What? Me, depressed? You must have me confused with someone else.

I have been enjoying a plethora of random dreams lately. I am not sure what they mean, or if they mean anything at all. It could be that my mind is on vacation, and I am along for the ride.

At least it is entertaining, right?

And I am discovering all new worlds and places that I never knew existed. Example? Well apparently, in my dream, the entire city of Glendale, CA was once a giant wild life preserve. But it closed. And the animals were released. Then a city rose. And the animals are still there. There are still monkeys in the trees and they are watching you as you walk by.

Don’t make eye contact, just keep walking by.

What’s that? Yes, you are right. The malaise I have been battling for the past few weeks/months/how-ever-long-it-has-been seems to have passed.

And I am grateful. And I am happy that I have replaced the malaise/depression with creativity, and a little bit of mania. It is a good mania. It is the kind of mania that gives me the extra energy I need to run errands and do chores. I am getting things done, thanks to mania.

And the creativity? It is good. I have lots of ideas. And I am really excited to get started on some of them. But first, I have this whole wedding thing to do. Just over two weeks to go and all the stress, the indecision, the crazy amounts of money spent will all come together for a big party.

And it will be a blur.

And it will be over.

And I will have no more excuses to not be looking for employment.

And I will create.

And I will find something new to stress about.

And all this is fine with me.

What is not fine with me is that I have to let my underarms go Grizzly Adams over the next two weeks so that they can be purged and smooth for my close-ups. Nope. I am not worried about my dress fitting, about my hair looking right, or about whether or not I chip a nail. No, I am worried about the potential of a stray armpit hair they EVERYONE will see when I lift my arm that one time during the wedding.

Yup, there you go, girl, sweating the little stuffs.

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