Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Sunday, September 03, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I think this will be the last I write you. I’m fairly settled-in by this point. I’m closing in on two months here. I’m sure you’re all settled back in to your routine in a place I hope to never see again. When I was in my teens I used to wonder what it would be like to move to a different school district where I wouldn’t know anyone and to entirely start my life over. Now I kind of have a feeling of what that would be like. And now I really don’t have much of an interest in anything before this time. If I never see most or all people I went to high school or college with, that will be fine with me. Progression. Some of these people in our lives we can hold on to. Others slip through the fingers of time. Moving onward and not so hung up on what has occurred in the past. It’s still there and people will always want to peep back into your life and connect. I don’t know how willing I am to let them do that. I am finding it amazing how we choose to reach out to those from years gone by. But why? What do we want from them? It seems many of us have changed, we don’t hold so much in common anymore. I don’t want to waste my time that way, or put myself through the emotional memories of a lifetime ago by means of chatting with folks who haven’t taken the time to keep up on my life. I’ll be totally honest: they’re not that important to me, hence me not keeping up with them or having much of an interest to do so. I want to carry with me my past and use it to make for some sort of better future. I want to be clean and new. In some way I want to forget most of it (life) ever happened. Why can’t I just follow the good ol’ social norms and put up with this shit? The secret is that for some time now I’ve wanted to disappear. I don’t want people to know where I am. “Hey, whatever happened to Kurt?” “You know, I have no idea.” I want almost all new friends. I want a new job, new apartment and all of it in a new city. I want to be more of the person I’ve always wanted to be in some ways. You’ll no doubt notice little change, but that’s ok. I think that deep down inside I’ve always wanted to cease to exist, but no one is finding it “hip” to be depressed and suicidal anymore. I am floating and not thinking about it. Totally directionless. Thankfully much of this goes in time. At least that’s what I’ve been told or thought I saw once. This isn’t so much different from the first time we spoke, you know. Totally floating through time, going nowhere, who’s got time for anything? We’re on our way to a party. It’s a celebration. A celebration of our continued recognition of our unending questioning of what the hell it is we’re doing here.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Friday, August 18, 2006

Dear Shannon,
Don’t tell anyone, but I miss some things I shouldn’t. I’ve been listening to Early Day Miners all day and thinking of Indiana and the landscape there and the gentle, pastoral beauty of it all. I was listening to NPR earlier this week and they were talking to a man who was from Iraq and now lived in the U.S. Asked if he missed his homeland, he said he did to some degree but more so the childhood memories of the place. Now it’s not the type of place he wants to live, what with war and strife and all. What he said about the childhood memories of a place, the hope that they expressed…that is something I think about from time to time, especially today for some reason. You have to wonder sometimes how you get to where you are – it can all seem so gradual and understandable – but then you think back to the child you were and it makes no sense at all.
So sometimes I miss that simplicity. I’m not going to lie and say that in some regards it wouldn’t be great to be a child. But let’s be honest, there were a lot of shitty things about being a kid. Stress of a different sort, you know? Things we couldn’t understand and weren’t meant to understand. The stresses of a 10 year old are just as real to that kid as the stresses of a 27 year old or a 20 year old. As the star of “Brick”, Joseph Gordon-Levitt (yeah, the kid from 3rd Rock from the Sun) said about his movie, a film noir set in high school, (and I’m paraphrasing here), “We didn’t want it to be this campy high school film but instead to be serious because when you’re in high school, everything is life and death. Everything is dead serious.” And that’s so true. Did you come in late to class? That could ruin your day. Did that cute girl/boy you like not call you back? That could easily ruin your week. Did someone call you a name in a class? That shit won’t let you off the hook. We can’t always think of past times and be all happy and lovey-dovey about shit because there was nothing but miserable times for many of us back then. I know they were that way for me. There was never any of that “best time of my life” bullshit that so many people want to say was going down years ago. It just didn’t happen. Yeah, there were some good times, but I was a wreck for a lot of my youth. Let’s just put things in perspective.
So what is it that we’re missing here? I think it’s just the beauty of a situation or person. It was the beauty of a memory. The beauty of the landscape. Everything all around me at once. Other times it just bored me to tears.
