of mondays and joy

experiencing fully fledged joy that isn’t mania as a depressed person is a strange experience. it’s very alien, and today has left me fulfilled yet super tentative of tomorrow, because i know something has to go wrong or back to normal, at least. it’s regression to the mean.

in the northern hemisphere (and now, all over the world too), the third monday of january is known as “blue monday” – the supposedly most depressing day of the year. it’s recognised everywhere and people really feel terrible and everything sucks, until tuesday. on tuesday, things go back to the way they were, and people no longer feel blue. for most people with depression, it doesn’t work like that. it definitely doesn’t for me.

i’m a happy person who’s depressed. i love people, and i thrive on the happiness of others. i adore belly laughs and tired sighs from days full of loving, but my brain also doesn’t make the neurotransmitters it needs to be making, so what we get from that equation is me. i rapid cycle between excessive optimism and damning despair far too much and far too fast. i’m dealing with it okay, though.

however, today has been a really great monday.  much like this one.

i didn’t get any sleep because i don’t get sleep, and had a really teary two a.m. i freaked out because i had so much to do including mailing transcripts for university admissions (keep those fingers crossed for me please!) and an interview for Lush. LUSH. The super amazing smelling, ethically brilliant and people focused brand. I was so stoked that I got an interview, but I was pretty sure it was all going to go to shit because of how my morning went. It was 21 degrees outside and I was sweating like a Christmas goat while trying to do my eyeliner because ya girl was anxious as HECK and also I was running late for a thing with a friend. It’s okay. I got there. Then the goodness began.

Jo bought me a hazelnut honey latte and I lost my mind because it tasted so good. We ran generic errands and I bumped into a storybook boy at the printing store. STORY. BOOK. As in curly hair big smile British accent story book. BOY. I sang to him about capitalism and he had a very cute laugh. I ran away because I’m an IDIOT and Jo gave him my number. He probably won’t text, but I’m glad I met him nonetheless. I have a boy to put in my stories now. I played with a Newton’s Cradle in a birthday store and got really giddy about science.

By DemonDeLuxe (Dominique Toussaint) – Image:Newtons cradle animation book.gif, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3717500

I then almost skipped out of my interview because anxiety, but went ahead and did the damn thing. I have a trial shift on Thursday! I am SO EXCITED. I then went to get some tea, paid for a short and got upgraded to a grande for free. YES. I then got free samples of cheese and of bread at Woolworths and bought a cheese and tomato baguette that surprised me with the best tasting basil & mayo I have ever had. My eyebrows also did the damn thing. I got home and napped for three hours, ate a pie for supper, found a blog that’s probably my new favourite (do check out Dora @ For The Goldfinches because wow – follow her on instagram too! She’s a joy.) and got invited over to swim with a friend tomorrow. It’s also MLK Day, so I got to smash down some microagressions regarding not being black enough, which was exhausting but necessary. I’m glad I did. Happy birthday to my biggest writing hero, Lin-Manuel Miranda, too! There’s a gif party on twitter if you wanna come. #gifTparty

I’m a bit sad that today is over, honestly. It’s been the best day that I’ve had in years. I’m grateful for it, but also hyper aware of the fact that everything has to swing back to the middle eventually. I learned about regression to the mean from Teen Wolf. I have a weird relationship with that show.

Despite how well today went, I still have the undercurrent of despair running through me, but I’m okay with it. It’s not the loudest in this moment, and every moment that my brain allows me to just be is one I am grateful for. I’m about to knock myself out with some heavy sleeping pills, and I’m really glad that I can. On Saturday, I didn’t think I’d make it to the end of the day. Thank goodness I did though. Who else would have taught that cute boy the capitalism jingle?

love and light,
shalom xo

Scoot on ~ being tall

What is actually going on with people shrinking these days?

You see, I stand at a height of 1.71 metres, so I’m 5″8. Being nearly 16, I like the perfect idea of a relationship, with a boy taller than me and overall loveliness. BUT NOT IN THIS LIFE.

Boys are shrinking! That’s not even a speculation, but rather a proven fact that I’ve found, with much research and analysis. I mean, yes, the average boy should be taller than the average girl, but obviously, whoever came up with these averages didn’t consider all the crap that goes into every single thing we put in our mouths.

And I’m not saying that boys need to stop eating. Please don’t stop eating. I’m just saying, that there needs to be a plan of action for us taller girls. I mean, it’s really not fair that we have to be resigned to flat shoes at prom or sandals whenever we go out. I’m a ballet dancer. My feet HATE sandals.

So what’s a girl to do? Forsake boys and general canoodling because I’m tall? Nu-uh. I’m not really sure what to do, though. I mean, I’ve been in that place where any hand holding and walking is done with me doing an awkward bent-knee shuffle , because if some guy is short enough that they go on their tip toes -more impressive than I do in ballet shoes, mind you- whenever they want to hug me, things may get a liiiiitle (a lot) bit awkward.

On the topic of hugs, there’s always the dangerous territory of the boob hug. For those of you unfamiliar with it, the boob hug occurs when a tall girl gets into a hugging situation with a boy as short as…well, her boobs. And the rest is history, as they say-except NOT. In this case, the rest was an awkward “pull-your-face-away-from-my-chest” motion, shrinking in any way possible, halfhearted hug, and also extreme awful awkwardness for the rest of <insert time period that I cannot remember that was an awful long time>.

I guess being tall does have it’s perks, apart from people using you as shade because that’s just mega fun. I mean, I can reach things on that shelf above the top shelf, you know that one where people hide the yummy stuff? I eat most  of that food. I guess it’s like a “take that, universe, for letting me be so damn tall” in a way.

I guess short girls have their issues too, but I wouldn’t know. What I do know, form one of my really good (and really short) short friends, is that there’s always someone taller than you in front of you, no matter where you go.

So as relatively messed up as it may be, I guess I’ll just stay tall for now. Until I like, shrink or something. I know, what are the chances? But I guess only time will tell…

That’s a stupendously lovely article of clothing you have on, you sexy devil you 🙂


All my love, all the time

-Scoot xx