First Sonni Abatta left town for Orlando. And now a whole bunch of the Pirates are gone. This has not been a good summer for Pittsburgh.

Farewell, Jack Wilson. You and your tremendous defensive play will be missed.

Yesterday I saw a man riding a motorcycle with a cigarette in his mouth. I'm trying to figure out how that compares with the man wearing sandals and using the weed whacker.

With the trade of Adam LaRoche yesterday to the Boston Red Sox, my father no longer has anyone to swear at when he watches Pirate games.

Two things:

There was the rare Sid Bream reference made during Saturday night's Pirate game telecast. I always enjoy a good Sid Bream reference.

Today I learned that in women's softball, the infielders are still called baseman. Like third baseman. I thought that was interesting.

I saw a man yesterday wearing leather sandals and using a weed whacker. That just doesn't seem like a good idea. How tough is it to put on a pair of sneakers?

Although I was late getting out of bed today, I did feel better than I did yesterday. And I am hopeful that I will feel even better tomorrow. I don't know what caused things to go kerplooey yesterday. I've thought about the possible triggers, and I haven't really come up with much. Sometimes I feel as though I know some of the triggers, and other times I feel as though I have no idea.

I have been feeling pretty good in recent weeks, and therefore, haven't mentioned my depression on the blog in a while. Unfortunately, that streak has come to an end. I am just not feeling right today. I don't know what it is, but I was off from the moment I woke up this morning, and I just haven't been able to shake it. I have been feeling a little sluggish recently, sleeping later on days that I don't have anything scheduled. But today just hasn't been a good one for me. I don't know what will happen from here, but it is demoralizing to have been feeling good only to have it come crashing down around me without any warning.

Dave: Do you put your lips on Rohan's stomach and make farting noises?

Focker: I usually do that in the neck area. I act like a biting lion or tiger usually on the stomach which tickles him.

Freedom!

Dave: So, Farah Fawcett died. She was the sex symbol from my youth.

Jim: It's funny. I was just thinking that exact same thought a few minutes ago before I read your email.

Dave: We're the same age.

Jim: Yeah. OLD.

Did you happen to see President Obama last night on ABC, answering questions and talking about health care reform? I was very impressed with him. Not only does he seem to have an excellent grasp on the problems facing the health care situation in this country, but he is calm and cool, very articulate, and obviously very intelligent. And best of all, from his first day in office, his approach to the issues facing this country has been pro-active. There hasn't been a president who is this pro-active in my lifetime. Rather than waiting for problems to arise and having to react to them, he is trying to tackle them before they become crises. It's a smart approach to virtually anything, and it saves money in the long run. If the American auto companies had been pro-active in their business strategies, they might not have found themselves in the trouble they're in. I believe in President Obama. I think he knows what he's doing, and I agree with virtually everything he does. And that never happens. I can always find something wrong. But he's the real deal. He made promises to the American people while he was campaigning, and so far, he has lived up to those promises. One thing is for sure, he is really trying. Instead of sitting back and spending his summer in someplace like Crawford, Texas, he's out there everyday, working, pushing forward, talking to people, trying to make this country better than it is, and trying to make the future better than the path that it's currently on. Did I mention that I am really impressed with this man?

Jim: I just had to go through all my clothes a couple weeks ago and throw out a bunch of old t-shirts. I tried to tell my wife that when I go places, I don't buy souvenirs or take a lot of photos and that my t-shirts are my souvenirs and that they don't take up nearly as much space as her boxes and photo albums of old pictures. That didn't fly.


Dave: I don't buy souvenirs or take photos, either. I don't even own a camera. Not even on my phone. I depend on others for my small collection of photos. I am eventually going to have to tackle my vast collection of baseball cards that is stored in my parents' attic. Going through them will be a nightmare, but I suppose I will try to sell them somehow. There are only a few of them that I want anymore. I don't even begin to know how to sell them. EBay? A dealer?


Jim: You are asking the wrong person. But if you figure it out, please let me know.

And if you see my t-shirt from the opening of Camden Yards at your local Goodwill, grab it and save it for me until I see you again and can get if from you.


Dave: Do you have a bunch of baseball cards stored somewhere, too? I remember when I was growing up, my father told me to save my cards because they would be worth something someday. But he never told me what I was supposed to do when that day came.

Post number 400 . . .

I reluctantly watched the movie "Marley and Me" last night with my parents. I had very low expectations, but it turned out to be an okay film. The thing that struck me was that the filmmakers were able to show how the life of a dog can be so intertwined with the life of a young couple that grows over the years into a family, with all of the highs and lows that come with that growth. Of course, Marley grew older as the movie progressed, inevitably becoming sick and having to be put down. The film did a good job, I thought, of showing how a family reacts when one of its pivotal members gets sick and dies, even if that member is the family pet. By the end of the movie, both my father and my mother were reaching for tissues to wipe their eyes. I myself felt my eyes grow heavy with tears, but I managed to keep it together. But I must admit that I was very moved by the ending. I couldn't help but be reminded of the dogs that have been in my family over the years and how emotionally heart-wrenching it can be to say good-bye to a good friend while the life of a family continues. So, if you have a dog, make sure to pet it everyday and talk to it and tell it what a good dog it is. You will glad that you did when it comes time to say good-bye.

I am not good at throwing certain things away. I keep some things because I think that I might need them at some point in the future. I used to be a high school English teacher, and I have tons of stuff from those years, and I can't seem to bring myself to even go through it all, let alone dispose of it. I have boxes of stuff in the storage locker in the basement of my building. And there are more boxes of stuff still stored at my parents' house, which my mother has been nagging me to go through for years. The recent severe storm that blew through Pittsburgh on Wednesday night caused some flooding in my parents' basement. Some of my boxes got wet, so my mother really pushed me to go through them. Reluctantly, I decided to tackle the two boxes that had gotten wet. In one, I found papers and notebooks from my high school years. Just looking at the stuff brought back a flood of memories from those years. It was a little overwhelming. My high school years, like they are for most people, were full of varying emotions, from teenage insecurities to outright joy from time spent with good friends. My high school memories have always been difficult for me to think about. My memories are so vivid that they scare me sometimes. I still have lots of dreams where I am back in high school surrounded by people from more than twenty years ago. Anyway, I went through that box and threw out a bunch of stuff, but I also saved some piles of papers and notebooks that I wanted to go through more carefully at a later date. The other box contained a variety of things, including my collection of Pirate yearbooks from the 1970s and a little box of knickknacks that contained little trinkets that dated all the way back to elementary school. I found two little pins that said "Band" on them that I received in fourth and fifth grade when I played the clarinet (and not very well) in the school band. They took me right back to those years, and I found myself reminiscing over events from decades ago. It was difficult for me to see these things and throw most of them away. As my mother said, what was I going to do with these little things that I had already managed to live without for over thirty years. So, with some regret, I did throw them away. But by the end of the evening, I felt emotionally drained. It was a difficult process for me. I don't know whether these things are harder for me than other people, but I do know that I struggle with going through items from my past. And now even as I feel a sense of accomplishment because I finally went through two boxes, there are still a bunch of additional boxes waiting for me to tackle them. And I'm really not looking forward to it. I think some people genuinely enjoy going through things from their past and the memories that accompany them. I don't. But I guess it has to be done.

