This hasn't been the easiest week. For the first time this year, I experienced a fairly severe depression, which sent me into a bit of a tailspin for most of the week. These periods come out of nowhere, generally, and depart just as mysteriously. This one began to lift last night; I noticed that I was beginning to experience little darts of humor again, and that the dense, heavy cloud that had been fogging up my head most of the week had lifted.

Yesterday, I read in an online article, that something like 90% of the people in the Bay Area say that they're generally happy. I can't help but wonder if many of those people are lying. Not that I'd precisely describe myself as "unhappy", but I know that if I was to make an honest assessment of my state of mind over the last few years, I'd have to admit that the word "happiness" would only spring to mind if you caught me on a good day. So does this mean I'm in a minority of 10% of the non-happy? I find that hard to believe.

As my mother would say, "some people have no arms and legs". While I haven't myself met anyone so unencumbered, I can appreciate the sentiment that self-pity is an unworthy preoccupation. I need only look at one of my best friends to realize how lucky I am. She had not only to deal with her own life-threatening illness last year, but now has to face the fact that her father is at death's door. He fought off cancer for the last few years, but has now past the point where his system can compete for much longer. He was a wonderful, charming, vigorous man when I met him 18 months ago for the first time. Today, he's in hospital, cancer all over his body, with a severe pneumonia and a blood-clot.

So the lesson is that I should count my blessings, and they are certainly there to be counted. I just wish that the gift of contenment was there amongst them, that's all.

Oh, and please don't write offering sympathy or advice. I'm not looking for sympathy, and, indeed, don't merit sympathy. I don't write like this because I want sympathy. Pretentious as it may sound, I only write like this, every now and then, because I know that other people feel this way, and I think it's somewhat comforting to know that you're not alone. In any case, my mood will no doubt pick up soon, as it usually does, and I'll have my usual share of joyful or happy or fun moments.

Coda: No sooner had I uploaded this journal entry, than I found my spirits lifting high as I listened to the 1st movement of Mahler's 3rd Symphony. The 1st movement is unofficially subtitled "Pan Awakes, Summer Comes Marching In", and it has to be amongst the most rousing, exuberant pieces of music ever written: certainly an effective antidote to melancholia. By the way, if curiosity leads you to check this piece out, don't give up after the first few severe minutes. It's a forty-five minute movement (longer than most complete symphonies!), and it takes some time for Pan to awaken.