At least, it feels that way. I’ve noted in the past that usually on about Halloween and through to mid January, some depressive symptoms come on. Halloween came this year and I guess I was distracted by other stresses, I failed to notice some of the underlying nuances of an oncoming depressive episode. Today, the mid of November, I can certainly see those nuances grow into more ominous signs. Getting overly sad, neglecting duties, begging the question, “What does it matter?” yeah, I’m going into a slump. Time to batten down the hatches.

My normal go-to’s for for stability are among the duties I’ve been actively neglecting.Among the numerous aspects of my life suffering: homework and school skills. The former needing more attention than the latter in this instance, for without a solid foundation, the entire structure will fall. So fundamentals, exercise, eat clean, meditate, sleep discipline, I have to, have to practice those and with urgency. Otherwise the answer to the aforementioned question will be a hopeless pathetic utterance of “Nothing . . . nothing matters.” And it is when I utter those inner words that I give up.

I have many labors not worth throwing away right now. I’d like to stay in the game and if I can learn to power through, that seems like a skill that’ll help me in my latter days. Building up an abundance of good will and resources to boost my ability to get through the emotional winters is good practice. I don’t want to be so incapacitated by sadness I can’t bring myself to chop wood to keep the fires burning. Because who the fuck am I to deserve heat.

I hear others chant to themselves mantras and credos. And when I do, I can’t help but feel a reverence and sorrow for them. Because, despite what one might see on the outside, you can feel them trying to pull together from within. And, despite the pain, uncertainty or inner dilemmas they’re going through, these chants are another way for them to reinforce their desired state of being.

I “get” these people. They makes sense to me because I am the same way. My rickety rigging of an emotional raft floats a speck on life’s ocean. There have been too many times where things hang my a tattered rope ready to fall apart in the gentlest of gales. Fuck, I’m afloat, but who knows how. And If I fall off my game, I lose sight of the why.

More Tests

Yep, more god damned tests. Forgive me, but I’m nervous and need to spend my time studying. I’ll whinge about all of it Friday. You know, providing I have the time.

Busy Days

Mmkay, lemme crack these knuckles and let’s begin.

My cup runneth over. Any sins or what have you the school allows for me to make has been spent. I’m fighting two D’s to bring up to B’s and little more than a month to do so. I’m up to the task. One of those grades is fair. I’m mentioned a number of times already bombing the test for that class weeks ago. Cool, I can own it. I’ve already pumped that grade up from low F. Optimistic progress is being made. The second D, however, is unfair.

Halloween day, I wrote the teacher and teachers aid about now getting any feedback from grades, it’s been since September since last I got a grade. I was answered about preliminary grades that day. One assignment from October 2nd was officially posted. Fine. A couple more grades came fourth. One assignment came out to be a 5 of 100. Why? I did the assignment, but had inadvertently submitted an earlier draft. I didn’t even know there was a problem until long after the fact, and I’m still grinding my teeth wondering if I can contest the grade after so much time has passed. That same day I submitted that letter requesting feedback, my grade dropped from middling A down to middling D. The fuck.

Aggravating. I swear to god, I have no, absolutely no problem with the material itself. I can learn it all just fine. Where I trip up is learning the material at someone else’s behest. Academia has always been a struggle for me in this regard. Bothersome as it might be, I haven’t lost hope. I’ll appeal my case, likely to deaf ears, but I’ll appeal to both teacher and teacher’s aid this week. You know, to practice jurisprudence. My performance for the rest of the semester will have to be on point. I’m strapped in and ready to go. Upcoming, tests will redeem me in the first class, finish me early and strong for another, and both will buy time to salvage this one.

Onto other things. I am a selfish and self-centered man. I know this already. Biology and nurture have both had a hand in in making me this way. It is a strength in that I’m self sufficient as fuck. It is a weakness in that my social interactions, and on a deeper level, my relationships suffer. I can’t count the number of people I’ve hurt simply because I’m oblivious as fuck. When they bring up a feeling and I’m incapable of validating that feeling, the first few times, they just swallow it. After a couple gulps, though, fury festers.

This same obliviousness that obstructs and frustrates me with being an artist. The political aspect. Where I cannot reflect the joy or awe in patrons eyes as they look on. To die inside as I literally watch their joy visibly diminish because my wooden emotions don’t reflect back what they project. I know I’ve disappointed and I know there that there is now an emotional chasm between us. Rinse and repeat for colleagues, associates, friends, romances; an unpleasant thing to be sure. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I wish it were better.

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