I tagged along with a couple of people for lunch at Empress. The whole time, I was feeling spacey, depressed. I don't know if it matters that I write this as it is just a repeat of so many other entries. It is just a lot of feelings that other people don't understand. I just swallow it all, hide it and give everyone what they want to see until, after a while, I don't really know what is me and what is the actor.


Feeling kind of uneasy this morning and a non-specific, diffused anxiety. I just feel a bit lost. I am always lost; perhaps I am just more aware of being lost today than on other days. When I was a little kid growing up in Anaheim, I used to go to the school playground on a Saturday or Sunday, when it was void of people. In the Fall or Spring, there were days when it would be bright and sunny but the wind would be blowing hard and cold. I would sometimes fly a kite on such days. Bundled up in my jacket, I would stand in the playground and watch my kite go higher and higher into the sky. The only company I had was seagulls that would come by to squawk. The wind would blow the chains on the tetherball poles and they would make a gentle clinking sound as they moved to and fro. That sound used to make me feel sad.

As I was preparing dinner tonight, I realized that life is a lot like cooking fresh spinach. You start out with what appears to be a whole lot of spinach, shove it into a pot, cook it, and wind up with only a tiny lump of spinach.I’m not sure how that parallel’s life but it seems as if it does in some weird fashion.

* * * *

I was at a Controller’s Conference meeting today. During the meeting, it was pointed out that a couple of people were retiring in the next month or so. When I hear things like that, it always makes me feel a little uneasy. I get nervous thinking about aging. I know that I am not ancient but it is one of those things that worries me and that, more and more, weighs on my mind.

Today, I attended my CPE class. It was held at a hotel next to Universal Studios. The class was expectedly boring but, when my interest waned, there was a nice view as we were located in a ballroom at the top of the facility and there were floor to ceiling windows all around the room. This morning, I felt kind of blank, no sense of feeling. Things washed over me as if I were watching it all in a movie.At the lunch break, I went over to Universal City Walk for a bit. I got there but, as I traveled further into the main walk, turned around and returned to the entrance. The noise and flashing advertisements had given me sensory overload. It is hard to explain that to people, rather like depression is hard to explain but sometimes it happens that I can not filter all of the input. I suppose I have gotten used to dealing with it as with everything else. Why bother trying to explain; I’m crazy. It’s as simple as that. Anyway, I went out to the entrance of Universal Studios and sat, sipping a coke, watching the tourists take pictures of themselves. It was kind of funny to watch them get all excited.On my way back home this afternoon, I stopped at the grocery store for more Kleenex. While in the check-out line, there was a mother and her little boy in front of me. The kid’s name was Geronimo.

-Spending my evening with a towel draped over my head as I breathe in steam from a freshly boiled pot of water. I forgot that I threw out my damn vaporizer when I moved. This and Sudafed are keeping me from death by congestion. Getting a cold sucks and getting two in a three week period sucks big time.

-I have been noting a possible vantage point for a good shot of downtown L.A. I will have to go to it this weekend, before the sun is all the way up and take a few shots.

-We saw the youngest Baldwin brother walking along 6th Street while we were having lunch at the “Happy Bowl”. I had a chicken bowl.

-I can really have a bad attitude at work, sometimes. I guess I should be careful. My sarcasm has a way of getting out of hand if I am not careful. I really do need new challenges at work. I hope that other opportunities come up. Supposedly, there will be in the near future. I won’t hold my breath.-I think I am narrowing down the colors for my living room and dining area. Now I have to get the walls cleaned and patch up any nail holes, etc. After painting, I can get some new furniture, shelving and whatnot. Most of my furniture is cheap stuff that has followed me through life, purely utilitarian and not designed to make a statement except perhaps to let people know that I am practical to the point of being boring. I don’t know. Things such as interior decorating have always seemed so “adult” and a sign of settling. Maybe it is my sense of never feeling settled that makes it difficult to buy furniture and paint rooms. Hell, that was probably behind not buying a house for such a long time.-Tomorrow, I go to a CPE class which will deal with Accounting for Goodwill and Asset Impairment. It should be about as exciting as it sounds. Thank God they supply coffee. Maybe I will work on a story of some sort or I guess I could listen and try to learn something…nah!


When I am just arriving to work in the morning, the daylight is just beginning to overtake the night sky. At that point in time, everything is illuminated in a sort of soft, blue-grey tone that is gentle to the eye. There are no highlights, no glare and little discernible detail. It gives me a sense of peace and quiet, a time to collect one’s thoughts. Once at work, I look out the window to see that the full light of day has chased away the darkness, the world is stark and visible. Suddenly, I feel sad and disenchanted. The moment has been lost.

