I don't know why i'm here. I'm depressed, sad and lonely and as usual I'm bulling my way through for the most part. I always get frantic when I'm going through a prolonged depression, like a child and it lifts for a time when I'm productive. I'm going to try and get organized. It is this treading water kind of feeling that gets me depressed.

I've gotten some work done and I will try to get more. eventually I will get past it. At least I have some positive things accomplished and have had some creative moments of satori. I realize that it actually is possible for me to write short fiction, I realize that I can actually write both mainstream and non-fiction and actually have not lost my ability to be versitile. I realize that I have been doing many, many things all along without realizing it, I simply have been calling it something else. I have been doing the work without giving myself the credit for it. Craziness abounds.