If you haven't seen photos already, the Stanley Cup recently went swimming during a party at Mario Lemieux's house. Just as it did 17 years ago when Mario and the Penguins last got to play around with the Cup for the summer.

Did you know that in Pennsylvania an annual income of $32,000 or less is considered low income? I can't tell you how many jobs I have applied for that were in that neighborhood. And there was fierce competition for some of those jobs. And I have a Master's degree. Yikes.

Did you happen to see on the news tonight how much profit the cell phone companies are making on text messages? Apparently, it costs the companies about 1/30 of a cent to transmit a text message over their networks. And they charge 20 cents or 25 cents to send and to receive each text message. That's a pretty nice mark-up.

Last year during the Stanley Cup Finals, I didn't really watch the games because I was in the midst of a pretty bad depressive episode. This year, fortunately, I was feeling well enough to watch all of the games and really get into the series. I was a college student in 1991 and 1992 when the Penguins last won the Stanley Cup, and I watched the games with friends of mine, eventually ending up joining in the revelry in Oakland in 1991 as a pretty wild celebration took place. Now, seventeen years later, I watched Game 7 in a much more subdued atmosphere, but I think I enjoyed it just as much. It would have been considered a great series, regardless of which team had won. But it sure is nice when your team wins.

As I had previously promised my vast readership, here is a photo of me holding my niece Evelyn that was taken during my sister's visit over Memorial Day weekend.

A topic other than depression . . .

Sidney has turned out to be a truly wonderful dog. I knew from the first day that he came to live with me that he was a good dog. But even I could never have imagined how great he would become. Granted, he has had the opportunity to truly flourish while living with my parents over the last year. They have been able to provide him with an environment better suited to his needs than I was able to do. Mostly, he needed more space and a fenced-in backyard, and I do not have either. My mother has done a great job of caring for him, and he has become very attached to her, following her around all over the house, and sleeping with her every night. Sometimes it upsets me to see how attached he is to her, after the time that he and I spent together. He and I still get along famously, and we have a lot of fun playing together. But I still envy that she gets to spend so much time with him. It's hard to let go, I guess. Despite my tear-filled request that she not spoil him when she came and took him away last summer, she has gone ahead and spoiled him rotten. It's nice that she buys him all sorts of toys. He loves to play, and having a vast selection of toys seems to make him happy. But she also gives him too many treats. I am of the school of thought that you should provide dogs with two healthy meals a day, with limited treats during the day. But she takes it too far, something that she did with previous dogs and which I believe led to their healths deteriorating prematurely, ultimately ending with their deaths. I beg her not to give him people food with lots of salt in it; chips, nuts, and the like. But she doesn't listen to me. That's her way with just about everything. My father and I have even talked about how "You can't tell your mother anything. She always thinks she knows what's best." And it's important with dogs to control their diet. They really should not eat people food, except on very rare occasions. Dog food is specially formulated for their nutritional needs. And both my sister and I think that Sidney has gained weight since he went to live with my parents. He's not fat, by any means. When I got him, he was downright skinny, and I adjusted his diet so that he put on a little much-needed weight. It's not good for any dog to be overweight, but it's particularly true for dachshunds because of their long backs. They need to be kept slim and trim for their prolonged health. But my mother shows little to no restraint in offering him both treats for dogs and treats for humans. It drives me crazy. I try to say little things here and there when I see her doing it, but it does no good whatsoever. She eats too many snacks herself and has gained weight in recent years, despite requests from her PCP to lose some weight. And she seems to reward Sidney for being such a good dog with treats, much like she seems to reward herself. Both behaviors upset me, and I feel absolutely helpless to change them. She just doesn't listen to anybody.

I feel like it's been an eternity since I had anything to say that was positive. So, even though it's not that big of a deal, I did want to report that today was an okay day for me. I was late getting out of bed, as I have been lately. But one has to consider that I went to bed around three in the morning, after doing a little reading. I didn't feel as anxious today as I have recently. I didn't seem to have that "edge" that I frequently complain to my doctor about, that keeps me from ever feeling "comfortable" during the course of the day. I was not nearly as miserable as I usually am, so for that, I am thankful.

Although I have been battling the depression since early 2006, each time I experience a flare-up, there are some things that remain constant and others that are different. For instance, last summer, I was sleeping all of the time. Deep sleep. I was exhausted, and I would have to force myself awake and up and out of bed. This time around, I'm not sleeping. I don't even remember the last time that I had a good night's sleep. I think it might have been two weeks ago. Since then, I have been unable to fall asleep much before four in the morning, and my sleep has been restless and frequently interrupted. I stay in bed far longer than I should, far longer than all of the experts suggest, in the hopes that I may find some peace in several continuous hours of sleep. But it hasn't happened. It's very common for people with depression to experience sleeping problems. It's also common for them to reverse their waking and sleeping hours, finding their most comfortable, productive time during the overnight, while spending the daylight hours under the covers. I'm caught in that cycle right now, and I would love nothing better than to change it.

Meanwhile, I am beginning to experience frustration from people in my life. My parents, mostly. Having done a lot to try and help me get better last summer, they are finding it more difficult to provide that same level of support this summer. My mother is the worst. I'm not really sure what's going on with her, but she has been distant and cold toward me since she returned from three weeks spent in Chicago following the birth of my niece. I don't know what kinds of things were talked about between my sister and her husband and my mother, but it seems that from the moment she got off the plane, she was giving me a hard time about just about everything. Unfortunately, it was shortly after she arrived home that I became depressed again. Whether or not it's a causal relationship is unclear. For years, I put up with what I can honestly say was "emotional abuse," beginning during my teenage years when a young man typically experiences a separation from his mother. But I managed to work through it, and I tried to build a decent relationship with her. And it has been decent at times. For instance, when she came back to Pittsburgh from Florida last November to help me get back on my feet when I was going through a particularly difficult time with the depression. But now she feels as though she has done her part, and she doesn't want to provide the help that I need right now to keep going while the depression tries to drag me down. I really hope that I am not at the point now where my depression fluctuates according to my relationship with my mother (read: I just want my mommy to love me.). But it's clear that something has happened to her to cause her to want little to do with my depression. That leaves my father as the understanding one, and you may remember from posts written last summer that my father is old school and has a tendency to think that if I just "pull myself up by the bootstraps," then I can beat this thing. My father is retired, and he still gets up at six every morning. He certainly can't understand how and why I would spend the day in bed. I don't know. I feel like I've just skimmed the surface of these issues with my parents, but it's so complicated and in many ways, hard to put into words. We all have issues with our parents, right? But for all of the years that I was able to deal with those issues (probably by internalizing them, rather than dealing with them in a healthy manner), now I seem particularly vulnerable to them. And I know that thinking about them is making me feel worse, making me sicker. But when I'm lying in bed and I can't sleep, my mind naturally starts to ruminate over them. As an adoptee, it's almost a given that I would have abandonment issues. But now they really seem to be haunting me.

