I been thinking a lot lately - well, both that and then doing anything not to think 'cause that always leaves me with the conclusion that I ought to do something. Something about it, that or whatever it is that bothers me. It's usually myself and my bad habits. Anyhow, the reason why I so desperately try not to worry myself about it is probably linked to the reason why the problems are there in the first place. My dad once claimed, and I do think he still thinks so, that I'm just lazy. Maybe he's right. It surely would explain a lot (actually it's pretty much the only explanation that doesn't involve far out explanations of how I feel). My theory back then, and most of the time now, was that he just didn't get it. I mean, he's a guy and male beings are rarely as emotional as the female counterpart, at least by generalization. And I do think that it has something to do with it, although I've realized lately that it probably doesn’t lie in the differences between the sexes ('cause boys get depressed too) but more likely that I'm just that more unstable than the rest. This theory at least still lets me be 'special' and not just as lazy as the rest of the losers out there. But really, who am I to tell - will I ever be able to be objective on this matter or even have the knowledge to figure it out? I don't know.
(Sorry, I just had to go jump like a mad woman because Black Betty just got on! Well, back on track...)
You may wonder, or maybe you don't, but let’s pretend that you do so just for the sake of my ranting tale, why my dad would call me lazy. I'm pretty sure he did so because it's the only way in his world to describe my actions - he's always said that you'll never find a job that you'll love every day of your life, it will suck sometimes and you just have to pull yourself together and get it done nevertheless. My dropping out of college (a total of three times) and all the other things I've failed at completing or given up on (two art schools and numerous sports while I was younger and still lived at home) coupled with my explanation of it just not 'feeling' right, I guess have painted a picture of a pretty darn lazy kid - or at least one without any kind of backbone (speaking of, I really ought to work on my posture). I really don't think my dad have any kind of idea of what I speak of when I try to explain it. It seems like to him it's either fun and no problem or it sucks and then he just mans himself up and does the job. To me it's either fun or not so bad or damn boring or just-picking-up-the-pen-makes-my-heart-darken-several-degress-and-the-tears-crawling-to-the-surface. Okay, that sounded really emo, but nonetheless it's true. How do you explain that kind of dread for even a simple task, a task that would be pretty damn simple if it wasn't for all the hurt it bringing forth because you had to do it? I know, most of this is possibly a self-reinforcing behavioral trait that I've developed through the years and which I've never managed to kick off. But how the hell do you fix it? Seriously, sometimes I think I'm a lost cause. I can't do anything that I don't want to do and I can't figure out what it is that I really want.
Sigh. I love making lists and plans of how my life should be, what I ought to do, simple plans really, realistic easy-to-do plans that I never live up to. I might be too ambitious, but really, am I asking for all that much? Well, perfection is probably a bit high.
I'm telling you all this because I just needed to talk 'cause I can't figure out where I'm going or what to do about myself. It's odd. Things are actually okay, although I do think my measure of how things are is a bit off - in my late teenage years it was easy to tell 'cause when things were bad my mood was as black as tar (yup, I must be emo today huh). Not the 'I'll slit my wrists' kind of dark, more of an 'I'll just sit and stare into the wall all day' kind of mood. In any case there was no doubt in my own mind that I was in a bad mood. But now, even when things actually suck I'm still smiling and having fun (occasionally) - I mean, I just got up to dance because a good song came up, you don't do that when you're depressed. And that's just the thing, isn't it? I've actually gotten rid of my depressions (well, the doctors never agreed to me having them, thank goodness). Instead it's slipped into a state of 'I'm fine' - I seriously think my subconscious made up a new defense mechanism because being depressed obviously didn't do me any good, so now I'm in some state of apathy without ever really knowing it. The sole reason I can see it is when I look around me. When I'm truly happy - or even just okay - my apartment is only a slightly bit messy, my kitchen's clean, I mean, I shower regularly! I sure as hell don't do that now...
