Just realized I was depressed - for no reason at all. I can't believe how sad I feel. Perhaps I'm tired. Perhaps I haven't accomplished enough. I know that I'm down about how little time I've had for my Arful Aparecium blog. But that's not it. This is just the stupid depression having its way with me. The trick is to first recognize it then shake it off. That last part can be tricky. That's why I like to identify whether I have a reason to be down or not. If I do have a reason to be down, it usually isn't enough to account for how low I feel. Tonight I don't have a real reason to be down. Therefor I need to do something to shake off the blues.Writing in this blog is the first thing I'll do. Next, I'll try jotting my writing research notes into my Copy Write file. If that fails I'll go draw. If that fails, I'll watch a DVD I rented. One of those four will work.
And on another completely different topic:
Funny thing occurred to me today as I was following a link to another blog. The blog was of some successful writer who I hadn't heard of before. Her blog style was catty and snitty. She griped about her 7 year old son, she griped about the dentist, she griped about life in general, and each snarky little entry had well over a dozen comments from dedicated and adoring fans. I like comments and wish I had more of them on my blog. I see comments as a barometer of how well I'm doing here communicating myself to people. Hit the mark; get some comments. Miss the mark; hear the silence. This author, however, could write about waxing her legs and get fan mail. Perhaps for the first time I realized that I didn't really want success with my blog if it came in that form. I like the razor's edge I write on here. Then with a small twinge of sadness I realized that if I ever succeeded in getting a book published, either I wouldn't have time for a blog or I would have vapid commentary on most of my blog entries as well. Even my most dull entries would have dozens of comments. And that would be dreadful. Then again, I could be completely wrong. I muse far too deeply for any form of blog success - my analysis far too tortured and critical. I need to be cute and quippy in order to inspire legions of happy posters. That's not a gripe or sour grape. My subject matter of choice is very sober - like trying to write up funerals as perky social gatherings.
Though, I wonder what it would sound like if I tried:
I was just thinking about what losers my kids were when I realized, dang, I'm depressed. What's up with that? I should like shake it off or something. Go watch some CSPAN and laugh at the hairpieces or listen to NPR overgeneralize the poor state the costal ecosystems due to shrimp farming in Malaysia. You know that's all our fault, right? Wish I didn't like shrimp so much. So anyway, I thought maybe I would just go for a walk when I thought, great. Wouldn't that be fun to fall down on the sidewalk and flop about in a ticking mess? Gross! So maybe I'll just walk the treadmill instead.
Comments:
Boggles 2:13pm
Wow! I hate my kids too!
Dmasher 2:46pm
Have you ever tried Bubba Gump shrimp. It's teh best! Where is Malaysia anyway?
PeggyQ 6:34pm
Oh, Douglas! You are so funny! Kiss kiss.
SizeXXS 9:02pm
Tic disorders are gross! Blech. But I hate the drugs my mom makes me take to stop the tics. I just give them to my cat.
Hey, it's a brave new world of blogging for me. I could be an A-lister in no time.
But the real news is that I'm not depressed anymore. Wow. The power of sarcasm. I'll have to try it more often. My wife will be thrilled!