As I was returning home this afternoon, I saw an unusual sight on San Fernando Road. This particular stretch of road is very industrial and a bit grungy. For this reason, it rather surprised me to see a man dressed in a bright white and floral, tied from behind, hospital gown, pushing an empty wheel chair. He looked like a well groomed individual who, but for the unique nature of his garment, would go quite unnoticed in any setting. It rather reminded me of one of those comedy sketches in which some guy is escaping from a hospital so the doctor can’t operate on him.


I have just come down with another cold, days after recovering from another cold. I can’t seem to get well this month. All of this month, I have been pretty much sick with something. I can’t seem to feel better. I know a lot of it is stress related. I just can’t feel at ease anymore. I think it saps the energy from my body and makes me susceptible to any random virus floating about.I’m tired of being sick. I can’t get anything done and I can’t think straight…well, you know what I mean. I have more Sudafed in me than a meth addict.

Calgon, take me away!

So, I was thinking about my Myers-Brigg’s personality type which is INTJ, a bit rare and a tad strange.

This particular definition, of which I removed some parts since it is a bit long, may go a little further than what Jung intended but it is still a bit amusing. I guess there is some truth to it. What does your type say?

Here is me, so to speak...INTJIntroverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, JudgingDominant: Introverted IntuitionAuxilliary: Extraverted ThinkingTertiary: Introverted FeelingInferior: Extraverted Sensing

To outsiders, INTJs may appear to project an aura of "definiteness", of self-confidence. This self-confidence, sometimes mistaken for simple arrogance by the less decisive, is actually of a very specific rather than a general nature; its source lies in the specialized knowledge systems that most INTJs start building at an early age. When it comes to their own areas of expertise -- and INTJs can have several -- they will be able to tell you almost immediately whether or not they can help you, and if so, how. INTJs know what they know, and perhaps still more importantly, they know what they don't know. To INTJs, authority based on position, rank, title, or publication has absolutely no force. This type is not likely to succumb to the magic of slogans or buzzwords. If an idea or position makes sense to an INTJ, it will be adopted; if it doesn't, it won't, regardless of who took the position or generated the idea. As with the INTP, authority per se does not impress the INTJ. INTJs are perfectionists, with a seemingly endless capacity for improving upon anything that takes their interest. What prevents them from becoming chronically bogged down in this pursuit of perfection is the pragmatism so characteristic of the type: INTJs apply (often ruthlessly) the criterion "Does it work?" to everything from their own research efforts to the prevailing social norms. Fellow workers of INTJs often feel as if the INTJ can see right through them, and often believe that the INTJ finds them wanting. This tendency of people to feel transparent in the presence of the INTJ often results in relationships which have psychological distance. Thus colleagues find the INTJ apparently unemotional and, at time, cold and dispassionate. Personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, can be the INTJ's Achilles heel. While they are capable of caring deeply for others (usually a select few), and are willing to spend a great deal of time and effort on a relationship, the knowledge and self-confidence that make them so successful in other areas can suddenly abandon or mislead them in interpersonal situations. This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship). To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense. This sometimes results in a peculiar naivete', paralleling that of many Fs -- only instead of expecting inexhaustible affection and empathy from a romantic relationship, the INTJ will expect inexhaustible reasonability and directness. As mates, INTJs want harmony and order in the home and in relationships. They are the most independent of all types. They will trust their intuitions about others when making choices of friends and mates, even in the face of contradictory evidence and pressures applied by others. The emotions of an INTJ are hard to read, and neither male nor female INTJ is apt to express emotional reactions. At times, both will seem cold, reserved, and unresponsive, while in fact INTJs are almost hypersensitive to signals of rejection from those for whom they care. Being the most independent of all types, they have a strong need for autonomy; indifference or criticism from people in general does not particularly bother the INTJs, if they believe that they are right. They also have a strong need for privacy. Probably the strongest INTJ assets in the interpersonal area are their intuitive abilities and their willingness to "work at" a relationship. Although as Ts they do not always have the kind of natural empathy that many Fs do, the Intuitive function can often act as a good substitute by synthesizing the probable meanings behind such things as tone of voice, turn of phrase, and facial expression.

