Is there such a thing as too much ice cream?

At this point I'm just going to assume that anyone reading this has read the previous posts already. As such, the layers of sugar-coating will begin to fall off.

I had a really rough week, with suicidal thoughts nearly every day. Fortunately (I guess), there was a lot of absenteeism at work, and so I was mostly distracted throughout the day just dealing with the fires that constantly pop up all around me while I'm there. But my ability to "fake it" diminished as the week progressed, and by Friday morning I was sufficiently incapacitated that I was unable to go in to work. Around 3:00am on Friday I came the closest to actually inflicting violence upon myself than I have in recent memory. My primary weapons in the war against my depression right now are Xanax, popcorn and ice cream - each of which I am consuming in great quantities, and that actually helps. Though it's probably not doing my cholesterol or blood pressure much good, what's the use of having good physical health if you're dead?

On the good side of things, I've done more birdwatching in the past couple weeks than I'd done in many months. I've recently had a couple of excellent (platonic) dinner dates at Saturn Cafe with two different wonderful coworkers, reminding me that there are still high-quality people out there with whom deeper friendships can still be kindled. And I'm actually enjoying this business of "blogging." I'm working on other blogs as well, including one to just serve as a soapbox for me to spout out about politics or whatever, in case anyone gives a shit what I have to say about something.

My hope is to keep these updates brief, focussing on just the key, important issues. Some weeks that might mean a lot of dumping, but this week I'm going to stop here.