Then Look Away

[jule1122]

Fair warning to anyone who actually reads this post, you may be frightened by the inner workings of my mind. God knows I am. I've been kind of in a weird place this week and I'm trying to decide if it's just my latent OCD kicking in or if I'm depressed. To clarify I have never been diagnosed with any actual mental illness and I'm just working off similarities in my behavior to these conditions. I am in no way commenting on or belittling the struggles of people with clinical depression or OCD. My entire family is a bit nuts. My father and father are the champs going for stark raving mad, my mother in law is most likely certifiable, the rest of us just rather adorably odd. Funny nuts as opposed to scary nuts I like to say.

Any way, two weeks ago I started writing a story. I was working on it a little every day sometimes a few paragraphs, sometimes a few pages. Really quite disciplined for me and it was going well. Last sunday for various reasons I had no time to write and I haven't looked at the story since. I'm still thinking about it and writing in my head, but I have no interest in opening the file at all. There are two possible reasons for this. If it is my OCD, I blame Peyton Manning. I was watching the Colts/Ravens game sunday night (yes I am a huge sports fan). First half not good very frustrating for Colts in fact similar to a dream I had about them the week before. Second half Payton Manning throws touchdown to Marvin Harrison. Much celebration ensues, Peyton gives little wink/nod thing to Marvin and my slasher brain kicks in. Surely someone has written Manning/Harrison slash, I think.

Monday is spent in a fruitless search. Found some good basketball slash, but nothing on Manning/Harrison. I resume the search tuesday. Still not luck, but I find the wonderful world of Sports Night slash. I am hopelessly hooked and haven't dragged myself out yet. So I'm obsessing over a new fandom. It happens. I'll wear it out shortly and be back to normally, but then there is physics. I hate physics; the only redeeming feature is the math. The one theory I understood was Newton's theory on inertia. The whole object in motion stays in motion, object at rest stays at rest unless acted on by outside force.

I am an object at rest. Seriously, I feel that theory defines my life to some extent and when I become depressed there are very few forced that can move me. I just shut down and I see some signs of that now. The inabililty to write is one because I have the words I just don't care if they stay in my head. I'm not playing with my boys enough, there are a few bills I haven't paid because I don't have the money, but because I don't care. I completely screwed up my birth control luckily I am so infertile it doesn't matter. Speaking of which we went to a baby reunion my fertility doctor had sunday and I had no increased desire to have another baby. This morning was the first time I looked at my flist in 2 days and that never happens. I usually check it several times a day. The only post I read was a new story by jasmineskie which I can't fathom skipping under any circumstances. But before that I was reading my flist, but not responding. Not that I am a great commenter, but there were specific posts I wanted to comment on, but didn't. rhiannonhero had a fascinating post about pregnancy and motherhood I wanted to talk about, phlupee mentioned I Bill Mahr episode I loved and had wanted to share my thoughts, and triskymccloy always posts something I'd like to comment on. But when the time came I told myself I write the comment later knowing I never would. It took me two days to send a simple email even though just like with the comments I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

I'm not sure where I;m going with this other than right now my life has narrowed down to Sports Night fic and I'm not sure why. I've always been a reader. I can't remember a time when I wasn't reading. Since the boys with the exception of a few Jeffery Deaver novels it has been all fanfic. It's just unusual for me to ignore my normal fandoms the way I have. Like most people, I read to escape. So most likely the truth is I'm hiding from something and it is most likely depression. I'm not sure knowing that makes any difference and I apologize for dragging you along this twisted path with me, but I wanted to get something out of my head. I hide to much in there. I think talking to people in my head is a good way to make sure I never talk to them in real life and maybe that includes myself.

On a good note, I saw a commercial for A History Of Violence tonight. I was quite excited. There may even have been some lack of coherent speeching and hand flapping.