Alright, that might be more information than you'd like to have, but it's true. Even though I emotionally feel 'just fine' I don't shower unless I have to meet up with someone - and going down grocery shopping doesn't count (I'm really grateful for my funny hat, people can't see my greasy hair then). I keep pulling things out of my drawers, needing to do something creative - not really because I want to do something specific, merely to do something that doesn't make me feel down. But I never clean it up again, never really finishes the projects that I'm starting. And my goodness my kitchen is gross! You really don't wanna know.
I don't know why I keep getting into these spirals. I know that when my place is messy I more likely to 'come to a halt', I know that having a clean kitchen is the only way I'm likely to cook myself a proper meal, and my goodness everyone knows that looking good (at least fresh and clean) makes you feel instantly better. But I still don't do anything. Instead I sleep too long, go to bed too late, eat a lot of junk, run from all the things I know I really should do. Or ignore them as skillfully as I can at least and I tell you, I'm damn good at that. Even when I try to do better I can't seem to really find the strength to make it matter. I might go for a long walk thinking about all the things I should do, what I should start with, and be completely sure that when I come home I'll get right on it! At least I'm completely sure of it until I let myself see it in a realistic light and take all my previous situations like it into consideration. Needless to say, when I do get home I easily make it just okay to watch some tv first or eat a bit before or just surf the net, you know, check Deviantart and Facebook and so on, and then I'll get to it (right). I think I do this to avoid the big black block of argh that I know I'll encounter if I try to sit down and do the job. You know, that pen-heart-darken-tears-crawling situation I spoke of earlier? Yup, that feeling.
(Hmm, I wonder if there's a word limit to one's journal. I guess I'll figure out.)
I've run into it so many times. When I had to write a paper in school and being horribly behind schedule already being the most often scenario. I guess it kinda started in the late part of ninth grade, that's when I got tired of school for the first time (that I can remember - my parent's tell me that I've hated school when I was younger, but I can't remember any of it, I think I've unconsciously changed my memories to show a happier tale). Anyway, I flunked my grades, not compared to everyone else's, but to what they could have been. 'Cause I'm pretty damn good at school! Or at least was back then. Well, I ran into my first depression kind of thing in the fall after graduation where I went to the big city's college and dropped out. Maybe I should have stayed? I don't know how I would have dealt with it, but I have a feeling that I'd be better off. At least I wouldn't have wasted so many years if I had just been able to deal with it and 'get the job done'. Well, I'm fucking stubborn when I want to be and I usually do, so I don't think my parents had much to say in the matter. Someone should probably have told me to get a grip instead of buying into my 'I feel horrible and can't keep on' charade. Of course, if anyone would have dared to do that I would have bitten their head right off and hated them for years. Still, I would have gotten over it eventually.
Now, instead, I sit in a situation where I've smartly put myself in the middle of absolutely nothing. Sure, I have my family and friends, but they're all at a distance, so now I have no one to pull me back up or set me straight. Oh yeah, it's lonely in my little castle build of ignorance and egocentric antics. I always think I know better and I'm unfortunately good at making it sound like I really do know - and I haven't let anybody get close enough to see through it all.
This is all very depressing and all - I really hadn't expected to get so honest with you. I sat down because I, in short, wanted to ask what I should do. And I meant concerning my photography. I don't know if I dare take a chance on it or if I should just focus on getting a job. In truth I would like to get better before I take a chance on it, one, because I know I still have a lot to learn, and two, because I wouldn't know where to start and who to contact. But on the other hand there are just no jobs to have at the moment and I'm getting so sick and tired of writing job applications that never leads to anything. I mean, how many of those jobs do I even really want? I'm afraid I'll just grow tired of them and turn sour and sad 'cause it's not what I really want to do.
But do I even know what that is?

If you have any answers for me, please share. I could need some encouraging word (or hell, even a slap in my face, just something). Love, Erica