(no subject)
Hello, LJ friends. Yes, both of you.
I think it's the cold, dry winter air and low-hanging sun that trigger this depression of mine that remains latent fairly well throughout most of the year, but rears its ugly head every now and again.
Too often lately I'm seeing people just giving up. On commitments, in relationships, in video games they don't want to finish, in trying to be happy, to make others happy, and just trying to spread some love around in the hopes of getting some back -- people just give up and move on to something else.
Visit New York City once. That impatient, rushed, get-out-of-my-way attitude is the norm in the city of 8 million people. And who's going to change it? Who's crazy enough to even try? It's just easier to be like everyone else than to try to make a difference.
At work, the morale sucks. It's sucked from day one. You have your good days, yes, but in an industry where whiny, bitchy, self-entitled restaurant owners make it a point to treat you like an idiot, most days you just want to get out of there. And I don't even get the brunt of it -- it's our brave female souls answering the phones at the front desk. I tell them time and again, I don't know *how* you put up with people like that.
I'm often looked up to as the rock of the company -- the one who's positive, bright, and looks for something good to say about people and things. It's nice, yes, but I wish everyone else at the company had that emotional barometer that didn't move much.
Maybe I'm crazy for thinking I can make a difference in other people's lives. I don't know. One of my co-workers snapped at me today (nothing I did, she was taking a lot of shit from others) and I started with "I care about you, you're a great friend." That got cut short. Inappropriate at work? Probably. I get ahead of myself. But am I nuts for trying? Nuts for trying to steer someone in a positive direction?
(Mrs. co-worker: if you're reading this, I see you've connected the dots!)
This time of year, it's difficult to dream. Right now, I have no dreams or aspirations -- my motivation is to just keep the cycle churning. Get up, go to work, do work, then find something to do after work like help people with computer problems or list items on eBay. Short-term, end-of-day goals.
I guess it's because I'm removing my attachment from stuff. Cars, collectibles, games (to an extent)... I want all the cruft gone. I want simplicity. I want what I need, and only what I need. And I want what keeps me happy, and only what keeps me happy. The rest is just stuff.
What would happen if I went on meds for OCD or depression or the like? My obsessive nature is what defines me at this point -- getting so lost in things that there's no getting out until every nook and cranny is explored and examined. Yeah, people bust my chops about it, but you guys are the ones who keep regurgitating that doge meme thinking it's funny (FYI it stopped being funny earlier this year).
Where do I want to be when I'm on my death bed? I want to know that I helped people, that I made a difference. I don't want stuff, I don't want kids, I just want as many people as possible be able to remember one thing about me, and to recall it vividly. That is the greatest accomplishment.
I'm tired. I don't know who'll read this, but thanks for reading.
I think it's the cold, dry winter air and low-hanging sun that trigger this depression of mine that remains latent fairly well throughout most of the year, but rears its ugly head every now and again.
Too often lately I'm seeing people just giving up. On commitments, in relationships, in video games they don't want to finish, in trying to be happy, to make others happy, and just trying to spread some love around in the hopes of getting some back -- people just give up and move on to something else.
Visit New York City once. That impatient, rushed, get-out-of-my-way attitude is the norm in the city of 8 million people. And who's going to change it? Who's crazy enough to even try? It's just easier to be like everyone else than to try to make a difference.
At work, the morale sucks. It's sucked from day one. You have your good days, yes, but in an industry where whiny, bitchy, self-entitled restaurant owners make it a point to treat you like an idiot, most days you just want to get out of there. And I don't even get the brunt of it -- it's our brave female souls answering the phones at the front desk. I tell them time and again, I don't know *how* you put up with people like that.
I'm often looked up to as the rock of the company -- the one who's positive, bright, and looks for something good to say about people and things. It's nice, yes, but I wish everyone else at the company had that emotional barometer that didn't move much.
Maybe I'm crazy for thinking I can make a difference in other people's lives. I don't know. One of my co-workers snapped at me today (nothing I did, she was taking a lot of shit from others) and I started with "I care about you, you're a great friend." That got cut short. Inappropriate at work? Probably. I get ahead of myself. But am I nuts for trying? Nuts for trying to steer someone in a positive direction?
(Mrs. co-worker: if you're reading this, I see you've connected the dots!)
This time of year, it's difficult to dream. Right now, I have no dreams or aspirations -- my motivation is to just keep the cycle churning. Get up, go to work, do work, then find something to do after work like help people with computer problems or list items on eBay. Short-term, end-of-day goals.
I guess it's because I'm removing my attachment from stuff. Cars, collectibles, games (to an extent)... I want all the cruft gone. I want simplicity. I want what I need, and only what I need. And I want what keeps me happy, and only what keeps me happy. The rest is just stuff.
What would happen if I went on meds for OCD or depression or the like? My obsessive nature is what defines me at this point -- getting so lost in things that there's no getting out until every nook and cranny is explored and examined. Yeah, people bust my chops about it, but you guys are the ones who keep regurgitating that doge meme thinking it's funny (FYI it stopped being funny earlier this year).
Where do I want to be when I'm on my death bed? I want to know that I helped people, that I made a difference. I don't want stuff, I don't want kids, I just want as many people as possible be able to remember one thing about me, and to recall it vividly. That is the greatest accomplishment.
I'm tired. I don't know who'll read this, but thanks for reading.