Weekend Update

Friday

My boss grilled burgers and brats for everyone, and it's pretty amazing how productive I can be after stuffing myself to the gills with grilled meat. I had started out the day with a rack of work, and while I didn't get it all done by the end of the day, I left a very manageable amount for Monday morning.

I met some friends for a quick dinner at Umberto's, which is my new favorite pizza place. It's a pity they aren't open for breakfast...pizza joints are so far behind the curve on that million-dollar idea.

Later, we went to the Indie Imporium, a showcase for local folk artists. There was a really cool vibe at that show, with a wide range of styles and products on display. I'm determined to attend more exhibitions like this in an attempt to better connect with the art scene in this town. For so long, I've been doing my own thing and the vast majority of it for my day job. I've been slacking on keeping up with the latest trends out there for the sake of seeing it instead of my usual absorbing just enough to apply to my own work.

After the show, we headed over to Mary's to watch a movie. Her daughter Ivy is a huge Tim Burton fan, so we watched Corpse Bride. I had never seen it, and I really liked it. However, it left me wanting more. The film was much too short for my taste. Granted, there wasn't much more they could do with that story and elaborating any further probably would've made the film drag on, but it's the craftwork of the animation that amazes me.

One thing I kept noticing in the animation was something I've always found funny about human behavior: When you look someone in the eyes, you never really look at both eyes at once. People tend to shift back and forth between eyes. To see that kind of thing animated just killed me. I may not be alone in this, but I become hyper-aware when I find myself shifting from eye to eye, and find myself staring at the bridge of their nose...you know, just to split the difference. Occasionally, the other person subconsciously picks up on it and scratches their nose. Try it sometime, it's kinda freaky.

Saturday

I slept in until about eleven, got dressed and went out to find a Halloween costume. I was thinking about going as a mime, but too much of a costume like that is all about staying in character. I decided to make that my default; if I couldn't find anything else, I'd go as a mime. I looked around this one costume shop and didn't find anything that really spoke to me until I found a little wooden cane. Then, the light bulb went off: Old man Fritschie. I bought the cane, some white hair spray and some spirit gum to glue some wrinkles shut on my face.

I met some friends down on Brookside to watch the parade. I parked at one end of the parade route, they parked at the other end. I met them halfway. They were all on bicycles, so when they wanted to ride somewhere, I had to hoof it. We met back up down my where I parked, then back where we first met, then decided to leave the parade.

So, I had to walk back to my truck and meet back up with them back where they parked. About a minute after we split up, I heard some tires squeeling and turned around to find a jackass in a green Pontiac convertible threatening to get out of his car because my friends weren't giving him enough room to drive through. I ran over there as fast as I could, but they guy was peeling out just as I was getting close. Like I could've done anything if I had been there (got trouble? Send the pacifist.), but it was a noble gesture nonetheless.

I walked back to my truck and quickly realized that my rock star parking job came at a price. I was at the end of the parade route, and in trying to leave, I had to stalk behind the junior ROTC for the last half mile of their route. Once they reached their van, they just stood around. While I'm glad these kids are learning discipline with this group, I just wish they would learn to recognize when a big pickup truck is trying to get around them.

After weaving around the clusterfuck of parked cars through the neighborhood, I met back up with my friends and had lunch. A good time was had by all, and I got home with plenty of time to try a couple of makeup tests before heading to the first party.

The makeup looked good, even though half of my face was glued in some way and facial expressions required special care or else it felt like a bandaid was being ripped off all over the surface of my face. In order to get to the character of an old man, I drove to the first party really slow, listening to Garrison Keiller and with the turn signal on the whole way. The rest was a perfect synthesis of my mood and the character. I could sit down for the whole night, say the craziest shit that came to my mind, even fall asleep, and it was perfectly within the character of a senile old man.

I went to the second party and finished up the night there. I think I had two beers over the course of the night. I wasn't in the mood to get drunk, nor was I looking to do anything other than just hang out. I've learned not to try to get laid on Halloween, even when you're with someone. I mean, I'm all for role-playing, but this is totally different. The last time I got laid on Halloween I was in a relationship, and I couldn't get over the fact that, in essence, Shaggy and Velma was having sex.

So, at one point in the evening, the fire pit was surrounded my Little Red Riding Hood, the Unabomber, the Pharoah and his queen, Smurfette, Dwight from the Office, a cowboy and an old man. Gotta love Halloween!

