I refuse to watch the rest of the Academy Awards because they are depressing. I don't know why they are depressing, but they are.

Bob Dylan won an Oscar for his song "Things Have Changed," which was in Wonder Boys and which I love, so that's good at least.

Jeff called me. That was good. He listened to me complain and whine and even cry a little, and he told me not to apologize and he said, "You know, Gwen, I think you're pretty cool." And it helped.

I can't help but notice, though, that he seems to have much more compassion for me and to exert much more tact while talking with me now that I'm no longer his girlfriend. Maybe that's just the way things work. (I don't think I'm that cynical.)

I've redesigned my diary again. I figured all the grey probably wasn't helping my mood.

The station's spring fundraiser starts tomorrow. No peace for ten days at least.

Curtis's email did not make me happy. He should know better than to write something like that. Unless he did it on purpose to upset me, in which case I should know better than to take it.

Here is what the U.Va. Student Health Center's webpage says about depression:

Do you feel blue, down, out of sorts? Everyone has their own name for a feeling of hopelessness and helplessness. Depressed mood is considered troublesome if it is intense, severe, and continuous. If your feelings of sadness are enough to interfere with ordinary day-to-day activities, you might be experiencing depression and should seek professional help.

If you are experiencing four or more of the following, you may benefit from professional assistance:

• Loss of appetite
• Weight or sleep fluctuations
• Lethargy
• Slowed thinking
• Suicidal ideas
• Guilt
• Worthlessness
• Loneliness
• Persistent sadness

That's what I read on Friday morning. And when I saw that I had been experiencing not four, but all, of those symptoms, I called counseling services and made an appointment. The receptionist said she'd rather I came in right away, so I did. I talked to the psych clinician on duty, Robin Eliason. She was wonderful. I felt awful, but for once I didn't feel stuck. She told me I wasn't crazy. She told me I was a strong woman. She told me I was exhibiting textbook symptoms of acute depression, and she recommended medication and individual therapy.

And all I can say is, thank God. I wasn't sure what I thought of it at the time, but two and a half days later I know. Put me on drugs as soon as you can, that's what I have to say. If it'll help, I'll do it. I want to be me again.

On a lighter note, I went shopping today and bought a beautiful pair of blue pants and a slinky black shirt at the Gap. They make me feel sexy. It's a good way to feel.