I have not written anything recently because I have been very, very ill. I am glad that my vast readership feels compelled to write comments. I appreciate them, even the ones with which I may not agree. I would like to say a few things about my depression. Despite my attempts to be honest about my condition and how I'm feeling, I tend to leave out many details of just how bad it is. I do not like drama or hyperbole, and I am a very guarded person by nature. But I am a very sick man. And despite the work by mental health professionals to help me get better, I have only experienced periods of feeling somewhat "normal." But even then, I can tell that there is something "not quite right" with me. And then the depression comes back. And I can't figure out whether it is caused by something, some trigger. Or could it be caused by a medication issue. Regardless, it comes back. And when it does, I am so sick. Physically, as I've said before, I feel like I have a bad case of the flu. Mentally, my head is so tied up in knots that there are times when I can't even form a coherent thought. And what some of the professionals with whom I've spoken about my condition tell me is that people with severe depression like mine commonly think about or even attempt to kill themselves. Throughout this ordeal, I have maintained the attitude that that is not even an option. I know what it's like to live a happy life, and I want so desperately to return to that. But it's getting harder and harder to convince myself that that is a possibility, with so many setbacks. I feel like my life is passing me by, and my days are often so unpleasant that I would rather just sleep through them altogether. And I used to be a person who tried to enjoy every day as much as I could. But now I'm just so sick. And I'm growing very weary of it. I just can't imagine this as being the way my life is going to be. I find myself wondering whether I would want to live a life where suffering from depression is my baseline. I don't think that I can do it. It's just so awful. And my condition is affecting the people in my life who I love and value, and I feel so horribly because they have to deal with me like this. For the most part, they have demonstrated patience and love. But as the depression lingers on, I know that strains are being put on those relationships. But sadly, I am in no condition to do anything about them. I usually feel worse than I even let on, because I know that most people can't fully grasp the magnitude of my illness. But no matter what your opinions about or knowledge about depression, I can tell you this: I feel worse than you think I feel.

I can't sleep. It is very frustrating. The last few days have been frustrating. Unfortunately, I have been experiencing another depressive episode, this one as a result of a change in medication that didn't turn out so good for me. I started to feel sluggish last Thursday, and that continued on Friday and Saturday. By Sunday, I was in full-blown depression. I spent most of Sunday in bed sleeping. For me, depression tends to manifest itself as a severe case of flu-like symptoms. And when I have a bad case of the flu, I usually stay in bed. So I did that Sunday, and then Monday I slept all day, suffering from intermittent chills and hot spells throughout the day. But then on Tuesday, although I stayed in bed, I was not sleeping, but rather tossing and turning restlessly for most of the afternoon. Then when I went to bed Tuesday night, I really couldn't sleep at all, and that continued through much of Wednesday. I dozed off a few times, but I never really fell into a deep sleep. Wednesday night, after a very pleasant night over at FF's house watching the season finale of "Lost," I came home, watched some TV, read for a little while, and went to bed shortly after 2:00. But I have been lying in bed since then, completely unable to get even close to sleep, and not feeling particularly tired. So, here I am, writing a blog when I would much rather be sleeping, albeit not all daylong. I am feeling better than I was a couple of days ago, with the flu-like symptoms starting to fade. But I want to sleep. Sleep.

It did not rain yesterday. I still can't believe it.

So, last night I went to my first Pirate game of the season. In fact, since I didn't go to a single game last season, it was my first game since sometime during the 2007 season. It was also my father's first game of the season. It was pretty fucking miserable. It was a cold night, and it drizzled throughout the game, causing no more than one-third of the paid attendance of 9,775 to actually attend the game. It was the smallest crowd for a Pirate game that I've gone to. The stands of PNC Park were just empty, with many of those there leaving their seats on the field for shelter from the rain in the concourses. The Pirates played with their usual lack of talent against a much better team in the Milwaukee Brewers, who easily won the game 8-5, marking the 17th game in a row that the Brewers have defeated the Pirates, the longest such streak since 1970.

The only "good" thing that happened at the game was when the Brewers Ryan Braun hit a pop-up foul ball into the stands and headed right for where we were sitting. A fellow sitting in the row in front of us attempted to catch the ball, but it bounced off of his hands and landed in the empty row behind where I was sitting. So, I just turned around in my seat and grabbed the ball. In all of my years attending Pirate games, it was the first foul ball that I've ever gotten. A small consolation, given the miserable conditions of the whole experience.

All things considered, I was able to get a pretty good night's sleep on Saturday night. I did wake up once while the police and tow trucks were doing their thing, but that may have been because I had to go to the bathroom. Other than that, I didn't feel disturbed. Welcome back, Dick's Pittsburgh Marathon!

I suppose the return of the Pittsburgh Marathon on Sunday after a five-year absence is a good thing for the City. However, it spells certain doom for my sleep on Saturday night. You see, I have lived in the same block of a street on the Marathon route for more than eight years. Which means that I know from previous experience that at about three o'clock in the morning on the night before the race, several police cars and tow trucks will arrive on my block to issue parking tickets and tow cars that have failed to observe the No Parking signs that will be hung along the street between now and then. The police cars will have their lights going, and the tow trucks will make an immense amount of noise when they are towing multiple cars from the block. This will go on for a little while, and then finally once all of the cars on my block have been towed, the police and tow trucks will move up the street to the next block. But for the period that they are on my block, I have historically not been able to sleep because of all of the commotion just outside my window. I have rather enjoyed the reprieve during the last five years of the Marathon's absence, but with the race's return this weekend also comes what I describe as "my worst night of sleep of the year."

Excited by the team's good start to the season, Pirate players like Andy LaRoche have been doing "the wave" when they are at bat.

I'm definitely getting soft as I get older. As many of my readers know, I have a strong aversion to winter, sometimes leading to bouts of Seasonal Affective Disorder, just another disorder to add to my growing collection of them. Anyway, so not only do I dislike winter, but it also makes me depressed. I got through last winter largely by spending the worst seven weeks of it in Florida with my parents and Sidney. I essentially missed last winter. Now, in only the second day of temperatures around 86 degrees, I couldn't hold out any longer, and I put the window air conditioner in on the second floor of my condo. It was starting to get a little stuffy up there, and there was no breeze coming in through the open window. Maybe April 25 is a little early to be using the air conditioners. But it's bloody hot outside. And now I'm sitting in cool, air-conditioned comfort.

You see, I know that my sister has more flattering photos of Baby Evelyn, because I got some of the other photos from my mother. Why my sister chose to send yesterday's photo (in addition to another that was almost as unflattering) around to her friends (and older brother) to announce the birth of Evelyn remains a mystery to me. She's a cute baby. At least as much as any baby is.

