The Blog

   I hate Tuesdays...

In true "Garfield"-fan form, when I was younger I used to hate Mondays and love lasagne. Now I still love lasagne, but it's Tuesdays that I don't get along with. I'm not really sure why. Something about the combination of it being near-enough to the middle of the working week and my own propensity to mope when I'm left alone too long (which is kinda what happens at uni: me alone in the big office, without a friend in the place...).

It seems to have carried on, even though I'm not at uni. I'm actually feeling bad because I couldn't afford to go out with my friends here tonight and still have enough money to sight-see, so the good mood I'd worked up by finishing off today's work an hour and a half early evaporated when I realised that I had no one to share the buzz with.

Wendy and I were thinking of going out on a sort of double-date with our boys on the weekend, although she's married to hers so I don't know if it counts as a date. I'm not sure what's happening there, but if we could get together at least once that would be cool.

Yeah, me being depressed. Not going out with my people here reminded me of some pretty hurtful-but-necessary stuff James once told me about how I shouldn't always push people away, and that brought me back to the fact that when I go home, I'm not going to have a group of friends that I can just call up to go out to the pub with.

I wonder sometimes about what I did to Heidi and the others, and whether or not it was the right thing to do. When I was so upset and miserable and hurt, it seemed like telling the truth and telling them all that they had upset me, that I was miserable and hurt, was the good and proper thing. I thought that if I confessed to all the bad feelings, they'd help me make them go away. But, of course, that's not what happened. Many (most?) saw my confession as an attack on them and their actions, and even though I hadn't meant that, I guess it kinda was.

In many ways, I was asking for help, and even though I said that I wanted time away from them, I didn't want them to make me feel like I wasn't welcome. I wanted support, and all I really got was a 'good riddance, you freak'. And now, the only friend from that group I have left is Tony, and I get the feeling that he would only miss having someone to go to lunch with when Ruth's not around. And yup, I'm aware that I've probably hurt his feelings by thinking that, but the blog's about being honest, and that's what I think when I'm depressed.

I don't know what's true, and what's my own loneliness, after all, I'm wearing a gorgeous purple nail-polish that Heidi and Tony gave me for Christmas, and I'm going out for drinks with the people here tomorrow night. But I can't help but wonder: "will any of my old friends even remember that it's my birthday, or would it have just been James and I celebrating alone anyway?"

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