It feels really pointless saying this, but I'm in a weird place tonight. While, in typical depression-induced fashion, I've gotten absolutely nothing accomplished today, I've made attempts tonight to organize my thoughts in hopes of pushing forward towards.... something. Over the years I've compiled quite a long list of writing ideas. I look at them every days ...the bits and pieces of novels or short stories or scripts... in the hopes another piece of one will fall out of my foggy brain. There's some excellent and original concepts here. I've also just put the old 80's flick, Into The Night, in the DVD player like I used to back when I wrote into the wee hours of the night. The whole evening feels like I've laid all the ingredients for a cake out on the table, looked at them, and said to them, "ok, go!" I feel like, in my own dysfunctional way though, I am trying.
Oh, and the WebMD page for Wellbutrin sits there and sings to me like a Siren, promising me the answers to all my troubles.
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