This is my niece Evelyn. I thought all babies were supposed to be cute.

Still waiting for the geckos to come out.

Adventures in Florida . . .

Sidney always believed (whether rightly or wrongly) that there were geckos hiding behind the big black electrical outlet.

In an effort to promote lagging ticket sales for the bevy of action films starring Nicholas Cage, some theaters are now giving away life size wax replicas of the former "Leaving Las Vegas" Academy Award winner. Although not as easy to carry home as a bobblehead doll, the wax replicas are still rather popular with some moviegoers.

My parents and Sidney arrived safely and without incident in Pittsburgh yesterday morning. My parents seem well, although they have made their displeasure known about the temperatures here being significantly lower than what they had become accustomed to in Florida. Sidney, being the consummate traveller, arrived back at their house and didn't miss a beat, picking up right where he left off. He loves their backyard, and he was clearly happy to be back patrolling it again. He looks great. He was happy to see me, and we got in some quality playing time yesterday. My "youth" probably makes me a little more satisfying to play with than either of my parents (read: my mother). But he is an outstanding little dog, and I was reminded yet again why I have such great affection for him. My mother brought back with her some photos of him engaged in his customary shenanigans in Florida, and I will post some of them in the near future.


And . . . I became an uncle yesterday. Big day.

Right now, my parents and Sidney are on the road making their way back to Pittsburgh from Florida. I know that they won't be thrilled with the cooler weather here, but I am looking forward to seeing them. Especially Sidney. Apparently, he was barking a bit much last night at a motel somewhere in South Carolina while my parents were next door at a Cracker Barrel having dinner. The front desk received some complaints, and they called my parents to let them know. Poor Sidney. He just doesn't know that after six months of hunting geckos in my parents' yard in Florida (and sometimes in the house, too), he is headed back to Pittsburgh where he will have to find something else to hunt in the backyard here. I'm sure he'll be great once he gets home tomorrow. He's still adjusting to be a traveling dog two times a year. I am very excited to see the little guy.


I have recently learned that Sidney had what was probably his first encounter with an elevator last night at the motel, after which he was not so interested in hopping on board this morning. I guess he doesn't like elevators.

I'm a liberal democrat, it's true. But I am not opposed to the death penalty.

Stan was in such a hurry to get to the store to buy a carton of his favorite cigarettes before the tax hike took effect that he forgot to put on his man-bra.

This is Alison Morris. Perhaps you've seen her on TV. I was seated at a big table with her on Saturday night to watch the Pitt game. She's well-educated, well-traveled, has a great career in broadcast journalism, and she's beautiful. There's only one problem. She's a bitch.

Bugger!

Last night's last-second loss stings a bit. It's not quite as bad as 1992/Braves/Pirates/Sid Bream, but it still hurts.

So, I was trying to make plans with my friend Michelle to watch the Pitt game tomorrow afternoon, and we were communicating via text messages and emails. And then, out of nowhere, she called me on my cell phone because she thought it would be easier. Easier to talk on the phone than to try and set up plans using text messages and emails. Huh. I think she just might be on to something. We'll see if it catches on.


And just a little while later . . .

While I was getting my hair cut today, Kelly was telling me a story and she was telling me about how she had posted photos from last weekend on her MySpace and Facebook pages. I don't seem to be able to get away from it.

It's been quite a while since I've been to an actual nightclub. Apparently, now young women talk on their phones, while men simply watch them. I suppose if they want to dance, their phones are their dance partners.


I bet all three of these young women are on Facebook.

Today I added the word "Facebook" to the spelling check feature of my email because it kept getting flagged when I used it in emails. But that's as far as I'm going.

The saga of The Tunnel to Nowhere continues . . .

Well, are they going to finish this disaster or not?

I was sitting at the bar in a local restaurant last night having dinner and a couple of drinks while watching college basketball. A woman came in with her young son and were seated at a table close to where I was perched at the bar. Apparently, her dining experience was not as good as mine because she complained about seemingly every facet of her meal and her son's meal from the moment they sat down. She immediately alienated her server somehow which I didn't quite catch. Then when her server wasn't around, she would grab the attention of other servers passing by to make requests and complaints. She asked for an extra ranch dressing for an appetizer, and then complained when it didn't arrive quickly. (Why don't restaurants just give you an extra dressing or sauce when you order something? It saves us all the trouble of asking for another one and the server having to go get one.) Then when their main courses came, she complained that both her and her son's food were cold, and she sent them back. I didn't stare at the table, but I did look over once or twice, and I noticed that the woman had a perpetual scowl on her face from the beginning of their meal to the end. Shortly after their meals were returned from the kitchen where they were apparently heated up, I sneaked a peek and saw her putting her nose up to the opened end of a bottle of A1 steak sauce to smell it and then making a face of contempt. It wasn't long before she flagged down her server and asked for takeout containers so that they could take most of their food home. Before they left, however, the manager came over to the table, and the woman told her about all of the things that had been wrong with their dining experience. Meanwhile, from what I could tell, the server who waited on them was polite and professional, despite being on the receiving end of a lot of complaining. And I thought to myself that it would probably be impossible to please this woman. For whatever reason, no matter what restaurant she and her son would have gone to or what they would have ordered, she would have complained about it. She was a scowler. And scowlers are never fun. Why would someone like that even go out to dinner if she's not going to be satisfied? It would not be a very pleasant experience, and I think that going out to dinner should be a pleasant experience. And I realize that this sort of thing happens all of the time in restaurants all over the place. I just wonder why.

More adventures for Jim with Facebook . . .

Jim: I got an email that a woman I went to high school with wrote on my "Wall". Still not sure what that means exactly. But I can say with a pretty high degree of confidence that in four years of going to high school together, she never spoke one word to me. Of course, that goes both ways. I don't expect that I ever talked to her either. And not that there's anything wrong with that.

Now I have some kind of graffiti or vandalism on my Wall. What is the etiquette here? Am I obligated to respond to this, even though I've never spoken to this person? After all, what it really boils down to is she's just trying to be friendly, right? And, I assume, she wouldn't have had access to write on my Wall if I hadn't accepted her email request to be my "friend". So now am I being rude if I accept her as my friend, but then ignore her message on my Wall? I don't need to go pissing anyone off. Look what that guy in Alabama just did because he perceived that some people had slighted him...

Email . . .

Jim: My wife invited me to be her "friend" on facebook and talked me into opening an account this week. How cool am I? Only I've now come to find out that facebook is passe and all of the cool kids are Twittering. But at least I now have 33 "friends" already on facebook, almost all of whom are people from my high school class who I never talked to or hung out with in high school and have never been in touch with ever since our high school graduation.

Is this really what the internet has come to? God I miss the days of free internet porn.

Dave: Apparently, Facebook is the new big thing with people in our age range. It's scary. I keep getting invitations from people to be their "friend," and they always say that they tried to hold out but that they eventually gave into the "peer pressure" to join. I'm not doing it.