I went to the laundry early this morning. There were more people there than I expected. One man, who wasn’t wearing a shirt, had a tattoo on his back of Felix the Cat jumping out of his bag of tricks. The Jehovah’s Witnesses often come by the laundry to hand out pamphlets and spread the word. When they walk through the laundry, speaking to people and passing out literature, they typically ignore me. I think they assume that I do not speak Spanish. Either that or it has something to do with the “666” branded on my forehead. A few minutes after the last of the Witnesses filed out the door, I wandered from the dryers over to the front window. On the nearby street corner, the Witnesses were speaking with someone, perhaps providing a real or imagined hope to the unfortunate soul. I turned back to return to the dryers, and, glancing down, noticed most of their recently passed out pamphlets lying on the ground, unread.



My boss called me in for a meeting at about 4:30. It was one of those “please close the door” type meetings which is to say that it involved issues concerning my career. The directors and officers of the company have instituted some sort of program that is supposed to develop and promote people from within as part of long-term succession planning. In theory it sounds good but you just know there are catches. In particular, as my boss explained the program, he made sure, on numerous occasions, to emphasize that being put on special projects or otherwise participating in this program did not guarantee any future opportunities for advancement. I interpret that to mean that management can dump more work on you and pay for it with promises. That’s okay, I suspected as much.

I sat with my boss explaining that I was interested in moving on to the regulatory areas, strategic planning or policy development, something which would allow me to do more research and writing since I am happier doing that type of work as opposed to number crunching. He agreed that those were good areas but also wished to know if I were interested in his position, if he were to leave. I told him that I would certainly consider it but that I saw it as unlikely given the current state of office politics. He was a bit shocked by my answer. I like to respond to him in a sort of blunt way sometimes just to see his reaction.

Unfortunately, the result of my response resulted in a lengthy monologue about how there was no reason I could not succeed to his position if I have the drive. He went on to stress all that his job entails and truly made it sound as if few on God’s green Earth could hope to “fill his shoes” as he put it. With all this talk of succession planning and my boss describing the grand nature of his job, I began to think that nothing short of extracting Excalibur from the stone would ever convince the powers that be that I am worthy of such noble ambitions.

My boss is a true ego maniac and really sees himself as all-knowing and right about everything. It is not to say that he is not right at times and isn’t intelligent. When it comes to technical stuff involving certain accounting issues, he can be quite good at what he does. But, beyond work, his personality is annoying, to say the least. I have never been in a conversation with him yet where he did not turn the spotlight on himself. He always has an opinion but it is amusing at how he avoids or otherwise steers conversations away from topics of which he is ignorant. I like to watch when he does that. Human behavior is interesting in a sick and twisted sort of way.

During my boss’s monologue, I sat in my chair and, as he would stare down at his table, deep in thought as he spoke, I would glance out the window at the Library Tower, brightly lit by the late afternoon sun. I began to think of how nice it would be to just fly out of the window and soar above it all, flying over the city, a la the film Brazil. Then, I would catch myself and return to the narrow world in which I inhabit. My boss, as he spoke, nervously picked and brushed real or imagined minute pieces of dust from his otherwise neat and organized desk. I have noticed that he has a great many nervous habits manifesting themselves both physically as well as verbally.

I am acutely aware of minute behaviors on the part of people in general. I suppose it is a byproduct of having very poor filtering when it comes to receiving and processing external sensory input. Regardless, it allows me to observe behaviors of others as well as mimic or reproduce them with rather astounding accuracy. Anyway, I digress.My boss tried to explain to me that he really wished to develop me for future positions and felt that, if I took the initiative, I could succeed to his or other positions. He sort of made it sound like I need to do more but he never provided any specifics. At one point, he mentioned that it was my responsibility to provide the motivation to move upward and that he sees himself as a coach or mentor. I had to keep my eyes from rolling when he said that.

Christ, this guy couldn’t mentor a bag of rocks! He has never gone out of his way to provide special guidance or training to me. Perhaps as a means to control my facial reactions, I responded in a wholly contrary manner, nodding and looking more thoughtful as my boss spoke. Towards the end of our discussion, he did ask if I were interested in a position in a related department which is located on the same floor. The Principal there had just left and they are having a tough time filling the position. Hmm, was that what this one and a half hour meeting was all about? I am always trying to separate the wheat from the chaff when people speak to me. The position of which my boss was referring is under a different manager. I have heard nothing good about this guy and considerable bad from those who work for him. He splits his time between managing the L.A. and San Diego groups that perform the same function. When I have seen him here, he is often in the Director’s office, kissing her ass. I really despise that.