In this case the music of Early Day Miners is echoing the pastoral beauty of the land I remember: the fields of crops, country roads, sunny afternoons driving nowhere, pal-ing around with my friends to shows, spending time with that significant other. Those are good memories. Things I can put in perspective, hopefully. Because moving back to Indiana wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good and I honestly do love it here. It’s nice to have things like they are now. To be able to see the mountains when I drive and to have water all around me, young people walking in my neighborhood and all that jazz; it’s a good situation for me.
So what am I missing? Well, I’m alone and slightly bored and so I have time to think. Too much time perhaps. And I haven’t done much lately as far as being social and hanging out with folks. It will come in time I guess. Tonight is somewhat of an anomaly. The point of this is I’m missing fun times I’ve had with people back in my past; I miss those close relationships. Like everything, they’ll come in time. Life can change and become better and we can grow. We’ll become people we don’t even recognize anymore. It’s another in a long line of things that requires patience. Nostalgia: get over it.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Thursday, August 10, 2006

Dear Shannon,
Depression can follow you anywhere you go. It will find you in far off places. If you’ve ever known it – sometimes even if you haven’t – it will track you down like a ruthless collection agent. It makes no excuses and no exceptions. And it’s known by many all over the world. When you thought you were escaping it, when you thought you’d left it long behind, it will be there, patiently waiting in its’ own time. It will take situations that were extraordinarily happy and find ways to make you despair. It will take places, locations, that you know and love and change your feelings towards them. At the least it will make them a bittersweet setting.
Depression doesn’t care about your relationship with God. Or Allah. Or Buddha. Or any other deity. It doesn’t care so much about your occupation or gender or race. It will find you when it’s ready.
Now, some things do lend themselves more to allowing depression to find you. Do you have problems making ends meet? There’s a good chance depression will find you sooner rather than later. Does depression run in your family? Depression probably will get to you a little more than other folks. Do you live in a place where there’s little sunlight (for whatever reason)? Well, depression is a disease that primarily lives amongst darkness, so expect it to have a better chance at finding you there.
Depression appreciates loneliness. And despair. And boredom. All of those things mean a lot to depression. Call them symptoms, signs or fishing buddies, but they tend to flourish well together. Depression settles into your chest, along with its friends and given time and some fuel to add to its fire, it will crush you. It will overwhelm you.
There’s often ways to come at it, little things that help. An activity, a job, a pet, and friends, anything you enjoy – they can help alleviate the problems. But don’t be surprised if it comes back months or years later, stronger than ever and mentally beats the shit out of you. Like the parable of the man in the Bible who had the demons cast out of him, only to find they returned en masse, depression will return later, many times stronger than before. Or it may not return at all. Depression is, after all, quite fickle.
You’re probably wondering at this point what I do when all this happens to me. Well, being the masochist I am, I indulge it: depressing books, music, and films – I take them all in until I’m sickened by it all. Then I just live life, find a rhythm and go from there. There are two different types of depressives, too. Some are short-term one-timers. Boyfriend broke up with me, I got fired from my job – it hurts for six, twelve months but after that it’s not so bad anymore. Others of us are chronic. It’ll never be okay and that becomes okay. You learn to live with the pain and it ends up ebbing and flowing into a normal part of what becomes your life. Now I know nothing else. It is what it is and some days are better, others worse.
All I know is that I drove 2,500 miles and it found me, Shannon. It lives here in Seattle, Washington, just as sure as I live and breathe. Its tendrils stretch the whole world wide. It’s different here than in Indiana. There it suffocates and won’t let me be free. It encases itself as a philosophy. Here, well, I’m not sure yet. If there’s one thing I’ve learned though, it’s that everything can change in a day. No matter how you might feel I’ve learned it’s always good to sleep on any major decision when depressed. A new perspective and some rest can do wonders on your world view. That being said, I’m going to bed now.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I’ve been thinking about what it means for me to move out here to Seattle. It means a lot of things, I know that much. But amongst other things, it’s about re-inventing me into someone I am a little happier with. Someone who does things that he’s always wanted to do. Well, maybe not EVERYTHING, but perhaps Seattle can be a place where I get to do some of the things that will feel new and real and personal to me.
