In the dumps.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

After weeks of posts declaring to the world just how happy I am, it's high time for a post dedicated to the art of being in a funk. (My apologies to my good friend Kristin Funk. You are the great kind of Funk, lady, not the down in the dumps kind.) Things are good, don't get me wrong. There are many, many things to be grateful for and excited about, but I think I may be experiencing a bit of a downswing after weeks and weeks of deadlines, busy activity, parties, productivity, birthday celebrations, chaotic craziness and all around good times.

The last few weeks have included a little or a lot of the following: too much Red Bull, not enough Red Bull because I ran out, all-nighters (not the kind that used to be fun, mind you, but the I-saved-it-all-for-the-last-minute cram sessions that I am so good at), seemingly endless to do lists, anxiety attacks, last day of graduate school celebrations, Oh my God - I'm actually done with school forever repeated boasting, obsessive organizational spring cleaning, boyfriend who lives out of town coming into town, subsequent smooches, trips to the coast, party preparations, party hostessing, jello shots, much needed catching up with old friends and plenty o' birthday fun.

Whew, it's been a time. (* One of the best television shows of all time, if you ask me, was the short lived My So-Called Life. In it the kooky, wild Rayanne Graff says to Angela Chase, the character all women my age related to in our adolescence, and a crowd of friends about a night out, "I am telling you we had a time. Didn't we have a time, Angela? Tell them, tell them we had a time." Angela smiles and says, "We did. We had a time." Man, that was good show.)

I'm not sure if it's due to how I was raised or because I've watched too many gratitude inspired episodes of Oprah, but I always want to acknowledge just how good things are. And they really are. However, every once in a while, a fog rolls in and envelops me in a case of the blues. This particular fog = not so bad, but a little grey, cloudy and rather blah nonetheless. As a person who adheres, even when I don't want to, to the whole emotional pendulum theory - you gotta experience the pain to experience the joy crap - I've decided to welcome in the funk, invite it for a sleepover, some movies, and maybe a cup of tea for the next couple of days. (I have to be careful though because I once invited a possibly homeless, definitely crazy woman named Kiki in for tea because she looked so cold and she refused to leave until I gave her "bread, cheese and some money.")

Here are my plans for my guest's stay... Wear comfortable and terribly unsexy pants at all times. Only take off slippers when leaving the house. Try to get in a few so-bad-they're-good Lifetime movies (If they happen to replay the all time great Mother May I Sleep with Danger? starring the incomparable Tori Spelling, for the love of God, set the TiVo.) Take multiple naps and refuse to feel guilty about it. Up pizza intake because of the serotonin increase carbohydrates produce and, um, because it's really good. Read trashy magazines, because we can, and start a novel or two, because school is finally over and we can. Drink a margarita or three, as needed. Finally, and this is important, sit in the bubble bath and sing cheesy feel-good music as long as it takes to actually feel good.

After these plans are accomplished, I'm going to politely kick out my guest and take my mother's sage advice and "pull my socks up."