I also recall an incident involving him that spoke volumes as to his character. He had arrived from San Diego on one particular day and was preparing to get to work at his desk when, much to his chagrin, his chair had been moved. Not only that, but someone had changed the adjustments on his chair. In response to this, he went on this angry tirade, trying to find out who had touched his chair, asking everyone is his department. Yeah, that’s the man I want to work for! I also know someone in the department. She is often telling me that the hours are dreadful. One day, this person was telling me, with tears in her eyes, that she had an argument with her husband because he was upset that she was always having to come home late. All of this on account of the workload. I declined the offer for the position and explained to my boss that “I simply do not see this position taking me in the direction I desire.” My boss was a bit disappointed but I really did not care.

Finally, the meeting came to an end and I returned to my desk, trying to untangle the cryptic monologue uttered by my boss. I guess as long as I receive a paycheck.

Still, I sometimes wish there was a purpose to this and everything else and I could actually feel it.

Well, anyway, days here at the office have been up and down. I get something that comes to my attention, I get busy and then it is done and I get a break. So, I blog a bit or try to read up on a myriad of policies and accounting pronouncements that I really should be more up on. I also find myself spacing out and not knowing why I am here and what I should be doing and all of that existential rot that has been plaguing me since childhood.

I recall that when I was at Ash Meadows, there was an elderly man who lived at the site in a trailer. He was one of the people who showed me around the place. He was pretty funny and had a sort of dark humor to which I could relate. I recall that he mentioned that his daughter in San Diego was having a birthday and she wanted him to attend the party. He was trying to figure out ways to get out of attending. I remarked that, yes, it was a long way to drive. He replied to my remark that it wasn’t the distance but the fact that he would have to interact with a bunch of people. He said that he preferred being alone at the site and dreaded having to be some place where there were a lot of other people. I looked around at the peacefulness of the place and nodded my head in agreement. Dealing with people is energy draining and hard work. It is like being placed in an enormous video game a little like something I discussed with a certain someone a while back.

Deposit 50 cents:

Uh oh, you have been snubbed by someone

– fire the passive aggressive remark button – Score!

It’s a party – raise defenses – fire humorous remark – Damn! Humorous remark went over their heads!

Crap! It’s a group of well-adjusted conversationalists

– They’re wearing down your defenses!Witty remarks are running low and haven’t scored any points with these people! You must leave and reach a recharge point!

- You can’t make it to your quiet, unpopulated coffee house because the host has just yelled for you to be in a group picture! Danger! Psychic energy is gone!

GAME OVER – Your defenses have been depleted and you are now a humiliated misfit in the eyes of your peers.

Deposit 50 cents:

I saw a humorous little post in CL. For a fee, this guy is offering the use of an old, metal walled meat locker, located downtown (LA), for photo shoots or, as he states, “whatever”. I wonder what he would say if you rented it and, after asking repeatedly for assurances that it was in a private location, carried a bunch of suspicious looking bags into the locker along with assorted knives and a chain saw to do a little “whatever”. `Actually, it might make a good S&M sort of place or a family eatery, take your pick.


Wednesday, August 18th, 2004
1. Another migraine hit me last night. It followed my workout. Fortunately, I was home when the aura hit so I just basically went to bed and watched the light show with my eyes closed. The pain was fairly minimal as migraines go and I seem to be fine this morning.I get so many migraines. It used to be a rarity to get even two in a year and now I seem to get a few a month. I swear, I probably will wake up one morning with half my brain functions gone (not that anyone would notice the difference).

2. I was sitting at my computer this morning when I felt this strange itch on my arm. I notice now that I have these two big puncture marks as if something nasty bit me. Whatever it was, it isn’t around anymore. Now, I will probably get West Nile Virus.

3. I used to have this big rubber stamp that read, “BULLSHIT”. I should try to see if I still have it. It could be useful here at work.

