Writing Out of Depression

Hi everyone, I'm back! Yes, I managed to disappear for a really long time, I think almost a year. I would like to blame a cosmic accident or being buried under some exotic ruins after a massive cave-in, but the answer is much less spectacular and rather simple... basically, I was depressed. You would think that when you have a lot of free time, you make plans to see long lost friends, you go to the beach, you work on your closeted hobbies and you enjoy life until the next gig comes along and grabs all your time. But, no, I just watched the clock tick by each and every day. Sure, I had jobs to fill some of the time, but not enough.

I'm not one of those people that likes to be alone with their own thoughts...my mind scares me (and a lot of other people). If I was working, I would get home after a 10-14 hour day filming something or other and zone out in front of the TV for countless hours until it was a reasonable hour to go to bed. The next morning I would head right back out to work. No time left for thinking. I love being in the field and working in the mist of chaos, but learning how to be by myself (during my off hours), it was/is pretty tough. When I was between jobs, I'd sleep as long as possible in the morning so I would have less time to figure out how to fill during the day. It gave me time to think, time that I didn't want.

In the end, I read a lot, about 75 books, went on a couple hikes and pretty much begged my friends to run errands with them so that I would have an excuse to put on real clothes and soak up some Vitamin D. You would think that I would turn to the computer to write weekly blog stories, with all my free time, but since I wasn't happy in my own life, I didn't feel like putting anything down on paper (so to speak). I had ideas of stories I could write about, but they were mostly evil thoughts on stupid people that I'd worked with or things that I didn't find agreeable in society and I didn't want to write puff pieces, I wanted to say it how it was; write the gritty truth, which would essentially be a career killer or at least, a black-list offense. So I refrained and just thought my evil thoughts while brooding in the dark.

I also think maybe I am to blame for all my free hours because as a little kid I hated procrastination and therefore I now complete all my tasks efficiently, maybe too efficiently. During the last year I did have ample time to contemplate all those energetic people that run around like their hair is on fire and the world is ending while they try to complete their "never ending" todo lists and I think I've come to the conclusion that they're insane. Seriously, how can they not find the time complete everything? Do they just spend hours deciding what task to finish next that it's become dark outside and they accomplished nothing? How do people like that survive because they seem to always starts things, but do they ever finish them; the stress from that must be killer. Maybe it's another version of depression - active depression, and I have lethargic depression. Hum... But even though I will never understand the chickens-with-their-heads-cut-off people, I might envy them a little because they seem like they'll never run out of activities to complete and so it seems they won't ever have free time to contemplate what to do with.

So now, yes, I'm still not sure how I feel about the world and my small self in it, but I'm getting better.  Last weekend was my cousin Dan's birthday and while we were celebrating he had asked me why I had stopped writing my blog. I just told him I didn't have anything to say, but that isn't really true, so Dan, here's my birthday present to you, I'm starting up my blog again. Hopefully the next post was be a little happier and probably a lot more wittier.