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but Cross My Heart has a line in one of their songs that goes, “Dreaming of a past life/can’t remember who I used to be/now and then it hits me/like a hurricane in my head.” And that’s how I feel in many regards. Who was I a year ago, or two years ago – hell, who was I 10 years ago? I don’t know who that person was that was running my life. As someone told me the other day, “Why did I allow a 19 year old to make such important decisions about my life?” And I’d never thought about it as such, but it’s very much the case. So many important things that affected the course of my life (where I went to college, what I majored in, who I hung out with, where I went after college, etc.) were decided by some kid who was constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown and couldn’t handle stress whatsoever. All of these things happened to me back then and there was this kid who wanted to do these things that I’m not even that interested in now.
Let me explain to you what I mean. When I was in my late teens I was really into the following: music, going to shows, Christianity, my faith, being depressed, being suicidal, doing zines, etc. I wanted to work for a record label and make a decent living and so on and so forth. I wanted to go to a Christian college and so I did. But here’s me now and I’m into this stuff: movies, reading, libraries, music, studying religion (specifically Christianity), the internet, etc. Hell, the 18 year old version of me would probably look at that first list and say most of those weren’t even right. That’s how distanced I am from that kid. But one of the things I used to LOVE doing – being involved with music – is something I’m really not that interested in anymore. And something I used to not be into at all – movies/film – is something that’s part of my almost daily life.
Yes, we both certainly have some things in common (music, for example), but my music tastes aren’t progressing at all. I don’t find much new music I like anymore. I still listen to music I listened to when I was in high school and college. Now I don’t think I’d go to a Christian college (or at least not the same one I went to) and I wouldn’t be interested in working at a record label (especially since I worked at one and saw how temperamental it was). I would never have guessed I’d have a masters degree in library science. I don’t think I would have even necessarily have chosen to enter this career field back when I was planning for college, but now I don’t really know what else I would do with my life. Nothing else much sounds like something I’d care for. Maybe everything is working out right after all? I don’t know.
The problem is that I can’t trust that 19 year old much at all. He was out to sabotage my life and it’s really quite diabolical. I know it wasn’t intentional on his part but looking back he’s put me in some awkward positions I would not care to be in. And due to my mental condition, it’s almost as though I’m looking back at this past life that was mine but wasn’t. Who was running it? How did I get here? I emerge from the equivalent of an alcoholic’s sobriety or a soldier rising above his shellshock.
But now I’m here and I can do with it whatever I want. It’s really quite refreshing in many regards. And yet our lives come with all these explanations. Like baggage or footnotes, they’re the second scene in the description of our lives to our new friends. The scene that’s not written well and which we wish wasn’t in the play, but we didn’t write the play, someone else did (damn you 19 year old!) and so it’s just part of the territory. We can’t escape it. That’s when it’s damning. Other times it just serves as gentle reminders of who we used to be: Did I ever see Sunny Day Real Estate play live? Does it even matter? Not anymore but to the 18 year old it meant the world. We’re getting older, Shannon. What can I say? Everything changes whether you like it or not. Coming to terms with who you are and what you want out of life may be a privilege we have as First World citizens, but it’s in our lap nonetheless. I guess that means that the fallout from all that thinking is primarily a problem for us wealthier peoples in the world. In the end, suicide just ends up being a fucking privilege.
That’s all my brain can handle at this point. I’d like to write more about this sometime as I continue to digest it, however. I’m glad to know you’ll be on the other end of these letters, eating the shit I’m feeding you.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

Monday, July 31, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I know it’s been a while since I last wrote, but I can’t say that you’ve missed a whole lot. If you haven’t realized it yet, I think you soon will discover that most of life is fairly boring. It’s the same things day in and day out. Walking, talking, sleeping, eating, bathing, reading, watching, etc. That’s all we do. It’s how it goes and we seem to be fairly comfortable with it. We all have those things we COULD do but inevitably they get put off for whatever reasons we come up with at the time.
