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Is bad writing a side effect of depression? If yes, then this spambot has a serious case of the blahs.
But what about us humans?
Are we better writers when we’re sad and blue? Do we find inspiration through angst? Does negativity turn our crank? Or do we produce our best work when we’re happy and we know it?
While googling the other day, I came across a list of famous people who suffer, or have suffered, from major depression.
I know. You’re asking yourself…Why is blogdramedy googling depression? Is she depressed? Are we not enough for her? Does she need an intervention? More vodka? Less?
Yes, I get down occasionally but it’s usually due to overwhelming acts of stupidity carried out by government bureaucrats and politicians. Whatever happened to civil servant exams? It seems they’ll let just anyone in these days. If you can’t speak, can’t spell, and lie like Rupert Murdoch, odds are you can get a job spending tax payers money.
But what I’m referring to here is celebrity depression. Surely that’s an oxymoron?
If you’re a celebrity, what’s to be depressed about? The two ounces you gained when you mistakenly ordered a regular latte and actually drank it?
I guess I should qualify my comments. To me, the term celebrity has negative connotations. To be a celebrity is to be a seeker of attention. The more bizarre the behaviour, the greater the attention.
Let me run a few names by you and see if you agree with my expert analysis. I think the following could all be classified as depressives. Just not for the reasons you would think.
Woody Allen — Have you seen any of his movies? Funny, yes. Uplifting? Only if you think angst is an aphrodisiac.
Alec Baldwin — three words. Hacked phone message. The man’s the human equivalent of a ballistic missile.
Anne Hathaway — picking the wrong guy is depressing. Doing it over and over is a sign of insanity.
Janet Jackson — that whole nipple exposure episode was just a cry for help. Thankfully, Dr. Justin was there to save the day.
Ashley Judd — the youngest and prettiest of the Judd women. Too bad she can’t carry a tune. Or so she’s always been told. Family…always your toughest critic.
Abraham Lincoln — a moderate Republican and one of the greatest presidents in U.S. history. Like we’ll ever see that combination with the current crop of GOP contestants. He wasn’t depressed. He was delusional…thinking the fight against slavery would ever be over.
Ewan McGregor — He’s a bit of an enigma. Must be that Scottish reserve. Of everyone listed here, he’s the one I found most difficult to accept as suffering from depression. But then, what was his last hit film…
Michelangelo — four years working on painting the Sistine Chapel. He spent more time on his back than Kim Kardashian. If that wasn’t enough, he was basically giving visual form to church doctrine. That’s not only depressing…it’s soul destroying.
Marie Osmond — you don’t need me to write something here, do you? Just think Donny and go from there.
I found over 300 names of recognizable figures from history who all showed signs of clinical depression. Depending on what criteria you use, I suspect everyone you know could be affected by a depressive disorder. Including you…and me.
If that’s the case then maybe we shouldn’t call it a disorder. Maybe we should think of this as the norm. After all, you can’t be happy all the time. That’s delusional. You can take medication for depression. For delusion? The answer is white and comes in a snug fit.
It’s not just fall falling all around me…I discovered today that my current blog theme doesn’t show my sidebars when you click on a post page. I’m very fond of my sidebars and to find they’ve been grievously ignored for months, leaves me perturbed and depressed.
I’m writing this with my sunglasses perched on the tip of my nose…classic perturbed behaviour for the clinically out-of-sorts.
Rather than diving into my usual remedy for depression — drink as succour and obliterator of reality — I decided to be a grownup about it and change my theme. Acting like a grownup is new territory for me so stop laughing and pay attention. I’m trying to be serious.
I’ve spent the past hour clicking through the options and I can’t find one I totally love. And you gotta love it, right? When you spend as much time staring at a blank new post page as I do, you should at least feel some attraction to your theme. It doesn’t have to give you the running through a meadow in slow motion joy of infatuation but you should feel at least a tiny bit of artful appreciation for how your blog looks…it should represent you…even if only in a small way.
After careful consideration, I’ve decided not to decide. I’m going to leave it up to fate…I’ve printed copies of all the themes, laid them on the floor and after I mix myself a martini, I’m going to close my eyes and toss an olive into the air and see where it lands.
Some may say that’s a waste of a perfectly good olive but I say piffle…it’s a small pit-tance to pay for my mental health. If I don’t look after my sanity, who will? Certainly not anyone who reads this blog. You people have issues…I know. I read your blogs. You try to deny it but you know it’s true.
So, to achieve optimum scientific accuracy, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room while I get busy with my jar of olives. Something tells me I can’t afford to be distracted…my blog is depending on me.