Jim: But now I'm finally popular!!!

I haven't felt compelled to write about anything recently. I have gotten into a bit of a routine, which helps me to keep the worst of the depression away. I still have good days and bad days. But I've been able to manage fairly well since I returned from Florida four weeks ago today.

I've been thinking a lot about Sidney lately. He's just such a good dog. I can't really say that I or my mother have done anything particularly special to make him the way he is. I think he just came that way. And to think, I picked him out on a website for dachshunds in search of new homes. And then I drove to Ohio to meet him and bring him home. Now he is a very important part of my parents' lives and my life. I'm very much looking forward to when he returns to Pittsburgh with my parents in early April. It will be great to see him and play with him. Maybe he can even come stay with me for a few days. Just a little visit to his first home after I adopted him. Hopefully, someday, Sidney and I will be reunited for good.

Writing about Sidney also gives me an excuse to post a photo of the handsome little fellow.

I turn 40 tomorrow. As if I wasn't already in a reflective mood, that just compounds the situation. I am most reflective of the last year, which has obviously not been a good one for me. It was about this time last year that I first started noticing some of the symptoms of depression, but I managed to keep it together for a couple more months before the dam broke and I was really suffering. It's really just a lost year of my life. The time passed, but I accomplished very little, and I spent most of the year battling this force that has taken over my life. Of course, with such a milestone birthday as 40 just hours away, many of the people in my life will take this opportunity to express sentiments to the effect that this is the year that I recover and resume a normal life. I hope so. I really do.

I'm dog sitting for a couple of friends for a few days this week. I'm staying with their dog Zoe, who is getting older. She is a great dog and has lived a very full and rewarding life, but her youth is behind her now. Her hearing and sight are not what they used to be, and she has some occasional problems controlling her balance in her rear end. She stumbled a bit today toward the end of our walk. It made me very sad. She limped along for a few steps before I decided to take an injury timeout. So, after a few moments for recovery, we were back on our way. Aging dogs can be very tortuous on the soul. I have a soft spot for older dogs. My very favorite dog in our family, and the dog prior to Sidney to live with me for several years, was Fritz, and he was a real pleasure of a dog during his golden years. He was content with the life of a senior citizen canine. He did have the occasional bout with some ailment, and he was not in necessarily good health. But we had some good years. They just join our lives in progress, hang out for a decade or more, and then they get older and slow down. Before they leave us. And our lives continue, even though those of us dog lovers are forever changed.

And being around Zoe makes me think about and miss Sidney even more than usual.

I don't like to buy too much toilet paper at once. Even though it is cheaper and it obviously lasts longer to buy 9-packs, or 12-packs, or even 24-packs of toilet paper (all of which are usually sold as double rolls), I prefer to buy the good old fashioned 4-pack of regular-sized rolls of my chosen brand (Angel Soft). And even though I almost never buy more than the diminutive 4-pack, I make sure that I never run out. Toilet paper is too important to let that happen.

I've been back from Florida for a week, and it hasn't been a particularly pleasant time. I haven't felt as badly as I know that I can, so I'm thankful for that. And I haven't had overwhelming exhaustion. But as the week went on, I started staying in bed later each day. I have no structure. I tried to stick to the same basic routine that I had in Florida, but it's just not the same here. The major components of what helps me to feel all right are missing here: human beings. I am lost without the consistent, predictable presence of other people. Just having my parents around helped me tremendously, and I was very thankful for their presence. I've probably never been more happy to have spent so much time with my parents. Maybe that's just the thing that I need to be happy: someone (or someones) around me on a regular basis. I used to be able to manage as a person who lived and spent a lot of time alone. I thought that I liked it, given my general dislike for most people. But now, that characteristic which I was once seemingly comfortable with threatens to destroy me. I don't know what to do. I need to do something. I need to find things to do with my time, volunteer. But ultimately, I am still alone. And being alone is not good for me.

I played Wii for the first time ever on Friday night. I don't know if I ever thought that I would play Wii, but my friends convinced me to try their new system. I had been smoking and drinking a bit, so it seemed like the perfect thing to do. My initial impression was that we spent far too much time making an avatar that looked like me (which it did, eerily enough). But then we played. We started with some bowling and followed that up with some miniature golf. I did surprisingly well, for my first time. At least that's what my friends said. And I ended up rather enjoying myself. Now, I'm not going to say that I pulled my calf muscle the other night when I was playing the bowling. But it has been a little sore since then.

My clothes smell like Florida. I love when my clothes smell like Florida. It's wonderful. And yet, tragic.

Traveling on Friday was all right. Saturday and Sunday were rough days. And today I'm feeling better. But I was definitely feeling happier when I was in Florida. I miss the sunshine and the warmer temperatures. But I think it was mostly the company. I miss the company of my parents and, of course, Sidney. It's lonely being back. It's the negative by-product of being a loner. It's a big part of my depression. And it's not easy to remedy.

I'm heading back home to Pittsburgh tomorrow. I am not looking forward to it. In addition to the cold, snowy, wintry weather that awaits me there, I am going to miss Florida. Warm weather, my parents, their nice little house, Sidney, and warm weather. Even though the last couple of days and nights have been some of the coldest weather here in something like 50 years (provoking much complaining from the locals who have clearly gone soft), it's still been better than what I'll be experiencing back home. Apparently for the next six weeks. Fucking groundhog.

Video killed the radio star.

Wow.

So, today is the big day. I have to admit that I'm feeling a little nervous with anticipation. The game is still six hours away, and I have to find things to occupy my time until then. I'm accompanying my parents to a party being held at the home of friends of theirs. I went to their house to watch College Bowl games on New Year's Day. They're nice people, and they have a 72-inch HDTV, so it should be pretty great watching the Super Bowl there. And I'm going to be watching the game in Florida, where the weather is a far sight better than it is back home in Pittsburgh. Granted, it's a little chilly here today, with highs expected in the low 60s. But I'll take it.

After arriving here on the night of December 16th, the time has finally come for me to head home. I made plane reservations last night to fly back to Pittsburgh this Friday. After spending so much time away, in Florida, with my parents, I am concerned about how I am going to react to being back home, in my condo, in cold weather, alone. But I'm trying not to worry about that today. And I want to try and enjoy my remaining days here as much as possible.

Go Steelers!

Obama says Steelers 'close to my heart'
Thursday, January 29, 2009
By Jerome Sherman, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Barack Obama loves the Chicago Bears, his hometown team. But the Steelers rank No. 2 for the new president, and they're his pick for the Super Bowl.

"I wish the Cardinals the best," Mr. Obama said at an Oval Office meeting this afternoon with Treasury secretary Timothy Geithner, according to a report on Politico.com. "But I am a longtime Steelers fan. Mr. Rooney, the owner, was just an extraordinary supporter during the course of the campaign."

"Other than the Bears, the Steelers are close to my heart," Mr. Obama said.


President Obama is a very astute fellow. He knows that Arizona is not the home of too many winners in recent history.

