23 Weeks, 2 Days: Slow June and Crippling Depression – Afterlife Continues – Shit Post

23 Weeks, 2 Days.


I woke up to the news that a classmate died of cancer.

I was never really friends with her. But I was friends with her husband when I was in middle school. I haven’t really seen the dude in many years, but I do have him on Facebook, so I’ve kept up slightly with him.

And just like that.

His wife died.

A person he knew since he was probably 5-years-old. I think I knew her since Kindergarten.

And that’s the premise of Ricky Gervais “Afterlife.”

The life after suffering the death of someone.

It still feels the same.

It wasn’t only just my mom. She was my favorite person.


I find myself saying that way too often.

“That was my mom’s.”

Because a lot of things in my apartment were my mom’s. And in turn, my grandparents’ who I barely knew.

Getting used to saying that is weird.

Afterlife.


Sorry for your loss, Corbella.

I can’t even imagine what you are going through.

Here I am. Still feeling shitty that my mom is gone. Yet, a lot of people have it way worse. Or have had it way worse.


I told my therapist I wasn’t depressed. Or that I was, but it’s different.

And it’s a different depression for sure.

I’m not even sad.

I just don’t want to do anything.


I see her again on Friday.


That’s what I keep doing.

Absolutely nothing.

Working the bare minimum (still working). On Friday, I did nothing but Starcraft. On Saturday, pretty much the same thing.

But I went out for one thing.

One work thing.

Business thing.

Jazz Club.

And I need to update my map. Because it’s coming out soon.

July seems busy.

July just started.

June faded away into nothingness.

I didn’t do much at all. Slow June. Little work. When I thought it was going to be insanity.

I predict July is going to be busy.

It starts slow.


Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Friday, I cross the border to work.

And perhaps even more days.


I need breakfast.


White breakfast = bacon and eggs a la Matingas.

Basically, slow cook the bacon, leave grease on the pan, fry eggs on top, squeeze the yolk after the clear turns to whites.

The pan I cook on was my grandma’s.

It’s my favorite pan.


It’s the first time I cook since I came back from Mexico City. My June diet has consisted of street tacos and street food all day every day. Oh. And a lot of beer.

June disappeared into nothingness.


Sunday I drank all day.

It wasn’t planned.

A girl… an ex-lover… hit me up at noon. She wanted breakfast. She was already drinking.

So I met up with her. Made her breakfast. And we drank beers with breakfast.

That turned into more beers.

And more beers. And more beers.

And more beers.


Drank Sunday away.


Monday.

July.

Feels weird.

Shit always feel weird.


I spent 4 days without water. Thanks, Tijuana.

That’s how it started with her. I posted that I had no water. She said she had water at her place and I could shower over there.

I didn’t really accept the offer. But later she hit me up about drinking all Sunday.


She asked how many people read my blog at some point.

I am not even sure. But if I made one single dollar for every person, I would still be broke. And making money in a very strange way.

Clicks are clicks. Views are views. Readership. Who knows.

So far today, 4 people. 6 clicks.

The average is around 10 people and 20 clicks.

And when there’s a blog post… around 100 clicks from 40 people or so.

Or that’s what WordPress tells me I get.

Again, I’m not really sure.


The next three upcoming covers won’t be mine. Then the end of July will be mine.

Sigh.

I’m tired of my own work. But there’s nothing else to do.


This post needs a picture.

I haven’t taken many pictures.

Here’s a long exposure I took a couple weeks back.


I feel a tad sick.

Might be all the drinking I did yesterday.

I feel weak.


I will be doing nothing again today. Almost the whole day is gone.

The only responsibility I have is to pick up my brother and his wife at midnight from the airport.


Short post.

Didn’t even reach 1,000 words.

Not much to say.

Just felt like posting stupid shit.

About how I am depressed and don’t do anything about it.


Turns on Starcraft II.


I’m tired of feeling tired that I’m always feeling tired and depressed and wanting to do nothing yet nothing changes and here I am, wasting away my life, waiting for shit to happen as if shit happens to people who just sit and wait.


I should get a boat.


Shit post.


 

 

1 Comment

  1. I’m sorry to hear it’s still like this for you. But you’re right… the world is a depressing place most of the time. Often you’re stuck spending time, and you can’t just snap your fingers to dosmiss the malaise. Optimism, passion, and opportunity don’t always come when you call them.
    I always thought that it was an American idiocy, to insist that people need to be optimistic all the time ( Bright-sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America https://g.co/kgs/ZZLrZM ). Has the American psychosis of false optimism rubbed off on Mexico? Or are there Mexican traditions for how to endure suffering and accept the fact that nothing will heal this wound you have suffered?
    But hey, if you are only interested in beer, I will bring you some more homebrew. My work is sending me to a conference in San Diego next week. Maybe we can meet up.

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