an odd bit of melancholy.

this weekend has been unusual. it's also marked the first time I've felt "depressed" since I started taking anti-depressants over a year ago. the odd thing is, there's really nothing I should be depressed about.

my sleep schedule ended up really messed up. this was unavoidable. I had to drive the boss to auburn at 4am because she was working at her company's golf tournament. since I insisted she work it (ten hours of OT is very valuable in this economy), the least I could do was taxi her too and from. this meant waking up at 4am, driving for two hours, and then going back to bed. I didn't plan on sleeping another five hours, but I did.

I made several attempts to be social this weekend. they all failed. unsurprisingly, it's summer time and people were busy. many were entertaining friends and family from out of town. still more were out of town themselves. it's just disheartening to know that of everyone I know, I couldn't find a single person available to hang out. so I slept more.

now, it's 11:30pm on a sunday, I have to be awake at 6am, and I can't sleep. probably because I slept approximately thirty of the past forty-eight hours.

what also weighs heavily on my mind, for no obvious reason, is the death of a girl I don't know and never would have met anyway. she was the friend of several old friends of mine, most of whom I haven't seen in years, and only really keep in contact because of social media like facebook. I have nothing in common with them anymore, so it's not surprising we rarely see each other. but she was 32, and drowned in a rafting accident. from what I can tell, she was being stupid. no life vest, got caught in some underwater branches or something, and couldn't be resuscitated. playing in rivers this time of year is always dangerous. the water is cold and quick because of snow runoff, and there's always debris just below the surface from spring flooding. I suspect she wasn't the strongest swimmer, and compounding all of this by not wearing a life vest makes it worse. I don't know if alcohol or drugs were involved. probably? even without, there was enough bad ideas in that equation to warrant the bad ending.

so I witnessed a lot of people freaking out and a lot of mourning on social media this weekend, which only added to my awkwardness and ill-feeling. and it's impacted me, despite not knowing the deceased. it hit me the same way it hit everyone else. she was 32. she's dead. it could happen to anyone.

but unlike everyone else, I'm enough of an asshole to recognize I only feel bad because I can put myself, or someone I care about, in her position. I did some searching for stories on the incident online, and saw so many people offering prayers, whatever, for someone they never knew. I find it hard to believe people can be that empathic towards other human beings with no self-interest in the relationship. they all feel bad because it makes them think of their own mortality. they just hide it behind trying to be polite or whatever. really, what does offering prayers do? bupkis.

so I'm in a pissy mood. I have an irrational feeling of being abandoned, and an annoyance about a dead girl. of course my brains adds these together and starts thinking about what would happen if I were that dead girl. and I have a difficult time thinking it would make much impact. my family would be upset. a few friends, sure. but I can't imagine people writing glowing prose about my "beautiful soul" or how much my smile will be missed. and they're probably right. I don't have a beautiful soul, and I don't smile very often. when I do, it's usually mean spirited or at the expense of someone else. but I remember back to my grandfather's funeral, and how the preacher sat there and lied to the congregation about how wonderful a husband and father he was, and it has me wondering if ANYONE ever actually means what they say about the deceased. how can you tell who is sincerely missed, and who is just getting lipservice for the sake of social politeness?

I've been thinking about kids a lot lately too. I'm in the midst of a baby boom. I can think of at least eight people who either have had kids in the past two years, or are expecting in the next six months. it's just my age and a reflection of my peers. but it has me wondering why people bother. I have a house I can't afford, a job I don't particularly like, and I'm just waiting out the next thirty to forty years before I shrug off this mortal coil. everyone talks about how great their children are, but I also see how difficult they make life, and I know how difficult life can be already. I know I wouldn't be a good parent. I'm too moody, too angry, and too intolerant. I feel bad for mooki, and her family, because they deserve better. my parents have three grandkids already, and they're all messed up as it is. I don't think they need any more. but my in-laws would probably like to see some. I just don't think I'm the right person to sire them.

in seven hours, I'll be back at work. I'll have real, honest-to-goodness social interaction with real people. it doesn't matter that I only talk to any of them because we work together. we don't have anything in common outside of work, I'm the weird pariah that no one understands. at least I'll get to talk to people who aren't obligated to put up with me put of marriage, or cats. I get that luxury for the next thirty-one years. I have no idea what I'll do for social interaction upon retirement.

I am such a moody bitch. I wish I could sleep.