4. I wish I could go back to school and do the student thing again. If it wasn’t for money, it would be cool to just study more subjects and keep doing the whole learning thing. I mean, I hung around college for quite a while compared to most folks but I sometimes miss learning new things or milling around the library and picking up random academic journals and reading about recent research and such. The work world just gets to be a bit mind numbing at times. I try to make it interesting but I can only fool myself just so much.5. I miss Glenn Spencer. Glenn was one of the very few male friends I have had during my life. Glenn and I were Psych majors at UCI. Glenn was also an Art minor. He was an unusual sort of person, artistic, smart, grew up in a big family in a house located in the woods in Northern California. He is someone who, like me, often rambled, spouting non-sequitors. He was rather off-the-wall but extremely relaxed and laid back, maybe even a little too laid back. Glenn was also someone with whom I felt at ease and to whom I could open up. It is rare for me to feel that way with men. Glenn was part of this strange but wonderful group of friends I met at UCI who all knew one another without knowing it at first. There were five of us. Three of us happened to have the same Psychologist at the Counseling Center but we did not know one another although occasionally we saw one another in the waiting room. We later discovered that each of us knew, separately, two other people. So, we all shared this strange meeting coincidence and laughed at how we all shared the same shrink. We also were a lot alike. We all had “issues”, depression, and a very quirky outlook on things. We were all Psych Majors and two of the group also had Art degrees or minors in Art. Eventually, we all moved away. I only keep up with one of our group. The last time I saw Glenn was many years ago. He stayed at my place overnight before leaving on a trip. I recall giving him a big hug in the morning and feeling very teary eyed when he left. I guess I kind of knew I wouldn’t be seeing him again. It is rare to come across people with whom I can truly open myself and be vulnerable and I guess I should be thankful for those instances in which I had the opportunity to feel that release for a while. Most of the time, I have my shields up and am so used to them that I am only slightly aware of their existence.

Tuesday, August 17th, 2004

Lately, my boss has been acting a little too nice. He stops by my cubicle and others for no reason other than to chat, etc.It makes me suspicious and uneasy. A co-worker and I discuss this matter often. Here are the following possibilities:A) He thinks I might quitB) He has some kind of review coming up and wants everyone to think he is a swell guy.C) He is going to quitD) Practicing some kind of dopey technique he got out of one of those management seminars


It’s just one of those days when I find myself thinking and pondering. I woke up with a headache and so I took some Tylenol and, to hedge my bet as to the cause, swallowed down a Sudafed as well. It hasn’t done much. Maybe it is a tension headache in which case there is little to do. I mean, I’m at work and that requires me to be a bit tense. Actually, I sort of feel like my life in general requires me to be tense. That is kind of a frightening thing to say but nonetheless a true statement. I sort of find that everything I do is something of an anxiety-filled project to be planned, executed and completed. Perhaps that is how we all think and, in some respects, we have to follow such a pattern or succumb to a life of chaos and live in a box on Seventh Street. I guess maybe I am just more preoccupied with the act of thinking about and performing these behavioral scripts.

Someone mentioned to me the possibility that I may be someone who can never really be happy. I have heard this before. It still makes me sad but it is true to a certain degree. I know that I have been in situations where I am very happy but then some odd, seemingly innocuous, little stimuli will set me off on a depressive episode. I know that a lot of people don’t really understand and I often feel sort of guilty or mad at myself for feeling that way but not being able to stop it. I can tell that others are bothered even if they don’t say it. I can attempt to fake my way through these episodes but, depending on my energy level, it can sometimes come off with as much believability as a performance in a high school play.

I have been languishing in a sea of creative inactivity and am sort of anxious for my class to start. I sort of need that structure to keep me going. That is probably why I stayed in college for such a long time. I know my brother once told me that he kind of liked med school for the same reason, it was rigid and provided this sort of forced course of action that prevented him from lying about and feeling down. I suppose work is sort of the same thing for me. It does little for me on a personal level but it forces me to get up each morning. As I quickly proofread, this little rambling seems rather depressing. Ah! It’s perfect!


Over the weekend, I was testing out my new digital camera. Some of my shots were at the bird show at the Pomona Fair Grounds. One of the things Heather and I saw at the concession stand was this rather obscene statue of a hotdog dowsing himself with condiments. Talk about being hung….He doesn’t look like he has had a circumcision so I guess he isn’t a Hebrew National.We also saw this woman hawking her Dr. Doolittle-esq abilities. Oh, and of course, there were birds. I got a couple of Finches. They require little responsibility on my part and they “beep” instead of chirping. They’re a little like having two small squeak toys that happen to be alive.

Dream Last Night


…or what I can recall.I was at some sort of party. As I was leaning against a wall in one area of the room, this guy came up to me and began inquiring about my government security status. He said he had a great job but only for those who had the proper clearance. He made me a little uneasy but I continued to listen. He wanted to know if I were a black box. I told him that I had been at one time but probably needed to be reactivated. After that, I didn’t want to say anymore to him.


