9/4/09

I am twenty two, I was hoping angst would have hopped off the train somewhere in my teens. But still, I feel this wordless unrest in my stomach. My body knows something is not right when I have no reason to be upset. I discovered this emotion the first time I fell in love. I am going through withdrawal of a teammate, a wayfarer with equal cosmic aims to my own (that line was a good example of "lowering expectations"). It is a shame, because I know it is so pointless, ultimately counterproductive since it makes phone calls with me an undesirable prospect. Regardless, it hurts, and it weighs on me, and I want to escape from it. I finished Russell Brand's memoir today, and it was the only non-chemical release I had from these feelings. He is a really exceptional person. I think, from the impression I got from his book, that he deserves his celebrity and is a person of value. Part of that opinion came from watching his TV show RE:Brand. While he was whacked out of his mind on strong drink and heroin he succeeded in making some absolutely absurd and valuable television. He finds himself on the wrong side of a racist skin head (or is that the right side?) and the next week bathing with a homeless man in pursuit of exploring taboo. It is quite painful at times to watch, and I have to give him my props on the courage it took for his honesty. But I'm rambling, let me get back to the important topic, the SS Depression. Depression is not a sash I wear but something I live with. It started as sort of a blaise ennui and developed more lately into something more in line with conventional "depression". So it is a part of my life, and I talk about it. This is by far not a cry for help, but a mundane search for something interesting to write about. I am very interested in dealing with these feelings in a productive way. I always feel disgusted with myself whenever I wallow in my brain, like I similarly dislike when people so willingly allow self sabotage and label it poor luck or a malignant universe. So I'm trying to get around it. I'm spending time with people (well, my roommate and his friends, not that I'm an unsociable oaf, but I just moved here from Kentucky and haven't met anyone). I'm medicated, and am seeking a counselor. Let me try to explain something about depression, or at least my experience with it. I feel like people assume I suffered some trauma that jeopardized my developing brain. Also, they tend to confuse "depression" for "suicidal tendencies" certainly a symptom for some, but not for me. My depression is a result of a chemical imbalance, doctors tell me, and has no real-world or historical cause. Just a shitty genetic deal. You know that really annoying cliche argument that is so easy to sound profound while discussing, the one about if we experience the world exclusively through our lens of experience and perception than can't one argue they are in fact the center of the universe and without ourselves the universe would cease to be? Well, using that logic, I live in a world where I am sad bored and upset, and have no explanation other than my brain is stupid.

Beer's here! Ciao