I’ve been trying to take some walks lately, just to get out of the apartment. It’s a good feeling to see people and feel like you’re doing something just because you went somewhere. I’ve been going on walks down by Green Lake, which is just a half mile or so from my apartment. I usually wear my headphones when I walk, 1) so I don’t have to speak to people and 2) because listening to the right type of music will inevitably give me some extra energy and motivation. I’ve also discovered, however, that despite my more upbeat state here in Seattle and my newfound non-depressive state, there is still a part of me inside that wants to destroy. Obliterate and crush and malign everything I see and everyone I come across. There is still a rage inside of me that wishes to just lose control and to break down all that I see and express myself in an outburst the likes of which I may not recognize later. I need an appropriate venue to release these feelings and ideas. I need to join a punk rock band or something. It’s not as though this is a constant, overriding urge but it’s still there and it’s slightly unsettling. I will have to grow used to it or find some way to express myself. Even now I can’t really concentrate too much because of it. I’m going to attempt to do some reading, though.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I’ve been in Seattle a little over one week now. I am enjoying it greatly. I am feeling more social and outgoing, which is a huge change for me. A welcome one, too. I don’t have a job but I know it will come in time. I just need to keep getting out of the apartment and trying to be social; keep living as though I have endless amounts of money even though I don’t have a job. Socialness breeds socialness. Who would’ve ever thought that this would end up being one of my major hurdles in life? I’m learning slowly but surely how to achieve, though. No one is responsible for my socialness but me. I need to start getting out and doing these things I’ve always wanted to do, job or no job. I might as well put the best foot forward. Anywho, there are always things going on around here: I just need to get on it. So writing this is partially a reminder to me to get my shit together. Gotta get out and do something.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Saturday, July 15, 2006

Dear Shannon,
Sometimes it feels as though you are my last connection to anything. I am in a new city, but by myself. My roommate hasn’t moved in yet, and I’m finishing unpacking my stuff. It seems like there’s plenty to do. But in the midst of all of this I am alone in the big city. Everything is new and yet I have the feeling like I’ve been here for ages. The sense of solitude never escapes me: the need to be alone. And yet I would love to be spending the night with others. There are so many possibilities here; so many chances to fall in love. I wonder if I will meet someone here.
It’s with that frame of mind that I re-read an old letter (3+ years) sent by a friend with whom I had once had a beautiful relationship. She was the type of person with whom I could’ve fallen in love. Happiness? That may have been a different story but we certainly were infatuated with one another. I keep the letter because it reminds me of two things. First, it reminds me of all the possibilities with life. We CAN fall in love. We CAN find others who find us attractive. We CAN make that special connection with another human being. We CAN make someone feel as good about themselves as they make us feel. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it reminds me of how full of shit people can be. “I miss you, I’m sorry; I still want to be friends, etc.” The letter was a stunner from out of nowhere. It blew me away. But nothing changed. She disappeared but I’d still take her back in my life in a New York minute. I wonder if she even knows I moved to the opposite side of the country. Everyone grows up and moves on I guess. This seems to be a re-occurring lesson in this life. I wish I could find someone with a bit more permanence in the here and now.
This just serves to prove that you can’t run from your problems. These same things were going on in South Bend. I didn’t expect to hide from them completely here. And I know that I have to give things time. So I will. Even if I never meet a girl here, this place still rules compared to Indiana. I hope to never have to live back there again. Nonetheless it seems as though depression, the occasional anxiety, loneliness and awkwardness have still followed me here. It’s definitely dulled itself, though. I do believe location can do wonders for oneself and maybe now things won’t feel as bad as they did in Indiana. Some things about us will always be the same I suppose.
I can feel the possibilities here, though. Those chances for love and being completely caught up in someone else. It’s beautiful. I don’t know why I want to be in a relationship so much. I love feeling that connection I guess. I want to learn about someone else and help them – be there for them. I would love to just have a normal, drama-free relationship. I guess I’m just tired of being alone. I’d like to have a partner who can hopefully better me in my life.
It feels new, Shannon. Like the time before now was a precursor to get ready for some great new things here. I hope it turns out to be the case. Things inevitably look up. I hope you are well.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I am in a new place and what might be seen as a new home: Seattle. I’d like to think that all our dreams, hopes and possibilities can come true here, but at the same time I just got back from the bathroom where I peed on my leg. I guess some things don’t change much at all. It’s all a crapshoot, you know? Everything ends up being what you make it. The problems come the same despite someplace being a utopia in your mind. The mind still can play tricks on you, letting you think things are hopeless. The thing to try and remember is that you should never explode. Never lose it all. Hold it together the best you can. Bob Pollard was right: things will work out in time.
The distances you used to be able to judge which organized your life now don’t seem to hold any relevance. Eight minutes to work, 35 to your parents’ house – in a new place these all become meaningless. It’s about re-inventing yourself and re-inventing what you thought you knew. Grow, push through all boundaries and emerge on the other side. That’s what I feel like I’m doing here. And wearing the same clothes most days.
