November 16, 1998.

"It was no more interesting than any other couple's quarrel, full of You're Always and You Never and If You'd Just Once; it's chief function was to allow them to say things of which they would later be intellectually and/or emotionally ashamed...pity the singles and loners, who must make due with bar fights or politics."

Yep, pretty much.

But the good thing about the snarling, loud, emotionally pitched quarrel that I had last night with Trevor is that it turned most of my depression to anger, which soon dissipated. Today was an awfully hard day to enjoy, what with the constant rain & wind turning my breath to little fluffy clouds; it's therefore a measure of my new mood that although I didn't enjoy the weather, I conceded that the trick was possible.

I will remark in closing, however, that I have discovered a major weakness in my arguments when I'm really worked up: I make an insight & then attempt to make it universal. I'll give a purely hypothetical example. Just say that you & I were fighting, and it suddenly struck me that all of your recent behavior could be explained by a powerful unspoken attraction to a mutual friend. At this point, I would try to make all my past quarrels with you fit into this schema. No matter how much you protested, I would continue to insist that it is your desire to bed ____ which informs your actions. Irritating, no?

I repeat, this is a purely hypothetical example, cobbled up from certain non-connected events in my past. I will swear an oath to the Queen that - and this is important, so pay attention - the quarrel last night is unrelated to the above proposition. Really.

Remarked to Palaver yesterday that I could almost keep a calendar by the seasonal depressions of my acquaintances. Palaver usually goes down in November, but he just got back from a spirit-lifting trip to Boston, which diverts the schedule accordingly. I haven't seen Sven in class for weeks, which may or may not bode ill. And Cranly typically refuses to leave his room in late winter. I wonder who'll take care of him this year, now that he no longer cohabitates with Tiger Lily?

I was almost ready to take my place in this seasonal carnival of mal, but this bout seems to be over & done with (thank god). My activities this weekend consisted in large part of endless games of Free Cell and crying. At one point I dully considered cutting, but I'm a chicken about pain; I raised a few angry scratches, but didn't even break the skin. Who knows what tiny shallow cuts might've been produced if this depression had continued? Smirk.

(I don't want any letters about it...that was Saturday and I'm feeling much better now.)

one year ago today: boyfriend as a buffer