Read this first, as it was the beginning of my trying to grapple with this. It explains some of what I've been going through, not all of it.
As you may be aware, for the past five years I've been trying to complete my University degree whilst struggling through a fog of depression. This isn't easy because my mood swings so often that you could be forgiven for thinking, if you only saw me for about three hours that day on a Friday when I only have one class, that I was happy as a clam this whole time. Not the case, since as soon as I got home usually when it got dark and cold as it does in April in the Australian climate my mood goes haywire and my brain gets sad and I start hating myself.
This was usually what happened, every April, like clockwork until this year when after I got into somewhat of a decent sleeping pattern my moods swung less erratically and for once this time of year I was a lot happier. And scared, because I didn't know when my mood was gonna swing back into Sad Land at any moment. I didn't trust it, I thought I'd wake up in The Matrix and find out I was in Sad Land the whole time.
But after three days being happy as a clam... my mood didn't swing back to unhappy and crazy.
I have a few theories as to why this must have happened.
For one thing I stopped troll rolling on message boards trying to reach out to people who didn't want to deal with me, and I didn't want to burden with my crazy mood swings. This resulted with me going to bed at semi-appropriate times instead of falling asleep at 3am in the morning at best. And because I got better sleep I got more sunlight and my brain got happier I guess.
I've also wanted to get back into my usual hobbies I had before I fell into this hole of academia and depression, but it also seemed like it felt that getting a University degree was the thing preventing me from achieving my true potential trying to get published instead of rotting away undiscussed while trapped in an academic situation where I was forced to analyse stuff rather than create it, since I'm at that part of my Uni degree where you're doing theory subjects instead of practical work, and too much theory lumped in there makes you feel very uncreative sometimes unless you put your mind to it and start making it fun. I had to use gamification to improve my outlook on academia, despite my lifetime of negative, stressful experiences trying to play actual video games which put me off the medium of video games for life.
So what was I if I wasn't a gamer? Did I suck because I sucked at video games, alienating me from a lot of men I grew up around who loved video games? I hated video games growing up because my autism comes with this thing called a motor skills deficiency which means everything the movie The Wizard told you about autistic people pwning at video games is a hollow lie. The game controllers intended to immerse me into these digital worlds were ironically the thing that cripples me from being able to enjoy those imaginative digital worlds at all. And yet young people were playing video games in droves. Hardly anyone apart from me who I knew were reading books. I loved reading books. I loved writing them too. It's all I really had, considering I enrolled in an art school degree out of a fear that an Arts Literature or Creative Writing degree would be the same recycled shit I learned in high school about postmodernism. I hated that, I'm not surprised a lot of kids my age hate reading because I had to fight tooth and nail to retain my love of it through an education system that failed to imagine things, or for that matter imagine a future of kids who loved to read because they were allowed to think their own thoughts about what they read, and read for fun even.
Reading and writing were my true passion. I'd been doing it since I was twelve years old, I think anyway. They gave me an award for Interest In Library back in Primary School, I wish I could find it in the pile of boxes we had after my family moved. It's all I knew how to do. My brother, he was way more into film growing up than me. He didn't just want to watch films and be entertained like I did, he wanted to make them. Me, I read books not just because I wanted to read them, I wanted to write some of my own too. When I read a book, I thought to myself that this was a form of expression I could totally do myself, it's a low budget medium with minimal stress compared to film which would have overwhelmed me with a career of one panic attack after another once the smallest thing went wrong.
Literature on the other hand allows itself to be taken in slowly. It's what I like about it. You go at your own pace and you can deal with the emotions it throws at you in your own time.
And a few days ago that got me thinking about other things, not just books, that I used to love before I got all depressed, lonely and miserable. Things that got me through the day since I didn't have a girlfriend like the other boys sometimes had to motivate me to get out of bed in the morning. I had my book writing and book reading to do, but I had to compensate for the whole being terrible at video games thing. So I looked out for things that gave me the same beautifully imagined creative worlds of video games but presented in a format I could actually enjoy.
I started looking up videos on the internet, somewhere on TVTropes I came across ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com and I found something there. To this day that website is the reason why I'd rather watch nerds in their basement talk about a movie or cartoons on the internet instead of reality television. Fuck Keeping Up With The Kardashians, I wanted to figure out what The Cinema Snob was gonna drag out of the dustbin of history this week. Fuck Honey Boo Boo, I was watching Nostalgia Chick and Todd In The Shadows introduce me to the joys of pop music and incredibly girly media I wouldn't have touched back in high school for fear of being persecuted more than I was. Before I watched Brows Held High for the first time the only arthouse films I was familiar with were the ones I walked in on my mother watching on SBS, and she'd tell me to scram because these movies often had nudity, or violence. There was one Friday night my mother was proven right in her assertion that SBS wasn't a kid's channel because that fateful late evening they were showing Perfect Blue, and if you know what Perfect Blue is you'd realise why a twelve year old boy would be scared shitless by it.
I was twelve years old, man. I didn't even know what rape was. I was so innocent that if I were a character in the Dragon Ball Z universe I'd still be eligible to ride the Nimbus Cloud. That's how green I was then. Depressing to think that the kid who once was horrified by Perfect Blue at age twelve barely raised an eyebrow at Cannibal Holocaust because Brad Jones, The Cinema Snob warned him in advance what he was getting himself into. And I think that's why I was willing to expand my horizons a bit more. Spoilers are generally avoided by some, but if I know something horrifying is about to happen in a movie, and your spoiler saves me from being traumatised, you've done a service to my poor anxiety disorder that thanks you for the heads up.
And I think that's where the pieces started to fit together. I was raised in a family where somehow, by some twist of fate, the act of tricking one's elders into letting you see The Godfather is a rite of passage that for unknown reasons was passed down to my generation, after my own mother tricked her mother into letting her see it in cinemas on its release. Truly the watching of highly age inappropriate material that changes your life is a time honoured tradition in my household, as smut and ultraviolence is passed down through the ages to the younger generations. This is the tradition I hope to pass down to the children I hope to have the privilege of conceiving, considering that my lack of luck in love or romance compared to my peers of the same age made me shun the entire rom-com genre for its making me feel miserable and lonely when I compare my life to everyone else's.
It's a flawed, borderline crazy reason to hate rom-coms, but you can see how a twenty three year old lifetime with no reciprocation in romance can make a man hate such a genre and its tropes rather than using that genre to live out fantasies that will become reality maybe one day when the stars are right. Instead my depression ridden sadness brain was offended by the rom-com genre due to its believing I, and my brain, were being lied to by Hollywood.
Things started to change for the better more recently, not from the charms and embraces of a woman's love, but instead an intellectual love of new ideas and concepts found in cinema, books and various other places I'd run into at Books Kinokuniya and JB Hi-Fi where entire worlds could be found inside a graphic novel or a DVD that was sold in either of these places.
I'll tell you about that stuff in Part 3, where I come to grips with what it is I actually enjoy in life rather than hate about it.
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