Category: depression

last day of forty-seven

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Tomorrow, I’ll be forty-eight years on this earth.

And given how my neck, shoulder and stomach feel today, I have lived all of them quite poorly.

At least, in all likelihood, I’m better than halfway through.

Closer to the end than the beginning, that’s for sure.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1307 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
Comics: Seven To Eternity 1-2, Deadly Class 22, Black Science 25
Music: Elvis Presley Essentials, Elvis Presley (can't go wrong with the king)

the one day in the office

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Yeehaw, called in sick Monday so we could take the grandbaby out for waffles, and yesterday was a stat day, so only one day in the office.

Now, if only my laptop bag didn’t smell so horribly like cat pee.

My life is one walking travesty after another, punctuated by brief moments of joy that I can barely enjoy.

Depression’s a monster.

The black dog sucks the joy out of everything.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1888 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Agent To The Stars, John Scalzi
Comics: Black Science 10, Low 4-5, Deadly Class 9
Music: Electric Ladyland, The Jimi Hendrix Experience (so at least, I got this going for me)

day two – back in office

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I still don’t like it, and there’s even more people here today.

Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

Work from home, kids, in any way you can.

Hell is other people, as a smart man once said, but it’s also the self.

Basically, we live in hell, the darkest timeline, whatever, the world actually ended in 2012, and we’re just lost in a collective nightmare where things only get worse, no one can stop it and we’re all doomed to live out our days watching things turn to shit.

This is why you don’t put the boy back at work; he’s less likely to spiral.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1121 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Infinity Concerto, Greg Bear
Comics: Fear Agent 21-24
Music: Ed Sheeran Essentials, Ed Sheeran (fuck you, the kid seems like a dork, which is cool with me)

back to office

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It’s every bit as bad as I thought.

At least, I’m in a side room, not the main floor, but my boss is right in the room with me (though she’s cool – a cousin of my wife, though neither of knew the other existed prior to me starting there – she looks like a younger version of my wife).

It’s weird though, so quiet. I feel like I’m breathing too heavy, like everyone is watching me.

It’s creepy, keeping my back up.

Hopefully, I get used to it, because otherwise, the background stress of being there is going to kill me.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 702 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Infinity Concerto, Greg Bear
Comics: Fear Agent 13-16
Music: Echoes, Silence, Patience, & Grace, Foo Fighters (why is every album so good? A deal with Satan, for certain)

on the verge

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Tomorrow, we start this back to office program. It’s only three days a week, but I’m not sure how that’s going to affect my writing schedule.

Weeks were I’m in now tend to be struggles to find time, because of the extra prep and travel time involved, but I had two weeks to catch up if things went off.

Now… every week, possibly three days where I’m having to get up earlier or stay up later or drop other things I need to do in order to keep up?

Or worse, postponing everything to try and shove them in Thursday or Friday, or that other time that we’re supposed to have time but don’t, a weekend?

I am fretting.

Yes. Fretting.

Okay, freaking out.

I want this life, and I’m tired of fighting myself for it; I certainly don’t need the rest of the world piling on.

The Mungk left me hopeless, fatalist.

Bad Neighbours only feeds my anger.

I don’t need any more anger.

I have always had more than enough.

Fuck.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 611 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Almayer's Folly, Joseph Conrad
Comics: Fear Agent 9-12
Music: Echoes - The Best Of Pink Floyd, Pink Floyd (no shit, for real)

day off

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I’m taking the day tomorrow. Mostly, because we’ve been asked to take care of our granddaughter for the day/weekend (yes, sir! No problem, sir!), but because I am spiralling. I’m really not in a good place for work.

I feel like I’m behind, overworked, disorganized, putting way too much personal pressure on myself to meet standards and targets, and that’s not just work.

It’s me, fucking myself up.

Self-destructing, as always, and wanting to scrap it all and start again.

But I’ve done that too often.

I’ve come too far and I’m out of time.

After all, Donald Trump’s fascist state may invade or bomb us at any time. The psycho’s capable of anything, if it feeds his sad, little ego.

So, yeah.

Taking the day tomorrow.

Fuck Donald Trump.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1106 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card
Comics: Fathom v6 8, Aspen Universe: Decimation 1-3
Music: The Early Year - Underpaid & Out Of Tune, Dropkick Murphys (fuckin' Dropkick, man, love 'em.)

brian wilson

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And now, Brian Wilson?

Goddamnit.

Sly Stone I could take because I don’t have a lot of connection there, but I’ve been listening to Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys as long as I can remember (fuck Mike Love). We even saw them in concert when they (meaning Mike Love and a bunch of randoms) came to play at the bandstand in Tecumseh Park.

It was nice.

The innocence of it all hiding the troubled mind in behind… wouldn’t it be better if Brian had sang what he wanted? If he’d sang about his pain.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

For Brian Wilson to be still alive.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 798 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card
Comics: Aspen Universe: Decimation 0, Fathom v6 5-7
Music: Early Trax, Ministry

sly stone’s dead

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I’m not really sure what that means other than a continued reaffirmation of the cycle of life and death, or the misconception that I had that he was already dead.

Not that I’m the biggest fan of the Family Stone, but there was some good stuff.

Death in obscurity; life in obscurity.

Death in Cheers; everyone knows your name; in life, as well.

Which end of the scale? Do we all forget Angela Cartwright and her sister? Do you know her sister’s name?

Who ran IBM in the Seventies? Who stood in front of the tanks?

Whatever happened to P.J. Soles?

There’s a strong chance I’m losing it; obscurity within the family unit has me lost.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1510 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Blackbirds, Chuck Wendig
Comics: Aspen Universe: Revelations 2-5
Music: Izitso, Cat Stevens

crashed out and cleaned out

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I’m exhausted, poor and in physical and mental anguish.

I just want connection.

Love.

Time alone.

Time to relax, recharge, catch up.

The most love a person could show me would be to allow that to become true.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 727 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis
Comics: Fathom v5 2-5
Music: It's In Our Hands, Bjork (it fucking is)

thursday

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Yep.

It’s fucking Thursday.

Jerks.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1277 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Pawn's Dream, Eric Nylund
Comics: Fathom v4 5-6, Fathom: Kiani v2 0-1 (who the fuck let Scott Lobdell take over this franchise; the man clearly didn't get the subject matter and just wanted to write another fucking DC or Marvel superhero book)
Music: It's A Shame About Ray (Live), Lemonheads (last one, I promise)