Sunday

Slept in again, and had to get my ass in gear for yet another pumpkin carving party. I stopped by the store, got supplies and headed over to Mary's where we hung out, carved pumpkins and watched a (you guessed it, Tim Burton marathon. I love hanging out with this crowd because when it come to food, they never fuck around. I wouldn't be surprised if the Food Network is the default channel on everyone's cable box. We all had some really kick-ass enchilada soup and red velvet cake for dessert. I could get used to this warm, fuzzy, stuffed feeling.

So now, I'm back home. I'm full, ready for some couch time, my face is still pretty raw from removing the makeup from last night, and despite having washed my hair about six times, that white hair spray is still in there to some degree. All in all, I'm doing great.

I do not fear death, unless it's anything like this

More than our daily allotted dose of insanity from Glenn Beck

Okay, there's no room for speculation anymore. It's official: Glenn Beck is a huge asshole.

There are two surefire ways to be an asshole in my book. The first is to be an unapologetic asshole; to be a truly horrible person and actually have the balls to be proud about it. The second is to do or say something absolutely asinine and so counter to the principle of human decency, but do it under the guise of an attempt to being a decent person.

Here's what confirmed asshole Glenn Beck had to say on his radio show yesterday:

"When I say on the air, and I've said it a lot lately, that we need to come together and we need to get back into the center, we're being pushed on to the edges -- I want you to understand, that is not on policies. I don't mean that we come in the center on policies. We come to the center on principles. We come back to the center of the melting pot, that we're all one America, that just because I disagree with you doesn't mean you hate America, and I love America. We all love America. We just disagree on how we should function, what we should do, big government, small government. It doesn't mean you hate America. I think there is a handful of people who hate America. Unfortunately for them, a lot of them are losing their homes in a forest fire today."

Holy. Shit.

You know, if you ignore what he's actually saying, and just focus on how he structures the tone of that paragraph, it still boggles the fucking mind that this guy remains employed. It starts off rather noble, as if he's reaching out to those who he has disagreed with in the past and offering them an olive branch. The middle sounds like he's almost willing to reach a civilized common ground and provide a dialog for real change in our society. Then, he grabs the wheel and steers right off the edge of the cliff, landing himself back into Batshitcrazytown!

In one paragraph, he almost tricked me into wanting to listen to what he had to say, then reminded me why he should never be taken seriously ever again. The truly fucked up thing is, this is only gonna be the tip of the iceberg. If you look at the past statements of other far-right political commentators like Beck, you know that the only way this guy will ever sustain his career is by going further and further each time. Who knows, maybe for Black History Month, he might put a laugh track on Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech! Or maybe quote Ghandi, then finish it all up by announcing his intent to rape your grandmother.

I can't help but think that Ann Coulter is sitting at her keyboard right now desperately trying to write something more outrageous than Becks statement...she's gotta reclaim her crown as king of Batshitcrazytown.

Yeah, people are dying, and most others are losing everything they own in a horrible wildfire that is engulfing most of the region, and to top it all off, its all because they hate America. This begs the question: What the fuck happened to Glenn Beck during his last visit to San Diego that led him to even entertain this notion? Was he mugged and beaten after a whale at Sea World puked on him during a five-hour delay at the airport?

An interesting side effect of these kinds of statements is that whatever agencies are offering aid for these people in need experience a surge in donations. People donated more for Katrina relief after the Christian right made their claims that New Orleans was a den of sin and deserved the wrath God wrought upon it. The same with the San Francisco earthquake. 9/11 funds got a boost from Pat Robertson's statements that we deserved it. Hell, even PBS got a small surge in donations after Jerry Falwell claimed that Tinky-Winky from the Telletubbies was gay propaganda.

The point is, people somehow are compelled to help out when these kind of irrational statements are made. It's compassion through spite of our most famous hatemongers. The truly fucked-up part is, Glenn Beck chalks it all up to liberal guilt.

Weekend Update

Friday night was spent decompressing and doing a little bit of cleaning. There's still a lot more to do, but I'm past the halfway point on the cleaning front.

Most of Saturday was spent in bed. Over the past few years being able to sleep in has been hit or miss. This particular Saturday, it was a hit. I think I finally rolled out of bed around 1:30 in the afternoon. It was probably a little too much sleep because I couldn't full wake up until about five.

Saturday night was a blast. The evening started out at the Spot Awards at the Cain's Ballroom. Three Penny Upright was nominated for Best None of the Above, and we stayed there just long enough to see them lose out to Citizen Mundi.

