I've often considered the state of my mental health. I've never actually been to a professional analyst, so I've really no idea where I would fall in the sanity spectrum. I guess I'll never go because if I go in expecting a diagnosis and get told I'm normal I'll feel ripped off. At least if I could say, "I'm bipolar/schitzotypal/anything else," I'd have an excuse and be able to add some depth to my character. I know I said I was on the way up, but I'm not there yet. Everybody needs a crutch of explanation and some sort of object of self. I'm convinced of this when I hear people speak with pride of their suppposed mental disorders.
I think I get closest to findng some sort of purpose to my life when I'm in my depressive mode. For weeks now, I've been aching to create, yet I don't even know where to begin or what to create. It's like there's a void where great ideas used to come from. I could blame the bombardment on my senses by TV/Internet with their constant flow of new ideas or at least new representations of the same ideas. As such my own center for creation could have shrivled from disuse. I fear that could really be the case. I must find a way to get it back. That's the only way I think I could drive the feelings of worthlessness away; to make something worthy. So that's my quest for now, I'll ponder and dwell until I succeed. Or until I grow complacent with my lot once more. Either way, we'll see what real progress has been made the next time I'm down.
In conclusion, I hate high-quality scan sites. I mean, I appreciate the webmasters' plan of trying to bring me center-fold quality images, but when it takes a minute and fifty seconds from starting the load to see even a nipple (I'm on a high-speed connection, too), I just can't do anything with it. You think about that.