Sometimes I have these moments during the day when I have to stop. It's not cause I'm stressed out or have too much to do but rather I can feel my depression tightening its grip on me.
And I feel I'm never going to be good enough for anything or anyone. It's stupid and futile to keep fighting the inevitable depression that is constant in my life.
And I have to stop.
I have to stop whatever it is I'm doing and remind myself in a very real and literal way that I matter. I am good and I'm doing just fine. And everything is going to be okay.
I wish I didn't have to take the time to stop and remind myself that I have worth, that it'd just be inherent and obvious to me all the time.
But that's not how my brain was wired.
I was born with a defective brain in the sense that I have to make the conscious decision to push against what my brain is wired to do.
Because of the way my DNA decided to line up, my brain's default mode is depressed. I mean this in a very real way. I am always depressed. I have to push myself, force myself out of it and fight against my very nature in order to feel happy. It doesn't always work. And some days are harder than others.
A few weeks ago, I was really happy. I was happy every single day of the week. I didn't feel depressed and I went to bed without any despair. I could focus on my work without having to stop and push down the feeling of hopelessness that is always kept at bay. I felt joy in my interactions with others and didn't feel like it's all pointless. I felt like real connection was possible. That's a very odd thing to happen for me. It was an abnormal week for me.
I wish it could always be like that. I have so many things to be happy about and I know I should be happy. But, like I said, it's just not how it works for me. And so I have to constantly fight to get happiness in my life.
I don't know why I'm telling you all this.
Love you.
Mean it.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Year one at the Herald Journal
Yesterday was my one year anniversary working for the Herald Journal.
Today, the Salt Lake Tribune laid off about 20 percent of its staff.
There's a poignant juxtaposition for you, if I ever heard of one.
My year working as a reporter has been interesting. I've written hundreds of articles, met dozens upon dozens of people, had my fair share of people telling me I'm the worst, more than a few thank you cards and many other experiences that come with the job. Or rather, just sort of happen with this kind of job.
My heart aches for those at the Tribune who were laid off. People talk about how journalism is a dying field, that it's a waste of time and effort to go into journalism. I don't agree with that but I see the argument being made. People will always want to know what's going on. The rough part is people are unwilling to pay someone to write about what's going on.
Many people complain about the paywall up on the Herald Journal's website. I think their complaints are bollocks. We're professionals and as such, we won't do our work for free. Period. People don't seem to realize that and they'd be insulted if we asked them to do their job for free.
Writing is the one thing I know I'm really good at. And finding a way to make money out of that is just awesome. And no matter how frustrated or bored I may feel at my job, I constantly feel lucky that this is my job. I get paid to do what I love and what I know I'm good at. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Love you.
Mean it.
Today, the Salt Lake Tribune laid off about 20 percent of its staff.
There's a poignant juxtaposition for you, if I ever heard of one.
My year working as a reporter has been interesting. I've written hundreds of articles, met dozens upon dozens of people, had my fair share of people telling me I'm the worst, more than a few thank you cards and many other experiences that come with the job. Or rather, just sort of happen with this kind of job.
My heart aches for those at the Tribune who were laid off. People talk about how journalism is a dying field, that it's a waste of time and effort to go into journalism. I don't agree with that but I see the argument being made. People will always want to know what's going on. The rough part is people are unwilling to pay someone to write about what's going on.
Many people complain about the paywall up on the Herald Journal's website. I think their complaints are bollocks. We're professionals and as such, we won't do our work for free. Period. People don't seem to realize that and they'd be insulted if we asked them to do their job for free.
Writing is the one thing I know I'm really good at. And finding a way to make money out of that is just awesome. And no matter how frustrated or bored I may feel at my job, I constantly feel lucky that this is my job. I get paid to do what I love and what I know I'm good at. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Love you.
Mean it.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
You never forget your first
You never forget your first.
Someone gives you a suggestion or a cover catches your eye.
You ask people about their first comic, they get a kind of stupid/nostalgic grin on their face. They recall what it was and how they got it and how it made them feel and little details they hadn't thought about in ages.
My first comic was Batman: The Long Halloween. I was 20 or 21. I was working for an English professor at SUU named Joe. He loved comics and taught classes on them. He recommended TLH to me.
I drove all the way from Cedar City to St. George because I didn't want to wait for it to be mailed to me.
As cliche as it sounds, reading TLH was a turning point in my life. It's what got me to read comics. I kept reading Batman trades that I picked up at random book stores. I moved on to Sandman and Hellboy.
Now five years later, a corner of my apartment has stacks of comics, both trades and weeklies. Comics are a big part of my life and it all started with Joe's recommendation to read TLH.
A few weeks ago, I was on vacation with the family. I was sitting there, reading a Deadpool collection, when my baby sister Cindy, age 19, came up to me and asked me about comics. After a brief conversation, she asked me how she could start reading them. I was so proud, my big sister heart nearly burst.
Cindy will be leaving for Rexburg for her second year of college. I'll be sending her a care package of comics to start her off with.
It will include The Long Halloween because, like I said, you never forget your first.
Love you.
Mean it.
Someone gives you a suggestion or a cover catches your eye.
You ask people about their first comic, they get a kind of stupid/nostalgic grin on their face. They recall what it was and how they got it and how it made them feel and little details they hadn't thought about in ages.
My first comic was Batman: The Long Halloween. I was 20 or 21. I was working for an English professor at SUU named Joe. He loved comics and taught classes on them. He recommended TLH to me.
I drove all the way from Cedar City to St. George because I didn't want to wait for it to be mailed to me.
As cliche as it sounds, reading TLH was a turning point in my life. It's what got me to read comics. I kept reading Batman trades that I picked up at random book stores. I moved on to Sandman and Hellboy.
Now five years later, a corner of my apartment has stacks of comics, both trades and weeklies. Comics are a big part of my life and it all started with Joe's recommendation to read TLH.
A few weeks ago, I was on vacation with the family. I was sitting there, reading a Deadpool collection, when my baby sister Cindy, age 19, came up to me and asked me about comics. After a brief conversation, she asked me how she could start reading them. I was so proud, my big sister heart nearly burst.
Cindy will be leaving for Rexburg for her second year of college. I'll be sending her a care package of comics to start her off with.
It will include The Long Halloween because, like I said, you never forget your first.
Love you.
Mean it.
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