Another look through the archives...

Yes, I went ahead and did it again. It sure makes for interesting reading. Not really pleasant reading--well, the opposite of pleasant--but interesting, at least if you're of that persuasion. If you really get your rocks off picking through the drain slop of a disordered mind, Reflections In A Flubber Room is really the bee's knees.

In all seriousness, I'm really disturbed by some of the things I've written while drowning in the foul muck of depression. Those emotions, the absolute self-negating loathing of life and self, in those electronic characters on the screen are harrowingly, terrifyingly real even now. Those hopeless communiques from the center of the black hole are really frightening to read now; I'm not nearly in those depths now, thank God, even if I haven't escaped the gravitational pull. I must remember never to tread there again, and to do everything within my power to stay far away. Maybe my trip to hell was for the better after all, to show me: This is what you don't want. Get to work.

Still alive...

Just checking in to make sure this thing is still working, and that the email and password haven't vacated my memory. They haven't.

I will not go into a detailed history of the last year or so, except to say that I went into and out of a graphics position within my current employer, with attendant peaks and valleys in my always variable emotional state; I'm basically back where I started at my job, albeit with a slightly higher income and a considerably dented ego; however, very fortunately, said circumstance has recently put me in touch with a very nice lady who's basically hired me to do *gulp* some freelance design work! On a website, no less! Well, hopefully this will lead to better things. It's a glimmer of hope, at least.

I've been feeling a renewed primal need to get back into creative anything and everything, even while my self-confidence and my energy have been at abysmal lows. It's like the old cornered rabbit routine. I have to fight back against this soul-eating negativity, and I'm trying to dig out whatever tools and resources I have locked up in that musty closet--latent interests, talents, whatever. For a while to do so seemed pointless; maybe this freelance gig is kickstarting my will to claw my way out and thereby survive. I will certainly give it my best shot, and get my other mojo(s) back in the game.

Meanwhile I'm thinking about finally adding some stuff to my creative-work blog, Wispirs & Scribbles. But not tonight.