Photos from FF's Thursday morning commute . . .

Some people really like winter. They think that it's a beautiful season. Wow. Look at that view.

In addition to the many other pleasures that I have experienced during my time here in Florida, as it turns out, I'm about an hour away from Super Bowl XLIII, which is pretty cool. By watching the host city of Tampa's local news, I'm getting a perspective on the Super Bowl (not to mention my hometown Steelers) that I would probably never experience otherwise. Not surprisingly, the Steelers are very popular here in Florida, as they are virtually all over the country. But I am rather enjoying the local news coverage of the team and the event. And although I would miss being in the same city as my beloved Steelers (because the Pirates just don't matter to me anymore), I have recently come to the conclusion that I would be very happy living in the Bradenton/Sarasota area of Florida. The summers may be sweltering, but I think I could learn to live with it. And Florida's not a red state anymore. Hooray for Florida!

I take no pleasure in saying this, but, uh, I told you so . . .

Port Authority hopes for federal bailout for tunnels
Friday, January 23, 2009
By Jon Schmitz, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

The executive director of the Port Authority said today that about $290 million has been spent on the North Shore subway extension and warned that the region would have "nothing to show" for that expenditure if the project is shut down.

Steve Bland laid out several options for dealing with a $117.8 million cost overrun on the project, which will extend the Light Rail Transit system from Gateway Center, Downtown, to new stations at PNC Park and Heinz Field.

The best, he said, is to secure funding from the federal economic stimulus bill currently before the U.S. House of Representatives.

If the authority tried to borrow to meet the overrun, it would balloon debt service payments in the capital budget, currently 40 percent, to as much as 55 percent -- meaning that more than half of the authority's capital spending would be on interest costs.

If the project is terminated, "Pittsburgh would find itself in last place in any line for future funding" of major transit projects, he told the authority's board.

Now, why didn't they just do it this way the first time? So much pomp and circumstance. So much money. So many balls.

Compliments of Michelle . . .

George Bush is no longer the President of the United States.

Mission Accomplished.

With the Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama just three days away, I wonder how many Americans have ordered their commemorative Barack Obama plates. Or how about the commemorative Barack Obama coins offered by the Franklin Mint, the unrivaled authority on commemorative coins? There are all sorts of commemorative goodies being offered by all sorts of vendors, most of which are obviously out to capitalize on the man's unprecedented popularity that appears to rival that of a rock star. And then there are the "official" Inauguration items available from the Presidential Inauguration Committee, including, again, a plate, a coffee mug, a lapel pin, and a picture frame for your invitation to the Inauguration, if you were fortunate enough to receive one. The Barack Obama "industry" may end up being strong enough to revive the American economy. Buy your Barack Obama commemorative items while they're hot. But make sure that you get a certificate of authenticity for each item. Otherwise, they're just worthless souvenirs.

Today my father ordered two tickets to 15 Pirate games this season, as opposed to the four tickets to 81 games that he's been buying since PNC Park opened in 2001.

I tell you, that Boy Mayor of ours sure does have some sense of humor.

http://www.postgazette.com/pg/09014/941656-100.stm

I'm feeling much better today. Not quite as good as I had been feeling, but a definite improvement. The power of pharmaceuticals.

And that's even with the lousy weather today in Florida. It rained hard for most of the day, and the temperature was around 60. But I managed to get through the winter day.

Helen: Just read your blog. Did you hear about the 22 year old women's studies student who's auctioning off her virginity to pay for grad school?

Dave: The tough economy has forced many folks to think outside the box. Or rather, inside the box, I guess.


(Hmm. I feel like I've made that joke before on this blog.)

Jim: I just saw a story about a 13-year-old girl who sent 14,528 text messages in one month. There's got to be a Quiet Observer blog in there somewhere.

Dave: I sure hope her parents have her on an unlimited text message plan. Otherwise, she may be looking at community college in five years.

I came to Florida with only 15 day's worth of one of the medications that I take. So, in order to make the medication last longer, I started taking half of the daily dose. I was feeling good, and I continued to feel good, so everything seemed fine. Then, as my stay here grew longer and my supply of pills started to get lower, last Monday I decided to stop taking the medication in order to conserve the pills. This, of course, is something that you should never do, and something that people with mental illness are notorious for doing when they are feeling so good that they think that they don't need to keep taking their medications. I was doing it to conserve pills, rather than because I didn't think that I needed to take them, but the reasons are not important, because the result was predictable. Starting on Wednesday morning, I had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. The same happened on Thursday morning, and by the time Friday came, I was in bad shape and feeling worse than I have in a long time. I spent a lot of time in bed on Friday and Saturday, and I got out of bed late today trying to work through it and muster enough energy to watch the Steelers/Chargers playoff game at 4:45. I've experienced these symptoms before, although they do seem particularly severe right now. I feel like I have the flu, with intermittent hot spells and cold spells, body aches, and a runny nose. I feel weak, I have no energy, and my head is so foggy that I can't concentrate on much of anything. Even writing this post has been a challenge. I look like a sick person. I've started taking the pills again, and I can't wait for them to start working. I will have to find a way to get more of them down here, since I only have a limited number of them left. But I have to learn the obvious lesson from this experience to never stop taking my medications. The only problem with that is that prior to receiving ECT treatments, I will have to be weaned off of my medications. I don't know what I'm going to do about that.

I have been in Florida for 21 days. And the time is drawing near for me to return to Pittsburgh. And I'm torn over it. I have had a very enjoyable, relaxing time here in Florida. The weather has been fantastic, the time spent with my parents has been nice, and my time with Sidney has been, well, priceless. But I'm beginning to get a little bored, and my life back in Pittsburgh is getting to the point where it's going to need my attention soon. I wasn't sure how long I would be here when I left, but I brought 28 multivitamins, thinking that four weeks would be the maximum. Now that I've reached the three-week mark, I have to think about when I will return. Until the last couple of days, I have been able to avoid thinking about it. But now that it's crept into my consciousness, I can no longer pretend that I will not have to leave. Honestly, I don't really want to leave Florida. While there are things in Pittsburgh that I miss, my depression has not been a problem while I have been here. I have felt like myself. And it's hard not to be afraid that returning to Pittsburgh may open the door for a return of the depression. Just the thought of the rain, cold, and dark skies back home is enough to turn my mood sour. This situation is starting to trouble me.

There is a two-CD set available of highlights of speeches by Barrack Obama. How do I know this? Because my father owns it, and I found him sitting at his computer yesterday playing solitaire and listening to the speeches.

My parents eat a lot of carbs.

After visiting for just enough time, my sister and her husband are returning to Chicago today. I've always known something about my brother-in-law, but it was never more apparent than it was during this visit. He drinks a lot of vodka. I mean, a lot. More than I did in my heavy drinking days, which was a pretty fair amount. I wonder if he only drinks that much when he's on vacation, or whether it's a regular thing. If it's a regular thing, then he definitely has a drinking problem. That would be great news for my pregnant sister. He was smoking little cigars while he was here, too. Just wonderful.

