Dissecting Depression
I took my car in to get it serviced yesterday and now I have to take it to another mechanic to get a second opinion because the Subaru dealership I went to didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground. I told them what was wrong with my car and an hour later they simply regurgitated back exactly what I told them. They also decided to tell me that there was a small leak which wouldn't normally be a problem, but since I was going on a long trip I should pay them $350 to fix it. Yeah, that's great. You've shown yourself to have the mental capacity of a brick but want me to fork over more money to you? I don't think so. The little piece of plastic that fell off the inside of the door and only needed to be glued back on was still sitting on the dashboard after you got done "checking out" my car!!! Idiots. So now I have to make an appointment with another place to see if anything is really wrong with my car, and to see if someone can fix my vent and stereo speakers (the dealership, not wanting to do ANY work at all, decided to tell me that it would be easier for me to just buy a new stereo at a car stereo store than to have them look at it).
This leads me to my next topic. Recently I've been feeling less and less compelled to do things. Partly it's my own fault. I'm seeing less in the way of results when I bust my ass, so it's only logical that at some point in time I stop trying so damn hard. But partly it's because of everyone else on earth. I mean, look at what I just dealt with at the dealership! Even when I go out and try to get something done I have to take it to multiple places because so many people are complete dolts. It almost seems like not only am I not getting any sort of recognition for busting my ass, but when I bust my ass in regards to trying to get something done that involves another human being I end up having to bust my ass twice as much. This isn't the kind of circle I like to be involved in, a never-ending ring of having something to do, busting my ass to do it, then just having to bust my ass all over again. New thing, more work, no recognition. I've gotten so depressed about the situation that even my writing has been affected. I'm still writing great articles, but the passion to write them isn't there like it was a few months ago. I'm psyched about my potential interview with Patti LaBelle next week, don't get me wrong, but for most of the regular interviews, I dunno, it just seems like going through the motions at this point. I bust my ass, I write the article, I put the article up, the label says they like it, I still don't have a job. It's very disheartening to work so hard only to be ignored. I sometimes feel like I'm writing great articles, but all the editors at the major magazines are blind, not hypothetically blind, but literally blind and they can't see my work because it's not in Braille.
I've been trying to be Zen about things. I've been trying to find beauty in everything. I've been trying to count my blessings. And I know that as I sit here typing on a nice computer in my own condo I should be ecstatic about life more often. I should snap out of these moments of depression, but there's something that keeps pulling me into them. I know I shouldn't be depressed but sometimes I just can't prevent it.
I'm heading into the city for a party on Friday, that should temporarily snap me out of my depression. I'll see some familiar faces, have a drink, enjoy the night. I'm just hoping the feeling holds over for a while because I know I should be happy.
I took my car in to get it serviced yesterday and now I have to take it to another mechanic to get a second opinion because the Subaru dealership I went to didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground. I told them what was wrong with my car and an hour later they simply regurgitated back exactly what I told them. They also decided to tell me that there was a small leak which wouldn't normally be a problem, but since I was going on a long trip I should pay them $350 to fix it. Yeah, that's great. You've shown yourself to have the mental capacity of a brick but want me to fork over more money to you? I don't think so. The little piece of plastic that fell off the inside of the door and only needed to be glued back on was still sitting on the dashboard after you got done "checking out" my car!!! Idiots. So now I have to make an appointment with another place to see if anything is really wrong with my car, and to see if someone can fix my vent and stereo speakers (the dealership, not wanting to do ANY work at all, decided to tell me that it would be easier for me to just buy a new stereo at a car stereo store than to have them look at it).
This leads me to my next topic. Recently I've been feeling less and less compelled to do things. Partly it's my own fault. I'm seeing less in the way of results when I bust my ass, so it's only logical that at some point in time I stop trying so damn hard. But partly it's because of everyone else on earth. I mean, look at what I just dealt with at the dealership! Even when I go out and try to get something done I have to take it to multiple places because so many people are complete dolts. It almost seems like not only am I not getting any sort of recognition for busting my ass, but when I bust my ass in regards to trying to get something done that involves another human being I end up having to bust my ass twice as much. This isn't the kind of circle I like to be involved in, a never-ending ring of having something to do, busting my ass to do it, then just having to bust my ass all over again. New thing, more work, no recognition. I've gotten so depressed about the situation that even my writing has been affected. I'm still writing great articles, but the passion to write them isn't there like it was a few months ago. I'm psyched about my potential interview with Patti LaBelle next week, don't get me wrong, but for most of the regular interviews, I dunno, it just seems like going through the motions at this point. I bust my ass, I write the article, I put the article up, the label says they like it, I still don't have a job. It's very disheartening to work so hard only to be ignored. I sometimes feel like I'm writing great articles, but all the editors at the major magazines are blind, not hypothetically blind, but literally blind and they can't see my work because it's not in Braille.
I've been trying to be Zen about things. I've been trying to find beauty in everything. I've been trying to count my blessings. And I know that as I sit here typing on a nice computer in my own condo I should be ecstatic about life more often. I should snap out of these moments of depression, but there's something that keeps pulling me into them. I know I shouldn't be depressed but sometimes I just can't prevent it.
I'm heading into the city for a party on Friday, that should temporarily snap me out of my depression. I'll see some familiar faces, have a drink, enjoy the night. I'm just hoping the feeling holds over for a while because I know I should be happy.
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