We're all mourning the loss of a great entertainer now.  Many feeling some deep emotions connected to it.  I, like many, am finding myself thinking about the roles, lines, and moments from the life of Robin Williams that most resonated with me.

In my case, it's mostly Aladin and Ms. Doubtfire that ring loudest.  In my day-to-day conversations I'll spout a Genie line for humor sake, or to comment on a situation I'm watching in a TV show.  My favorite being when he's trying to help Aladin sweet-talk Jasmine, and when Aladin steps in it (AKA, says the very wrong things), the Genie makes his own comment.

There were a lot of laughs involved, which makes his suicide all the more surprising.  How could someone that, well, nuts, be that far gone?  You'd be surprised.

We'll probably never know for sure what the cause was.  We know he had depression, and battled with addiction, but the full reason will never really be known.  We'll have theories, ideas, people giving their views of his mental state, with varying degrees of validity or trustworthiness.  Sadly, there are those who would offer their view just to get their five minutes of fame.  Though the real reasons will never be known, we can feel pretty sure about some general things.

For whatever reason, he wasn't as happy as he looked.  Something was weighing on him.  Something he didn't feel he could share, or get out from under.  Rehab helped with the addiction, therapy helped the depression, but for whatever reason, it wasn't enough.  Perhaps there were other things he tried we haven't heard of.  Obviously they didn't help enough.  Depending on what he tried, it might have made it worse.

"Still, how could he think ending it was the answer?"

I have.  I've been there, not that long ago.  There was a time I very nearly did the same.  It's a dark place that's actually pretty easy to find yourself in.

"Wait.  You have so much to live for."

Do I?  Let's spend a moment in that dark place.  Well, a fictional one anyway.  The actual dark place I was in would take a blog post all its own to cover, and it was my teen years.  So for now, I'll take real recent events so I can show you how easy it is to fall.

I've had nothing but rejections for several years now.  The one time I did get accepted, the magazine folded before the story was shared.  I tried a Kickstarter so I could self-publish.  Despite many promises of orders, a very small number of people I knew contributed.  I only got $800 out of the $8,000 I needed.  I have tried and failed to find a second or new job so I could be working full-time hours (I currently only work part-time).  My situation is far from ideal, and extremely hard to work through.  My heart and soul is writing, and without it, I'd be nothing.  Yet currently, it seems like my writing is going nowhere.

Faced with all that, it's not hard at all to imagine any person getting greatly discouraged and, yes, even depressed.  Writing is my passion.  More than that, it's everything to me.  I feel very strongly about what I have, as do those who have read it.  Yet I can't seem to get it off the ground.  The current market is making it very hard for me to get that first chance, and there are days where I wonder if I'll ever make it.  One wrong thought along the way, and the path to the worst isn't that slim a chance.

"You could find something else.  Another reason."

Not that easy.  Ask Peyton Manning how he'd feel if he'd fizzled out of the NFL, never become the legend he is now.  I doubt he'd handle it much better.  Pro Football is in his DNA.  Without it, his mind says he wouldn't be anything.

But you're right.  It can be done.  It's just not as easy as "well, plan A won't work, time for plan B".  There's a lot of emotional pressure, valid and not-so-valid, that people are under.  Sometimes it gets to be too much.  With proper support they can get through it, though there are times when even that isn't enough.

We'll never know what it was that sent Robin over the edge.  Looking at him, no one could have seen the turmoil.  But no one ever saw the turmoil in me either.  They saw a young man with everything to live for.  A passion unmatched that could never be stopped.

Little did they know just how close I came.

So, here I sit in a local Starbucks, using their Wi-fi because my home’s AC is on the fritz (in 105 temps by the way), and my internet was washed out by a recent rain storm.  Yes, that is also why this post is early.  Not like I can just pop here every day to do my daily internet rounds.  For one thing, I use the term “local” loosely, seeing as it’s a good 15 minutes from my house.

It’s what I get for living in a small town.  Oh I get the stars at night, full howls from coyotes, a touch of peace I’ve never quite found in the city.  But when things go, the next best option is not exactly down the block.

Makes you wonder doesn’t it?  I remember a time when I myself had an easier time keeping myself busy without the world wide web.  Now, half my options are gone thanks to one little storm that really wasn’t anything special

It’s ironic considering I actually envy the days of old sometimes.  All it took to have a good time was a fiddle, perhaps a couple kids, and a fire to dance around.  No I’m serious.  When was the last time you gathered with friends, family, or neighbors, struck up some music, and just let yourself go nuts?  I never have.  My gatherings are ussualy done around a computer, TV, or X-box.  My best times are spent pouring over the net for research, or staring at a blinking cursor trying to convince the latest story I actually know what I’m doing.  That does not include time spent online with friends who have either moved away, or whom I met on the games I play there.

Guess I’ve grown too close to technology.  It’s not hard to do.  More than a few writers have talked about battling distractions.  I thought I had that under control, now I’m not so sure.  That first day I caught myself wondering what I was going to do with my free time.  I mean, cut off from the net, my options are suddenly more limited.

More limited?  For goodness sake!  “Blood of an Alpha” still needs work, two other stories need plot holes filled, and yet another was just born, which means it needs a world to explore and develop into.  Seems like I have a lot to do.  I just need to pick one.

Though to be fair, it is easy to loose track.  More than a few times what I thought was going to be a “quick break” turned into something longer.  Or even after it, I felt like I didn’t quite have the drive to return.  With my internet down, and for a while by the looks of it, many of those distractions are now out of easy reach.

Apparently just as well.  Woke me up to something I didn’t know needed addressing.  Writing takes time, effort, but more than anything else, its own kind of discipline.  My freshman English teacher called it BIC – Butt In Chair.

Well, my butt has been in a chair, but it needed three more letters.  EOW- Eyes On Work.  Time I remembered that, and got going on it.