Checking in…

It’s the Fourth of July and I’m bored (and not particularly patriotic) which means it’s a perfect time to update my readers (both of you). So…

At the start of June, the basement of the house where I was living in flooded, displacing me and my possessions. Luckily for me, my girlfriend swooped in to the rescue (she’s pretty awesome and generous and loving (also, very sexy)) so I’ve been staying at her house. Because I’m all for being fair and helpful, I’ve taken over her house duties as well as cooking and other sundry duties. Since I’m a pretty awesome cook and very industrious, she’s happy with the arrangement as it stands and, well, I’m not one to argue.

A few weeks ago, I moved a ton of logs and probably two tons of rocks for separate projects. That might’ve been a bit too ambitious for my former doughy self because I’ve ended up with a burst Baker’s cyst (yeah, it looks as lovely as it sounds). I didn’t know this right away, I just woke up last week with what I thought was a bad leg cramp. I ended up heading to the ER because my lady was concerned that it was a blood clot, the symptoms can be similar. Thankfully, it wasn’t, just an egg-sized cyst hanging out behind my knee. Woot!

The standup is still going on. I’ve had some good reviews from fellow comics and a couple “You Were Awesome!” comments from audience members. As it stand, I’ll be hosting a comedy night at the end of July. More details as they become tumescent.

This weekend, I’m heading out to camp for a week at a festival. I’m hoping it to be a pretty unique, positive, and profound experience.

I need to write more, I suppose. My brain feels flabby.


Depression is…

Depression is the feeling you get when nothing works, everything sucks, and there’s no point in going on.

Depression is not a mood swing, nor a bad day.

Depression is the rock that sits in your brain deciding how you should respond to things.

Depression is the feeling that you’re never good enough, smart enough, sexy enough, enough enough.

Depression is the voice that says you’ll never have enough money.

Depression sticks to you like so many leeches, absorbing all of the fun and joy in life.

Depression is what tells you people are better off without you.

Depression is writing with tears in your eyes and lumps in your throat.
(Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash)

Depression is something I never understood. I never saw myself as depressed. I was a grumpy curmudgeon, a snarky smart ass, and an all-around jerk.

Depression is right here, right now.

Depression is what tells you that you’ll never be happy.

Depression is what saps the spirit and makes it hard to be creative.

Depression is what makes you fantasize about hanging yourself from a lamp post like Gerard de Nerval.

Depression is Nerval’s pet lobster, forcing you to justify to everyone why it’s your pet of choice and it’s totally sensible to lead it around on the streets at the end of a blue ribbon.

Depression is writing out what depression is and feeling it all build up inside of you.

Depression is knowing when to divert your thoughts to more positive, proactive, or functional thinking.

Depression is when that doesn’t always work.

Depression lies.

Depression lies convincingly.

Depressions lies so well you think it’s all true & accurate.

Depression makes anything and everything seems shitty. Sure, you’ll have days where everything’s great, children smile at you, dogs flock to you, your breath is minty fresh, and there’s a lightness in your step. But depression is there waiting for that one stray thought, the one that’s slower or different from the rest of the herd, so it can bore its teeth into you.

Depression is being lonely in a crowd of friends.

Depression is not wanting to make a huge fuss because you feel like an attention whore.

Depression is just playing the role that you think other people expect of you.

Depression is about not burdening your friends and loved ones with your problems.

Depression is wanting to talk to someone but knowing that you’ll cry.

Depression is just wishing someone would hug you right now.

Depression is feeling like you’re being ignored, even by those who say they love you.

Depression is saying “those who say they love you”.

Depression is realizing that it will probably kill you one day. Perhaps not by suicide but by the effects that it has on your body, your brain, your decisions, your relationships.

Depression is writing with tears in your eyes and lumps in your throat.

Depression is telling you to quit because shit has gone on long enough.

Depression is always there waiting for you.

Depression is the worst thing you can imagine.

Depression is all of this and more.

That’s what depression is.

Returning to the Quiet Chair

These last few months have been pretty tumultuous. A lot has gone on, from starting stand up to a new relationship to trying to make it as a freelancer… lots of new experiences and things, mostly high but some lows.

Then the depression came back. For a month or so, I’ve not felt quite right. As best as I can guess, since money is always a concern, I’m constantly tossing figures in my head trying to figure out how to make money so I can cover my bills. Other things, however, like groceries, paying off debts, those have to be in the “That’d Be Nice” pile sometimes. Now, on top of freelancing and other things, I’m looking for a steady job (or a W2 job, as the lady says). The obvious thing to note here is that, in most cases, I’m surviving but I don’t feel like I’m thriving. I started to notice a lot of agitation, coupled with the usual low self-esteem nostalgia that I have always experienced. I’ve been so sexy lately, let me tell you.

