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Depression is Monstrous

I started a blog post last night but did not finish it (obviously).  I tried to finish it this morning but got bogged down in a morass of words about being depressed.  It felt whiny and pointless, so I stopped (although I did save it for possible future use).  I want to publish something, so I am going to throw in a few monster pictures and call this a Monstrous Blogger’s Sick Day (depression is an illness, although I feel somewhat fraudulent using it as an excuse) (never mind that, on with the post).

“You cannot escape!”

This is from Carnival of Souls, an excellent example of how a movie can be quite unsettling on a low budget and minimum of special effects (you know, it is much easier to italicize words with a mouse than on a Tablet) (just to throw in a little computer chatter).

My depression looming over me? Only I do not look that good in a bathing suit.

A little Creature from the Black Lagoon never hurt anybody.  Some people find it helpful to picture their depression as an animal that follows them around.  I wonder if a mind trick like that would help me.  I could picture it as a monster and make friends with it.

“Hi, Depression. Nice suit. Green suits you.”

Maybe not.

Invasion of the Happiness Snatchers?

Or I could fight my depression with a pitchfork, and a little help from my friends.  The pitchfork only provided temporary relief in Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but it certainly made for a dramatic moment.  Regular readers know I love drama.  I wonder if the pod people could be worked up to a full metaphor for depression.  That might be something to play with sometime.

And now I see I am approaching 300 words, with very little effort and only a minimum of whining.  I will make a greater effort toward even less whining, and as always try for a better blog post next time.  Once again, thank you for tuning in.



My Brain is a Lame Metaphor

I am not even going to apologize for making my Lame Post Friday post on Saturday morning. I have been missing a day here and there, and I feel bad about that. Apparently not bad enough to go ahead and post every day, but these things happen.

This morning I feel drained. We had a full day yesterday. We plan more shenanigans today. I am just now taking my first sips of coffee. I feel a glimmering of life returning to my body if not my mind.

The fact is, I have once again been having the damnedest time writing. I just squeezed that second paragraph out, wringing it from my brain drip by painful drip (side note: autocorrect made (“brain drip” be “raindrop.” I hate officious editors!). It also took some effort to make that a metaphor instead of a simile. I prefer metaphor.

Speaking of metaphor, here is a longtime saying of mine. When somebody says, “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” I say, “You catch the most flies of all with a pile of shit.” After they stop laughing, I say, “And who wants to catch flies?” Also, “Give me a metaphor, I’ll beat it till it screams.”

Well, that’s 200 words. Autocorrect made “200” be “00.” Everybody’s a critic!

Is It a Saying or a Cliche?

Another common saying revisited:   Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.

I once heard somebody say it was a good way to land on your ass.  Ain’t that the truth!

I’m not saying you will inevitably land on your ass.  However, it seems to me you’d better have strong bootstraps, killer abs, and a completely non-stick surface.  Of course you might have these things and you may, indeed, make the bootstrap thing work.

Yes, I know it is just an expression.  It means, if I am not mistaken, that rather than wallow in your problems you can use your own power to overcome them or, to return to the metaphor, rise above them.  However (still in the metaphor), I’m thinking there are easier ways to rise.

For example, you might push yourself up, maybe even rolling over onto your front side to get more power from your arms.  Tis would work best if you are on a clean, dry surface rather than a muddy, mucky one. In other words, it depends on the problem.  Maybe sometimes it is better to not worry about presenting the tough, I-got-this-covered persona and just get up the best way you can.

You could also pull yourself up.  This, of course, requires something sturdy and firmly fastened to pull on, for example, a strong rope tied by a square knot to a solid wall.  How did the rope get there, you may ask?  Well, maybe you put it there earlier, in case of just such an emergency.  Maybe it just happened to be there.  Maybe a friend put it there.

Ah yes, my favorite aid to rising above our problems:  the hand of a friend.

Some may argue that this is not necessarily reliable, or that it is far better to depend only on one’s self, or that it is foolish to spend so much time and energy dissecting an old metaphor that few people use any more anyways.

There may be merit to these arguments.  I don’t know; I’m no genius.  I’m just a silly blogger enjoying Lame Post Friday.  Have a marvelous weekend, everyone.


Not Lengthy, But Lame

Well, I made it to Lame Post Friday. I know, I’ve been pretty lame all week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel brain dead and disinclined to do anything. It is uncomfortable for me and does not make for interesting reading for you. But I shall persevere and hope you will stick with me till things get better.

Lame Post Friday is traditionally my day for random observations and half-baked philosophy. First a word about half-baked philosophy. A Facebook friend of mine (not a good friend) insists on constantly making the observation that half-baked philosophy is gooey and doughy. It’s an EXPRESSION for Gods’ sake! You don’t need to bring up a disgusting mental image. But if we must view it as a metaphor, sometimes half-baked is crunchy, as in pasta or vegetables. Sometimes it is liable to break on impact, as in pottery. Sometimes it is just cold in the middle, as in any number of things you might bake. So there.

Enough about half-baked philosophy, how about some random observations? I saw an extremely happy dog bouncing about at the end of his leash this morning. I wanted so bad to roll down my window and call, “Look at that happy dog!” Sometimes people are happy to hear you say such things, sometimes not so much. I shan’t attempt any half-baked philosophy as to why that would be so.

My favorite observations of the week was some green shoots coming up in one neighbor’s lawn and some little purple flowers in another. It IS spring! Yay!

And that is what I have for today. Lame and short. I hope you’re all having a lovely Friday.

Maybe I Should Have Backspaced Over It

That’s it, then. I’ve got the dreaded type-a-sentence-then-backspace-over-it disease. We all knew it was coming. One day I’m saying things like, “I can SO write!” and “I LOVE to write!” The next thing you know, I hate every word that comes out of my meager mind. Many writers have been there. Those that have not… oh, who are you kidding? We’ve ALL been there!

I had thought of doing a Monday Middle-aged Musings about the horridly cold weather. I was going to call it “Mid-Winter Musings.” I don’t really have anything new to say about the cold and the snow. Oh, except for a line I keep repeating that I think the huge snowbanks are a metaphor for my troubles: getting bigger and not likely to melt away any time soon.

Actually, it’s a pretty good metaphor. You look at snow falling and you think, “Aw, that’s nice. It’s pretty.” Because you’re in your warm house looking out, and it has not snowed in a while. Maybe it’s almost Christmas. Maybe you’re out in it, but it isn’t all that cold. You can look at individual flakes and they really are beautiful.

Then it begins to pile up. You have to shovel it and drive through it. It’s cold and the wind is blowing. You track it into your house and it makes a mess. As time goes on, the pristine white banks get all dirty and nasty. Wait a minute, where am I going with this? Life is pretty until it’s not? To hell with that!

I think I’ve talked myself right out of my blues, just from sheer cussedness. You say life sucks? I say kiss my fat ass, it does not! And I’ve written almost 300 words that I do not intend to backspace over. This has got to be the most disconnected post I’ve written yet. For the record, I’m only drinking tea.