Got life?

I got life, mother.
I got laughs, sister.
I got freedom, brother.
I got good times, man.

I got crazy ways, daughter.
I got million-dollar charm, cousin.
I got headaches and toothaches.
And bad times too.
Like you.

I got my hair.
I got my head.
I got my brains.
I got my ears.
I got my eyes.
I got my nose.
I got my mouth.
I got my teeth.
I got my tongue.
I got my chin.
I got my neck.
I got my tits.
I got my heart.
I got my soul.
I got my back.
I got my ass.
I got my arms.
I got my hands.
I got my fingers.
Got my legs.
I got my feet.
I got my toes.
I got my liver.
Got my blood.

I got my guts (I got my guts).
I got my muscles (muscles).
I got life (life).
Life (life).
Life (life).
LIFE!


The above words are the lyrics to "I Got Life" from the 1967 rock musical Hair. When you have nothing, like the hippie characters in this musical, it is wise to remember that you still have life. Everything is superficial, life is all that matters. Lately I've been trying to force myself to absorb this meaning and take it to heart. Unfortunately, I just can't seem to get the words to stick.

Is the simple fact that one is alive enough? Is it just foolish optimism?

I started writing a post a while back, but never published it. Though having made great strides since my younger days, I still have an issue with full disclosure..... especially when it relates to something negative. I titled the post "What's the point?" and that truly is the question: What is the point?

Here's that post:

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It's time to face the truth....

I fail at life. That is the simple truth.

I picked a career that is on its deathbed. Combine that fact with our current economic hell, and there is little to no hope of being a professional journalist any time soon.

But the fun doesn't stop there. I also can't seem to get a job to save my life. Any kind of job. I've lost count of how many times I should have died if my life did indeed depend on my becoming employed. I am either rejected or am deemed unworthy to even interview.

My own funds are gone and I am completely dependent on my parents. Want to have fun? Have to ask parents for money. Hungry? Have to have mommy and daddy feed me. I have regressed to infancy.

Life has become pointless. I simply do not see the point in even trying. I've stopped caring about how much weight I gain. My hair is growing into a long, shaggy mop; I'm quickly starting to look like I plan on auditioning for the Broadway revival of Hair. Today I stopped seeing the purpose of shaving since I have no one to impress.

Would I like someone to impress? Not really. Physical satisfaction would be nice, but I have no desire to invest in (or even pretend to care about) someone else's life.
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My parents ask me if I want money to get a haircut. I say "Don't bother. It doesn't matter." They ask why I haven't shaved. "What's the point?" I say. What is the point of taking care of my appearance? Who cares what people think when they see me. No need to look good. It's not like I'm going on countless interviews.

I've sunken into a depression I swore I would never return to. Yet this one is different from the one that nearly destroyed me in high school. I feel completely useless. I'm living like a bum, so why not look like one as well.

This blog is my only communication with the outside world. I haven't spoken with friends in far too long; haven't even spoken with Mariana in 4 weeks. Would probably stop writing if I wasn't told to remain attached to the world of the living.

*sigh* But I don't want you all to think this is a cry for help. You wanted to know what is going on my life, so that is what I'm giving you. I managed to survive my first battle with depression, and I'll eventually beat this one too. At least this time around I'm getting help, so I'm halfway there.

Anyway, let us come full circle. Back to those lyrics. At the moment they aren't helping me much, but I hope they do something for you.

Here's hoping I return to my old self again soon.

- R