Fuck Friday

Friday used to be the shit. Growing up it was the night Full House was on TV, and it progressed into the nights when we'd have Southline basketball and then go watch the NBA doublheader on TNT at Bobby P's. As I learned what beer was, Fridays then turned into, "where are we going to get hammered tonight?" That was aided by my employment at Convenient, where it wasn't Friday unless you left work with a free 12-pack. I worked 3-7 on Fridays in high school, and seriously between my "employee discount" and sharing my employee discount with friends, over a thousand dollars worth of alcohol went unpaid for in a scheme that was so fool-proof it would impress Halburton...Only tricky part, sometimes Jeff Radt wanted me to throw a porn magazine in the bag with his "order." That kid is now a Bible-thumping Christian -- go figure.

I never even took money for it. I honestly felt like Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor...You should have seen the cash we dropped into the safe on a Friday night at Convenient, just in my four hours,,,what was a few free 12-packs, or a few free bottles of Boone's in Jeff Bolt's case?

Today is Friday, and after going to bed at around 12:30, digesting Oregon State's amazing performance over USC (aided by a kid who suffers with major depression), I cried myself to sleep. I don't want to be here. Two weeks is more than enough time to come to this conclusion. I think it's fair and not a snap judgment at this point...I've given it time. The grounds on which I came here under have quickly revealed to be total bullshit. A support system of three, I thought, who would be there whenever I need them, has shrunk to a support system of zero. I am here alone emotionally, and honestly, if you know me you understand this and if you don't you think I am fucked up (which you are probably right), the ONLY sane moments of my days are when I am watching this whole Mets/Brewers/Phillies orgy and football on the weekends.

I went to a support group Monday night and it was terrific; most support groups are. But that is one day a week, for two hours! It's not abandonment...who the fuck am I to expect other people's lives to be put on hold while I suffer through this, but can't anyone see how this leads to the justification of suicide in my own head???

I just want everyone to be able to live their lives without worry. The source of their worry and concern is -- me. SO, basic middle-school level problem solving...If there is a problem, and you are the source of the problem, what do you do? You remove or fix the problem right? I've tried with medication, talk therapy, diversion, meditation, exercise, and every single, solitary sollution that everyone tells me will make me feel better, or "fix the problem." Shit's not working. So, in the end, what's the last viable option to end/fix the problem? Ask Hemingway, ask Virginia Woolf, my Uncle Michael, or saddest of all (and most recent), ask David Foster Wallace.

Nothing is going to happen, yet. The pain never eases though, and I am absolutely seeing how and why writers, and creative people feel the need to go the route that so many take. The detachment from society I, we, feel is so profound that there's no fucking drug for it.

The beautiful and popular reverse-psychology that people use to the point of disgust nowadays is that suicide is the most selfish thing a person can do...How the hell is thst remotely true? People with depression, me, we feel so unbelievably and unspeakably burdened and guilty that the only way we know to release the burden that we are to others (and the burden I am slowly starting to see that I truly am), is to do what they all have done. David Foster Wallace suffered from depression for over 20 years...his work was brilliance. I can't, I CAN'T, do THIS for 20 more years.


David Foster Wallace


And by the way, Mitch Albom is not a writer, there are 397,000 writers that could pen that sappy bullshit in their sleep. He'll be around, making up and stealing stories forever, so all the soccer Moms out there don't have to worry. Depression is the stifling of creativity...Albom is to creativity what Gerorge Bush is to honesty.