depressed
DisorderYour ScoreMajor Depression:Extremely HighDysthymia:HighBipolar Disorder:HighCyclothymia:HighSeasonal Affective Disorder:Very SlightPostpartum Depression:N/ATake the Depression Test
yay, stupid online tests. It's like I'm 16 again.
Waiting for the cleaning people to finish powerwashing the walkway so I can move the next load of hardware over to the new lab. I'm so tired.
Fitful dreams, fitful sleep. I keep waking up at 5am. Even the dog doesn't want to get up yet.
I can never remember how they start, only how they end, and even that effervesces with waking. The dream logic that was so sure makes no sense whenever I reflect on it. What I do remember now, 12 hours later, is mostly just scattered vignettes and breaths. Having sex with Wendy at my parents' house. Being interrupted by someone coming home and going to the backyard to find the fence completely swamped by a tidal wave of scrap wood. Being in a strange city riding my motorcycle in new condition like it never was, fleeing through alleyways and swamps without a helmet. A little girl's birthday party and something about astronomy, maybe Galileoscopes. More desperate riding. Stealing something from a house. Finding out later that my actions caused the family to die impoverished somehow. More urgent sex with Wendy. Something about chainsaws. None of it makes sense, though I can see the bits and pieces of my life spilling over into unconsciousness. My jaw aches from the incessant grinding. I drive to work thinking about sucking on gum to keep from clenching.
It doesn't seem quite so bad during the week. I can sometimes recognize it when I find myself putting Notwist's "Consequence" on repeat. There's something about the repetition and soft background electronic notes that blends with the heaviness I feel. Sometimes I think I try to shake myself up a little by sneaking in some other songs. I find myself increasingly feeling like ending it with Catherine. I haven't met her eyes in days. I'm angry and sad and tired and over it all, crushed under an asbestos blanket of apathy.
My mood seems to tolerate the following songs. It'll be interesting to see how it might change in years, if at all.
Gotye - Somebody That I Used to Know
The Notwist - Consequence
Ed Sheeran - Shape of You
Bon Iver - Woods
Maroon 5 - Don't Wanna Know
The National - Conversation 16
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Dosed
ARIZONA - Oceans Away (Mansionair Remix)
It's not all sad music. I have a new super-crush on a CMB match who probably won't give me the time of day. Oddly enough, she's another Jessica Kuo that went to Berkeley, but a year below instead of above. She used to be pretty chubby but now is skinny and attractive and likes woodworking.
There doesn't seem to be much more to think about. Somehow it's almost 8pm already. I did stop to eat today, and a coworker did make me some Portuguese egg custard tarts. Maybe it's my birthday coming up. Maybe it's Catherine's empty promises. Maybe it's because there hasn't been anything to be happy about that I can remember. Maybe it's because I'm getting old and fat and slow and haven't made anything that I've been proud of in years. Maybe it's because people keep leaving my life and fewer people enter it. Maybe it's because the only people I've ever loved are the ones I couldn't have. Maybe it's because people never seem to like me enough to reciprocate inviting me to things. Maybe I'm afraid I'm becoming the person I swore I'd never be. Maybe it's because no matter how competent I get at my job, I still can't win at "real life." Maybe it's because I've been trying to cover my failings with materialism and now I just sit on a pile of reminders of what I lack and don't do and have nothing to show for it. Maybe it's because Bandit's dead and Koba doesn't care for me.
Time to see if the pavement's dry yet.
yay, stupid online tests. It's like I'm 16 again.
Waiting for the cleaning people to finish powerwashing the walkway so I can move the next load of hardware over to the new lab. I'm so tired.
Fitful dreams, fitful sleep. I keep waking up at 5am. Even the dog doesn't want to get up yet.
I can never remember how they start, only how they end, and even that effervesces with waking. The dream logic that was so sure makes no sense whenever I reflect on it. What I do remember now, 12 hours later, is mostly just scattered vignettes and breaths. Having sex with Wendy at my parents' house. Being interrupted by someone coming home and going to the backyard to find the fence completely swamped by a tidal wave of scrap wood. Being in a strange city riding my motorcycle in new condition like it never was, fleeing through alleyways and swamps without a helmet. A little girl's birthday party and something about astronomy, maybe Galileoscopes. More desperate riding. Stealing something from a house. Finding out later that my actions caused the family to die impoverished somehow. More urgent sex with Wendy. Something about chainsaws. None of it makes sense, though I can see the bits and pieces of my life spilling over into unconsciousness. My jaw aches from the incessant grinding. I drive to work thinking about sucking on gum to keep from clenching.
It doesn't seem quite so bad during the week. I can sometimes recognize it when I find myself putting Notwist's "Consequence" on repeat. There's something about the repetition and soft background electronic notes that blends with the heaviness I feel. Sometimes I think I try to shake myself up a little by sneaking in some other songs. I find myself increasingly feeling like ending it with Catherine. I haven't met her eyes in days. I'm angry and sad and tired and over it all, crushed under an asbestos blanket of apathy.
My mood seems to tolerate the following songs. It'll be interesting to see how it might change in years, if at all.
Gotye - Somebody That I Used to Know
The Notwist - Consequence
Ed Sheeran - Shape of You
Bon Iver - Woods
Maroon 5 - Don't Wanna Know
The National - Conversation 16
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Dosed
ARIZONA - Oceans Away (Mansionair Remix)
It's not all sad music. I have a new super-crush on a CMB match who probably won't give me the time of day. Oddly enough, she's another Jessica Kuo that went to Berkeley, but a year below instead of above. She used to be pretty chubby but now is skinny and attractive and likes woodworking.
There doesn't seem to be much more to think about. Somehow it's almost 8pm already. I did stop to eat today, and a coworker did make me some Portuguese egg custard tarts. Maybe it's my birthday coming up. Maybe it's Catherine's empty promises. Maybe it's because there hasn't been anything to be happy about that I can remember. Maybe it's because I'm getting old and fat and slow and haven't made anything that I've been proud of in years. Maybe it's because people keep leaving my life and fewer people enter it. Maybe it's because the only people I've ever loved are the ones I couldn't have. Maybe it's because people never seem to like me enough to reciprocate inviting me to things. Maybe I'm afraid I'm becoming the person I swore I'd never be. Maybe it's because no matter how competent I get at my job, I still can't win at "real life." Maybe it's because I've been trying to cover my failings with materialism and now I just sit on a pile of reminders of what I lack and don't do and have nothing to show for it. Maybe it's because Bandit's dead and Koba doesn't care for me.
Time to see if the pavement's dry yet.