Things are still mostly meh.  I feel bad about not having new vids up, but honestly the inspiration just hasn’t been there lately.  I’m working a lot of extra hours, and shooting outside is problematic because it’s COLD, and generally lately I can’t seem to get off my ass to save my life.  So funny, how the human mind works.  Well, mine anyway.

Money is just NOT here at all right now.  The good news is, it’s supposed to snow hard this weekend, which will mean lots of people riding in taxis, which will mean I should make some cash to pay off a major, major bill.

Come to think of it, that’s probably the biggest reason I’m so down lately – I’m constantly worrying about cash.  It sucks, because I hate money.  I hate what possessions and greed and avarice do to people, including me.  I also hate not having any possessions nor money to purchase any   But it just kind of dawned on me that these bills, and one in particular, have been on my mind non-stop lately.

My resume sucks, my attitude is non-traditional at best, I look weird – even worse with short hair – unemployment is through the roof, the ravages of time and lack of resources are taking a tremendous toll on my health, which impacts my mood, which impacts my health, in a nice bit of psychological mutually assured destruction that my mind has decided to play with itself.

I need to get l…well, I need to start dating again, how’s that.  Problem is…I wouldn’t date me right now, so I don’t even try to hook up.  I’m too old for most of the women I see that I’m attracted to, anyway – much like the rest of me, my visual cues haven’t grown up much since I was in my mid-20’s or so, it seems, and now I’m like DinoStud the Museum of Machismo or something to women in that age range.

It amazes me how….down my blog entries sound sometimes.  I keep wanting to say I don’t feel that crappy, but the reality is that I *do* feel that crappy quite a bit of the time, and I’m rather sick of myself at this point.  I have so much to be thankful and grateful for in my life, inlcuding the love and affection and respect of some really great people, and it ill behooves me to sit around feeling sorry for myself.

And yet…sometimes I do, sometimes the weight of the negative just seems so heavy it’s impossible to get off the floor.  It’s a psychic weight, a bit like those gender-unique body parts that we’ve all wondered at one point “how the heck does he/she sleep with all that in the way?!”  If you bear the weight it doesn’t seem unnatural; you’re used to it.  If you don’t, it looks like a macabre feat of strength when you see someone else bearing it.  You want to help them maybe, but can’t find anyplace to hold on to or put your hand to help prop the load up.  So you don’t say anything, or so anything, you just watch, helpless.

I’m convinced that I’m clinically depressed, and I wish I could afford some kind of therapy for it, but drugs like Paxil and Wellbutrin and Prozac have a long and clear history of making my head even more screwed up than it is, so now what?

It’s ironic that so many people come to me for advice on everything from computers to their sex lives, and I give good advice…but I can’t seem to make myself do what I know I need to do to get moving.  Maybe this whole entry is just an exercise once again in forcing me to face myself so I’ll get up and get it rolling.  I’ve got too much to do, and time is passing too quickly, for me to have the luxury of depression, whether it’s “my fault” or there’s “anything I can do about it” or not.

It’s just hard to get moving when you don’t believe in yourself; sometimes that disbelief is so profound and complete it’s hard to convince myself that the effort of the next breath is worthwhile.  And then it feeds on itself.

Remember when you were a little kid and once in a while you’d take off maybe, run away whether to “go play” or to get into more adult-like trouble when you were a little older?  And you’d be gone past your curfew (or past the point you know you can stay gone without being missed) and you’d know you were in trouble…so you’d stay out longer, to avoid the trouble, even though every minute you were gone made the trouble that much worse when you got back (and you would always get back eventually)?  Then suddenly you realize it’s been two weeks and the consequences are going to be even worse than if you’d just copped to the original charge and taken your licks in the first place?

That’s a bit what being depressed is like.  You KNOW you should/shouldn’t be doing something…but that doesn’t get you up and doing it (or make you stop).  Addiction is the same cycle – you drink or get high to escape, then when you sober up you’re in even more trouble, so you drink or get high some more to make THAT go away…the people who can keep that cycle going are the ones who either wake up in prison at 50 going “where’d my life go?” or the ones who don’t wake up at all.

Except Keith Richards, but he’s a special case.  And, possibly, Jake ‘The Snake’ Roberts.

I know what I want to do with my time and my life.  It’s just frustrating being unable to get really moving on it.