My dad is visiting right now. He came in yesterday afternoon. He is down here trying to land a new magazine drive account. So far things have been alright between us, if not a little strained. I became kind of upset with him yesterday when he asked me if I should get a part-time job. I responded with an emphatic "no". Finding a part-time job isn't any easier or harder than finding a full-time job and if I had one I know it would mess up my search. He also told me I should "get an agent" at dinner. As if it is easy and as if anyone would want to represent someone that has never been paid to write anything.
We went to see "The Descendants" yesterday. It was an excellent film. In it, this woman who has been cheating on her husband is in a coma due to a boating accident and George Clooney has to go around letting his family and daughters know that his wife is going to die. It brought me back pretty viscerally to when my mom was sick. I teared up a couple times, especially when characters privately were saying goodbye to her in her hospital bed. It reminded me of the last time I said goodbye to my mom, when she had already been unconscious for a good period of time.
When we got back, my aunt and cousins were all eating. We told them about what movie we went to see and instead of talking about it's merits or about what the experience of seeing it was like she quizzed me on distribution, directors and producers (which I did not know), preceded to tell me I needed to know these kind of things if I wanted to be in the industry, then told me I should have a subscription to "Variety." Jesus. Couldn't catch a break.
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I went to the psychiatrist on Wednesday and she said that all of my talking with people and writing and everything came off as a little frantic, as if I am frantic to find a solution to this whole mess of my life. I guess she is right, I will really have the solution when I am peaceful and not searching. Hopefully that dad is coming soon.
She also seemed to think that I am making progress. Last night I kind of had a moment of realization, I'll stop short of calling it an epiphany, but I sort of realized that all of these attempts to "figure stuff out" by talking to people and write, really in order to correct something that has gone wrong in my life is beside the point. The point is to really feel better on a day to day basis.
This last manic episode was so different from the ones before. It was so much more controlled, much more tempered, though I did put myself in harms way, I was not nearly as erratic and out of control as in times before. I knew to get myself to the hospital. It lasted for much longer too, building up over a period of weeks and taking a long time (after I got out of the hospital) to retreat.
I don't know what else to say about it. I don't want the negative parts to ever come back, but I could use some of the more positive aspects, being more social, having more energy, being more creative, I don't know when those things will return, as I just feel tired all the time, worn out. Not so much depressed, just like I don't have enough energy to really seize the day.
So I guess the truth is, figuring things out with Kim has been this mental obstacle that I have frantically been trying to address, but it hasn't been working. I've felt has been infringing on my happiness, but I can make myself feel better without her, in a more patient, calm, and healthy way. Last night I had Mach improv and it felt really nice to hang out and talk to people afterward and realize I am making new friends. I am semi-jealous that everyone there seems to be doing so much other stuff and that is really the only thing I have going for me, but I know it is within my power to write and film and edit sketches if I really want to. It would be nice for someone to ask me to be on a team or to write with them, but if that's not going to happen, I'll take friendships.
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Hm. Don't have anything else to say really. Please, someone, give me a fucking job!
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