Being the random thoughts of Greg Tito, age 29.

Announcements for my standup comedy gigs are here at gregtito.com.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Let's talk about feelings

I pretty much battle self-doubt, guilt and depression on a daily basis.

I can't pinpoint when it started happening. I don't think there was a specific event, although I could point at my production company dissolving 2 years ago as a big one. But then there's chicken and egg shit there. Did it all fall apart because of my self-doubt, guilt and depression or did those feelings appear because of its demise? Whatever.

The fact remains that I am 28 years old and I have accomplished nearly nothing since graduating from college. I've had a few bright spots here and there. I did this, I got this, I am one of these. But overall, I consider myself a failure. I didn't think 6 years out that I'd be in a nowhere job, pushing paper around in an industry that I care nothing about. I mean, I hate the business world. Wait, that's not true, I don't hate it. I just have no interest whatsoever. People meantion stocks, bonds, derivatives, risk management, confirmations, audit reports and I have no idea what they are saying. It's like they open their mouths and huge logs of shit come out. These words enter my consciousness and leave in the same instant. I don't care. I don't know what they mean and I don't really care to find out. I walk the halls at my job and my eyes just glaze over with salty tears of boredom. I care about so many other things. I love to read about history and fantasy and maps and geography and science and computers and countless other things. I spend copious amounts of time staring at wikipedia and reading random articles about self-fellatio and the battle of Iwo Jima. But if it has to do with money that isn't mine, I do not care one iota. I have more interest in taking a shit, tying my shoes and the mechanics of a paper cut.

Maybe that's part of the problem. My job is unfulfilling. But that was the point, wasn't it? To have a good-paying job I don't care about so that I could pursue my other various unprofitable interests. I thought working here would finance my dreams. And maybe it does to a certain point. But I find I'm actually doing less art than I was before. I'm writing more maybe, but I feel I haven't produced anything. I don't know. I'm trying to get a new job where I can breathe easier amongst more creative people. Like publishing or even advertising. Anything. That should help.

But that's not what I think about when I feel guilt, self-doubt and depression. All I think about is how everything I do sucks. I can't write anything which people even pretend to like. How can I be a writer if everything I write sucks? But is that just my perception? I wrote something for this magazine, and when it was posted this week, I found that the last couple of paragraphs were almost completely rewritten. Is it because they didn't agree with my viewpoint and wanted to edit it up some to be in more in line with their position? Or is it just the fact that I suck? I'm leaning towards the suckage.

But that's also my mind trying to rationalize what I feel. When I feel self-doubt, guilt and depression, it doesn't make any rational sense. I have no idea why I'm feeling what I'm feeling. My chest tightens up. Anxiety bubbles. I feel like I'm missing a deadline. A meeting that somebody called which I completely forgot about. I feel it sitting at my desk. I sometimes feel it walking to the bathroom. There's no reason for it. Which scares me even more.

I never felt this way when I was younger. I was cocky, confident and a blast to be around. Now I'm moody, mean, and unfunny. I have trouble coming up with smalltalk. I constantly think that I'm boring other people, or am just annoying. Maybe I was an asshole all along. And I'm just now becoming aware of it.

You want to hear something funny? I'm even doubting this crappy fucking post right now. I think about my audience of nil, and wonder if this diatribe will bore the non-existent people who aren't reading this blog. This crap is getting out of hand.

What do I do? Do I get drugs? Do I talk to a doctor? What? That depresses me even more. That I need to self-medicate because I can't cope. We all self-medicate I guess. I drink, I smoke. And when I do I feel moderately better. Or at least I forget my self-doubt, guilt and depressions for however long the drug lasts. Is that what Paxil does? Prozac? Should I go on Lithium, just for kicks?

Or should I just get off my ass and accomplish something?

5 comments:

Stephaine - yes, that's spelled right said...

We are about 3000 miles apart and I know exactly how you're feeling. I'm in the same boat. 28, feeling like a failure, trying to find the accomplishments...I know what your feeling. But try to remember - there are going to be bad days no matter what you do. It's the little things that make the days a good one. The little victories that make it all worthwhile. It gets better but you have to make it get better. So, spend a night with your defeats. I like to drown them in a bottle. But in the morning, conquered them. Good luck. S.

MostlyModest said...

I too battle self-doubt seemingly every day. There's the stress of wondering how I'm going to get done all the things I've committed to. And there's the pressure to do more of it, along with the realization that I'm not great at all the things I am or should be doing.

But I soldier on, I guess because it eventually leads me to something better.

I wouldn't view a rewrite as a critique. Some publications have a certain style for their articles that they slavishly follow (Business Week, for one, ends every article with the same skeptical couching, i.e. "Yahoo's new ads may help grow revenues. If not Google may be the ones singing "Yahoo!"). That's likely what happened to your piece. You have a staggering amount of talent. I just don't think you've found the most satisfying ways to channel it yet.

Anonymous said...

Try waking up one day and realizing that you are 35. Thirty fucking five. I swear I was 27 two months ago. Meanwhile, all around me my peers have turned into these family units with spouses and kids and houses. Meanwhile, I go home to an empty, shitty 1 BR apartment. Yeah, I've got some good stories and cool scars, but when the hell did I turn into the old weird lady. I never heard the ten minute warning.

At least you can hear the warning. Life is too short for an unfulfilling job or a life devoid of what you love.

Anonymous said...

About to turn 36 this month. Couple of things....

1. All the "accomplishments" are only important if you have a goal of being famous to satisfy your ego. Life is short and you're on a primitive planet about 30K light-years from the galactic core. Relax.

2. Eldon Tyrell said it best, "Revel in your time." I would suggest reading Henry Miller's "Big Sur and the Oranges of Heironymus Bosch." Just to give you a little perspective.

::: cheers from sector six :::

Anonymous said...

Do you have another seat on that boat of yours? I think its a "damn, I'm an adult, but what have I done with my life" sort of thing. I have the same corporate blah job. I would love to do something that fuels the creativity and passions that I swear I have...somewhere. If I could just remember where I put them. I just hope that I will not turn into one of those people who always hoped to do something with their life and 20 years later are still in some boring, crappy job I never wanted in the first place.