A blue day out

A feeling of depression is on me, as if we were old and near the end of all things.
–Virginia Woolf’s diary, 2 Aug 1924

I spent the day out in Berkeley again today, and I’m left feeling discouraged and tired. For no good reason. Oh, there are plenty of not-so-good reasons, and I’ve often noticed that these can add up to something more depressing than the sum of their parts.

My ATM card malfunctioned and made me late for my haircut appointment. A Greenpeace volunteer urged me to “take action instead of feeling sorry” about things like the oil spill, and though I believe he’s right, it’s hard to know what action to take. I browsed through too many stores and was left hating all material goods. I wanted to get my brows waxed at this one place, but it was closed for the whole week. My dear friend Jason didn’t like Micmacs, which I loved, thus adding to the ever-growing collection of books and movies I adore that he just doesn’t get. Someone I knew in grade school is getting a book published. (It’s unfair to let this discourage me. He’s been writing seriously since college and I’ve only just started.) People talk too loud in quiet tea shops. (Also unfair. I had weekly dates with a friend at the same shop, during college, and we were definitely not quiet.) I read a beautiful book about war, and it made me sad. And, of course, we have to torture our cat twice a day with medications…

That’s all. Nothing major, but all the little things together just got me down. Erik apologized for the necessity of my being out all day, but I think it’s actually a good thing. When I can’t go home, I can’t escape into computer games or the internet or what have you, and I’m forced to just be with my blue emotions and really experience them. But no sketching today… no sketching and only my Morning Pages for writing. One must make some concessions to dejection.