So, we were off to the Continental to catch Eye Candy Burlesque (their one year anniversary party) and the Oh Johnny Girls (bought a CD, flirted with the lead singer). The whole night was a reminder how interconnected people are in this town. I've known Mary and Amy of Three Penny Upright for years. They're great friends with the women of Eye Candy. Eye Candy's great friend and frequent vocalist is dating an old college buddy of mine. We all shared a booth front and center for the show.

The Oh Johnny Girls' talent is only outdone by their complete and utter hotness. At one point, I leaned over to my friend Steve and asked, "Is there anything sexier than a woman playing an electric guitar?" True to his nature of one-upsmanship and answering rhetorical questions, he responded, "Yeah, a girl playing the bass." I got to talk to the lead singer a few times over the night, and she kept flirting with me even after I bought a CD, which was a real boost for my ego.

Eye Candy was awesome as usual. These women are enough to keep me from ever wanting to see the inside of a strip club ever again. They are resurrecting an art form that has, for decades, been cheapened by fire poles, bad lighting, and every Bob Seger song ever recorded. They understand, and deliver, exactly what a show like this should be: colorful characters, a great command of the audience, empowerment, and above all else, class.

And the best part is that the audience is respectful in every way. At a strip club, if you try to approach the strippers after their set, it's highly likely at least one of three things will happen to you: a side bar with the bouncer, you will leave with an empty wallet, or you feel like you need a shot of penicillin. With a burlesque show of this caliber, the girls are in total command of the audience on stage and off. They are approachable, gracious and cordial. Not an ounce of pretension about them. However, it was rather intimidating speaking to one of them after the show. I was finding it hard not to blush. After all, here was an immensely beautiful woman who just tightened the pants of every man in the room, and she was spoke so down-to-earth about it all...even sharing her embarrassment at forgetting one small part in the finale.

The part that she had forgotten was to fling playing cards at the audience. I felt compelled to let her know that at their last show, I swiped one of the playing cards, and this time I took another, that I hope they continue to perform so that I can complete the whole deck of cards. Of course, I hope that came off as incredibly charming as I hoped it did based on her reaction: a big beaming smile. I tabbed out at the bar and went home feeling like a million bucks.

Today, I had two pumpkin-carving parties to go to. It's been nearly 19 years since I carved a pumpkin, and I carved four tonight to make up for the lost time. The first was a big smiley face that wound up looking like Ernie from Sesame Street. The second was a little more artsy, with a peeled skin circle and a malcontent look on it's face...I named it Herman. The third was the party animal, Eddie, with sculpted teeth in a wide open-mouth grimace. The fourth was a deconstructive number made from randomly cutting a pumpkin apart and re-assembling it with toothpicks.

So, now I'm back home, smelling of pumpkin, and ready to go to bed.

Darkness

Wednesday night, I was finally gonna take a friend's advice and check out the new show Pushing Daisies. At the time of my conversation with my friend, a storm was rolling into town and he just got a call from his wife that the electricity was out. So, I offered to tape it for him.

Just before the show was to start, the wind outside started blowing so hard that it was whipping the trees in front of my building against the windows. I opened the blinds to watch the trees outside, and after about ten seconds I realized that was a stupid thing to do. The window didn't break, but I would've felt really dumb if it had with me standing with my face ten inches from the glass.

So, I sat down to watch the show. It was damn good, for the first ten minutes. That's when the power went out. I fumbled around in the closet by the light of my cell phone screen, trying to find the flashlight. For the first hour without power, I succumbed to boredom and watched the cat chase the light around the floor.

One of my neighbors was outside my window. We chatted for a bit, with him letting me know that apparently our building was on the edge of the electrical grid. People across the street had power, but we didn't. He also informed me of an incident across the river at Octoberfest. The strong winds had blown down a couple of the huge tents, and several people got injured. I remember commenting, "those poor bastards."

After my neighbor went back inside, I had more boredom time with the flashlight pretending to be a CSI and my apartment was a crime scene. That lasted a few minutes before becoming really, really depressing. If my apartment was ever to be a crime scene, professional investigators would have a field day trying to figure out what happened. So, I went down to Borders for a bit and got caught up on my magazines.

I got back home and the power was still out. So, I got into bed and read a book to the warm glow of mini Mag-lite. The book: Children of Men. In retrospect, maybe I should've picked something a little happier. Reading about a bleak future where the human race is doomed, while you're laying in the dark, made for some really fucked-up dreams.

