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If the world is a semiotic system, what does this mean?



(Stuck in traffic at sunset on Sunset while trying to get to work).

If you live in LA driving takes one third of your lifetime with the other 2/3 devoted to sleep and work. There are definitely much more drivers than pedestrians on the streets. When people stop at traffic lights they turn their heads to make eye-contact with other drivers. Sometimes they smile to each other expressing mutual compassion. Sometimes you see an old acquaintance driving in a parallel lane.You wave and signal to him, but he is already carried away by the rapid stream of steel.
You get so used to driving and it is so hard to find parking that it's a pain to get out of the car to go to the store to buy what you need. You wish a supermarket, DMV, Internet cafe, Library, Laundromat, Cellphone store had a drive-through. And one day they probably will.

If you live in LA there is no lack of adrenalin in your blood. 120 km/hr down the freeway is way better than any roller coaster. Only when you go to bed, close your eyes and try to remember your day, you see the road rotating under your feet and imagine yourself a squirrel running the wheel.

Saturday went out rainbow-hunting in Hollywood. The game was hiding right behind the skeleton of a future skyscraper at the intersection of Vine and Sunset.

For the first time in these two years in Los-Angeles I am experiencing a panic attack. It is 10:28 p.m. It was a usual irritatingly sunny day. The morning started at 8 in a friend's sunlit room. It was a shared morning. Later I sat two classes, went to the library, returned home. I ate, and ate and ate again. Showered, played the guitar, read. I was expecting a friend to come over. Waited for the call and even thought that it would have been nice to have the evening to myself and devote it to studying. Came Ayla and ran away to spend time with buddies at the Bourgeois pig. The phone rang. D. said he is exhausted. I said it was totally fine with me which was true. I remembered that I wanted to be alone and study anyway. We hung up. I sat for a minute thinking what's next. To read, to play, to browse the net, to write a letter... To eat? The drive was so strong that I was almost ready to get up and take off. Something made me stay in my chair. It is the fear. Suddenly nothing made sense. What a deep emptiness. I felt helpless like a six year old girl away from home in a summer camp lying in her bed in the middle of the night ready to cry, ready to run home, to call for help. Now I felt the difference between depression and anxiety. Depression dulls senses, makes you a zombie, anxiety sharpens the senses, shakes your mind, makes you shiver.

I let the dog hang out in my room.

What is it? Is it the shady light filling the room reminding of a hospital ward. The plastic blue stream shooting straight into the ceiling. I make an experiment switching on and off the little table lamp on my table. On - it feels cozy and warm, off - empty and scary. Suddenly I feel the angular emptiness of the apartment where I safely spent hundreds of lonely evenings. Or is it the first chapter of Sylvia Plath's Bell Jar? “...being burnt alive along your nerves; dry, cindery dust blew into my throat; carrying that cadaver's head around with me on a string, like some black balloon stinking of vinegar; I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullaballoo; I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I’d never seen before in my life;...to break the silence shooting up around me on all sides, thick as jungle grass; ...it went straight down into my stomach like a sward-swallowing sward and made me feel powerful and godlike...”

Several weeks ago before dawn I was haunted by little anxieties. When the morning came and I recovered consciousness I made myself forget these irritating thoughts. The sun drove the ghosts away. Here and now I feel them gathered together ready to rush onto me, tear me up and devour me.

It appears that the recently experienced closeness threw me out of balance. I no longer feel comfortable by myself.

I had a need to pick up the phone and call him. Our conversation at 10:30 was absolutely emotionless. I was not asked how I felt. I did not have time to react adequately. Only after I hung up I realized that I felt anxious and scared alone in this weird city. I wanted to call and say what I felt and ask for advice. And then I thought that he must be busy or tired. And coming up with such problems will only expose me as a weak intruding person.

For the first time I need somebody's presence. I called Jessica. A girl from composition class. I had talked to her no more than a couple of times. But I know for sure that her presence would be very comforting. Alas an answering machine. Shall I call Gavin? I decide not to. Shall I send D. an sms? Silly and childish. I can deal with it on my own. I do not want to escape from the reality. It is like when you listen to the music all the time and suddenly the electricity shuts off and you are struck by the silence. It pierces you. You feel lonely and sad. I decide not to call Gavin, not to send any sms to D. and not to switch on the music. I am not going to escape from loneliness. I would rather embrace it. I have lived for such a long time without any need of somebody that I can be quite happy that I experience this fit of loneliness. It came as a surprise: I do need people, therefor I am. I am human. I thought I was turning into a plant.

...an hour later after I started feeling giddy because of the unusual feeling of the ground falling under my feet, after having played the guitar for about 20 minutes and even singing, I feel rejuvenated. It was a real epiphany. It was a shock. Like falling into a basin of cold water, cutting a finger, like a car crash. If this magic destructive spell did not end by now I would have probably be hiding under the blanket equally afraid of the darkness under the blanket and the reality outside it.

The question is which condition is more real: me being anxious or me being simply depressed/ apathetic? What is a state and what is a condition? Am I at the point of a breakdown and anxiety will return later and gradually overtake? Was it a singular fit or an omen of a looming disaster? Is it a single incident or a beginning of a mental disorder clinical history?

It is 12:16 in the morning July 20 and I feel stable, rather calm and sleepy.