Miss Peabody appears to belong to some organization that announces itself as "Risk Management Alternatives". That kind of sounds like insurance. They must think I am in need of a whole lot of alternatives to be calling me everyday. If it is life insurance, I refuse to get it. It's a waste since I'm not married and have no offspring. Besides, if you ever watch shows like "New Detectives" or "Forensic Files", the murderer always seems to kill someone for the insurance money. Why should I give anyone a good reason to bump me off?

*After I moved into my house around the end of April and had telephone service started, I began receiving a particular phone message on my machine during the weekdays:“Please call Miss Peabody at 800-981-6501. That’s Miss Peabody at 800-981-6501.”The message must be a recording as it always sounds the same. I have been receiving this message every weekday for the last three months. I still have yet to call the number and find out the purpose for this message. They are persistent, who or whatever they are.*At the grocery store, the person standing in line in front of me was purchasing a dozen Krispy Kreme chocolate glazed donuts, 1 gallon of milk and a bottle of Pepto Bismal.


Heather came over last night and made a really terrific salad for the both of us. We made a poor attempt to see some of the Perseid shower from my backyard but with the city lights and the fog and haze that had rolled into the area, there was little chance. Still, it was cool outside and it felt good to be close.


This morning, the tops of the L.A. buildings were shrouded in tendrils of fog. The sky had that twilight glow where everything is colored in a blue-grey. I like that strange moment of twilight where the brightest stars are just barely holding onto their brilliance against the coming daylight, the blanket of night dissolving into a deep blue. There is this sadness in saying farewell to the stars and collecting one's thoughts for another day.

Well, it could have been murder. I don't know for sure. When I was driving down 26th Street on my way home tonight, a half block area near some bar was surrounded by crime scene tape. I noticed a suspicious bundle on the ground which left one to imagine all sorts of horrid images of a bullet riddled body, the consequence of some drunken argument. Oh well, sweet dreams!

It is strange sometimes how often I have diametrically opposing thoughts going on at the same time but they seem to operate without conflict. It is often like having separate people existing inside of me. I have never been a proponent of MPD as a diagnosis. I do think that we have pieces of ourselves that perform various functions and combine with certain emotional traits. For me, it has always been a struggle to remain sane and outwardly normal in the midst of inner turmoil. To the non-observant, I can pass myself off as fairly well adjusted. Some are a little more observant, intuitive or share similar flaws. Those people can often see the pits, dents and various assorted holes in my armor. I was thinking of this topic because I sometimes find myself in almost laughable circumstances (depending on your sense of humor, of course) where I am thinking extremely dark and horrible thoughts while performing actions that seem oddly unrelated or even opposite in nature.A while back, I was very depressed and imagining all sorts of suicidal options from head-in-the-oven to gun-to-the-head and yet, at the same time, I was reviewing color swatches and fabric colors for the interior of my living room. An inner part of me was sort of laughing at this. “Yes, the tan should make a nice color for the sofa. I think I’ll order it! However, I may be dead from a self-inflicted wound before it arrives.” I sometimes imagine that, if I were to kill myself, there will still be a part of me that will call 911, make funeral arrangements and pull out the Swiffer to clean up the mess before anyone arrives. It’s weird but perhaps not wholly unexpected.

A certain degree of depression came over me like a mist this morning. I was concentrating on work, not feeling particularly good or bad. Then, these feelings, images and sounds entered my mind and pulled my concentration away. Sometimes it starts that way. Afterwards, the sensations that reside within my mind have a tendency to spread out and color my surroundings. Images of long stretches of empty landscape, darkness interspersed by a strange quality of light similar to moonlight but with stronger reds, like the moon during an eclipse. All the while, there is a sound, a hum, a sense of presence but also a sense of absolute isolation. Always, there are conflicting feelings and no sense of direction.I am used to it, I suppose. I will carry on with work. People will continue to come to me with questions, work, etc. and I will speak, smile, laugh and talk but all along it is as if I were looking at my day-to-day actions from underwater. Everything feels far away or I am far away. In the end, all that counts is the show

H and I spent Sunday at the aquarium in Long Beach. It was really a nice place and I enjoyed the exhibits. I think we especially liked the jellyfish. There was something about the trancelike quality of the undulations of these strange creatures that was both absorbing and relaxing to the mind. There was a funny sign at the beginning of the exhibit that said, “Brainless and Heartless.”

