I read somewhere that depression is “anger turned inward.” This makes a lot of sense to me, because babies never seem depressed – they scream and yell one second and then laugh the next. I feel like I spend the majority of my day holding in my emotions and pretending to be compassionate and civil. People can probably see through me. I can’t help but wonder if it would be better for me and for everyone around me if I was just 100% honest at all times.
Even now, in this moment, I feel like I am intellectualizing this. I guess that’s the point of writing, to a degree. It’s not like I can just write raw emotion.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
There.
Where’s my Pulitzer?
Perhaps that is what art is – the intersection point between emotional chaos and interpersonal communication. I don’t know what that last sentence means, but it sounds great don’t it?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
The second “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!“ felt insincere to me – I was going for the joke there. I just don’t want to lie to you. (And if I don’t boost this post, “you” = nobody.)
So perhaps, in an effort to face depression, I need to come to terms with how I really feel. In other words, if we presume that depression is actually the facade – or the shield – then what would happen if I removed the shield? What would I find beneath it?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Well, maybe now we’re onto something – related question – if I have geared all of my life around seeking approval in an effort to find love that I cannot find within, then at the end of the day, who am I? If I all I care about is being loved, where do I stand?
How do I proceed, especially as a comedian, without wanting to care a little about what the audience thinks? There’s only one way to find out –
Oh God – sorry, but as I’m writing this, I’m at a Coffee Bean, and the guy sitting near me brought his own granola. I hate him. I have no idea why – but I just hate him. First of all, you should always show respect by not bringing outside food or beverage into a restaurant.
Oh, wait – update – I might not be granola – it might be tuna – which is even worse.
But anyway, he also looks like the kind of guy who goes on “hikes.” He’s probably walked all the way to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and then snapped a selfie with his girlfriend who works as a freelance graphic designer but who really wants to be an architect. And they probably have satisfying sex because he keeps in shape by eating granola and/or tuna. So my hatred of him springs from jealousy.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
And he’s eating it out of Tupperware. Tupperware – Tupperware depresses me – it just reminds me of all the income disparity out there. Tupperware is the container that screams: we can’t afford to throw anything away!
Anything within Tupperware looks less tasty to me. Tupperware does to food what I do to first dates.
I seriously can’t tell you how annoying it is that he is eating his breakfast out of a Tupperware container while INSIDE the Coffee Bean. It’s an insult to the Coffee Bean, AS WELL AS the Tea Leaf.
This reminds me of that time in preschool when I was sitting next to a girl who had a little bit of food on her lip, and I started to cry because that disgusting bit of food was on her face and NOBODY WAS DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT. How do you let that just sit there – doesn’t she have nerve endings in her damned cheek?
So here’s the revelation from this blog post- for years, I have been ascribing my emotional condition to things that happened to me in middle school – but now I’m beginning to realize that I’ve been a freak my whole life.
Around third grade, I was told that the reason why I was so miserable was because I was gifted and talented. Some gifted kids grow up to change the world of quantum physics – I grow up to scream at people who bring TUPPERWARE into a COFFEE BEAN AND TEA LEAF like it’s the PANTRY of their CONDO!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!