh before the gig is up.

I also hope New Orleans wins the football game.

Moments not wasted.

So after all the hemming and hawing, the time has finally come for me to write something on this here blog. Apparently, I started this blog in the year 2008. It is now well past the middle mark of 2010, and it turns out I haven't written a single word.

First off, I have to say it: I hate the word. Blog. Am I alone on this? It's a downright dumb word. Say it out loud. It's awful. Repeat it. Even worse. It gets stuck in my mouth. It sounds fat and ugly and it reminds me of pustules. Still, it looks like this "blog" word is going to stick in the lexicon of my life, so here we are. Blogging away.

Since 2008, I have been trying to come up with a theme for this blog. Bummer for you, invisible readers, I never did. It turns out I don't have too many themes in my life that I'm interested in enough to devote a blog to. So it's just going to go kind of like this: things will happen to me, and I will happen to things, and I will write about it. Fair enough. That puts just enough pressure on me to actually post again. Because if the blog was about food, and I didn't eat anything interesting for a while, I would run the risk of not posting anything again. And if it was a lofty little blog about life and love and journeys (you know, those blogs), then on the days when I feel lazy and languid, again: nothing.

So here we are, then. We'll see how it goes.

By the way, while I was sitting here trying to come up with a title for this first momentous post that didn't sound too holier than thou, my Boy Cat (aka Mr. Meowsers) typed this: "---0y777777777777777777777". So I guess that title is as good as mine. Also of note, my blast-from-the-past BFF Ashley's suggestion was "Sam's Secret Blog," which I also really liked. That was in case she couldn't find it if I decided to write it and hide it, which, at this rate, is entirely possible.

How do people end these things anyway? If I go with any of the usual suspects, I run the risk of sounding like A - a wannabe hip-hop star or B - a misguided guru. I think I'll just use a little ditty I picked up from my dad. It means bye bye for now, and in all the years of hearing him say it, it always made me giggle and roll my eyes simultaneously. So me.

BBFN.