I’m writing again, I’m also cleaning. Well I haven’t started cleaning yet, but slowly getting into the mood. That can only mean one thing. I’m depressed.

It snuck up on me Friday night I think. I’m not sure. Just know that I woke up on Saturday morning depressed.

I don’t know why I’m depressed though. It still could be my father, or it could be something else. Maybe I know I need to start writing again so I worked myself into being depressed. Or I could be thinking about my father. Who knows how my mind works. I sure as hell don’t.

Well I’m working on a short right now. I got this idea for a script a couple of months ago, but I held it off cause I want to finish my rewrite of the first script that I did. But that will take forever cause I’ve lost my train of thought on that one. So I guess I’ll just start with this short. I’m aiming for 30 pages or shorter. I’ll send it out to you all when I’m finished, hopefully.

Ohhh…what is troubling me. I think it is the weather. It’s been cloudy down here for the past 2 weeks or so. It’s not pretty at all. Sure I love the rain, I love cloudy days, but to some extent. My moods are really dependent on the weather. Up north, I was depressed a lot mainly because of the lack of sun. Every day is a gloomy day, so I was in a gloomy mood. Now it seems that every day down here is a gloomy day.

I need to do something. Photography class isn’t coming fast enough.

I went to my friend’s son’s first birthday party this Saturday. I enjoyed myself. I had a good time. I was out and about, socializing with a bunch of people I don’t know. Not bad for me. I’ve taken some pictures. Just got them back.

I suck. None of them look any good. Well maybe one or two, but that is it. Gosh, I really need help. Hopefully the photography class is worth it.

I ask this question to this empty void. Am I a responsible person? Do I know what is right and what is wrong? Don’t I know how to take care of myself? I would like to think so. I would like to think I am capable of taking care of myself without anyone worrying about me. I would like to know that when I’m drunk, or when I’m incapable of driving, I wouldn’t drive.

I got a call from my mom yesterday. She’s working on the weekends, against my wishes of course. I guess it is her way with dealing with things, as mine is with writing. But she doesn’t trust my judgments in making friends. She thinks I drink because the people I associate with forced her nice little innocent boy into drinking. I did this mom. I started drinking because I wanted to drink. I made that choice on my own, without any pressure from anyone. And the kicker is, I started before I came down here. I started in college.

So like I said, I was at the party, and she called. She asked where I was and I told her. She then proceeded to give me an inquisition on who this friend is, and then went on to tell me not to drink and not to drive. She gave me the guilt trip that I needed to take care of myself because my dad’s not here anymore.

I guess I just want people to stop babying me. Grant it I’m not the smartest guy or I make the right decisions all of the time, but I would like to think that she trusts me and that I’m responsible.

Actually I think there is a conspiracy between my uncles to get me to go home. Out of the blue, I got a call from two of my uncles today. I guess they wanted me to touch base with them and to see if I’ve been calling my mom. Well I haven’t called, because she’s been calling me. But I do intend to call every week. I’m not that cold hearted. Maybe I am; maybe they see that and that is why they are calling. One of the uncles proceeded to lecture me on drinking. Things I’ve heard and understand and know. I’m getting babied all over.

Do I seem that fragile to you all. Am I about to break and I don’t know it? Sure I believe that for some reason I’m to in touch with my feminine side, and that I am very sensitive (I’m probably the most sensitive guy I know, crying at movies and commercials for pete sake. I need help.), but I’ve always believed that I’m a strong person. Aren’t I? Or am I just deluding myself into believing that again.

I was asked this question last night. Julie asked if I am any closer to move home. I don’t know. I told her I haven’t thought about it in a while, and honestly I haven’t. I’m trying not to think about anything, or it. But if I must, I will.

Am I going to move home? At the moment, no. I need my time down here. I need my time alone, away from family, away from the pressures of everything. I want to keep my distance. I just don’t want to be smothered. I want my time to think about things, to digest things, to reevaluate things. Ask me in a couple months, and sure, I will probably say the same. In the next year, I don’t know. That is just to far away. I don’t want to think so far away anymore. I’ve been doing that all my life. It is time for me to stop and focus on now. And now, I don’t want to move home. I just don’t.

I’ve been going through my friend’s journal. She posted something on my birthday about me:

12:39 pm – I’m getting older
Today is my darling Phongielson’s 24th birthday, which means that in exactly one month, I will be 24 too.

I did the calculations today, and realized that Phong and I have known each other for half of our lives now. It’s startling, because I’ll forever think of Phong as the pipsqueak in 7th grade health class with the cute voice, or the cynical young man I walked with at high school graduation. I never thought of the fact that someday, I will know Phong the husband and father, or Phong the old man. When did this aging thing happen?? And what can I do to make it stop?

One part really struck me as fascinating and odd. I’m cynical. I’ve never thought I was cynical. I’ve always thought that I am very idealistic. Am I really cynical? I really don’t think so. Thinking back, thinking about how I was. I really can’t see that.

Well it is said that other people see you more clearly than you could because you are biased. You are self-indulgent and refuse to see the way you really are; see your flaws. You work it in your mind to see yourself in one way and that way in particular. I think of myself as an idealist. Do I seem like an idealist to you, or is my friend correct and that I am a cynic?

If that is the case, then I am living a lie. Everything I see about myself, everything I think I am is all a lie. Was I truly becoming happy? I believed that I was. But reading this, thinking about it, I am doubting myself. So those times I was in highschool, manic; was I really truly depressed? Or was I imagining things.

I don’t know any more. I don’t know anything. Wouldn’t it be nice to not remember anything, just to forget, forget, forget. No memories, no doubts, no thoughts. You just wake up refreshed, learning everything again. Start each day new with that person you hate and not knowing you hate them, or that crush, and seeing her totally different again. Thinking that you are falling for them for the first time and not realizing you did this before and got yourself burned time and time again. Oh to forget.

I want to forget. I want to forget everything, everyone. Then I can truly be myself. I can truly be a hermit.