A Good Gauge of my Mood

When the Smiths come on the iPod and I crank them up, it's pretty good hint that I'm feeling somewhat maudlin.

Also, I don't tend to write (either here or on my plays) very much when I'm depressed. I don't know how Sylvia Plath or Sarah Kane managed. Of course, they both ended quite badly. The tradeoff is worth it, of course, but writing seems like it ought to be therapeutic, an exercise that helps me to work through my feelings and relieve the angst, but so far, it isn't doing it for me.