As you readers may have acknowledged by deconstructing my previous entries, I am most certainly not the most content person to have his fingers touch a keyboard. It is natural for me to find fault with both myself and the rest of society, just as it is natural for me to wish to express my disdain. That in itself is a fault in my nature as a human being as far as I'm concerned. Shit, look at what's happening over in Japan: a fucking tsunami. 600+ already confirmed dead with 10,000+ missing, and I feel the need to bitch and moan, as if I'm going through hard times. The closest I've had to a natural disaster is a 40° day (Celsius, not Fahrenheit :P) and while it's by no means pleasant, it's also nothing compared to a wave towering 10 metres over your head, your house and your family. As destructive and devastating as such an event is, I always look to how natural disasters bring people together as we put differences aside and help one another. I find it strange that as negative a person as I may seem, I try to look on the positive side if at all possible. I am fully aware, however, of that fact that such a feat is easier said than done.
To put it bluntly, I am suffering depression, and I've realised that I've been feeling this way for a lot longer than I've perhaps fooled myself to believe. I'm not sure if there was a definite time or date when I began to think or feel this way, but in a very slow and progressive manner, cynicism and disgust have taken over my otherwise optimistic system. I could perhaps attribute this to my inherent admiration for George Carlin, for whom I have a great deal of respect as a person and from whom I've taken a great deal of inspiration as a comedian. I suppose it's the darker side of being exposed to a whole new way of thinking where you realise that you're just a speck in an ever expanding universe, and that everything around you has been set up to get you in and out as quickly as possible in a subvert attempt to minimise harm, that ironically does harm in a manner not many seem to be able to pick up on: it takes the spice out of life.
I find the best way to describe mood is to put it in terms of a fluorescent light. Good quality lights don't flicker much; they stay on most of the time, and illuminate rooms with relative ease. Some lights are a bit dodgy, and flicker a bit, but they're on for the fair majority of their run. Then there are lights that aren't so great; lights that never stop flickering. Sometimes they flicker really quickly in a manner more erratic than a hamster on methamphetamines, and other times they stay on for ages in a surprising instance of irradiated confidence. Sometimes, the power goes out, and even though it can stay out for a very, very long time, it comes back eventually. Sometimes, we decide to switch the light off, destroying its ability to shine, but leaving the possibility for further radiance contiguous. But sometimes, we go so far as to cut the wires; I'm in the process of soldering my previously tattered connection.
There are plenty of things that bring me joy to a level I can hardly contain: performing stand-up, improvising, multiplayer gaming, philosophical discussion, just to name a few, and these things have such value to me because they're rare occurrences. There are things that I've grown addicted to (namely watching improv and stand-up, as well as sleeping :P) that used to bring with them a far higher level of satisfaction that's been lost in their saturation; each instance of a repeated action has less of an effect on us as people, whatever that effect may be. In the most extreme cases, it takes the complete removal of an element from your life for you to realise its true worth; for me, that was my girlfriend.
We didn't split because I was taking her for granted; even though she dealt with the issue in an incredibly selfish manner, her reasoning of "I don't like you anymore," though harsh, is understandable and believable. Only when she was gone did I realise how happy she made me, and it was this that perhaps led me to cut my wires; I didn't think my bulb would get enough power, so I had to recover enough resources to allow the light to shine without having to worry about it suddenly going out. This metaphor is getting ahead of me :P
I find it to be a cruel irony how the things that make me happy are, for the most part, being with other people, whether it be performing with or for them, being leisurely with them, or even speaking with them, but feeling the way I do now leads me away from people rather than towards them. It's unusual how I deal with the same problem in different forms. For example, when I'm sick (as in, physically ill) I go to a doctor and get a prescription, actively seeking an artificial solution because I think I need it, leaving my natural immune system out of the question. Impatience and lack of faith takes hold, and I take the easy way out; we all do it. But, when I'm mentally deprived, I refuse such treatment, because I want as little dependency in this area as possible. I feel it's my responsibility to get myself out of such a predicament, but also acknowledge that this requires the efforts of others on my part.
I suppose my main fear is to become reliant on a counselor or therapist; yes, the profession exists for a reason and I can appreciate its worth to people with extremely poor mental health, but I'm just a bit blue, that's all! I don't need some fucker with a degree telling me how to think better; I need to find out myself so I can deal with problems as they arise without having to resort to "professional help." Dealing with these kinds of problems is something you learn through experience, and giving that experience to someone who's studied it for 3 to 4 years is a fucking waste. If you're on the verge of suicide or some other horrific or tragic fate, that's when you get help from the therapist. Otherwise, just get some buddies together and do something you love doing! No, it won't make all the pain go away, but it fucking helps!
Find something that makes you happy, and chase it. Listen to music, watch movies, go to the theatre, go out and party, have long winded discussions about cheese; the choice is yours, and in my case, the choice is to chase another girl. Have I found my next target? Yes, I have! Is this chase a permanent solution to my depression? Of course not! There is no such thing as a permanent solution; only temporary solutions, and you've just gotta find the one which lasts until the day you die, being careful not to abuse it and destroy its worth. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a good thing, because you need depression in your life; you just have to learn to harness and control it, and learn from it.
Remember: without bad times, there are no good times by comparison.
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