I told H that I sometimes feel rather like that myself.We also liked the fish that had photoluminescent bacteria living in their bodies which were used as a type of flashlight and signaling device by the fish. Sometimes when I look at stuff like that, I wish that I could go back to school and study other subjects. I say that about everything but time is a finite quantity and I suppose I can’t suspend it and do a bunch of things over again. I guess that is just some weird problem with me. I never feel at rest or content but forever seeking some sort of answer to what are extremely vague questions.The aquarium did begin to get rather crowded by the afternoon. It was actually a grotesque orgy of reproduction run amock with parents pushing huge strollers that seemed almost to resemble the same ridiculously large SUVs they drove to the place.

Anyway, there were times when the kid element was a bit excessive. We laughed at some of the funny warning signs located around the pool area where you can pet manta rays and baby sharks. I was thinking it would be great fun to sit at the pool area and use a packet of ketchup to fake a terrible wound inflicted by one of the sea creatures. It would be funny to see this mass hysteria of strollers and kids and parents rushing away from the exhibit, en masse, as if it were a scene from Jaws.

Other sites: there was a little blond boy probably no older than six or seven who had a Mohawk and pierced ears. When I saw his Dad nearby, I immediately thought that they were probably tourists from Arkansas or perhaps residents of the Appalachians. I was guessing that the kid probably had a name like Cody or Hunter. H and I like to laugh at the bizarre and twisted names that parents inflict upon their offspring nowadays.

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He told his young roommate to quit kicking his bed frame. His roommate had been rhythmically kicking the foot of the frame of his bed for at least twenty minutes and the pounding was driving him up the wall. His roommate was some obnoxious 15 year old who must have been diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder. He had deduced this after sneaking a peek at the kid’s chart and seeing that he was on Lithium. He reasoned this must be some manifestation of his manic phase of the disorder. It wouldn’t be so bad except it was late and his head hurt like hell from the day’s events.“If you don’t stop, I am going to complain to the RA and they won’t let you do activities tomorrow,” he hissed.

With a shocking abruptness, the kicking stopped and silence reined. He had obviously found the secret words. It was one minor victory in an otherwise dreadful day.He tried to sleep but the pain still remained and the best he could do was lie still, his left arm draped over his eyes to block out every photon of visible light that might hit his eyes and trigger even more pain. The headache, much worse than any migraine, was the only tangible evidence he had actually received the procedure, his brain jolted by an alternating current leading to a seizure. Every other memory for that day had been lost, juxtaposed or otherwise cut and pasted into some other corner of his cortex.

The ride back to the psychiatric hospital from the medical hospital following the treatment always seemed strange as it was difficult to recall having arrived for the procedure in the first place. In addition, the ride back was always accompanied by horrifying headaches that caused him to cry. After returning, he would go to his room, fall on his bed and bury his face in his pillow. He would only get up to receive more Tylenol at the appointed hours.Some memories were erased but others were made obscure. Sometimes it was difficult to know. How should one know which memories are missing if one can no longer remember having them in the first place?

At this point in his life, he did not care which memories were erased, they weren’t particularly good memories and so their loss seemed of little consequence. Sometimes, he secretly wished everything in his mind could be wiped away and a new person could be put in his place. He would gladly give up his body if this person would promise to do a better job and be happy.At least he was grateful for receiving bipolar treatments versus unipolar treatments. In the cafeteria, he could always tell the unipolars. They all had a little square patch of hair removed toward the back of their heads to facilitate the electrode placement. Perhaps it was a bit of vanity but he preferred to keep his pain and inner sense of shame hidden inside of his shell of a body with no obvious clues visible to the prying eyes of the outside world.

The next day brought a break from treatments, a chance to rid his self of the headaches and collect his thoughts. In the evening, following dinner in the cafeteria, he strolled out to the lobby area. The lobby was a haven from others. Most of them collected in the TV or recreation rooms, some went to their private rooms. He sat in his usual spot, next to the fountain. He could sit here for hours, and sometimes did, drinking in the sound of the water as it bubbled and gurgled its way over various decorative channels, rocks and other obstacles. The sound was tranquil and brought a brief bit of peace.

While listening, he would often look outside at the plants or maybe at the street lights in the distance and wonder about what was happening in the larger world. On one such evening, a young teenage girl came running out of the double doors of the ward, ran through the lobby and out the double doors leading to the parking lot. No sooner had she left the main doors when two resident assistants came running after her. He did not move from his spot and speculated that this was a teenager making a break from the locked area. He had seen something similar at other hospitals. Several minutes later, the two resident assistants returned with the girl, weeping and yelling.“I don’t belong here! I want to go home,” she cried.

