This month, an interview with one of the driving forces behind SCC. Meet Cat Turner at the Ronnie Rho Show.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Southern Comfort, behind the scenes...
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Where the hell have I been?
(Oh, like you care.)
Well, there's been the whole Netflix thing, and then there were a few nights working on the next webisode of the RR Show. And there have been other things, like work, and other social events.
But to be completely honest, I've been depressed. Normally, I don't like to talk about such things publicly, but since the few people who actually followed this in the past are friends, or friend-ish, I might as well spill.
Yes, depressed. Seriously so. I've had no interest in reading other people's blogs, because they are either upbeat, (and that's the last thing a depressed person wants to read), or they're downers, (and that's the second to last thing a depressed person wants to read.)
I could blame the depression on season affectation disorder, or something like that. I haven't been getting a lot of sunshine or exercise. Or it could just be clinical. (If that's different from SAD. I dunno.)
And I could probably find a therapist, but they'd have two courses of action: a happy pill, or let's-talk-about-it.
Happy pills. Not for me. I don't want to be artificially happy. Hell, I don't want to be artificially neutral either. I'd rather feel bad than not feel anything at all. (Thank you Warren Zevon, and the forgotten philosopher who probably originally came up with that line, but whom I've, as mentioned, forgotten.)
Talk about it? Why? Isn't that what friends are for?
Not that I like talking to friends about what bugs me. I don't want to be a whiner, or an energy vampire. And if they let me, which I know they would, they'd get sick of it awfully quickly.
Besides, the parts of life that bring me down are all out of my control. There's nothing talking will do to improve them. I already know there's nothing I can do about them. And that's what depresses me.
I'm lonely. Gawd, am I lonely. It's been over a year since the Mrs. and I split up. She's found someone new. I haven't. Why not? Hell, that's a couple of posts in and of itself. But to sum up, I haven't found someone I'm interested in whose just as interested in me. Oh, I've found a couple of peeps I liked, but they didn't return the feeling. Shot down, again and again. Me not worthy, apparently.
Work goes okay. I'm no longer too worried about getting laid off this year. Matter of fact, work is probably the bright spot in my life. Made some progress in feeling appreciated there.
Many of my other extra-curricular activities, however, seem to be ignored or held in outright contempt by those I'd like to please. Otherwise, the ole' weirdo magnet-effect seems to be operational.
And over the winter, I regained 12 pounds. Yay.
I watched Annie Hall for the first time yesterday, courtesy of NetFlix. (Probably not a good idea to watch Woody Allen movies when one is already depressed.)
Oh, and then there's the ice cream truck that's been circling downtown today. I thought when I moved downtown, I'd escape that torture. No such luck. Out in the 'burbs, I had to deal with the MF's parking right outside my window for 20 minutes or so, playing "Turkey in the Straw" over and over and over and over and over and over... He's followed me here, apparently. Same song, slightly different mix; this one features staccato puppy barks at appropriate points in the song.
Ice cream truck music is particularly bad downtown, just because of the accoustics. And it's not even warm out!
I'm hoping that with sunnier, warmer weather, I'll get out more, get some exercise, lose some weight, etc. Otherwise, I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing: self-medicating with booze.
That is all.
Well, there's been the whole Netflix thing, and then there were a few nights working on the next webisode of the RR Show. And there have been other things, like work, and other social events.
But to be completely honest, I've been depressed. Normally, I don't like to talk about such things publicly, but since the few people who actually followed this in the past are friends, or friend-ish, I might as well spill.
Yes, depressed. Seriously so. I've had no interest in reading other people's blogs, because they are either upbeat, (and that's the last thing a depressed person wants to read), or they're downers, (and that's the second to last thing a depressed person wants to read.)
I could blame the depression on season affectation disorder, or something like that. I haven't been getting a lot of sunshine or exercise. Or it could just be clinical. (If that's different from SAD. I dunno.)
And I could probably find a therapist, but they'd have two courses of action: a happy pill, or let's-talk-about-it.
Happy pills. Not for me. I don't want to be artificially happy. Hell, I don't want to be artificially neutral either. I'd rather feel bad than not feel anything at all. (Thank you Warren Zevon, and the forgotten philosopher who probably originally came up with that line, but whom I've, as mentioned, forgotten.)
Talk about it? Why? Isn't that what friends are for?
Not that I like talking to friends about what bugs me. I don't want to be a whiner, or an energy vampire. And if they let me, which I know they would, they'd get sick of it awfully quickly.
Besides, the parts of life that bring me down are all out of my control. There's nothing talking will do to improve them. I already know there's nothing I can do about them. And that's what depresses me.
I'm lonely. Gawd, am I lonely. It's been over a year since the Mrs. and I split up. She's found someone new. I haven't. Why not? Hell, that's a couple of posts in and of itself. But to sum up, I haven't found someone I'm interested in whose just as interested in me. Oh, I've found a couple of peeps I liked, but they didn't return the feeling. Shot down, again and again. Me not worthy, apparently.
Work goes okay. I'm no longer too worried about getting laid off this year. Matter of fact, work is probably the bright spot in my life. Made some progress in feeling appreciated there.
Many of my other extra-curricular activities, however, seem to be ignored or held in outright contempt by those I'd like to please. Otherwise, the ole' weirdo magnet-effect seems to be operational.
And over the winter, I regained 12 pounds. Yay.
I watched Annie Hall for the first time yesterday, courtesy of NetFlix. (Probably not a good idea to watch Woody Allen movies when one is already depressed.)
Oh, and then there's the ice cream truck that's been circling downtown today. I thought when I moved downtown, I'd escape that torture. No such luck. Out in the 'burbs, I had to deal with the MF's parking right outside my window for 20 minutes or so, playing "Turkey in the Straw" over and over and over and over and over and over... He's followed me here, apparently. Same song, slightly different mix; this one features staccato puppy barks at appropriate points in the song.
Ice cream truck music is particularly bad downtown, just because of the accoustics. And it's not even warm out!
I'm hoping that with sunnier, warmer weather, I'll get out more, get some exercise, lose some weight, etc. Otherwise, I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing: self-medicating with booze.
That is all.
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