The test results tell you nothing at all.
So where do I begin, since I did the usual "stop using this thing for a year" shtick.
Well, let's start with the good, I guess. Even though I never quite recovered "correctly" from being laid off by Hewlett Packard, I've got a reasonably steady temp job for the time being. In November, that might change, but let's hope it doesn't. I'm making enough to survive decently, even able to move out again. I'm living close to Boston, which means I'm under the highest monthly rent amount I've ever dealt with. The good news there is I'm within walking distance of all the action now. The bad news is that I miss Pelham, and I'm scared shitless of something going wrong and financially derailing me in a way I can't recover from.
All those "start a rock band" aspirations I've had since forever? They're tangible now. Go here to check out our first completed demo song, if you're someone who hasn't heard it. We also have two other songs that are completed, compositionally anyway. Sean is mixing and mastering them, the first one's starting to come together but there's still a good bit of work on it. The rough part there is that we still have a monumental amount of work to do before I get to perform any of this stuff on a stage, and subsequently reap what I'm hoping will be the emotional benefit of having people find some kind of positive stimuli from what I'm doing. Knowing me, I'm gonna wind up having some asshole tell me I suck and throw a beer bottle at me, and that'll end my aspirations because I'll take it too seriously. But we'll see.
I'm getting concerned about my physical and mental health. Lately my chest has been hurting. Not a serious "oh fuck, I'm having a heart attack" pain, but more of a dull, heavy, "someone's pressing on my chest" kind of pain. I think it has something to do with stress, but somehow it's getting persistent. I'm not sure if something's wrong with me or if it's psychosomatic, but I'm reluctant to go to a doctor about it because last time I mentioned anything they said "go to the emergency room" without listening to me. I'm 25, I'm reasonably healthy, this is not a heart attack, it's probably something stress related, you stupid cunt.
What's more concerning is a sudden inability to feel happiness from anything. I will probably elaborate on this more later, but the cliff notes version is that I'm not enjoying the things I'm supposed to be enjoying. Music is not cathartic at the moment, my relationship is turning into cut and dry cohabitation (due to my actions, not hers), work is incredibly tedious, and I'm just in general overwhelmingly negative about anything that crosses my path. I don't know if it's because I'm feeling sorry for myself, or if it's a genuine mental obstruction, but I'm preventing myself from feeling better about anything. I just keep progressively getting more and more frustrated at shit that I cannot change. Rememeber the old serenity mantra: "Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change"? Yeah. I can't do that. Literally, I can. Not. Do. That. And I don't know why.
What I do know is that I am tremendously adverse to the idea of altering my brain chemistry with any sort of permanence by the use of a product that the pharmaceutical corporations manufacture at a profit. I trust hallucinogens made by a hippie in a homemade chemistry lab more than I trust that shit. Nature creates apples, man creates apple flavored sugar syrup.
Maybe that's why I'm doing this again, therapy. Yelling into the wind might be cathartic. Then again, murdering demons with a shotgun in Doom 3 seems to be pretty cathartic as well.
I wish someone would shut me off and fix me.
Well, let's start with the good, I guess. Even though I never quite recovered "correctly" from being laid off by Hewlett Packard, I've got a reasonably steady temp job for the time being. In November, that might change, but let's hope it doesn't. I'm making enough to survive decently, even able to move out again. I'm living close to Boston, which means I'm under the highest monthly rent amount I've ever dealt with. The good news there is I'm within walking distance of all the action now. The bad news is that I miss Pelham, and I'm scared shitless of something going wrong and financially derailing me in a way I can't recover from.
All those "start a rock band" aspirations I've had since forever? They're tangible now. Go here to check out our first completed demo song, if you're someone who hasn't heard it. We also have two other songs that are completed, compositionally anyway. Sean is mixing and mastering them, the first one's starting to come together but there's still a good bit of work on it. The rough part there is that we still have a monumental amount of work to do before I get to perform any of this stuff on a stage, and subsequently reap what I'm hoping will be the emotional benefit of having people find some kind of positive stimuli from what I'm doing. Knowing me, I'm gonna wind up having some asshole tell me I suck and throw a beer bottle at me, and that'll end my aspirations because I'll take it too seriously. But we'll see.
I'm getting concerned about my physical and mental health. Lately my chest has been hurting. Not a serious "oh fuck, I'm having a heart attack" pain, but more of a dull, heavy, "someone's pressing on my chest" kind of pain. I think it has something to do with stress, but somehow it's getting persistent. I'm not sure if something's wrong with me or if it's psychosomatic, but I'm reluctant to go to a doctor about it because last time I mentioned anything they said "go to the emergency room" without listening to me. I'm 25, I'm reasonably healthy, this is not a heart attack, it's probably something stress related, you stupid cunt.
What's more concerning is a sudden inability to feel happiness from anything. I will probably elaborate on this more later, but the cliff notes version is that I'm not enjoying the things I'm supposed to be enjoying. Music is not cathartic at the moment, my relationship is turning into cut and dry cohabitation (due to my actions, not hers), work is incredibly tedious, and I'm just in general overwhelmingly negative about anything that crosses my path. I don't know if it's because I'm feeling sorry for myself, or if it's a genuine mental obstruction, but I'm preventing myself from feeling better about anything. I just keep progressively getting more and more frustrated at shit that I cannot change. Rememeber the old serenity mantra: "Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change"? Yeah. I can't do that. Literally, I can. Not. Do. That. And I don't know why.
What I do know is that I am tremendously adverse to the idea of altering my brain chemistry with any sort of permanence by the use of a product that the pharmaceutical corporations manufacture at a profit. I trust hallucinogens made by a hippie in a homemade chemistry lab more than I trust that shit. Nature creates apples, man creates apple flavored sugar syrup.
Maybe that's why I'm doing this again, therapy. Yelling into the wind might be cathartic. Then again, murdering demons with a shotgun in Doom 3 seems to be pretty cathartic as well.
I wish someone would shut me off and fix me.