S.A.D.

Wow, has it really been that long since I've written a legitimate blog post on this thing? I guess I need to update you.

I don't know, the past few months have been 'blah'. Nothing exceptional and on the flipside nothing terrible. I usually fall into this apathetic rut during the winter months - I blame it on my dibilitating S.A.D.

On the brighter side of my gloom - I'm continuing to fall in love a bit more each day - which I still can't believe is happening.... TO ME!!! I never pictured myself in a honest, sincere, mutually respectful relationship ... and now I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else. I'm a total faggot - this I know.

Scaling into gray - Work. BLAH. It's unending. It's corporate. It's unfair. It's abusive. I'm constantly searching for more. I am seeking out new opportunities, but not completely actively. I just want to be passionate about something again. Marrying my passion with a paying job would be ideal, but then again I don't know any real life person who actually *does* what they are passionate about and enjoy it.

The world has a crushing way of sort of sucking the life out of ones' passions, even when you are lucky enough to get paid for doing them.

The writing hasn't been coming as naturally for me as it used to. My fingers used to yearn and twitch for the keyboard, anticipating the next moment I let them loose to relay my thoughts to the screen. I haven't felt that compelled in such a long, long time. It worries me that I may never find that convincingly restorative quality in it ever again. That easy release.

The world today is a depressing place. I thought with the election of someone I actually believed in, hope would abound, overflow. I don't feel hopeful though. I feel stagnant, awash with inertia. Everyone around me is changing, and I still feel the same.

I don't thrive in these periods of averageness. I need adversity to feel actualized and I don't know why. Do other people feel this way?

I am uninspired. I feel like my identity has betrayed me, entered itself into a witness protection program on some frozen tundra in Siberia and didn't leave a note.

I used to have a strong idea of who I am. Today, those cracks in the foundation are more apparent to me than ever.

I have begun to self-create obstacles, boulders to throw into the road, wrenches to chuck into the machine. Something. Anything.

I thought what I needed was for someone to show me who I am ... but now that I have that someone, I realize it's up to me to find myself. Scrape my own blanched face off the side of the milk carton.

In the meantime I'll be here, whoever I am. Even though I haven't been completely present in the past few months, I'm not going anywhere. See me through this. There is an exceptional day right around the corner, I have to believe.