What's he on about now?

In case the articles, essays and opinions throughtout this site just weren't enough for you, here's my online diary (a.k.a. 'blog'). It's as close as you'll come to the inside of my head, so don't say I didn't warn you
(and remember, you can always e-mail me if you love or loathe anything you're about to read)...


   Monday, March 08, 2004

SPIRAL!

Is there a chapter for Mopers Anonymous? Where people could get up and say, "Hi, my name is Scott and I am a moper"? Where others with the same affliction could nod in sympathy? (Nodding sadly, of course.) No, I don't think there is -- only Paxil or some other garbage.

My landlady -- the delightful Ruby -- let me know today that I've apparently not said one positive thing about the building since I've moved in. This is probably true. I told her that I was very happy with the new place and that my attitude is just coloured by the noisy idiots upstairs keeping me up all the time. I didn't realize how personally devoted Ruby is to her building and I'm blue over offending her.

But how to fix it? That is, after all, where most of this comes from. If I seem negative or irritable or whiny or any other label I've been tagged with in recent months, it's because I'm a problem-solver by nature. I'm trying to fix what's wrong -- focusing on negatives all the time is an unfortunate side-effect. What's really grating at me these days is the feeling of being entirely unable to fix anything or, in this case, actually making things worse. It's depressing.

I'm not scoring many victories lately, that's for sure. After a solid start with Keith, things took a nosedive when he just stopped calling for a week. I couldn't leave any messages on his cellphone and wondered what had gone wrong. We finally talked last weekend and it turned out that a) he lost his phone for a couple days, b) he was terribly busy with work and c) isn't "very good with multi-tasking". In my head, I understand all of this but, even now, I'm still irritated at feeling like a "task" on some to-do list. If you don't want to call me, then please don't. It's better for everyone. I tried to shrug it off and chase him down later that week, only to have him finally respond on my machine with, "Wow! Holy message assault!" Assault? Sorry, you have to me feel like I'm neglecting you OR stalking you -- not both.

When I feel low like this, however, it begs the obvious question of who would want to call me? I can't abide feeling this kind of self-pity when there's so little warrant for it. I'm a smart, capable, healthy, thirty-something man -- there's no reason for me to be or feel this useless. Maybe I need to get back into volunteering -- working with people with actual problems, rather than self-created ones, might be what I need. Anything to shake this horrible feeling that I radiate sadness. Hell, even by typing all this, I'm throwing out my woes on you, my dear reader, and that's not helping anyone. Yet doing the 'stiff-upper-lip-put-on-a-happy-face' schtick makes me feel so phony and disconnected.

I feel like that kid in 'The Sixth Sense' -- I see sad people. Everywhere. And I don't know how to help them. I used to think that just trying to keep my own self together and happy would allow me to help -- or at least not add to their woes -- but it's not working either. I just still keep believing, however, that good advice is out there -- that people can help me with my concerns and I with theirs -- if we can just talk about it in the open. Facing the possibility that I could be wrong about that -- that the simple-minded mantra of "Don't Worry, Be Happy" really is the best advice -- is what's keeping me up at night. Well, that, and the upstairs construction projects.

Labels: oh l'amour