so, at work, i find out that one of my baristas is good friends with an old friend from junior high school who i actually have a long history with and haven't talked to since, well, about 1993. which is kind of sad because he was my best friend in junior high and we spent a lot of time together back then. i actually ran into Friend a few days ago but didn't recognize him. he's changed quite a bit. anyway, i managed, (really wasn't a struggle,) to talk Barista into setting up a small-stakes poker game for which Friend will be present. it's going to be weird seeing him again. good weird, though. he was a nice guy back in The Day. a nice jewish boy, to exercise a cliche. hopefully will be pleasant to catch up.
when i moved here, (why oh why i'll never truly understand,) i swore to myself that i'd avoid my past like one might wish to avoid an angry wombat. (there is surprisingly little difference between my past and an angry wombat, actually. or, for that matter, any smallish marsupial.) but the past, as Utah Phillips wisely said, doesn't go anywhere. and it didn't. i started running into people, literally, the day i arrived here. and it hasn't stopped. i'm still trying to figure out how to be comfortable with it.
on a somewhat different note, i tried taking Celexa again. and was, once again, reminded why i stopped taking Celexa in the first place: i am a poster child for the side effects of this drug. i experience them all. nausea, headache, trembling, palpitations, vertigo, dizziness, intrusive (an extremely disturbing) thoughts, violent and generally bizarre dreams, anorgasmia, appetite disturbances, memory problems, difficulty concentrating, insomnia, restlessness, anxiety, panic attacks, bruxism/teeth-grinding, sweating...the list, impossible as it may seem, goes on. this drug is HELL on me. i don't know why i took it for as long as i did or even how i managed to. the side effects vastly outweigh the intended effect of the drug. it's kind of fucked up when you can honestly say that, given the choice between indescribable sadness, on the one hand, and taking a certain drug, (that doesn't, by the way, so much "lift" the depression as make you an emotionless robot,) to NOT feel said indescribable sadness, you'd pass on the drug. and, if any of you know me, you know that there are very few psychoactive pharmaceuticals i will not use, for whatever reason. so to have a full bottle of Celexa sitting on my desk and knowing i'll never take it again is saying a lot for how shitty those pills make me feel.
what else is new...
oh yes. the agency that is handling my claim sent me a letter a few days ago informing me that they're offering me a lump-sum settlement to close my case. i'm taking it.
and other stuff is new, too. but nothing anyone but me would care to read about.
i got invited to a party this weekend (me? invited to a party? do they know that i play bridge and read books? without pictures in them? for FUN?) and i'm trying to decide whether or not to go. i haven't been invited to a real party since, um, yeah i can't remember when. get-togethers, sure---where the alcohol is fine wines, the company is in their late thirties/early forties, the conversation is a mix of battle-strategics and knitting (they CAN go together,) and everyone is sleepy by midnight. those are the "parties" i love. those are the ones i feel comfortable at. this is, decidedly, not going to be one of those parties. this party is going to be vodka, tequila, a bunch of people from work, a bunch of people who are friends of people from work, (many of whom are under the age of 20, which is problematic in itself,) pizza and chips, and, surely, someone getting naked. yeah, THAT kind of party. i know they won't miss me if i don't show up---on the other hand, if i don't show up, i'll be the ONE person from work who got invited and didn't show. maybe i can make a really, really brief appearance? or maybe i can just BE that loser who would rather stay home and play with her rats and read her National Geographic.
i AM that loser, damnit.
hmm.
i'm going to bed.
