Entry Twenty-Nine.
Sunday 2004.08.29 10:07 PM CST.
Disallusioned.

[Note:  I actually delayed one full month before uploading this one.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to do so or not.  Well, I finally figured it needed to be posted, so here it is.  Written August 29th, and posted September 29th.]

[Please count this entry as "PG-Rated."  I woudn't recommend any of my Journal entries as "kid-friendly" entertainment, but especially not this one.]

I'm sitting here, on a Sunday night, in a darkened computer room, listening to one of my recent obsessions, a Boston-based duo known as the Dresden Dolls.

OUR EARLY HALLOWEEN IS OVER.
Last night, I performed at the Gypsy Coffee House for the big Halloween in August shindig.  It went fairly well.  DJ TMJ and I played five hours worth of all sorts of tracks.  I think I did okay, and TMJ did a great job.  I didn't really concentrate on beatmixing much, but TMJ was really showing better skills than I'd witnessed in the past.  I am really looking forward to hearing his original music, which he tends to keep pretty "secret," even from me, for the most part.  Overall, it went okay, though by the end of the evening, practically everyone in the place had either left, or they were just hanging around outside.  The music and lights were secondary.

After the show, we tore down as quickly as possible and headed out to the Oklahoma Fetish Factory for their "afterparty."  Um, wow.  Unfortunately, we'd apparently missed a ton of stuff before we got there, but, without elabourating too much, I can say that I saw things I never thought I'd see, enough to make it worth the trip.

However, in the midst of such beautiful visuals, the voices were howling.

And that brings me to the topic of the day.  Actually, no, it doesn't.  Not yet.  Before we get to the current state of mind (which, as you can probably guess from the title of this Journal entry, is "disallusioned"), allow me to Tarantino my way from the OFF up to right now and then bounce back right away to this afternoon.

THE QUIKTRIP
Earlier today, I was in another city, outside of Tulsa, to see TMJ and his fiancee.  I stopped by a QuikTrip and bought myself a tasty beverage, at which point I naturally exited via the front of the store.  A young man, 18 at the oldest, in almost all black including a T-shirt with an amusing [although technically incorrect] joke about schizophrenia, approached me, carrying a notebook and a pen.  I had no idea what was going to happen next, and frankly, it shocked me.  He very respectfully said something to the extent of "Excuse me, Sir?  Is your name Badger?"

The young man, named Joe, then asked for my autograph and told me how great he thought I was.

This is not something that I'm used to.  I like being known for my DJing and my comedic thoughts, and this fellow had seen me at the Gypsy during my open mic performances.  He introduced his friend to me, and went on and on about how much he enjoyed my comedy.  I gave him one of the leftover flyers for the "Halloween in August" party, as well as one of the old programs for the "Mary Kate + Ashley Turn 18" party, which I had in my car.

Again, I like being known for my comedy work, but I'm used to hearing compliments within the bounds of the Gypsy.  I'm not used to having people I don't know recognize me outside of that venue.  I was floored, in a good way.  I'd felt like somewhat of a celebrity at times (not often), but this was something different.  We chatted for a good long time, and I really felt...  I felt important.  I really, truly appreciated that feeling.

It's amazing how a few hours can change things.

THIS COMING TUESDAY
It is very ironic that I would receive such allocades two days before my last open mic performance, for a while.  I don't know how long my latest hiatus will be.  I just know that I have to leave the open mic behind.  I hadn't been feeling "good" about my work at the open mic night for a while (the events of this afternoon helped), and it seems that the open mic night has become less and less of a forum for talent and more and more of a "social event" for people to show up at and have conversations OVER the performers on the microphone.  I don't want to be part of it for a while.  Is it melodramatic of me to leave the open mic night once again - something I've done in the past?  One might say so.  I'm not trying to be a drama queen, but sometimes it's important to leave a venue for a while so that the general populace will "miss" you.  It helps keep them from taking you for granted.

HAPPY PILLS ARE IMPORTANT
Add in the fact that I've been depressed as all-get-out lately.  Yeah, if you're any type of Badger fan then you probably know that I suffer from clinical depression.  Well, if you have clinical depression and you take medication (well, my type of medication, brupropion) for it, you are not supposed to stop taking that medication, even if you feel better.  I stopped taking mine a little over a month ago.  I tend to mismanage my finances, and I screwed them up just enough that I didn't feel comfortable paying for the pills that would keep me feeling "okay."  After all, I had my life in order, work was going really well, and I had a beautiful girlfriend who, despite our differences, wasn't going to just walk out of my life.

Then, a little over three weeks ago, she walked out of my life by way of a single Yahoo! Messenger conversation.

Well, I needed those pills at that point.  Needed to get back on the pills, back in the routine.  But, I didn't feel like I should go ahead and buy the pills, because money was running low.  Why so?  Because I had spent a shitload of money a week before she dumped me, for her birthday and for our first "relationship" anniversary.  Money she didn't ask for, to buy loads of things she didn't ask for.  Things for her, because I loved her.  Gifts to express my happiness about having her in my life, and about the feeling of having someone who wouldn't hurt me like so many others had done before.  The bitter irony is that (despite occasional bouts with light depression) I didn't desperately need the pills again until she left me, and I would have felt "able" to afford them if it hadn't been for her.

Jiffy Pop, I hope you know how much that hurt.
And, I hope you know that I will never accept you back after what you did to me.
And, trust me, some day you will want me back.
And I hope it hurts.

I got paid two days ago, but I've been so busy that I haven't bought the pills.  I hope to do so tomorrow.  Or the next day.  Or whenever.

BACK TO TONIGHT.
So, here I sit, about to go to bed way too early.  I have records and stuff all over my bed from yesterday afternoon when I was getting ready for the party at the Gypsy.  (I slept here at my computer last night, something I've done way too often - FRIGHTENINGLY often - as of late.)  I haven't eaten dinner yet, but I will do so soon.  I feel really sad.  Sad and empty.  I don't understand why my brain does this to me, but I know that I don't like my life much sometimes.  I was going to go to work tonight so that I could catch up on some crucial stuff I needed to get done, but I just couldn't.  I needed to go out and buy some important groceries, but I couldn't.

I needed to go out and get my prescription for brupropion refilled, but I just couldn't.

I live through most days like a zombie, stuck to an irreversable routine of waking up, going to work, coming home, getting on the Internet, and then eventually going to bed or (again, something that's become a very scary habit) eventually passing out from the lack of sleep right here at my PC.  I don't feel much motivation or ambition, and that's something I really need.  I can't even write much comedy poetry these days.  I just don't feel that I "have it in me," and that's another reason I'm taking my sabbatical from the open mic night.

My apartment is so cluttered that I cannot have people over.  I'm ashamed of my home here.  The stove, the dishwasher, and the refrigerator are all having major problems as well - but I don't feel like I can have the maintenance crew come up until I have the place cleaner.  The state of the place bothers me so much that I usually just "dodge" the housework and let things get even worse.  Right now, I don't feel like I'll ever escape it.

I keep telling myself that I will make things better, but I never really work on making that dream a reality.  I think people would be genuinely surprised at how tormented I really am.

...

[Almost as if on cue, I passed out at the PC before going any further.  I will try to upload this Journal entry soon, but I must go to bed now.]

More later,
Badger

PS:  Captain and Fae, thank you so much for showing up at the party last night.  It meant the world to me, and I am extremely proud and happy for both of you.