LiveJournal Archives

LiveJournal Archive – 08/08/2001

I can’t answer why any questions as to how I found out about LiveJournal, why I even started, or why I want people to see what I’m thinking, but maybe it’s the exhibitionist in me. At any rate, here I am and I can not say that I will post anything interesting or even regularly. I’m pretty good about being excited about something when I first find out about it and slowly becoming disinterested.

While I was going to sleep last night I thought of all the things that I used to do that made me really happy and how I’m not doing them now. But at the same time I’m doing a bunch of things that make me happy now. But still when I woke up this morning I was reminded what my depression used to feel like. I’ve recently started wondering, as my 28th birthday approaches, have I wasted my youth?

I’ve not realy done anything that I can concider a great accomplishment. I still want to make a movie. I still want to be an artist in someway. I still want the masses to see something of my creation and criticize me in some way, I don’t care if the entire world sees my creation and points an accusing finger at me screaming of their horror. I just want to find a way to output my creativity. Maybe that’s part of my reasoning for posting my private throughts in a public forum.

At any rate, I remember how depressed I used to be and I haven’t been that way in a while. Sometimes I miss misery. It was a strong emotion, an overwhelming emotion, and I don’t often get emotional waves that strong anymore. I mean I can’t say I’m an unemotional robot, I love my wife and the life we have together, but there’s something about misery that was just, well, almost calming and reliable. I think misery is easier than love, there’s less work involved.

My wife gets depressed. They (the ubituitous “They”) decided I wasn’t depressed enough to need medication, but my wife on the other hand is taking medication to deal with her depression. I’m not jealous of that, but I have always seen my self as incredibly empathic (in the wierd oogy supernatural way). When she’s depressed I don’t really like to be around her, which makes me feel bad. And she get’s really depressed sometimes, even with the drugs. And empathizing someone else’s depression isn’t nearly as warm and fuzzy as suffering through your own. Depression makes you sleepy, you burry yourself under the covers to avoid the world. Empathic depression doesn’t do that because there’s nothing to hide from in sleep. You’re just non-specifically depressed.

Anyway, I degress again. I woke up this morning miserable for no damn reason and I couldn’t figure out why. I determined later (when my wife didn’t get up for work) that I was running off her depression. But that combined with my need to be artistic with no outlet really killed my morning (thus why I’m listening to NIN – something I did a LOT when I was miserable). Tonight I have a Fading Suns game and I’m just not really excited about it at all, but I’m sure once I get into it I’ll be fine. Role Playing Games are about as close to an artistic outlet as I have these days. And since there’s really no lasting memorial of them, it’s kind of moot. Once you play the session, there’s really nothing to look back on but another evening of entertainment with no result.

Damnit. I’m going to go make something pretty, maybe I’ll finish my skin for QCD or maybe I’ll make a new one from scratch.

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