A new environment will be good for me. It has been already. I naturally feel better being around weird people – at least up until a point. But the possibilities here are much greater. I can play kickball and go to lots of different films, hang out with different folks of all sorts, eat many types of food and more. It helps one get a fresh, new perspective on life – both personally and to a larger degree. I’m not totally sure where it will all lead but we’ll see. And I am sure that pushing myself like this will only help make me feel somewhat closer to what I should be. I don’t believe in perfection, but I can certainly tell when I’m not right. Something in all these years felt awkward; maybe this will help me out somehow. Give me a month or two and I’ll let you know.
I have felt overwhelmed, awkward, stressed, annoyed and many other things but it’s all trumped by just being in the shadow of the hope that comes with being in a place that seems special: the attitude, the scenery, the weather, the people, etc. It gives me hope that maybe things here will go well. Anxiety will never extinguish promise. Hope always has won out in my life – it’s the reason I’m here. To a larger degree it’s the belief in the absurd that does me well; it keeps me together. But in general hope does me well. I believe things will get better. I just haven’t been able to see it always. Here I think I can. A better job, better friends, the ability to meet new ones – can you tell I’m excited?
But my fears still follow me here. I’m still scared about starting a new job and all that kind of thing. The older you get, though; you learn to just take it all in stride. Now I go to jobs and just take a step back and try not to get too involved emotionally. There’s little tricks of the trade (the trade being life) you learn over time. You probably have most of them down. I’m a rather late-bloomer in many regards so a lot of these things are just coming to me now. Once again, I’m envious of you.
Yours,
Kurt

Originally from issue #9, October 2006.

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Thursday, July 7, 2006

Dear Shannon,
I am moving to a new home. Or at least what I hope is something I can call a home. I feel very loose, unattached and floating. Sometimes I feel as though no one really cares about me or what I’m doing. The past few days have been really hard for me. I have been cycling a tremendous amount in my moods while driving in the car. South Dakota has to be the most boring state ever. I crashed so hard in Wyoming last night. I cried and cried, stuck in a depressed state that matched the desolation of the one in which I found myself. I’m so unsure of my future, so apprehensive about this place I’m moving to, where I have no job or place to live. I hope to change that soon. It’s weird to think about how a week ago I was back in Goshen, just minding my own business and now I’m in Washington, nine states in the past three days. In another week who knows what might happen. I guess that’s why I do my best to stick with it. And inevitably at one time or another there’s always been someone who was there for me to talk to and to encourage me. That’s always a good feeling. I hope you have some folks like that in your life.
I’ve also found it helpful to keep the remembrances of the Buddha in mind, especially the last one, which states that the only thing in this life we can really control are our actions. Thus inevitably I am forced to admit that I might as well do my best and be positive, but god knows it’s hard as so much of my life has been spent being a depressed loser. My friend Shauna has been a big help in the past few days. I need about 10 more friends like her. Unlike many other people, when she encourages me I believe her. I truly trust her. I wish I could feel that way about more folks. I hope things just get more positive in Seattle. It probably doesn’t help my mental health situation that I’m doing all these classic stressful activities at once (new job, moving, leaving friends & family, etc.) in the course of a week or two. But deep inside I know that given time things will get better for me. I will be happier and one day smile and laugh at how much all of this stressed me out. I’ll be at some party or get-together and someone will bring it up and I’ll smile and give an embarrassed laugh. Statistics prove that the majority of us survive these episodes. I used to think about that as a kid: how so many folks hadn’t been ruined by this activity or that class. And I survived all the same. Only all these years later do I see how fruitless all my worrying was. And yet I still do it from time to time, especially when I’m alone and lonely. The depression gets me down.
You and I both will survive. I am sure of it. We both have bright futures ahead of us. When you get discouraged, just do what you can to surround yourself with the best of friends, do things that make you happy and remember the end result that is just beyond your current troubles.
As I drove today I had so many thoughts and realizations. Primarily I realized that I should only drive long distances with other people. This trip would’ve been much easier with some company. South Dakota seriously is an incredibly depressing state. How anyone can live there is a mystery. If I had to live there I would probably kill myself. However, South Dakota does have Viborg, a town where women named Vi are cyborgs. Western Montana is much more interesting than Eastern Montana. Idaho is pretty. That’s about it. Hope you’re well, kiddo.
Yours,
Kurt