I wonder why there's been an abundance of sad posts on my blog recently. I mean, all things considered, I am not perpetually sad. I mean, sure I wake up sticky and sweating every morning and that's not the best start to a day. Sure, I still get random bouts of anger and nostalgia and worst of all, creys, and that's not the best way to spend even a single second of my day. But otherwise? Other than the fact that I've got the friends that I've got? Other than the fact that the only person who's talking to me so far is Hanna and Helena? Other than the fact that I am Ross-and-Racheling several relationships at once? Other than all of that?
I've been cleaning up my room, cleaning up my iTunes library, talking to people I want to talk to (and also people I don't want to talk to, but there's nothing I can really do there), going on my massive Doctor Who rewatch marathon (starting from the ninth Doctor but it's still huge and Torrent won't cooperate), reading books and fanfiction, playing with my cat, and thinking. I'd like to do less of that last one, if possible, because I've done enough thinking to last me a life time and if everyone's secret intent was to get me to thinking about my actions and 'the type of person that I am', then congratulations, you've succeeded.
And I've come to the same conclusion, several times over. I mean, look. Look at all the SPACE you've given me.
But, of course, we're not going there. Oh, no. This is a whimsical post.
(Maybe I should start telling some else about my problems. God knows Helena alone can't handle it, she's as good at giving advice as my sister is - which is not very good at all. Maybe it's time to burden someone else but can I do that, really? I mean, Hel owes me. We've both agreed to that fact a long, long time ago and she'll continue owing me until the day that either one of us dies. No one else does. And plus, no one else quite understands or will understand the full story and then I'll have to start from the beginning and how tedious, really. But it's gotten to the point wherein I start to look at things and realize how ridiculous they are. I can no longer do this, whatever weird sort of limbo this is, anymore than I could have done that other thing. Honestly, I love being ambiguous as much as the next person but like I said, the levels of ridiculousness have risen to an uncomfortable point. But whimsy.)
Um, right. Whimsy. Well, Michelle is here! And. Well, I really miss Rose Tyler. But that's not... whimsical. Well, you know what, whatever, I don't have to prove to anyone exactly how whimsical my life is. It's not going to make much of a difference. I like what I've been doing with my holidays so far even if I haven't set foot outside of the house and I have no clue what day it is today. I'm happy enough to comfort those who are, like, really in need of it, instead of me, who's only unhappy because of situations I created myself. I'm happy enough to tell myself at midnight to stop being so happy. I'm happy and I know how to make myself happy and for right now, that's quite enough.
Maybe I'll go and watch more musicals to remind myself that a) happy endings exist in musicals, b) in the case of some musicals, happy endings do not exist at all, and that, too, is fine because the protagonist or hero or heroine will just move on as the credits roll, and c) everything is better when it's sung.
(Sadly, watch musicals isn't on my list. And here's some advice for some of my sad friends - because God knows I have plenty of those. Make a list like I've made on my private blog listing out all the things you want accomplished before the New Year or whenever and just stick to the list and don't do anything else. For example, everything that I told you I've been up to is on that list, except for thinking, and that is why I want to think less, especially during this whimsical holiday of mine.)