More Writing!

I'm not sure what goal in this blog post is, except perhaps to write more on my blog. I enjoy reading the blogs of family members, and often think to myself that I am very lucky to have come from such an eloquent group of people. Not to mention good-looking ;)

The internet is a very interesting place, I've decided, with rules and guidelines and etiquette like, and unlike, the real world. I've discovered, in my wanderings in cyberspace, an interesting set of rules, as posted on a site called usenet and slightly altered for my own nefarious purposes.

Rule #no number: There are no hard-and-fast Rules on the Internet, only Guidelines, which are more or less strictly enforced (and differ) from group to group; this is why it's generally wise to read any thread for a bit before ever posting to it.

Rule #9: It's *always* September, *somewhere* on the Net.
Dave Fischer's Extension: 1993 was The Year September Never Ended [so far, there doesn't seem to be much evidence he's wrong...]

Rule #17: Go not to the Net for counsel, for they will say both `No' and `Yes' and `Try another website'.

Rule #2: "The Net interprets censorship as damage and routes around it."

Rule #108 (from the soc.motss FAQ): "What will happen to me if I read soc.motss?" "In general, nothing. (You may be informed or infuriated, of course; but that's a standard Internet hazard.)"

Rule #666: Old alt groups never die. They don't fade away nicely, either.

Rule #7-B: There is no topic so thoroughly covered that no one will ever bring it up again.

Rule #90120: Applying your standards to someone else's post *will* result in a flame-war.

Rule #1: Spellling and grammer counts. So do grace, wit, and a sense of humor (the latter two are different), as well as a willingness to meet odd people, but these are lesser considerations.

Rule #x^2: FAQs are asked frequently. Get used to them.

rule #6 (Eddie Saxe): don't post to the Internet unless you understand the consequences.

Rule #547: When people know they're wrong they resort to ad hominems.

Rule #37: Read the thread from the beginning, or else.

Rule #5 (Reimer's Reason): Nobody ever ignores what they should ignore on the Net.

Rule $19.99: The Internet *isn't* *free*. It just has an economy that makes no sense to capitalism.

Rule #3 ("Why 3?" "Because we felt like it"): For every opinion there is at least one equally loud and opposing opinion; sometimes stated as:

Rule #27: "In cyberspace, *everyone* can hear you scream."

And for completeness' sake:

Rule #4: (Godwin's Rule) Any off-topic mention of Hitler or Nazis will cause the thread it is mentioned in to an irrelevant and off-topic end very soon; every thread on UseNet has a constantly-increasing probability to contain such a mention.
Quirk's Exception: Intentional invocation of this so-called "Nazi Clause" is ineffectual.
Case's Corollary: If the subject is Heinlein or homosexuality, the probability of a Hitler/Nazi comparison being made becomes equal to one.

Also, the first and foremost rule of the internet I, Shematite, have come across:

Rule #24601: Don't feed the Trolls.

This Wednesday is November Fourth. It marks my twenty-first birthday, one year since Barack Obama was elected, and one year since the family doctor said, "Have you ever thought that it might be Depression?"

That was a moment in which I felt more gratitude than anything else, because I had been thinking it was Major Depressive Disorder as early as the January before. In hindsight, everything is much clearer, of course, but I remember recognizing the signs that I had learned about in my AP Psychology class.

"But it can't be Depression," I told myself. "I don't feel sad. Just..." And I would trail off, because I was lacking the motivation to even examine the way I was feeling. I kept pushing thoughts like that out of my mind, keeping myself from thinking about the downward spiral I was in. I didn't go to class, didn't go to church, didn't really do anything. I woke up sometime between noon and one in the afternoon, showered, dressed, went out the back door of the doors and came in the front so I could tell my dorm-mates I'd just gotten back from class, then tell them I was tired and go hide in my room until whenever in the morning when I would finally be able to sleep.

Even now, thinking of the fact that I spent over half a quarter like this makes me cry. That's not who I am, and missing that much time to doing nothing irks me. By the time that episode was over, it was too late in the quarter for me to drop my classes so I wouldn't fail them, and I still wasn't willing to think about what I was doing. Therefore, I continued to pretend nothing was wrong, going out with friends and taking walks in the sunshine as much as I could.

Over the summer, I kept up my happy face, worked hard, even though I could still feel that dragging feeling, the feeling that it wouldn't take much to send me into another episode like the one of February and March. I hoped that going back to Cedar City I would be fine, especially if I focused on finding a job and working for a quarter, and leaving school until spring. As I'm sure you all know or guessed, that backfired spectacularly.

By the end of October, I was at my lowest point. I'd managed to get a telemarketing job, but hadn't even finished training before, as my friends put it, I crumbled like a cookie in a glass of milk. My wonderful parents drove all the way down to Cedar City and fished me out of there and took me home, so that at my doctor's appointment on my twentieth birthday I could be diagnosed with something other than a cold, or allergies, or whatever. I think I need to send a letter to the nice ladies at the little campus clinic at SUU. I'm sure they meant well, but if they are asking all the students they see to fill out a psychological form to check for Depression, they shouldn't dismiss a form with a lot of checks pointing to Depression with, "Oh, I'm sure it's just because you're sick and stressed." I felt strangely hurt by that, since by that time I was pretty sure I was depressed, and I felt like I must have just been imagining things, that I was just being lazy.

That was what I thought it was. For all those months, I was afraid to talk about what was wrong because I thought I had just suddenly become lazy. Nevermind that I was raised to be nearly the opposite; in fact, that almost made it worse. I felt so ashamed that I suddenly didn't want to do anything. My parents expected more of me! Laziness happened to other people! Depression was something that happened to people who weren't raised like I was. Slothfulness was for people who were weak. So...that meant I was weak.

Every day I thank my Heavenly Father for my parents who love me no matter what, and I thank him for the people who invented the medicine that fixes my brain. I also thank him for my friends, who, as soon as they heard I was back in North Ogden, would not let me just hide in the house and do nothing. I have beautiful, smart sisters who are my best friends, and I hope they'll learn from all my examples, the good and the bad, what to do and what to avoid.

Thanks, Heavenly Father, for this last year of healing, recovery, and remembering what kind of person I really am.

Went to go and visit the latest addition to the family. Say 'hi' to little baby Megsy!

Being held by awesome cousin Mayflower.

With Michex and Tristano, the proud papa!