Tag Archives: depression

Sunday whatevers

Isabel's party at Sura
Bit wobbly in the middle
I’m pretty disappointed with myself right now.

I had an ideal day, according to Peter Gibbons from Office Space. I did nothing, and it was everything he would have hoped for. On top of this, the 49ers won, I had ice cream for dinner, and booze in my coke. I watched decent TV programs. I was not uncomfortable. I barely opened my mouth. Nothing important happened.

I hate that I’m content to do nothing all day, but not enough to get up and put clothes on. I fear that I would rather have a day like today than a day like yesterday.

Yesterday I had a small production meeting, wrote some emails, planned for the future, spent time with my family, went to a friends birthday party, had strangers (or at least strange people) in my car, ate exotic (for me) foods, stayed out past my bedtime, and played a multiplayer game with actual people.

Which day did I enjoy more? If I remove the day job from my point of view, how would I want to spend my time? I’m having a hard time deciding. Loneliness can be depressing, but is a little depression enough of a punishment to make me want to change? Is the chance for fun, companionship, and better (physical and mental) health enough of a carrot to get me out my front door?

The answer is, sadly, no.

Intellectually, I know I should be trying to have more days like yesterday. In my mind I know those days are more important. It’s good to seize the day, be creative, make friends. So I feel very guilty after a day like today makes me feel good inside. I don’t have the passion for nihilism that Peter Gibbons has, so I can’t really enjoy myself, but then I don’t have passion for much of anything anymore, so what’s the alternative?

I’d like to know more people but I don’t like people enough to get to know them.

I wish I could figure this out. I wish I could hit my head and have one of those lucky, prosperous brain injuries that would cure me of my inhibitions. I sure seem to beating myself up enough to cause a metaphorical concussion, and not of the brain-fixing kind. I suspect that has more to do with it than anything. It’s a depression. The biggest hindrance to myself is myself. Man, I wish I could kill that guy.