Not a Single Photo.

For a reason unbeknownst to me, I've just felt ho-hum today. Nothing triggered it; today has just been one of those days. That's what it is to live with depression. Sometimes, you eat the bear.

Sometimes, the bear eats you.

To work myself out of my funk this afternoon, I went to a local park to try and shoot some photos. I walked the trails, bobbing in and out of trees, standing on rocks, hopping over logs, squatting next to the water's edge. I photographed a big fat nothing. No luck finding anything of interest to take a picture of. Shooting film is expensive, so I try not to waste my pictures on common place scenes and things I can witness all the time. The sun had crawled lower in the sky, so I'd hoped to get some great light reflecting off the autumn trees. Alas, that didn't happen.

No matter what I tried, I simply couldn't get anything to work right.

Taken in perspective, I handled myself today much better than I would have a few years ago. Sure, nothing worked out as I planned today, but that's okay. I returned home having not taken a single photo. Yet, tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is another chance at having a great photo shoot. Tomorrow is... well... tomorrow!

Many of you whom read this blog are photographers. Tell me, how do you handle days where you just can't seem to snap a decent photo? I couldn't be the only one whom has experienced this phenomena. Would you rather shoot a bad picture versus no picture at all? Or, would you rather wait until a better photo opportunity comes along?

A temporary fix.

Interesting fact... I'm much more fun when I've got a few drinks in me!

It's 1:30 pm on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The birds are chirping. Sunshine is all around us. The trees are releasing their pollen and turning our vehicles a lighter shade of yellow. All in all, it's quite a marvelous day.

Alternatively, I've been in a horrible, depressed mood all morning. No real reason to be so... just have been. In the course of correcting my mood, I've ingested roughly five shots of whiskey in forty-five minutes. I feel great!

As I sit to write this blog post, I must face a harsh self-criticism. I shouldn't use alcohol to make myself feel better. Now mind you, I don't drink that often. In fact, when I do drink, it's usually just one mixed drink in a pint glass. I definitely don't meet the criteria of an alcoholic. Alcoholism runs in my family, though; I must be cautious with my drinking habits. I do find it terribly amazing how alcohol can make one forget all their sadness and animosity... even for just a short while. Scratch that -- forget is not a proper word. Perhaps I should say subdue. Yes, let's rephrase that.

Alcohol can subdue all the sadness and animosity I feel.

It's a temporary fix to a long term problem. It's also one I shouldn't be exploring. It's too late now though. Best to write about it, get the emotions out in the open and move forwards.

The other point I'm reminded of in my libatious debauchery is how, no matter the positive progression I make towards emotional wellness, the rot that exists in me will always be there. A small fragment of the poison that has tainted my existence shall forever hook itself to my being. Again, this blog aims to educate myself in how to best contain that poison. Perhaps my heart needs a hazmat suit?