I’ve decided to go back into therapy. I realized that my depression and LSE began infecting my work and the stuff I enjoyed. I wasn’t editing my podcast. I wasn’t throwing myself into the creative process of writing or creating jokes. Add into the work I’ve been doing in making myself better mentally so that I don’t drive this incredible woman I have in my life away. I want this to be a healthy relationship, which means I’ve had to confront a lot of Bad Feelings. I’m still poring through them, reassuring myself that it’s not as bad as I think things are. I think maybe having a professional hand in things might keep me from being a weeping cauldron of emotions. If anything, my friends and loved ones would enjoy it.

Michelle Wolf is my hero

Before delving further, if you haven’t already, take 20 minutes to watch Michelle Wolf’s set at the Washington Correspondents Dinner. I’ll wait.

In my view, that’s some solid shit right there. The impact it made might wither in a few days but for her time at the podium, Wolf took aim at Trump, Sanders, CNN, Hannity, Maddow, all of Washington, DC, more or less, and hit the target every. damned. time. It was like Wolf cornered the DC press at their own party and told them what she really thought. And it was in front of all of the politicians and luminaries, which had to make it really embarrassing.

And before I continue, I want to stress wholeheartedly that there is No Liberal Media. Also, there is No Conservative Media. There is only a Corporation-Friendly Media. What that means is that the Media will report what works best for its bottom line. Who benefited the most from the constant coverage of the Trump circus more than Trump? CNN, FOX News, and MSNBC. For all the hubbub over coarse material, cruel jokes, bashing Trump, wishing Kellyanne Conway gets stuck under a tree, etc., Wolf’s focus on the utter and miserable failure the Media are is the real story here. DC press love their access, so much so that, because of their failures, our country is currently run by a racist, sexist, petty manchild president and a compliant yet still toothless Congress all of whom possess weapons grade levels of indifference, callousness, and disdain for the very people they are supposed to represent that safety nets are sliced through. We’re supposed to be the Leader of the Free World but people are struggling so much that they resort to crowdfunding to pay for a family member’s funeral arrangements, mom’s cancer bills, or whatever else deep shit Dickensian Hell we have found ourselves in.

Sidenote: Trump didn’t go because he says why should he go to something when he knows he’s going to be made fun of. Dear Fragile Snowflake: You are in charge of the United States of America. It ain’t a TV show and if it was, your ratings would be enough to shitcan you. Even the overnight Quacker Factory segments on QVC has bigger numbers. No, Trump didn’t go because that his skin is so thin as to be translucent. That thin skin also comes with a heaping level of vengeful acidity. Don’t believe me? President Obama once used the Correspondents Dinner to gently rib El Ducheeto’s birtherism. Trump took that shit so hard he’s spent a good deal of his administration undoing Obama’s legacy.

Back to Michelle Wolf and the dinner, just reading reactions from the Washington Post, the New York Times, some of the “press elites“, it’s obvious they don’t like being criticized. For all the charges of “low hanging fruit” or being mean to Uncle Sarah Huckabee, Wolf flat out undressed Washington and its fawning, complicit (if not complacent) press corps. Primo tip, guyz: it’s not Michelle Wolf. It’s you!

Because as much as the Media wants to tell us otherwise she accomplished something very important: she stood up for you and me, the news consumers. They need to know that they’re failing miserably at their job. Because here’s what’s been my issue with The Media since, oh, round about the run-up to the Iraq War: they’re so wrapped up in having access to the White House and Congress that they have been failing fundamentally in their one job.

And by failing in that job, they’ve failed us.

Michelle Wolf is my hero today.


Post-Show Euphoria

I’m the dude in the Viking helmet.

Today is a good day. It’s also a recuperating day. Last night, I did ten minutes of material and, frankly, I killed. I wasn’t alone because the other guys on stage also killed. What I experienced last night was a very intense and amazing rush of chemicals shooting through my body.

My girlfriend and a lot of other friends were there to support me, and I know I had friends who couldn’t make it that were supporting me. The crowd was just incredible with high energy and I fed off of it. Stand up comedy feels so nice and right and just what I should’ve been doing all along.

But it’s just one show. My second show. I have two next week that I’m getting ready for.

Bring it on.