I felt like twirling.

“I am mentally twirling,” I wrote to a new friend, “and I am not sure why.”

I really am not. But it’s past 11 PM and some little bit of me is still elated over the handful of things that have gone well in the past few utterly hellish days.

I hope this sustains me, because the next week is going to be hellish as well.

This weekend, I attended the most fantastic social dance I’ve ever gotten to experience in my life. Put one trio of dolled-up friends with one hilarious entryway of guys and no alcohol whatsoever into a freshman formal with amazing turnout and good music for four hours. Cue antics, cue happiness, cue dancing and screaming, cue best exhaustion possible. (All I needed were glowsticks.)

Last week, I was devastated when my internship contact told me that his contact, in turn, had changed his mind and was not interested in my skill set- today, after I sent my (shiny, revised, forceful) résumé and presented a rather blunt argument as to why my skill set was, indeed, viable, my contact not only promised to forward both on, but asserted that if this contact were to fall through, he would be more than glad to offer me other internships open, not only because I was so adamant on working with a non-profit in the area, but also because I apparently made a very lasting impression at my interview two months ago.

Far be it from me to complain.

On top of it all, a tarot deck that I had ordered from Amazon.com and feared was only a book because it was used and half-price– was the entire box set, thankfully, and the beating the outer box had taken that incurred its price cut only made me happier in its uniqueness. And the deck was immaculate, unopened. I walked back from the package room clutching the box to my chest and positively beaming. And though I ordered it with regular shipping on Thursday and it didn’t ship until Friday, it somehow arrived today. This will be the last major (read: over $15. it was $16) purchase I will make for myself until September, after my summer, during which I will be pinching pennies like no other. I already have been. No bubble tea or superfluous food treats!

(I find myself unconsciously editing small things per journalistic style guide [use though, not although!]. My executive editor would be proud. I am not.)

Best, I have gained a new friend who is unafraid of being a close friend– which is something of an honor since he’s normally a bit reclusive. Selective, he says. I’ve seen him in our hall since the beginning of the year and have been curious but we never really talked up until last week, and I’m hard-pressed to remember just how we so quickly transformed into fast friends. He reminds me of my best male friend, though they are not similar in the least aside from being Internet-realm-and-gaming-savvy.

For the last seven months I have always become unreasonably depressed in the evenings; it’s been bordering on something chronic, beginning to scare me, causing a cycle of depression-not getting anything done-hating self for lack of activity-depression. Visiting my friend on the other side of the building, though, brightened up my evening today. And I hope beyond hope that I’ll start being able to pull myself out of this cycle, also to follow the example of another friend and classmate who’s following an academic path I’d like to take. She’s an inspiration.

…but I have my beautiful tarot deck now, which I will study thoroughly with a ravenous scholarly appetite.

Scholarly? Scholarly. And emotional, and mental, but not religious. A two-part in-depth discussion of my interest in the tarot, non-interest in its religious connotations, and views on religion again will follow during the course of the next two weeks- i.e., whenever I actually have time to spare or am in the mood to write.

I don’t even feel like writing extensively about the trainwrecks of the past week- family is no longer moving, academics are no longer really moving, internship is on the rocks. Life goes on because now, I shall will it to be so and not be so depressed about it.

Ideally. I think I might have to stop by my friend’s room for cookies more.

Nighttime is a cruel mistress, and still a mood-killer.