fri(days)

Friday 5075

Does our longing for Fridays
Shorten the other weekdays?

Alas, it prolongs the days;
Nothing short about Mondays

Nor the longness of Tuesdays
Nor cut short on the Hump Days

But to elongate Thursdays
Means shortening our Fridays

And we’ve long known that Fridays
Ain’t been shortened for no days

(Well, not counting Saturdays
and, of course, restful Sundays).

anger, irritability…and depression?

Cloudy Trees 5075

The other morning I heard this very interesting piece on NPR’s Morning Edition, and not only was I happy to hear such a thing addressed on a nationally syndicated radio show (which, granted, is par for the course for the greatness that is NPR), but I was also reminded of my own experiences with depression and how anger and irritability were related to them.

As I wrote here back in 2017, I’ve had my own issues with a temper, just like I’ve had my own bouts of irritability. Now, some of the latter is just life (i.e., I didn’t sleep well; my brothers were being brothers and annoying me; someone just wouldn’t stop talking in a movie; etc.), but in retrospect I can attest that much of that irritability was related to my overall mental state. That said, there’s no question that my temper was the greater signifier of said state. But when you’re dealing with a temper (or irritability), it’s quite easy to focus simply on that and not what could be the underlying problem: depression.

Now, I’m not cautioning you to go out and assume that anyone who flares up in anger or expresses irritability towards you is depressed–that would be a tad presumptuous. But if it seems out of character, or if it’s prolonged in nature, then when things settle down it might not hurt to ask them if they’re OK.

 

Thanks for reading.

-j

 

photo[journey]

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A Portrait of the Artist as a [Middle-Aged] Man
When I began this journey, or blog, back in 2016 I didn’t really know where it would take me. At that time, I was amidst a period of immense growth and felt compelled to write about it. I’d always loved to write; I just didn’t write enough. Therefore, I sought this site as an outlet to do just that: type for me; type for you. If you’re one of the handful that have visited and read, thank you–I hope I’ve been able to offer you back something useful.

In the interim, this site has changed its name (i.e., theroadkindoftraveled to theisswriter), and augmented its content (e.g., poetry and the odd grammar tip), but the purpose has remained the same: typing things; for me; for you. Well, now it’s changing, again. Late last summer, I purchased my first camera that wasn’t either disposable (remember those?) or a phone: a Nikon D3400. I coupled that with a Tamron SP AF17-50mm lens, and then recently added a Tamron SP 70-200mm. Neither the camera itself or the lenses are considered (at all) the best in their respective categories, but the equipment is solid enough to offer me a great starting point for this part of my creative journey.

Cameras 50 75
Former peak camera technology.

I’ve always enjoyed photography–both viewing and taking–but my understanding of anything more complex than what my iPhone, or Android before it, offered me in that realm was beyond me. It was all, “iPhone added the ability to zoom with the camera OMG!,” megapixels, and auto-settings. Now it’s f-stops, ISO’s, and shutter speeds. What? But I’m learning–slowly, but more quickly than I anticipated, thanks to the tutelage of friend and professional photographer Hoss McBain. He answers innumerable questions, often more than once, and always with the same jovial smile and demeanor as the first time. His passion for the craft has been infectious: I’M INFECTED.

The interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts,
and behavior matters…because it’s real.

Anyhoo, you’ll notice I’ve recently begun adding photos to blog posts (well, not the ones of me as a shirtless or robot-costumed kid, etc.), as well as a “photography” page. My hope is to not only be able to share my progress with you, but to literally add color to my posts. Photos, like music and writing, are evocative–especially to me, and often the idea for a post or poem stems from one, or vice-versa. Personally, it became too banal to simply post mere words. I want you to know what I’m seeing, listening to, or reading about when I write, because the interplay of the arts with our mood, thoughts, and behavior matters…because it’s real. And if I’ve done anything since taking the first step of this journey back in 2016, I hope I’ve been real (to you).

I hope you enjoy the photography.
Thank you for reading (and now viewing).

Best,
-j

cloudy

clouds smaller 2

I like to let my poems speak for themselves, therefore I’m not particularly keen on prefacing them with any sort of context such as this. However, I feel it necessary to break that wall now so that I’m clear on one thing: I’m not depressed. If you’ve read within this space before, you’re aware that I enjoy writing about mental health–particularly my experiences with it.  This is one such occasion. As always, thanks for reading:

A thought is lurking

Inside me

I'm aware of its 

Existence

But I've chosen to 

Ignore it

Not so much ignore

As push it

Beyond other thoughts

Repressing

Defending myself
From its pain

This is unhealthy

I know this

What else shall I do

To forestall?



Away, away please

Go away

Past the clouds into 

Deepest blue

I'm certain we will

Meet again

Until then, away

Away you.

 

eternity

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What is eternity like?
What does one do forever?
Does one get bored?
Does one do the same thing daily?
Do days even exist anymore?
Do things begin or end?
What would happen to you?
What if you’re not there?
I’m not so sure about eternity.
I’m sure hoping you’re there.

 

 

 

 

 

Highland TER

 

My life in vintage colors
Memories of simpler times
Silver robots; red wagons
Silly neighbors; street parades

A life of unhinged laughter
Amens before the altar
Real Santa’s; make-believe friends
Rabbit-like cars; in-car phones

Within the Heights of Richmond
On a Terrace named Highland
Dreams wake; reality sleeps
The imagined; magic reigns.