Thursday morning, I got to talking to my boss about what happened at Octoberfest. As it turns out, he was one of the poor bastards that got injured. It was just a bump on the head and a small gash on his arm, but still... However, it was interesting to hear him tell the story. He made the words "And I pushed my wife to the ground and told her to stay down" and make it sound so heroic.

So, my electricity was back on in the morning, and fortunately all of the fresh groceries in the fridge survived. The funny thing is, Wednesday night was the night I was gonna finally do all the dishes and finish cleaning up after my party last Saturday. Kinda hard to do in the dark. Thursday night, I was just too damn tired, and tonight, I'm just too lazy.

Oh, well, there's always tomorrow.

Nothing new to report.

Every once and a while, my life hits a level of neutral buoyancy. I'm not soaring to the stratosphere, but I'm not sinking to the bottom of the abyss, either.

Things at work slow down, drama in my personal life is at a more than manageable level and most of the things that cause me worry have already been taken care of, or are on auto-pilot. It's at times like these that I tend to go into obsessive compulsive mode...constantly checking and rechecking things to make sure I'm not forgetting anything.

You know what I've found? Nothing. All my bills are paid. I'm caught up on my sleep. My work's getting done every day. All of my friends are there for me. Everything's good right now. Sure, there's some cleaning that needs to be done around here, but I've seen this place a lot worse, so there's no rush. Fritschie, sit back and relax.

The shocking thing is, I am sitting back and relaxing. I'm oddly at peace with the world and vice versa. Any news that comes my way next, good or bad, I'm certain I can handle with a level head and steady hand. My options right now are wide open and God knows I'm not in any rush.

The problem with this state of mind is, the blog suffers. I've got no frustrations to vent. There are no problems to sort out. There's no ennui to pine about. Right now, all my basic needs are being met. Food, shelter, clothing, human interaction, and (thanks to overestimating the demand for refreshments at my party on Saturday) I've got enough alcohol in my fridge to ensure that my furniture remains extra-comfortable in my off-duty hours.

However, for the sake of keeping this blog fairly up-to-date, I'm resorting to stream of consciousness writing. I gotta admit, though...it's harder to do without my normal thousand thoughts rattling around in my brain and that bottle of tension headache medication going unopened for more than a day. So, enough with writing about what boils down to a period of non-events in my life and, in turn, boring the reader. I'm going to bed early.

More random thoughts

I read today that Simon Pegg from Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz will be playing young Scotty in the new Star Trek movie.

If Paul McCartney dies before Ringo Starr, then we truly will have lost all of the Beatles in the exact opposite order than we rightfully should have.

I will never again play one of the specialty versions of Monopoly. No matter what version it is, I'll always call the properties by their original names.

The fact that someone still cares about what Britney Spears is doing is the reason the aliens haven't landed and shared their knowledge and wisdom with us.

Internet porn stopped being about sex years ago. Now, it's just a bunch of exhibitionists trying to one-up each other on the shock factor.

Calling Ann Coulter an expert political commentator is like calling Willy Wonka a nutritionist.

I read a news article recently claiming that Crocs shoes are dangerous on escalators, causing them to get caught and causing serious injury to the wearer's feet. As much as I like this to be a profound statement about those ugly-ass things possibly crippling the trendy assholes at the mall who wear them, it can't be. The way the world works, this won't stop people from wearing them. Instead, they'll find a way to make limping the next big thing.

I think I've finally reached the age where seeing Princess Leia in the gold bikini slave outfit does absolutely nothing for me.

I wonder what the Vatican's official position is on the word Jeebus. Is it a curse word, or does it fall into the same category as dang or shoot?

Al Gore wins an Oscar and the Nobel Peace Prize in one year. George Bush has had at least ten documentaries made about his incompetence and has started two wars in the past six years. I'm all for proof of balance in the universe, but this is a bit ridiculous.

I used to believe that we should be allowed to carry around rubber stamps that read "This person is an idiot" to be used on the foreheads of stupid people, but I've changed my mind on that. It really should be a branding iron.

I'm glad the writers of Grey's Anatomy are finally getting on with the storyline. If I hade to sit through one more episode where George wasn't gonna tell Callie the truth, I was gonna shoot the TV.

I often wonder what I'd look like at my ideal body weight. But those kind of thoughts only remind me there's pudding cups in the fridge.

We all have short attention spans hardwired into our DNA. Every single one of us learns how to play dominoes, yet every one of us instinctually wants to place them on end and make interesting patterns in which to topple. If it weren't for this instinct, we would never have the phrase "domino effect".

