Filed by Bil at 8:04 pm under Depression, Pop Culture
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Some mathematical algorithm thinks I write like Vladimir Nabokov – modern day Nabokov? Sure, I could see that, because modern-day Nabokov is dead, whereas I apparently am too alive to get any writing done.
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Filed by Trevor at 12:46 am under Depression, Love
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I have much to forgive myself for, and much more for others to forgive. The trouble is, I have no assurances of the latter, and without it, can never achieve the former.

I had originally titled this entry “Starting to Heal”, but I no longer feel this is appropriate for me. Until now I thought that healing my wounds was a solitary process, revisiting one-by-one those events that left me so damaged, then inwardly making peace with those responsible. But in these past few weeks I’ve taken a good hard look at just what others have done that have left me feeling so hurt and betrayed, and it’s really begun to sink in that the reason why I have been unable to let so much of it go is because I have inflicted such hurt and betrayal on others. Nothing is so unkind as a mirror.

It’s a nice idea to think that all of the growing up I’ve had to do in my adult life has left me with a greater sense of peace and satisfaction; perhaps it has to some degree, but rather than this I like to think that my circumstances have shown me the responsibility of total honesty. I say responsibility because I see now that a truly honest life requires assessing the truth and acting on it, and the truth for me at the moment is I cannot move forward without facing the consequences of my actions past and present and doing everything I can to undo them. Or, failing that, to atone for them.

Where once was hubris now lingers crippling self-doubt. So much, in fact, that I have been virtually unable to write music for nearly six years or even commit to making steady entries on this blog. And I’m now beginning to think that my self-doubt is rooted in deep remorse and shame for what I see as stains on my past. I don’t wish to rewrite history because I think it’s pointless to wish for something so impossible. What I do wish, however, is to be able to reconnect with those to which I have done such harm and to replace those memories with new ones. And it’s all I can do to hope for something that may as well be equally impossible.

Honesty requires action, so I have acted. And now I will wait. Perhaps this is not enough to mend my self-doubt completely, perhaps this is not enough for me to forgive myself totally, and I know for certain that this is not enough to achieve peace. But if this first step is successful, I am more than willing to make the journey.

Filed by Bil at 10:27 pm under Depression, Love, Social Issues
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I wrote “LOVE” on my arm today to show support for those battling depression, self-mutliation, destructive addictions, or contemplating suicide. There is an organization called To Write Love on Her Arms and today was their official annual day where you do this.
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Filed by Trevor at 1:11 pm under Depression, Love, Social Issues
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“Hark, the herald angels sing — but as for us, my dear, I can’t recall a single thing we’re celebrating this year.” Jenny Owen Youngs, “Things We Don’t Need Anymore”

I was walking home through the park adjacent to my apartment at about midnight last night, trying (and failing) not to look like a total goofball as I tried to keep myself from slipping, and I noticed a woman about my age sitting on a bench. I thought that was a little strange, given the hour and the temperature, but I didn’t think anything of it. Initially I flashed her a non-threatening grin, but as I kept walking, I noticed that she was crying. I stopped and turned around, asking her if she was all right. She popped her headphones out and turned her head.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
I repeated my question, “Are you all right?”
She laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m OK.”
I smiled sympathetically and turned to continue on my way.
“You’re a good person for stopping. Happy holidays,” she said.
I turned back around. “Of course, sweetheart.”

But I’m not a good person. My first instinct was to reach for my cell phone, like I do whenever I’m in the Loop and have to pass through the gauntlet of Greenpeace activists, or with those religious nutcases handing out pamphlets on Belmont. And now I feel like a total shit. I’m genuinely concerned; I want to go back.

I wish God existed so she could forgive me.
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