Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Grasping at Straws

I am starting to think that I might be falling into a light depression. Not the kind that makes me look towards the medicine bottles and sharp objects at my disposal, but the kind that makes me lazy and uninspired and makes it hard for me to get the shit done that I need to get done.

Basically, in the beginning of December, I lost my job. My company went out of business, and we were all let go, without severance, without even a days notice. Ever since then, I have slowly been working my way through the 5 stages of grief. There's a lot of story to go along with the layoff, but for now let's just say that it was anything but clean cut. When I found out I did not want to tell anyone, partly out of embarrassment and partly because I wanted to avoid the pity party that could ensue. Even beyond that, I didn't want to be in a situation where I looked to someone for pity and didn't find any, so I thought that I'd rather just not worry about being in that situation altogether. I went home to the Midwest for the holidays, and slowly started breaking the news, still focusing on just having a really good Christmas break, which I did. I had a great time, and the Monday after Christmas, when I came back, within 24 hours I had a horrible stomach flu. I had to leave the movies in the beginning of The Princess and the Frog, only to then throw up out of an open cab door. Sexy, no? I was in my apartment for most of the week. I ended up spending New Years Eve in my apartment by myself, feeling the least fabulous that I have ever felt. Luckily as soon as my body was up to snuff, I immediately went to any party/event that I was invited to and have not stopped since. I learned that I no longer completely suck at Guitar Hero and got a kickass Rum Punch recipe.

The only things that I have not really spent a lot of time doing is anything productive. My best friend Jillian tells me that I should just enjoy the down time since I am so high strung. Yes, it might come as a surprise that I am a little OCD because my life, as well as my apartment, is something of a mess, ALL THE TIME. What I realized about OCD, though, is that it isn't about being organized or clean, it's about needing your pencil case to be in a precise position or else the moon will fall out of the sky. Basically, since I am not working you would think that I would be out doing things that I like, taking time for myself, and just finally being happy that I have free time.......... Not so much. Yes, I have done some things that I enjoy doing, but every time I do anything, I am thinking about what I should be doing towards finding a job. When I am in my apartment, I am not simply enjoying watching DVDs and painting and working on my novel. I am thinking about how I should be cleaning my apartment, should be looking for a cheaper apartment, and should be working on my budget and making a plan of attack to get my life in gear. Do I ever do any of these things? NO. Do I care that they are not getting done? Sadly, YES.

I am torn between just trying to find a job period and trying to think about what I would actually like to do with the rest of my life. I mean, I would ideally like to be a photographer in some capacity. You know, once I get over my fear of flying I'd like to travel the world taking photos for magazines and showing my work at galleries and things like that. Some of my friends and family have said that they think that I should just try and start up a little photo business, but I think that I'm just too afraid. I mean, photography is one of the few things that I have enjoyed doing for a very long time. I could actually see myself doing something with it. My problem is, because it is something that I love so much, having someone tell me that I suck would really hurt. And as I'm currently working through the 5 stages of grief, I'm not really looking to have any hopes dashed.

I remember when I was in high school, and this photographer Fred Clarke came in to talk to our Honors in Photography class, and he told me that he thought that I "have it". When he asked each of us why we were into photography, I said that I liked people, and I like capturing moments in time or someone/something's life. He told me that that's something that you can't give someone, it's something that you need to have, that connection. I think that when he told me that, I instantly became scared. I was afraid that if I actually had "the gift", then the only person that could prevent me from being a photographer was me. So I dunno, it's like one of those passions that you're afraid to share with the world because you don't want their possible disinterest to spoil it. If I went after it and failed, what would I do then? Would I be strong enough to just pick up and go on after that? I dunno.

This entry is a shitload longer than I intended it to be, yet it was nowhere near long enough. Maybe I'll get some clarity in the light of day. Nite.

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