Dark horse

And the reason I may have to quit my band or ask them to be patient or understanding with me, the same reason I fail to practice with a metronome, or memorize the lyrics to a song I wrote myself, or practice songs, the same reason I may never complete this Masters degree - depression.

I have for years now privately thought of depression as aids of the mind, or perhaps the soul, though that's going out on a limb since I don't believe in souls, at least not in the metaphysical sense. Perhaps in the metaphorical sense, or the mundane sense, soul as simply emotions, thoughts, ruminations, what have you. Certainly hard to define, yet within the laws of nature, not violating the laws of non contradiction. Aids attacks the immune system, the very defense needed to fight the disease. So it's not aids one dies of, rather a cold, or flu, that can't be fought off. Depression works in an analogy of aids, attacking the passion needed to enjoy life.

It's for this reason I fail to spend time with a metronome or nurture the talent I have. Musically I get by. If I had motivation and drive I could go to another place. Depression that takes away the strength or drive to really study hard, even of things that matter greatly to me. Depression that will see me stay in bed waiting for life to go away and leave me alone. So I'm doing the best I can with what I have. I'm trying to get exercise because that combats depression. Trying not to quit my band because at times it does feed my soul. Well, I could quit the band, I could always get other projects, but it's depression that would try to make me seek failure, seek to bail before I really reach someplace special, whatever that means, wherever that may be. I don't believe it necessarily means that I won't succeed, either at study or music, marriage, or life itself for that matter . . . but it doesn't make it easy.

Even when it has a the weakest hold on me in a long time. It's still always there whittling away my resolve. Even in this period of my life where I no longer call in sick to avoid facing life. I've only missed perhaps one day of work to that old trope in the last eight years. It's the Beast, to steal a phrase from Tracy Thompson, the name of her book actually. I could choose not to write this, keep it a secret, or at the very least not broadcast it in such an over the top manner here on this blog. I could pretend I've no cracks in my coating, but it wouldn't make it fail to exist. Acknowledging your foe is paramount in having any hopes in hell of walking away from the fight still breathing. Studying your foe may teach you when to swing, when to feint, whether to rush in swinging, defensively block, or run away, to employ guerilla tactics or march towards the fire firing with honor hoping for the best. Its a puzzle indeed.