It's interesting. Since I have been in Florida, I have been feeling pretty great. I mean, not great, I suppose, but great as compared to the last seven months. I have been getting up early, not that I really have a choice with all of the noise my parents make when they get up and start milling about the house. I have been eating three meals a day, playing with Sidney, doing some light reading, taking walks, and generally just trying to relax. I'm definitely not ready for the life of retired folks like my parents. It can get a little boring at times. But I am trying to fill what have been long days for me with activities. Sometimes that means just sitting on the back patio and watching the antics of the mallard ducks in the pond. But the point is that I feel good. Maybe better than I have in years. That's a hard statement for me to even believe, given the depths of suffering that I have experienced this year. But I feel depression free. Now, I know that it's not gone, and that it could be just waiting around the corner, if I'm not careful and take the appropriate steps to maintain my mood. And that's a little scary, to be honest with you. But at least for now, it looks like I'm going to have a depression-free Christmas. And just a few weeks ago, that didn't even seem possible.

The weather in Florida is fantastic. What's the weather like back home in Pittsburgh?

This is the view from my parents' back patio in Florida. My mother and I flew down here yesterday. I have been reunited with Sidney (and my father), and he looks great. My father looks all right, too.

It's been a week since my last post, and I have been doing very well. After that little episode last Thursday, it took me a couple of days to get back on track, but once I did, I was golden. It's so weird, truly it is, this depression thing, but for the last few days, I've been feeling like "normal Dave." I've been going to bed at a reasonable hour, getting normal amounts of sleep, and getting up in the morning at times earlier than I have gotten up since the depression began way back in the spring. I have been feeling good, I've had my sense of humor, and I've been getting things done. I attended group all three times that it met this week for the first time in months, and I really like this group much more than the last one I attended. Now that I have seen how different this group is, I really think that the leader of the last one is not good at his job. But that's another story. There is no question that part of why I have been feeling better is that I have had things to do. In treatment, we always talk about how having structured activities to distract you can be very helpful in alleviating the unpleasant symptoms of depression. Of course, it's not always easy to get yourself out of bed so that you can attend to planned activities, but that has not been a problem for me this week. Since I am not able to start the ECT treatments until some tests are completed in about a month, my mother and I are flying to Florida this coming Tuesday. I don't know how long I am going to be there, but I am very much looking forward to getting away from what has been miserable Pittsburgh winter weather and, of course, being reunited with Sidney. My pregnant sister and her husband will be joining my mother, my father, and myself for Christmas, and hopefully, my extended stay there will not be spoiled by any sudden flare-ups of the depression, but we will just have to wait and see how that goes. I will have to make a conscious effort while I am there to eat well, take walks, and keep myself busy as much as I can to help keep the depression at bay. No matter what, after months of being miserable and at times, debilitated, I'm looking forward to having a very enjoyable holiday with family and Sidney in warm weather and sunshine. You can't beat that, in my book.

Since my mother arrived, I had been feeling pretty good, as I've said in a previous post. But then something just . . . changed. For some reason, I woke up on Thursday, and before my feet hit the floor, I was feeling horrible. And it just went downhill from there. I ended up going back to bed after breakfast, and I spent the afternoon in bed feeling badly. I was feeling so poorly that I was unable (or unwilling) to go to my new group, which meets from four to seven three times a week. Although I've only been to the new group once, I already like it better than my previous group. It has women in it. My mother was very disappointed in me that I was not able to make it to group, and she said some unpleasant things to me, which did not help my mood. But we had a good conversation after dinner and worked things out. Today, I am feeling a little better than yesterday, but still not nearly as good as I had been. In group they talk about emotions and how they affect your depression. I guess something happened that affected my mood. It was made so much more upsetting to me because I had been doing so well. It just goes to show you that no matter how well you're feeling, you're still vulnerable to the depression at any time.

I received this e-card today from my old friend Amy the Christian. She knows me so well.

My Internet is so slow, by today's standards, that it's embarrassing.

So, my mother has been in Pittsburgh since last Monday, and I've been doing pretty well since then. I have been getting up in the morning, and I have been getting to appointments on time, and I have been doing things that need to be done, and I have generally been feeling pretty good. I'm still not quite right, but I'm much better than I was before she arrived. The problem, of course, is that I can't live the rest of my life with my mother around to provide the accountability and help that I need to help me deal with the depression. So, I have to take advantage of the time that she is here to develop some good habits and a good routine, so that I will not go back to staying in bed all day when she does leave. We still don't know exactly how long she will be staying. My father has said that he does not want to come to Pittsburgh for Christmas, and I suspect that part of that is probably because he doesn't want to be bothered with doing all of the legwork to find a suitable place to board Sidney and then get him there. The sad part is that if my sister and her husband come to Pittsburgh for Christmas, then not only will be father be the only family member not here, but he will also miss out on seeing his pregnant daughter who is carrying his first grandchild. Meanwhile, my mother and I have been getting along very well. She has not said anything negative about her being here, which has been a very pleasant surprise. Although I know that she misses Sidney, I think that she's secretly enjoying the little vacation from my curmudgeonly father. She definitely would prefer the Florida weather to the cold that we've been experiencing here recently, but she seems to be making the best of having to be here.

My mother has come back to Pittsburgh to help me get back on track. So far, I have gotten up two days in the morning, and I have gotten to the places where I was supposed to be. Before she left Florida, she was already eager to think about her return. But while I was at group today for the first time in weeks, she went to the grocery store and bought a turkey and other Thanksgiving items. So, she is planning on being here until at least then. And then tonight, she was talking about staying even longer and possibly having the immediate family in Pittsburgh rather than Bradenton for Christmas. My father would have to fly to Pittsburgh (and Sidney would have to be boarded). My father probably wouldn't be happy about that, since I'm quite certain that he's not particularly pleased with the present arrangement. But this was just my mother's second day in Pittsburgh. And she's already complaining about the weather.

Because I have not responded adequately to medication and psychotherapy (and I haven't attended group recently), my "treatment team" has recommended that I undergo ECT treatments. If you don't know what ECT is, it's electroconvulsive therapy. It's also known as electroshock. If you want to know more about it, Google it and you will find a wealth of information on the subject, both for and against. The bottom line is that ECT is recommended for people with severe depression who do not get better using conventional treatment methods. And it looks like I'm the perfect candidate. That's one of the reasons why I wanted my parents to come back to Pittsburgh. You can receive ECT as an inpatient (although I would much prefer not to be in the hospital), but if you receive it as an outpatient, then you have to have someone who can take you home after the treatment. And since I don't have a spouse or significant other, I am dependent on friends or family to perform this role. I would prefer family, as I think that it's the type of thing that family does. They take you home after you've had a procedure performed in a hospital, and they watch over you to make sure that you recover without any problems. My parents do not seem to agree with me on this point, but as I've already said, they are not to be used as the standard. ECT is really my last hope for treatment. There really isn't anything after that, so even though I'm a little concerned about the treatment and its potential side-effects (such as temporary memory loss), I have to have faith in those recommending it since they are the professionals.

