Hubris.co.nz

This reader emailed me on Sunday to ask if I was dead, and I wrote back that I was, and it didn’t feel too far from the truth at that stage. Yes, I had another mini breakdown. Yes I am okay now. I went to see Dr White today, and we’re bumping me up to 30mg of cipramil instead of 20mg for a bit. Also, Kalpana had called her (I okayed that) and told her that I was doing really really well and had responded heaps to the therapy, which is true, and also why it was so weird that I should have such an extreme relapse. Oh well. I’ve written enough about it elsewhere.

Right now I am home totally alone for the first time in ages, and it’s LOVELY. Johnny is at work, Lance and Ammy are at Darren’s having dinner with Annoying Jonny, Daniel is at some journo meeting and umm, yeah, that’s four, that’s all my flatmates. Bo’s moved out to Milton cos the rent was much much cheaper there, and it’s just up the road. I am waiting for a purple sleeping pill to kick in. Dr White almost laughed at me today when I said “and I know that you can’t give me a big prescription for sleeping pills…” but she gave me four days instead of two, which is lovely cos I am so fucking flat out exhausted. Depression is tiring business when it stops you from sleeping.

I’ve had a day and a half off work this week due to sickness, which means that I’m a little behind on my work. I have my story to do on the Prostitution Law Reform bill in which I talk to three sex workers to finish tomorrow, and I want to do a really really really brilliant job on it because I’m lucky to be in position to write it, knowing people in the industry. Oh yes, I have my finger in many pies. This issue also will have my story on the Australian band Taxiride. Jason Singh wants the world to know he does not sleep with teenage groupies. Heh.

What else? Lots of parties and events and gossip. One of the boys I fancy has a girlfriend, I found out. However, *1 has apparently moved to Auckland. I’d be more excited if I wasn’t dedicated to a life of celibacy. Sebastian has fleas but I’m feeding him garlic brewers’ yeast to get rid of it. Apparently that works. I also have to take him to the vet. Oh god, I’m a crazy old lady with cats already.

Thursday June 20th

Happy Birthday Daddy! I’ve fucked up everyone’s birthdays lately – it was Shirley’s on the 15th, not Andee’s. Andee’s was yesterday, not o’s. And o’s is tomorrow. Happy birthday o!

This morning I dragged myself out of bed and the house into the most miserable weather ever (three sleeping pills (relax, they’re just herbal) had actually allowed me to get a decent night’s sleep beforehand) to go down to tech and sit my Intergrated Marketing Communications exam. I decided last night that I’m going to get an A on it. I wrote about telemarketing, databases, heirachy of effects and the implications of new media in 2010 on IMC. I kick ass.

After that, back home in the horrible weather for a few quick puffs on a spliff with Bops and Emma and then it was off to Newmarket for my half hour massage. Ahhh bliss. I just wish that the guy hadn’t had coins in his pocket that kept jangling. I also wish that I wasn’t so tense and that I didn’t feel the need to fight back when someone is pushing me. At least I’m more comfortable about strangers touching me. Oh shut up.

Home again to laze around, completely relaxed except for Bopha scaring me. I had a lovely nap and mooched around doing sweet fuck all, except for baking a birthday cake for Emma. Her birthday was on Tuesday, but we were slack so we’re gonna celebrate it tomorrow along with Brazil/England. Come watch the soccer with us. (Oh also, Mazzy/Kate; yes Emma HAS moved out, don’t get worked up! We just like hanging out with her, okay? Good!)

Blah blah blah blah. I want the other half of my massage now please. I was afraid that I’d end up gurgling on the table but luckily I didn’t.