My sleep patterns are fucked up.  I stopped using melatonin supplements because I was sleeping dangerous hours with them all of a sudden.  So I tried to go without and now I’m fucked up.

I’m still not being productive.  But I’m feeling close.

Regarding girls.  Well, I’m a lonely fellow and there are two girls I feel like I’m crazy about.  One is 18, a few years younger than I, and the other is 25, a few years older.  The 18-year-old, Kara, has a boyfriend.  And the 25-year-old, Catherine, is casually dating but not involved, really.

They’re both out of my league.  Kara is gorgeous and extremely fun.  I work with her and working with her one night was the best night of work I had ever had.  Catherine, I also work with but lesser-so, is older than me, a dental assistant, and just awesome.  We get along famously.

I just couldn’t deserve Catherine.  I live at home, I am virtually uneducated, and 4 years younger than her, whereas she has her own place and a career.

So we’ll see how that goes.

“Why do I fall in love with every woman that shows me the least bit of attention?”

I’m not sleeping well.  I’m going to write this then go read Eric Clapton’s auto-biography, and hopefully getting back on track.  I’ve been up till 4, in bed till after 1pm, usually.  And I’ve tried getting to bed earlier.  I just lay there, though.  I think it’s just gotten really bad because I’ve slowly been sleeping later and so going to bed earlier is going to get even more difficult.

That’s the current status.  Over the last week, not much has happened.  It’s just lead to this point.  I haven’t been productive, I’ve been over-indulged in football.  I haven’t been feeling particularly shitty, but because I think I’ve been caring less.

Actually, I don’t really want to talk.  But I have a few topics to discuss, like Saturday night, and answer a few questions that were asked of me.  These will just have to wait.

I had to go back to work, because I needed money.  I picked up a shift after realizing I was coming close to being short on my bills.  And then I was short Friday, and I had to sell my mom a $50 gift card for $50 cash.  At least I didn’t have to ask for money straight-up, but it still sort of depressed me.  I had worked 3 days in a row, and would do 3 more days in a row.  All while paying no attention to the important things (work and depression.)

I get a text from Aaron as I leave work Friday night as I’m realizing I was not in a good place with money.  He’s inviting me to go to the bar, and I say “I might need that.”

I only go to the bar that night with $10, so to be sure I don’t down $30.  It’s not really my crowd.  Aaron is gay, and his friends are girls, and this guy named Tim.  Tim gets drunk and dances, and the others just dance.  I was several drinks behind, and wasn’t going to try to catch up.  These times when I’m slightly segregated really gets to me.  It’s not anyone’s fault, and I don’t know why this stuff sometimes bothers me.  But, during the week when I wasn’t paying mind to depression, I made up for it a little this night.  I don’t know what I accomplished, besides this blog.

Aaron is a good guy.  I’m glad we’re becoming good friends.

I did dance a little that night.  Of course, I wanted to dance.  I just can’t really dance comfortably, and I feel out of place.  And the music is not my type.  I can’t dance to Pussycat Dolls.  That’s besides the point, though.

Entering week 2 was hopeful, but things dimmed.  It may be partly due to myself getting lazy about doing the things that seemed to help in the first week.  I was sleeping well, and entering week 2 I just thought that I’d continue sleeping well without effort, but that’s not the case.  It was too soon to assume I could start riding in cruise control.

I had four days off, and I can’t remember what I did.  Which is a problem since I would have remembered doing something productive.  But I do remember not feelings as confident going into the future as I had the first week.

I had a really bad day when I met up with Rami, and friend that I’ve known for about 6 months.  He has become someone to partner up with on projects I’ve worked on.  Though, over the summer it has become increasingly obvious to me that he isn’t someone I can keep working with.  This isn’t even because of things like him being unreliable (I waited an hour for him to show up for lunch).

He said I seemed depressed.  Of course I lied and said I was fine, but what I wanted to say was that he fucking depresses me.

There will be more about Rami when I tread backwards this summer.  Day 10, or so: time to reconsider things.

I had gone to the beach once already this week.  I said, “I need to go to the beach more,” because this is the first summer I hadn’t consistently been swimming in the sun.  It used to be 6 times a week.  Now I had gone, maybe, 4 times all summer.  And go figure it was the worst summer of my life.  So, even though it’s late August, I gotta start going.

I even left to go to work.  And work was good as far as I could remember.

Week 1 shows promise.

But, after helping my sleeping situation I was feeling good.  I went through the footage, I put something together and showed it to the director.  He was pleased.  Even though it was purely a quickly thrown together demonstration of the footage we had and how it might look in sequence.

In other related news, the weekend prior I had accepted a task from a person I know in Los Angeles.  I had to shoot B-roll for the feature film I had done still photography for last winter.  It was another unpaid favor.  But the time I spent traveling to the locations to get the shots was nice.  I like moving.  Driving through the country with music, on a nice day, is just what I want.  I got the shots, and I can back to town.  Not much to say about it.

So, I’m tackling one principle concern.  And it’s looking hopeful.

I rolled around.  I covered my head.  I changed pillows, blankets.  I don’t think I tried masturbating, but I was exhausted and bent out of shape.  The room temperature was immaculate but I couldn’t avoid feeling like it was 100 degrees.  I was probably in bed for four hours before I didn’t know I wasn’t sleep.  But before that points, all I wanted to do was smash my head in the right spot and hopefully get knocked out.  The wall at the head of the bed was tempting, and I was prepared to deal with a headache or strong pain in the morning as long is wasn’t tonight anymore.  It was tiring to think about putting the energy into doing that, though, so I didn’t do that.

Eventually I did fall asleep and wake up feeling shitty.  But, I did find that moment where I thought, “If there are steps, this is probably the first one.”

 Somewhere-abouts the following days I did start to feel that because I had recognized that I wasn’t just having a bad but, but rather living inside of a dumpster of shit permanently,  that I would eventually get out of said dumpster and maybe.

My pal that told me I was depressed also recommend melatonin supplements.  I had been sleeping 12-14 hours a day, and always waking up terribly.  Melatonin is what the body naturally releases into the body to make it feel tired.  So, with some extra some of that, I might be able to limit my sleep to 8 or 9 hours and improve that quality of those hours.  And then, of course, feel better in the daytime and have more daytime.

Whether or not they were effective or I was just placebo-effected by it, I did start sleeping better.  Shorter, and feeling better in the morning.  Things were looking alright.

It was 13 days ago, August 17th, that depression and my life were first formally introduced.  And I don’t want to continue that analogy, because it’d be long and eventually stupid.  Basically, my friend Mike tells me I’m depressed.  Mike is a bit older than myself, and explained his own experience with depression which included anti-depressants.  I had never really considered that I was depressed.  Not really.  But having given it some thought then I had figured it out.  That’s step one, I think, in something.  Alcohol maybe.

So, that’s what I’m going to write.  Hopefully a nice introspective glance into my day, recent history, and thoughts as it may pertain to the topic.  Basically things I have never really written about because it was too sappy, emo, or crybaby-bullshit.

So much for macho.