I miss the Muppet Show.

100,000

I was getting back from lunch today, and just as I reached the parking lot, the truck's mileage hit 99,999.9 miles. I pulled into my parking space, backed up and pulled forward about five times to bump that sucker to an even 100,000.

Fairly sad that this was one of the high points of my day.

Gotta do something

On his first week on the job, an old friend of mine made a costly mistake. Being new to the job, he was sure he'd be fired, so he tried to make a preemptive strike and resign. His boss wouldn't accept it, telling him that he wouldn't let him quit after having just spent so much money teaching him an important lesson.

We fall. We pick ourselves up. That's simple logic. I've fallen many times in my life and I'm thankful that They've all been from fairly short heights...if you look at the big picture. That hasn't stopped me from bullshitting myself into thinking it's worse than it actually was. Sound and fury signifying nothing.

I got to thinking today about some of the mistakes I've made in my life, and I'm left uncertain on most of them. Have I just been that good at assessing the potential risks and steering clear of them? Have I just been that bad at taking the bigger risks for fear of failing? Or, have I just been lucky?

The only conclusion I've come to is that I tend to take the safe route. Even when I've failed, I've done what's expected of me, what's been recommended to me or what I've seen others do with success. The only times I've never allowed myself to be talked out of a risky situation is when I've been absolutely certain I was right, and my motivation in that situation has been simply to piss off my detractors. Of course, that last category has been been a pretty small wedge on the pie chart that is my life.

I'm not suggesting that I should try cranking the knob to eleven on the risk-o-meter. There are no fight clubs or project mayhems in my future because I bruise easily and my insurance rates are high enough as it is. I'm not gonna quit my job, leave my life behind and walk the earth because, let's face it, I'd get winded before I reach the end of the block and be bitching about the foot blisters for a week and a half. However, leading an altogether safe life can get pretty fucking boring after a while.

I guess after the camping trip this past weekend and the good vibes I felt in that experience, I'm left wanting a bit more than I've been giving myself lately. I returned home from that trip exhausted and dirty as hell, but spiritually I felt like a million bucks. Looking back on it all, I didn't risk much. Sure, I spent a little more money than I had planned on supplies, killed more than a few brain cells with whiskey, not to mention wrenched my back a bit sleeping on that lumpy ground...but if I hadn't gone, I probably would've spent most of that time on my ass watching TV. I went because an opportunity presented itself to do something I hadn't done in years. It was a limited time offer and I'm glad I took advantage.

I need to be more impulsive like that, because in the months (okay, years) leading up to last weekend, most of my impulsive nature has been limited to the bargain DVD rack at Target. the video games at the laundromat and the super-size option at that drive-thru. One of the things I came to realize during my trip was that I may not need to ramp up my impulsiveness, but rather re-channel it into more fruitful pursuits.

Unfortunately, my mind's drawing a blank on what I could do to that effect. Apparently, mediocrity is a tough habit to break.

Cold, rainy, muddy comfort

I've reached the beginning of the end of my latest little funk, and all it took was calling up a friend Mary and saying the words "Fritschie bored."

And not a moment too soon. She was getting ready to head to Guthrie for the bluegrass festival, and without missing a beat, she instructed me to fill an ice chest with beer and snacks, pack a change of clothes and some camping supplies, and be ready to be picked up in about an hour.

I did as I was told, left Chuckles an extra scoop of food and we headed out to Guthrie. Acting entirely on impulse, it turned out to be just the thing I needed to recharge my batteries and get away from my life, if only for a day.

In addition to the thrill of acting on a wild impulse, I wound up being a great surprise to our friends who were already at the festival. We wound up not even going to the festival and instead just hanging around the campsite, having fun, eating good food and making friends with our camp neighbors. We all split a bottle of whiskey, got completely lit, and had a great time. For the first time in almost two weeks, I was genuinely happy.

It rained most of the night, but that never slowed us down or dampened our mood. Our neighbors had a huge tent set up and everyone had their instruments out playing anything that came to their minds. I got to sit outside the tent, let the rain mist all over me, the heat from the campfire at my back, and I was able to get completely lost and sort out everything in my head.

I came to realize that all of the changes I've been trying to make in my life, all those little things that have become much bigger than anticipated, all those big plans I've started to initiate need some revision. In my mind, I had everything laid out in front of me, and patterns started to flash before me like in A Beautiful Mind. I finally got a clear view of everything that's been done half-assed, over-done, and gone about completely the wrong way. And unlike A Beautiful Mind, I was left with absolutely no paranoia.

