Fabulous news, everyone, I’m depressed again – for a minute there, I was afraid I was going to run out of material (Oh me of little faith). Which begs the question, am I now caught in my own cycle of a self-fulfilling prophecy? No – life just sucks. Ok, great. Thanks for clearing that up.
Some people get depressed for seemingly no external reason. External reasons cause me to be depressed, but they are external reasons that are, how shall we say, meaningless in the grand scheme.
I don’t think the scheme is that grand, by the way (I can tell I’m depressed when I start to get philosophical. Reminds me of Plato’s lesser known work, entitled “Get Out Of My Face, Carl.”
Historians debate, to this day, the identity of Carl. Though he remains unknown to us, it is theorized he was one of those people who would initiate a conversation with somebody at a coffee shop who was obviously just trying to study for their nursing exam).
The depression is hitting me today because I am nervous about certain things at work. It also doesn’t help that I didn’t have the stand-up set I really wanted to have last night. By the way, pairing stand-up comedy with depression is really the best way to bring out the bold colors and tastes of depression. If you need a way to exacerbate your sadness, have I got the performance situation for you.
But that’s not even fair to stand-up comedy- before I was obsessed with stand-up comedy, I was obsessed with acting. Before I was obsessed with acting, I was obsessed with getting straight A’s. Before I was obsessed with getting straight A’s, I was obsessed with being the first in line when we had to go back into class after recess. And in any of those cases, if I wasn’t perfect, I got sad. From the beginning, I was always trying to be first and the best. Is it the result of being an only child? Is it genetic? Is it a mystery that I can’t solve? (Right now, the ghost of Plato is telling me to get out of his face).
So I’m stressed out over [insert meaningless problem here] and this is where I think to myself “this is easy. All I have to do is just let this go, and have a sense of humor about the situation.” And then I respond to that thought by wanting to punch people and things, which is not very witty. I can almost see Noel Coward shaking his head, sipping a martini, and comparing my comedic subtlety to that of Eugene O’Neil. Which stings, Noel. That really stings.
The fatigue I feel – the opposite feeling of the excitement I used to feel before starting something that I really wanted to do – that’s what really gets me. The feeling that I am about to enter a long slog. What does depression feel like – it’s the moment, around page 15 of anything Dickens, where you flip all the way to the end, look at the page number, and wonder if you can get what you need to from the movie version.
The other problem I have is that, in addition to allowing external circumstances to bring me into depression, I also allow external circumstances to bring me out. I don’t want something external to make me feel better, I want to feel better on my own so I can achieve enlightenment and not have to depend on anybody else, and, perhaps, discover the ability to teleport.
I was watching a clip of Joan Rivers on the Graham Norton show last night – amazing how funny she was. “Why don’t you write jokes that tight,” I ask myself – which is a clue that I’m heading back down into the slog.
I chose to end this blog with a passage from Plato’s “Get Out Of My Face, Carl”:
SOCRATES: I don’t know, ok? I don’t know. The government just sucks, and if the Gods exist, they’re clearly under the influence of something. Stop asking me questions. These are the days where I just want to work on my spreadsheets in peace.