Long Time, No See!

If you subscribe to my YouTube channel (CLICK HERE if you'd like to!), you might have watched the last video I posted, in which I silently shave my head before unceremoniously turning off the camera, and gotten the crazy idea in your head that I'd killed myself or something. My deepening depression in the videos leading up to it, as well as my total V.Logging and B.Logging silence thereafter, might have contributed to this misconception.

Well, I'm here to ease your mind. I'm NOT dead. I just wished I was for a little while there.

Okay, maybe a long while.

To bring you up to speed, in the intervening year-plus I've sold my first story, gotten divorced, started on antidepressants, gotten my first cell phone, made a rough peace with my ex, fallen madly in-love, and been fallen madly in-love with. I false-started a B-movie review B.Log that I hope to start updating again soon (CLICK HERE to see what I managed to post before sputtering out), and I've passed the 1200 page mark in my first novel. I've also stalled in the back quarter of that same novel, and have found it nearly impossible to get back into it. It's strictly a self-discipline (or lack thereof) issue, I know, but stalled is where I'm at, and I won't pretend otherwise, even if you good people have no way of knowing whether or not anything I say here is true.

Anyway, that story I sold should see publication later today, and I'll post the link to it here as soon as I see that it's been posted. I hope you'll check it out. I think it's a pretty good little piece, even if I am a bit biased.



Thanks for tuning-in!

-GABE

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The No-Shave November Logs, Day 16: Dust Yourself Off And Try Again

Well, I don't know what part of the process did it, or if it was all of the parts working in congress, but the depression is gone. After talking about it with my friend Rob at our weekly writers' meeting and writing about it here, I put on my iPod and listened to OMC's album How Bizarre and The Best of Patti Smyth back-to-back.

But the real turning point was Pete Seeger. When his incredible live version of "We Shall Overcome" - probably the greatest protest song ever written - started playing, I had to stop what I was doing and just have a manly cry. By "manly cry" I mean, of course, that I sat there for two minutes breathing deeply and bravely holding back tears. Then, when he got to the part of the performance where he talks about the verse, "We are not afraid," I squinched-up my face for 1.5 seconds and allowed one tear to fall from each eye. Then I took a deep breath and felt much better. Sometimes you've just got to let your emotions flow like that.

Next time I get depressed - and believe me, it's only a matter of time - I'm going to try the exact same sequence of events. It might not work again, but what's the worst that could happen? "On The Run" and "I Should Be Laughing" rack up an extra play and you people have to endure another self-indulgent blog post. It could be worse.

I'd like to take a moment to thank my family, friends, and fans (I must have at least one of those who isn't already in one of the previous two categories, right?) for putting up with yesterday's whining. I'd especially like to thank those of you who have real problems to deal with for not tracking me down and slapping me silly. Some of you are in agonizing pain all day, every day, and here I am griping about existential ennui. Your forbearance is neither unnoticed nor unappreciated.

Until next whine!

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:

I call this look, Just Reached Base Camp.


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The No-Shave November Logs, Day 15: Tell It Like It Is

I don't know whether it's passing the 10 year mark at work, getting such a swift rejection for Monica's Portrait (I totally called that one), or even something as ridiculous as an argument I had with my wife yesterday before work, but I'm really depressed today. In fact, the only reason I'm even bothering to write this is the miniscule possibility that writing about it will make me feel better. So far, it isn't working.

I've struggled with depression my whole life. I'm sure there was a time when I was 3 or 4 years-old when I didn't, but I don't have actual memories of things before I was 5, only scattered images that I can't put in any sort of order. Since then, it's been depression in increasingly regular rotation, and I have to say that it sucks just as much today as it did when I was in first grade.

It's not entirely bleak, I guess. I do take a sort of grotesque pride in being the most cynical person most people I'm acquainted with know. Still, the only reason I carry that dubious honor is because I have literally no hope. I don't believe things will ever get better. To put it another way, I have never understood the horror that most people seem to regard the concept of total oblivion with.

I believe in an afterlife. In fact - based on experiences I've had that I'm not going to share with you, because you wouldn't believe them if I did - I can't not believe in an afterlife, and there are times when that is the only thing keeping me from killing myself. Mind you, that's not because I'm afraid of going to Hell. Unlike many Christians, I don't believe God is either impotent or hateful. It's just that the idea of facing a life that will never end absolutely terrifies me.

I read a horror story once that took place in Hell, and in this particular version of Hell there stood a door which led to a total and ultimate end of existence. The main character wouldn't even consider running through it, because the idea of ceasing to exist was even more terrifying than eternity in Hell. I just couldn't relate. Personally, given the choice between that door and Heaven, I'd choose the door, because the idea of continuing to exist for eternity - in any form - is the most horrifying thing I can imagine.

Well, this whole sharing thing doesn't seem to be helping. Maybe it's a long-term solution, though. We'll see. Hope I didn't drag any of you down with me. If I did, just remember that I'm completely full of shit.

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:

I call this look, Halfway There, I No Longer Care.


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