Happy July 4th!

Not really. I recall thinking today, walking along the tree-lined streets on a beautiful, if sweltering, evening, that Independence Day was a really depressing holiday. The next thought, "Wait a minute. No the fuck it is not! There's nothing depressing about it at all." There's really not. It's just Black Tuesday, Razorblade Tuesday, whatever the fuck you want to call it, it's a misnomer because today is Wednesday, damnit, but of course your mileage may vary. Standard disclaimer. What did I expect, I rolled twice in the course of like, four days and my seratonin is probably at an all time low. At least that's something I can tell myself, "Hey, this is just a lack of brain chemicals, there's nothing REALLY wrong." :)

And it's all Jon's fault, not like I blame him for it, he didn't do it on purpose. It's his fault because he's lonely and often other people's emotions rub off on me. I wouldn't mind it at all if my feeling their pain would actually make them feel better, but I know that it doesn't, so what's the point of having two people feel bad instead of one? But what can you do...

So I went to Dillon's to get a veggie burger and a movie because Jon didn't get off until late and I didn't feel like dealing with other people. The burger: good. The movie: Made me more depressed because it's one of those where people end up happy at the end. And then I didn't feel like doing anything later tonight, especially since I have work tomorrow morning at like, 7 AM.

But on the bright side, I did get all my laundry done, I watched some Wimbledon, and I managed to not make myself throw up ice cream or play with razorblades. Which some days, that's all you can ask for.