Give or take a couple of words...

In the midst of my temp job I’ve been trying to get some writing work and I received my first official “maybe” the other day. I’ve been trying to get into the ground floor at an entertainment publication in Chicago which will remain vague, and this wouldn’t just be freelance but I would be on an actual staff. I had a solid contact in the company and was doing my best not to get over excited incase it fell through, but that’s plenty easier said than done. Monday I heard back that I’m a possibility for a spot opening in January. Nice right? You would think, but my optimism must have slept through the alarm clock that morning because I started to question what results I had to show for today? I immediately got bummed and thought about how far January was and how much I wanted the job right then. Then I took a drink of my coffee and it was ice cold. “Ice cold? How long was it sitting there? Have I been so wrapped up in my morning that I let my coffee go cold? I haven’t even done anything this morning. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not drinking alcohol anymore. Not for a while at least. I haven’t earned it. I need to get something done. I need to produce some results. Something worth telling people about at my parent’s Christmas party.” Give or take a couple of words, that’s how my random depressed moments always start. I guess everyone has their own style.

Everyone gets dpressed and it's nothing new, and I recover pretty quick. The problem I've been considering recently is figuring out when my brain will have had too much? At this point I’m pretty sure the question isn’t, “Will I have a breakdown one day?” but rather, “When will my bat-shit breakdown happen?” I’m thinking of starting a pool like March Madness and letting people place bets. At least that way someone can make a little money while I’m sitting in a hospital bed staring out the window (I’m not sure if I’ll be drooling or not, but probably). Maybe if I keep writing through it all when it happens I’ll be able to salvage something. It’s worked for others. I don’t mean this to sound pessimistic in the, “Poor me, I’m doomed,” kind or way but instead I’m trying to confront it with humor like David Brent would.
It definitely won’t happen for a long time, not until a little later in my life. Ironically, it probably won’t be an issue until I have a more grounded lifestyle. Maybe when a wife leaves me. That would be a legit reason for a mental crash and burn.

Like I said, the depression is fleeting. It’s usually gone in a few minutes thanks to my optimism, which may or may not be a Midwest thing, and if it was that big a deal it would be way more hard to reflect on like I’m doing here. I’ll probably just grab something to drink on the way home from work and evaluate my options. That sounds like pretty good motivation to make it through another day of work.

So much for keeping these entries short. More to come…