Today someone asked me why I was so nervous about moving and I said, "Gee, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I AM MOVING TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY ALL ALONE FOR A JOB I'VE NEVER DONE BEFORE. YA THINK?"

My room looks like a truck carrying moving supplies and laundry hampers collided with one carrying the entire contents of Urban Outfitters, including the jewelry, into the window of a library. Tomorrow everything goes into boxes, and I will cry. I will, just because it's so REAL, and so SOON, and WHY AM I TAKING SO LITTLE WITH ME? What about Hairybutt Bananapants, the gorilla Emilie gave me? And the 2-foot-tall inflatable Jager bottle from the flea market? And my Jesus action figure? Who will read the Oregon newspaper from 1953 that lines the bottom of my dresser drawers? Who will dust off my Coors Light bucket and my giant blue clown sunglasses?

Sad times.

Sometimes things move too fast for you to get ahold of them and decide how you feel. Two days ago my sister and I, having some R&R in Palm Springs, heard that our Grandmother Hancock (our step-dad, Jack's mom) was missing. As in, had gone to the grocery store and hadn't come back by the next morning. Didn't know quite what to think about that, but nobody seemed enormously worried, so we weren't either. Then, they'd found her. She'd gotten in a car accident and was very disoriented. All this is by phone from my mom and Jack, who are two of the most practical, stoic down-players in the universe, so we still didn't quite know what was going on.

I'm blabbing because I still don't know exactly what I feel.

This morning my Jacky called to say that they had decided to take his mom of life support. She was going to die. Today. As in, this very exact same day that is happening right now.

I'm writing this as I'm waiting for my sister. She's driving up from Pacific Grove and we're going to drive up to Sacramento, to the hospital where Thalia Hancock is on life support, with my dad (one of them, at least) at her side. So we can say good-bye.

And though I never knew her very well, and we all thought she was so kooky (because she was), and I won't know what to say to her, she was important to the man I love more than anything, the man who has been there for me through everything like a true father, the man who has loved me and raised me like his own child. And for that, I'm going to mourn her deeply.

So good-bye, Thalia. Thank you.

On several of the blogs I read regularly, like Dooce and Fussy, the writers suffer from depression or anxiety in some form or another. And they take medications and are quite up front about it in a totally offhand, "Oh, today I made lasagna and the doctor started me on some new meds" kind of way. It makes me feel all inspired in a coming-out-of-the-closet kind of way (the shoe closet, most likely). So, if anyone who reads this doesn't know;

I AM MILDLY MANIC-DEPRESSIVE, WHICH YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN PERFECTLY WELL IF YOU'D EVER GONE TO NORDSTROM'S WITH ME, AND AM CURRENTLY ON MY THIRD ANTI-DEPRESSANT.

That is part of the reason I'm so vocal about the fact that Tom Cruise is just batshit crazy.

This newest medication seems to work pretty well. At least I don't have the shakes and I don't feel like a zombie, both of which seem like pluses to me. I still get depressed and I still get hyper, just not in an uncontrollable, throw-myself-off-a-bridge kind of way. Which is definitely a plus.

And I know my mommy worries about me being alone in Thailand, that I'll get depressed and no one will be there to talk me out of it. I can't say I won't get really depressed, because I know I will at some point. But I can say this; Mommy Poo-Poo, don't worry about me. I will reach out if I need help, I promise. But I'm moving towards being a grown-up (albeit as slowly as possible), and that involves making my own mistakes and trying things I'm not totally sure I can do, and learning things that no one but life can teach me. So, don't worry that pretty little head of yours. Just concentrate on running the county, and keeping Alex off drugs, and not losing any more weight.

Isn't it funny (not funny haha, funny weird) how much easier it is for me to be serious and earnest and talk about feelings on a website than out loud?

Oy vey, dramatic Lolo. Sorry about that, I'm on serious drugs because I'm siiiiiicccckkkk as a doooooggggggg.

What do you do when there's no where to GO to get away from being sad? When there's no way to make it stop, but you need it to stop because it's unbearable?

I think someone is reading this who shouldn't, so I'm going to clear some matters up. When I said a few weeks ago that I was thinking about Cody a lot, I meant it in a REGRETFUL, LOOKING-BACK kind of way, NOT a REALITY kind of way. Capiche? Yes, I'm sad. Yes, I think a lot about what might have been and why I did the things I did, etc. A lot. But I DO NOT think that Cody and I have a future. Haven't thought that for about a year now. I ain't stupid, though I know I do a very good imitation sometimes. Let's just do this one more time; I think about what MIGHT have been but ISN'T GOING TO BE. Thanks. I hope everyone understands that.

I mean, I'm MOVING to THAILAND, for shit's sake.

I take Effexor XR daily to keep from getting depressed, but I think it's blocking all deep thoughts or feelings. Except frustration that my parents won't let me spend this last month and a half in leisure. I'm about to begin the absolute hardest thing I've ever done, hands down, alone in Asia, and it won't kill me or my parents for me to have a little down time, a little friend time, before I leave. Sheesh.

I've been thinking about Cody a lot recently. The last couple of weeks especially. I mean, I always think about him, but he's been on my mind even more recently. I find myself telling perfectly nice boys all about this relationship and all these great things about my ex-boyfriend, and they give me this look. . .I can't believe I'm that girl. The hung-up girl, the emotional baggage girl. Maybe I've been listening to too many love songs. AOL has a "Wedding Music" radio channel that I like. . .but maybe that is not a good thing. The farther I get away from that relationship, the more I miss it. It's the opposite of what should be happening- I'm not getting over it, getting philosophical, understanding why it didn't work. I'm getting even sadder about it. . .and I start thinking "Oh God, what if he was the One, the love of my life, yada yada, and I screwed it up so monumentally?" Am I going to be that girl, the one who ruins the only good thing that's ever happened to her, then spends the rest of her life regretting it? I wish life were more like a movie, because you know that Cody and I would get back together eventually. To the accompaniment of violins and fireworks, in formal wear.