My doctor called my mother last night and talked to her about my parents coming back to Pittsburgh to help me because I have really been struggling since they left, as I've said in previous posts. When I spoke to my mother afterward, she said that she was going to fly here possibly Monday, but she was clearly angry with me. When I asked her why she was angry with me, she said that she was angry because she has to disrupt her life to come help me. Now, I'm sure that my mother had a lot of things going through her mind last night after she spoke to my doctor: plane reservations, leaving my father and Sidney alone in Florida, wondering how long she was going to have to be in Pittsburgh, etc. But she still expressed anger toward me. I know that my family is weird, and some would say that they never should have left me alone in my condition in the first place. But they did, and now the situation has worsened to the point where my mother has to come back. I have no idea what's going to happen once she gets here. I hope that she will stop being angry with me for being ill. It's not my fault.

I think the trend has ended.

I am extremely reluctant to call it a trend, but today is the third day that I have felt a little better than I had previously. It comes at an unexpected time, with the weather cold and the skies gray. And the person who represents virtually my only support system, FF, left on Saturday for ten days at Walt Disney World with her boyfriend and his family. But despite all of that, the last three days have not been awful. I even bought some new boxer shorts on Friday night. It was the first new thing that I had purchased since the depression became severe. I'm going to take the purchase of new underwear as a good sign, at least for now.

Today was the first day in weeks, maybe months, that I got up before noon. It was a beautiful autumn day in Pittsburgh, and fortunately, I was able to spend the afternoon with FF. I think the activity was beneficial for me, because aside from a little anxiety late in the afternoon, I had a good day. I don't even remember the last time I had a good day. I'm pretty sure that it was before my parents left for Florida.

Hopefully, the victorious end to this historic election is the beginning of good things for this country.

It's been a tumultuous couple of weeks since my last post, and unfortunately, I have nothing positive to report. I am still very ill and continuing to pursue treatment, even though there is no magic formula that can guarantee my recovery. I talk to my mother in Florida almost every day, and she gives my updates on how much Sidney is enjoying his southern home. It makes me terribly sad that my family is so far away from me while I go through this, but I don't think that there is anything that I can do about it. My mother thinks (or hopes) that there is a medication that will bring me out of this, but those treating me tell me that it takes much more than just some pill. It's not like the commercials for anti-depressants on television. For some, an anti-depressant may provide a much-needed lift, but for people whose condition is as severe as mine, medication is simply not enough.

Despite feeling so poorly, I am looking forward to voting on Tuesday. I hope that you are as well.

I can't sleep. This is becoming a problem. Actually, it's been a problem for months now, coinciding with the depression. The real problem is that my sleeping habits change according to the medication that I'm taking. When the depression first hit in early summer, I was taking an "activating" medication, which hardly allowed me any kind of restful sleep at all at night, or during the day, for that matter. I would lie in bed with Sidney and just watch the clock, occasionally falling asleep for short periods of time, just to wake up and see that very little time had passed. Then I started taking a different medication that knocked me out. I was sleeping very soundly and for long periods of time, and I was often tired, even after plenty of sleep. Since that medication didn't seem to be helping me, I was put back on the same activating medication that I had taken before. Now I don't sleep all of the time, but I'm back to watching the clock. I really don't get any meaningful sleep until the early morning through about noon. In fact, I'm usually sleeping fairly well at the time when I would prefer to get up. But then once afternoon comes, I really don't sleep anymore. Just those brief periods, punctuated by waking and looking at the clock. Overall, I spend much more time in bed than I do actually sleeping. I suppose that as long as I'm in bed, I would prefer to be sleeping. But I haven't been able to find a medication that provides me with a happy medium. Ultimately, regardless of how these medications are affecting my sleep, they are not helping with the depression. I feel as badly now as I have at any point throughout the experience. And I'd really like to be asleep right now.

I have not been doing well since my parents left for Florida. It has been a little more than a week, and I think that my condition has worsened in that time. Even though my parents are not the most endearing of people, they did provide me with some structure to my days, dinners, and a place to sleep away from the condo. Having those things (not to mention Sidney) vanish has taken its toll on me. I have been getting dinner for myself, for the most part. Pizza, mostly. I don't cook, so I rely on takeout, which means that I have to go get my dinner. It's probably good to have to leave the condo, but it's also tempting sometimes just to stay put and not eat. I have not been going to group since my parents left. I have been staying in bed into the afternoons, feeling horrible and dreading what awaits me once I get up. This is so unlike me. I normally love getting out of bed and starting a fresh, new day. This depression has me all fucked up. The medication isn't working, the group therapy wasn't working, and I'm beginning to wonder what the next step will be.

Fatherhood, according to Ian . . .

Dave: How are things going now that everybody is home? Tell me honestly, how does it feel to be a father, Focker?

Ian: wow, dude. pretty deep question actually. everything at home is good, if not great: vidhi is recovering well, my mom has been helping out during the day with her, and now i am back at work. baby is doing well also, and is incredibly cute.

but it's also kind of weird: it;s not like there is huge elation or anything. in fact, i find myself just feeling kind of weird or stressed. i figured it out last night i think: it's just like after we got married where there was so much build up, so much stress, turmoil, etc., that now we're done, we have a lot of work to do, and our entire lives are different all of sudden. so i can't explain exactly how i'm feeling yet, except that there's too much upheaval and change to say shit like "oh, it's so glorious...."

on the other hand, it's pretty incredible. this little bugger is about the biggest joy i could have now. vidhi and i are absolutely taken with him.

It seems to me that no one uses a rake to clean up leaves anymore. Or how about a wide broom to sweep up yard debris. Oh, no. Now, everyone from the neighborhood gardeners to your neighbors themselves uses those gas-powered leaf blowers. And those things annoy me. They are loud. Very loud for such a seemingly small item. They make far more noise than a lawnmower. And in neighborhoods like mine, they start up early in the morning and seem to go all day. I hate them.

Ironically, it was October 3rd of last year that my mother and I drove to Youngstown, Ohio to meet Sidney and bring him back to Pittsburgh. This photo is Sidney today.

My parents and Sidney leave for Florida tomorrow morning. They will be gone for at least six months, and frankly, I'm having a very tough time today. I've known this day was coming for a couple of months, and I've dreaded it every day. My parents have provided some structure in my life where there was little, and structure seems to be a valuable thing in my condition. They provided dinners and other meals, and they gave me a place to sleep away from the condo that has been causing me so much discomfort during the depression. And, of course, I've been able to spend time with Sidney. Even though it was necessary for him to go live with them, I still love him immensely. Being able to spend time with him, play with him, care for him, and share the guest bed with him have all been blessings. But all of that is about to change, and sadly, I am not prepared for it. I tried to prepare for it, at least I told myself that I was, but the reality of the situation is causing me to get very emotional and sad. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do once they're gone. I truly don't.