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I hate depression. It’s such a stupid thing. It makes you feel stupid, as though you ought to be able to pull yourself up out of it, as though you’re just lazy when you succumb to it, as though you’re just making excuses because you can’t be bothered being an active participant in your own life. I know that isn’t true, and maybe that feeling isn’t the same for everyone, but it’s definitely the case for me.

I’ve been trying to ‘fix’ myself, even though I don’t feel like it. I listened to positive music. I chatted to friends. I went to the gym. I even went to Peter’s of Kensington to spend my farewell-from-church gift voucher, and I just wandered around feeling miserable, even though I was buying lovely things (and it wasn’t costing me a cent).

And yet there is still this hot prickling behind my eyes, a mildly panicky feeling in my throat, a bone-weariness that makes me feel like the only thing I want to do is to curl up in my bed and cry. And yet I can’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about.

Buh. It sucketh.

Well, here are the wonderful things I bought from PofK.

Do you remember that ad for pens (was it Parker, or Papermate, or…what’s the one with the little hearts on the clip?) where the old guy is looking for the perfect gift for his daughter who he hasn’t seen for ages, and he goes to all this trouble to get a pen and it’s perfect and in a box and she loves it and it’s all shot with that kind of gauzy, sentimental effect? No? Hmm. Well, trust me, it was an ad ages ago. And when I saw it I always thought what a sucky present a pen would be. I mean, it’s not exactly exciting, is it? You use pens every day and they’re things you lose and chew the ends of and so it comes in a fancy box, big deal.

Well I think I am finally old enough to appreciate that a good pen is indeed a magnificent thing. And obviously, it’s a fitting present for a writer and something that presumably will remind the giftee of the giver whenever she uses it.

So the first thing on the shopping list was a Fisher Space Pen. They had them in purple, my favourite colour, which delighted me greatly. This is going to be my Pen (with a capital P) that I use to write all the great and wonderful things I write in my Moleskine. Hopefully I won’t lose it, won’t chew the end of it, and it will remind me of my dear friends at St Martin’s when I use it.


Then the next category is long-coveted items of no great need. Exhibit A: Bodum Pavina double wall thermal glasses. Mum refused to pour the coffee in them without me doing it first because she was scared they would break, but they’re designed for hot drinks and they look gorgeous (that’s obviously not coffee in the picture, it’s ginger beer).

Exhibit B: a Furi East/West scalloped knife, to go in the empty slot in my Furi knife block. My chef’s knife has a nick in it, which annoys me too, so it’s nice to have a new knife (I loooove my Furi knives. Well…maybe love is too strong a word for an inanimate object. I greatly esteem them).
Exhibit C and beyond: lots of little things such as cupcake holders with feet (! a present for my godmother); a red melamine spoon that is extremely satisfying to hold and only cost $3.50; a Microplane grater which turns the hardest cheese to a beautiful fluffy snow-like substance; and a black polka dotted shower cap, made out of a pleasingly thick PVC that has that yummy new-plastic smell.

And I still have change to go back and spend another day!

So…actually…now having had dinner (with vegies from the garden!!!) and looking back over my little stash, and being comfortable here in my track pants, with my insane cat doing laps of the house and my mother in the other room…life could be a lot worse.

And this blah, this nothingness, this stupid mood…this too shall pass.

*we’re wondering whether Scout’s insanity and my flat mood and mum’s frustrated mood are a result of the full moon. Don’t know enough about that stuff to make a call either way, but suffice it to say, we’re all a little weird in this house tonight.