|An accurate representation of my mental state today.|
If you've been following my little saga since the beginning, you might remember an anecdote from my work last week in which I was involved in an endless circular argument with a coworker over a technical triviality. That incident, more or less, is what caused my brain to stop functioning that fateful day. It was, in a broader sense, the catalyst for my recent move toward getting help for myself. At the time, though, it was just damned frustrating. Well, anyway, that particular coworker was fired for across-the-board incompetence this morning. I had nothing to do with it, I assure you. My superiors had been wanting to oust him for a while, and today was when the axe fell. Truth be told, he was not an unpleasant guy at all. He was really nice. He was just a lousy coworker who didn't give a damn about his job, and I simply could not work around him. In a way, I'm grateful to him because (very indirectly and inadvertently) he led me toward managing my depression and anxiety. I don't know whether this was ironic or appropriate, but I wound up filling in for him today since there is no immediate replacement available. How about that? Funny old world.
My body continues to adjust to the meds. My appetite is starting to come back somewhat, though I'm not exactly craving food these days. We got free taffy apples at work today, and mine is just sitting uneaten in my fridge. A year ago, I would've been all over that! I'm still not in a "funny," creative mood either. How do I know this? Well, I wake up very early for work each weekday even though I'm the opposite a morning person. To help revive myself, I often make up absurd little songs and sing them in the shower or in the car on the way to work. It comforts me. Some of the little ditties I've performed on Mail Order Zombie were written this way. But I haven't been making up songs in the mornings lately. That part of my brain is shut off, like a deserted wing of an old mansion. I've not felt much of an urge to play music, listen to music, or draw. I'm writing in this blog pretty often these days partly because I'm forcing myself to do so. I don't want my creative muscles to atrophy. (Gah! What a crummy analogy!)
|WTF With Marc Maron|
Miscellaneous thought: It's so weird that jack-in-the-boxes have endured as a toy. I mean, have you ever really thought about them? They have exactly one use, and that use is terrifying and disturbing. They're like some weird Pavlov-meets-Clockwork-Orange experiment to get children to associate music with fear and alarm. "Oh, yay! I'm listening to a catchy song! And I'm making the song myself by turning this handle! This is.... AHHHHH!!!! SCARY CLOWN MAN!" What a world we live in!