Now that I’ve “bottomed out” in my depression and don’t do anything, I’ve had a lot of time for massive amounts of unproductive, introspective analysis.
I’m the least functional during the nadir, but interestingly enough I prefer this to the “crash” phase. Less of a constant feeling of distress. Less crying. But still anxiety-inducing enough to do basic functions like go outside that I don’t.
I am also experiencing tremendous amounts of embarrassment about some of my behavior over the summer and during the subsequent crash. Some things I did have some basis in reason and intent. Others seem to have been wedged in distorted or exaggerated thinking, and I can only recognize it all now as the batshit crazy bullshit that it was.
I am also embarrassed about some of the mental gymnastics I pulled to rationalize things. There’s a few people to whom I want to personally acknowledge, but I’m too avoidant to bring it up right now so I’m just going to hope that they still read my blog occasionally and know who they are.
Thanks for calling me out when I needed to be called out. This is an open invitation to tell me I’m batshit anytime.
I hope that my partial self-awareness prevents further batshittery, but I think part of being batshit includes being blind.
(I spent like a week writing this post and I’m still only semi-satisfied with it. Finding the right words and putting them in the right order is hard for me these days.)
This is Allie Brosh.
You’ve probably seen her webcomic if you spend any significant amount of time on the Internet.
She wrote a book with the same title of her blog and then a long subtitle. You can buy Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened on Amazon.
And watch Allie read new content from aforementioned book, including a story in which a 10-year-old Allie writes a letter for a 25-year-old Allie, right here.
I’m a sucker for haunting female indie vocals and lyrics about being a terrible person.
Her work is fully downloadable for free under a creative commons license.
Listening to the album Hydrophobia right now and it’s beautiful.
I’ve been largely AWOL from gchat and facebook this past week, which is atypical for my internet-addicted ass.
This weekend, I got a few text messages from my usual buddies wondering what I was up to and if I was okay.
I am not okay and don’t have any advice for them to give me, but It was nice to know that people notice when I’m not around. (Just for the record, I’m only a little bit of a creep and/or weirdo.)
I’d also like to note that I’m happy to see webcomics lightening up serious topics and getting more exposure and understanding for mental health issues like anxiety and depression.
And to my depressed internet, buddies out there, also hibernating for the winter: Surround yourself with friends (if you’re up to it) and love yourself.
A Perfect Circle released a studio version their first new song in 9 years: “By and Down.”
I was hoping this would be the first track of a whole new album, because the music gods know that rock really needs some help these days, but alas, no word yet. A Perfect Circle is releasing a greatest hits album titled Three Sixty in November, with this track as the only new addition.
(A “Best Of” album seems obsolete to me in this digital album age, but who knows, maybe it’ll attract the attention of a younger generation who missed some good fucking rock in the early 2000s.)
It’s not as aggressive and powerful as some of their older stuff, but still the best thing I’ve heard in Alt Rock in a long time.
A Perfect Circle – “By and Down” (Full Studio Version)
Not much of my high school iTunes library stands the test of time, but APC’s The Thirteenth Step remains one of my favorite albums ever.
So I hope this track is the first of many more to come from APC.
Depression has been kicking my ass recently, if it wasn’t obvious already by my normal political commentary having been replaced with long, introspective ramblings about love and sadness.
[Corey Booker is a Senator, and this is one of the few times I really wish I was still a resident of New Jersey. Oh, and apparently the shutdown is ending. Good week for Democrats.]
Here’s a poem that I didn’t write, but saved a long time ago and still like.
khe sanh rivers
by shotgunmessiah. Sep 16, 2003
sometimes when i remember how it was
I’m drinking cheap liquor from a tin cup I
had from the war and I can’t hold it
steady and it falls in the floor, spills out and
runs in the cracks in the wood and
it reminds me of that time in Khe Sanh when it
rained all day, pissing down in the muddy streamers
and collected in little pools and
wore tributaries in the mud and when it
there was a little girl skinny and naked with
just a rag wrapped around her waist and
she huddled in the waste and shit of the village
when I walked by she looked me with
these huge eyes driven deep in her face and
she held out her hand and said probably the only
word she knew “water” and again
“water” so I give some water in the tin cup I had
and she holds it and stares at her own big
brown eyes and then she crouches down
in the mud and carefully pours the water out
into the ground and flows in the rutted cracks
and makes little rivers
and when they ask me what it was like
I say “follow me” and take a cup and
fill it with water and
I go outside and pour it out in the ground
and they say “what does that mean” and I
point at the water trickling dirty through
the cracks and I say “that’s what it means”
“that’s what it’s about”
and they say I’m crazy and they
go away and leave me dripping water
on the cobblestones and laughing and
there was a little girl in Khe Sanh
who knew the truth even though
she was blown to hell the next day
I know the seasonal sadness is kicking in because everything feels like a chore.
I have a ticket for NY Comic Con Thursday and I don’t really want to go. I had plans for a Mako Mori cosplay, but I don’t think I can afford to get my hair relaxed at the moment.
It’ll probably cost around $100 in this city. I’m having trouble justifying dropping that amount on credit for hair, but I also already have my ticket and already have most of the outfit.
Decision-making is hard.
My ex said he like me because of my “emotional nakedness.” He was ER doctor. He wasn’t into unnecessary suffering, so he would often talk families into pulling the plug on their demented, elderly who were dying and in pain. He’d come home after his 14-hour long residency shifts, and he’d be too tired for sex so we’d spoon on his couch while he talked about who he “killed” that day. I loved him a lot, but it didn’t work out because he wanted to have babies.
I turn 25 in a month, and I’m thinking about going up to Ithaca for my birthday. I had my best birthday up there when I was 21. I want to relive the upstate experience, which mostly involves being drunk and communing with nature.
I had the SAT scores and leadership cred to get into Cornell, but I didn’t apply. Instead I went to Cornell’s bastard sister school, Wells, because I wanted to surround myself with people I was better than. It was a decent strategy until I got horribly depressed and failed a literature final and then dropped out.
I applied to CUNY after that, for the very flippant reason I was dating a guy in NYC, but then Wells withheld my transcript because they mistakenly believed I owed them money. That eventually got worked out, and now I live in NYC, but I still haven’t gone back to school.
I miss driving, but I do not miss car insurance premiums.
I was once involuntarily hospitalized for marking a “5″ on a 1-5 survey in a medical study. The question was something like, “How often to do you think about death?” I tried to explain to the doctors that mostly I got lazy towards the end of the survey and there were legitimate philosophical reasons for thinking about death, and they wrote down in the report that I was “being defensive.” I shut up when I realized things were going poorly and then they said I was, “guarded and evasive” and being “purposefully vague.” I lived a lifetime of Kafka novels that week.
While I was there, one of the many horrible things that happened was when they strapped a schizophrenic, Korean girl named Jacqueline down, just for calling a nurse a “bitch.” They kicked me out of my room so they restrain her to my bed. The entire time she kept screaming for Eddie; she had a tattoo of his name on her ankle surrounded by roses. It’s kinda sad and romantic—being in love with a made-up person.
American society is supposed to be civilized but we are still really barbarians.