So what does writing this all mean? Fucked if I know for sure. I’d like to think that it will serve as a kick in the ass, a means to start writing again, and to start getting back to the things and people I love. At the very least it gives me an opportunity to thank the friends and readers that have wondered what’s going on and how they can help. It’s got to get better, right?
There’s a perpetual feeling of disembodiment. At night I’ll sit in front of the keyboard and a screen that’s so white in its blankness as to be blinding, and I’m overcome with the thought that the real me is standing over my shoulder with the Tivo remote in his hand, thumb pressed down hard on the pause button. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for creating nothing, writing nothing and doing nothing night after night during the time I set aside to update this site, promote content and promote the local screening events we’ve hosted for over four years now. Worst of all, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve flushed away four years of work on something I love in the matter of one short month.
The worst thing about wanting to do nothing except crawl back into bed, under the covers and sleep away the next few months is knowing that I’m letting so many people down. Between unanswered emails, texts, phone calls and private messages, I know I’m doing my friends and family and other people I care about a tremendous injustice. But I look at an unreplied to email in my box, tell myself “I’ll write back in an hour” and then an hour turns into a day which turns into multiple of those until I’m too embarrassed, to ashamed to write back and just say “I’m sorry. Something is really fucked up in me right now and I’m just too paralyzed to bother to get back to you”.
I haven’t even watched a horror movie this year, let alone write about one. On one hand, given the absolute drivel that’s been released so far this year I can’t be blamed too much can I? I mean, I’m pretty sure the purchase cost of a ticket for I, Frankenstein included a punch in the face. On top of that, there’s a stack of unsolicited screeners sitting in a pile that I just can’t bring myself to watch. I take pride in turning around reviews in a timely manner, especially for new releases, but right now these things are about as welcome as unannounced, twice removed family members suffering from chronic flatulence and hairleps showing up on the doorstep on Christmas Eve, bags in hand.
I hate even calling it by it’s name: DEPRESSION. I mean, I don’t feel sad or “bummed out”. It’s more this feeling of being completely overwhelmed. I can do just enough to get by. I can handle all my calls and emails at work as long as I don’t have to go too far above and beyond. I can get all my class work done (after taking far too long an absence, the light is at the end of the tunnel as far as my degree goes. I then expect to earn my Masters degree sometime around my sixtieth birthday) but goddamn if there aren’t times I’m not reading the same paragraph a dozen times without realizing it or retaining the information. I’m doing the bare minimum at home to keep up, and right now all I want to do with my time off is crawl under the covers, pull them over my head and sleep. I feel like I’m letting down everyone I care about.