PASSING OF THE DINOSAUR, AND OTHER FUN MOODSWINGS OF THE MANIC DEPRESSIVE
God, I love being bi-polar. Manic-depressive... whatever the hell PC term they'll tag on it this week.
Only when you're manic-depressed can you go from being on top of the world in a whirlwind of action one minute to an Eyore-esque cave-dweller the next. Guess who became the donkey from Winnie the Pooh?
I try to laugh it off, but it's times like this that I'm my own worst critic, times like this that countless numbers of stories and pieces of art have been sacrificed to the pent-up frustration inside me. Destruction in hopes of creation and renewal. Prayers for rain in Dali's desert. I feel like a nuisance when I'm in this mood. I feel like the relatively simple questions I ask friends are unwanted and annoying to them, when all I was trying to say was I needed their help. A direction. SOMETHING. I hate feeling like this. I held the mouse over the Empty Trash for too long this time, damn close to deleting my entire life's work and saying 'Fuck it' while signing the resignation letter of Smiling Goth Productions. Commiting a form of creative suicide, I guess. I might have regretted it after the fact. Maybe. I blame it on being tired.
I've been plagued with stranger and stranger dreams lately, not necessarily nightmares by my standards, more like aggravating subconscious sitcoms. Last night featured giant geckos, a poisonous snake, a midget black goat that turned into a small black kitten and then into a silver kitten, and on into a gray and black striped kitten. My little brother was in the dream, and he drove his Mustang through my apartment somehow before morphing into my friend Ann from high school. Needless to say, I didn't feel very rested after a night like that.
Also during the night Pants went on a cabinet-opening rampage, kicking everything in the cabinets out onto the floor. More often than not, I will wake up in the middle of the night with the feeling of someone staring at me, and there will be the Pants, watching me sleep. When I acknowledge that she's there, she attacks me. What restful nights I have.