He watched her as she was escorted back through the double doors and into the ward. He thought about what she had yelled. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t wanted at home. “This is your home,” he thought. “At least, it is your home until the insurance company stops paying.”

There is never a good time to get a migraine but there are some times that are worse than others. Tonight, I happened to get hit with a visual aura while speeding along the old Pasadena Freeway. A series of jagged, colored, vibrating lines criss-crossed my field of view making the road difficult to discern, especially at 70 mph. This was truly an accident waiting to happen. Yes, Thanatos is my middle name! It was especially bad over the last mile or so to my house. Everything around me resembled objects in a Star Trek transporter. I made it home and grabbed the Tylenol right away.Getting this migraine was sort of my fault. I had a fairly tough workout this evening and, stupid me, I kind of didn’t really eat today other than ingesting coffee and a bottle of Coke, hardly a diet of champions.


I felt a bit sleepy last night, went to bed and immediately felt unsettled and somewhat awake. I paced about, looked out the window, drank water and went to bed where I proceeded to toss and turn some more. When I finally began to feel rather like sleeping, it was time to get up for work. So, with a rather nasty headache, I grumbled under my breath and got ready for work. Of course, this morning, the 110 South was heavily congested for some inexplicable reason, delaying my arrival (approx. 6:07 AM hitting off-ramp as opposed to around 5:53 or :54 AM off-ramp arrival). All of this reminds me that I probably need to do my monthly check of clocks and watches with the local time signature to ensure accuracy. A watch is only good if set. Yes, I am rather sick, thank you.Yesterday and again today, I have felt a bit down. It is not so much a full-blown depressive episode but rather that spacey feeling that haunts me most of the time. Sometimes I am unaware of it but other times it becomes more apparent. I guess it is something of a Jungian shadow which can be ignored but never actually divorced from the rest of the overall self. What are all of these thoughts and images in my mind? They seem, at times, chaotic and disjointed but yet significant and old. I wonder whether these thoughts are pre-wired, ROM from millennia of related species feeling, experiencing and thinking about the same related matters. I could write more about such things but then I often wonder if it is proper to romanticize depression as if it were somehow a gift or positive experience when, in fact, it does little other than to rob you of the ability to experience the present and feel things in the immediate without first having to reach through a haze of confused thought.

He had been there for a while, staring at the ceiling as he lay on his back in the bed. He thought it was night or maybe it was day. It was difficult to tell the time as he was indoors and after the initial shot of Haldol, time became a hazy concept. It did not matter. He had no where to be.

The sweater he wore when he arrived was folded over the arm of a nearby chair. The nurse had remarked on how nice the sweater looked. He just got that sweater for his birthday. The thought of the birthday, the gifts, and smiling suddenly made him feel so very sad. Why was he here? He had once smiled and received birthday gifts from his family so why should he be here? It did not seem to fit.

He looked up again at the ceiling. It was tile ceiling, old and worn with many cracks. He followed the cracks like roads on a map. There was a main crack coming from the corner of one of the tiles and from it emerged smaller veins. He wanted to stop but he kept noticing each minor fault as it emerged from the main crack. There was the fifth from the bottom that lead to three smaller veins. There was the sixth from the bottom and that lead to other minor cracks. He wanted to stop, to make it stop but the inflow of information would not stop and he had no choice but to notice and categorize it and study it.

He wanted to sleep again.

He wanted to move but he was still tied down and no one had come back to check on him.If only there was a way to turn back the time, he thought. What would he change? What would he do differently? He wondered if things outside had changed, if he had changed. Was it possible that someone had fixed all of the problems while he slept?
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It has been a bit of a slow day and one for pondering and ruminating. Perhaps it is due to the new month but I have been losing my thoughts to images of hot blue skies and still desert air. I keep feeling myself twisting and floating alone in the sky above a blasted landscape. I feel somewhat sad but mostly just a degree of angst, angst about many things. I want to escape but do not know from what and do not know to where.

Today was spent running errands. I still have some headaches from my sinus infection. It feels like pressure pain and so I assume it will go away after a while. I need to get the interior decorating on my house off the ground but it has been slow going. I tried to get some design students to help but they all backed out so now I am back to square one. I suppose I could do it all on my own but some feedback would help tremendously.

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I had a good trip yesterday to Puddingston Lake. Heather and Banjo joined me and some folks from my workplace for a barbecue/potluck and a walk around the lake which became something of a Death March as it was much longer and more difficult than we had originally anticipated. In particular, the lack of a contiguous trail around the lake lead to many stops, starts and detours.