Sunday, September 18, 2005

Throwing Cares away Carelessly, like Flotsam and Jetsam

Well, now I've discovered two things never to name sibling babies and pets - Flotsam and Jetsam. Even if you call 'em, Flo and Jet, it'd still be sort of sad and cruel - (you two aren't quite necessary!!). But a band named Flotsam!Jetsam!, that's entirely possible, because how many times have there been when you just wanted to throw some music, some band, some boring thing overboard into the choppy seas of nothingness?? It's a necessary survival tactic, even if it only in your head. Try it with your next annoying conversationalist.

Apologies for being gone for so long.

What's been going on? you ask solicitously.
I ask in return, Why is the checklist questions for depression so vague?

I believe a bit in coincidence, of some unconscious fate manifesting itself in signs other than those on bright yellow boards and hammers to the head. I imagine this happens often but I actually got a spam that wormed its way through the filter at my work e-mail. It was an ad for depression medication and listed these questions. This and that. And I was voting the straight ticket yesyesyesyesyesyes! And then I checked on the zoloft site (clinical research skills! airtight!) and they had similar questions and similar tickets. So, I gave up and raided the fridge for some ben&jerry's.

This is mostly what my past few weeks have been: Giving up. Raiding fridge.

Even when I complain, whine, ok shut up already, on this scrawl-site of mine, if it's updated regularly, it's usually a sign that I'm doing relatively okay. When I'm not, I'm either super-busy, or exploring the lower depths of the inverted roller-coaster that my mental health seems to be taking more and more these days. The lows get wildly lower, the highs are the breathers. And gravity's not quite doing its job.

The words aren't coming out. The thoughts aren't coming out. And I'm filled with a whole lot of "I don't care" sentiment, bleeding all over my psyche like some ugly oil spot, until you can see clear-through; what if there's nothing there? From time to time, I try and eat fruit, drink tea, to feel cleaner, clear-headed-er. And then I eat some awful take-out. Another small indicator: voracious hunger but no concern for what's going in mouth.

I haven't been holed up in my room, rocking in the corner. I've made efforts to go out and be busy and work has been busy and writing assignments have been piling up. I'm Hercules for going to work at all. Movies sometimes take me out. Dooce sometimes takes me out. I resist the urge to throw up at every other post about CMJ or self-aggrandizing preening comments that I happen upon. I resolve to stop reading music blogs. I wallow in short stories and sad music. I glare at people in the subway, on the sidewalk. Two strangers in the past week have told me to smile.

I've been seeing and talking to a good number of friends. Things seem to be proceeding with or without me. Life resembles the usual stuff in almost every aspect. But something's always thrumming in the background, that I should be holed up in my room because it's so goddamn tiring. I can't find Joy without Melancholy. Why is everything so tiring? And I've been waiting for the green light to pop up amidst the oil and say, OK! Turn the corner! But it's been on perpetual yellow. Nobody likes yellow lights!!! What are you supposed to do??! Slow down? Speed up?? I CAN'T TELL.

There's a quote that is supposedly from Maya Angelou which I despise. It goes something like, "If you don't like it change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude. Don't complain." ...Gross. I will complain all the live long day, thank you very much. I feel like giving up and complaining over and over and over again. But since the psychological immune system isn't kicking in at all, it looks like I'll have to take the damn page out of the stalwart Angelou, if those are indeed her smarmy words.

I had a dream last night that I travelled through time - to past or future, I don't know. Somebody who looked like my freshman sleepwalking roommate woke up from her nap, was peacefully reading a book, and all of a sudden, totally stabbed my thigh with a knife. WTF???

Look, I'm collecting my efforts and I'm going to try again. I'm going to avoid more stabbing. I'm going to imagine throwing this feeling off my homely raft. We'll see.

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