Thursday, December 22, 2005


I have been slowly awakening to the fact that I only really get any decent work done when I am in a hypomanic phase. When I am depressed I can't focus on my work. In fact I can't get motivated to do much of anything. Therefore my composing moves in fits and starts. I have missed many deadlines in the past few years, which is something that never used to happen to me.

So I wonder: if I stopped taking my medication, I would become much more prolific--the way I was in the old unmedicated crazy days--but I would definitely suffer in other ways. My life would become chaotic and things would no doubt spin out of control. So what kind of bargain have I struck? Contemplating this just makes me feel more depressed.

So my original fear, that medication would turn me into a numbed-out zombie, was unfounded. But this dilemma never occurred to me as a possibility. And now I question all my ideas about creativity, ambition, the purpose of my life, my happiness. Because creating music and art was/is the chief thing that makes me happy. And so if I am not creating anything, I am not happy. Simple.

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Although I am not in much of a holiday mood, I am trying to ramp up my enthusiasm. So here is my neighbor's wreath...


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