Patience is the key to everything working out. It's as if the engine had stalled and I got out to push, never even thinking to try the ignition again. Everything that's been bugging me melted away completely, and my mind was clear at last.

And the experience of camping tested my newfound faith. Everything at the camp was drenched, my loosely defined two-man tent on lumpy ground provided me with little sleep and much discomfort, and the negative effects of the whiskey wasn't enough to erase the good vibes I inside. I got up at dawn, sat outside in a wet lounge chair and watched the sun come up. Not once during this trip did I unpack my camera. All that I experienced was right there in my memory where it belonged and I needed no pictures to remind me of them.

The drive back Mary and I talked about anything and everything, listened to some great music, and enjoyed the rest of our trip. I commented at one point that my clothes reeked of dirt, rain, sweat and campfire smoke and I didn't give a rat's ass about it. I was greeted at home by a lonely and tuna deprived Chuckles and I promptly took a much deserved shower.

Now, I'm heading to a warm bed for a restful night's sleep and feeling ready to again take on the life I left behind for a day.

Thursday night drunken rant

Tonight was the first time I've felt close to normal in the past ten or so days. The sad part is that alcohol was involved.

Today was frustrating to say the least. I went back and forth today with a client on the east coast about some files that I sent her. The thing is that I send her the files the same way every time, but somehow they wouldn't work on her computer today. All signs pointed to a problem with her computer, but in the true ironic nature of the universe, the files worked just fine if I sent them to my boss first and had him forward them along to her. Just my luck, just when I start to feel vindicated, it turns out the problem is my fault.

Ive also had other things happen to me along the same lines, but I won't get into them here until the sense of impending doom possibly becomes a full-blown reality. As mentioned in the last post, even if the worst-case scenario comes to fruition, everything will be alright in the long run. Suffice to say that I apparently lack the emotional energy and the bargaining power needed to prevent what I think will happen. More on this as it develops.

As for the immediate future, my boss will be leaving early tomorrow, so I'm at least assured a quiet end to my work week, followed by a weekend off. Perhaps some pampering is in order, but who knows...maybe just some rest will do the trick.

Putting my finger somewhere near the vicinity of the problem

I gotta say, depression has gotten a little easier for me over the past couple years.

I never know what will bring it on. Most times, it hits without warning. I may wake up one morning and not want to have anything to do with the world outside the window. Some times, outside stimuli would trigger my depression, but even then it may just be a bad event coinciding with how my mood was gonna be anyway.

Once it hits, theres not much I can do but ride it out. There's never been one tried and true cure for my depression. What works one time doesn't work the next time. Sort of like an emotional cold sore. All I do know is what I shouldn't do. When I get like this, I don't listen to NPR for more than an hour a day...or read anything by Tom Wolfe or John Irving...or make any major purchases.

It used to be that whenever one of my funks came around, which tend to come around about once a year or so, it would be compounded by the problems in my life. Work would be hectic, creditors would be hot on my heels and relationships would be strained. Right now, work is slowing down for the fall, I'm out of debt, and my friends are being really supportive. I used to suffer from a complete loss of hope, but now, I'm able to maintain a level of calm knowing that even if the worst case scenerio in my head comes true, I'm at least gonna come out of it OK.

I also can rest on the notion that none of my depressions in the past six years have lasted more than two weeks. I'm on day eight on this ebb. Granted, I'm only counting the past six years because the depression I suffered six years ago lasted nearly ten months, but that was because a lot of shit went down (bad breakup, family issues, massive debt, near crippling loneliness, etc.). About the worst I got going for me at this moment is a struggle with nicotine addiction. Big fucking deal by comparison. Ordinarily, I'd use the blog to chronicle my frustrations with quitting smoking, but I wouldn't want to risk my friend Seth commenting with the "I sucked dick for cocaine!" quote from Half Baked.

I learned long ago that my problems are just that. My problems. And there are problems that you can share with others to get the support you need, there are problems that make you sound like a whiny little bitch, and there are problems that only make you more crazy trying to talk about them because you can't pinpoint them. I'm just stuck with the latter for now. The more I try to dig deeper to find what's getting me down, the more confused I get as to what the problem is.

I guess I've just got to ride it out. There's a feeling that something's missing, and all I can do is either wait for the problem to present itself with a solution, or eventually become insignificant in the big picture. Either way, finger's crossed.