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today's shorties, and a musing or two
February 04, 2014
Experiencing "Super Sunday" when you don't follow sports or advertising trends is like experiencing Easter if you don't follow Christianity or eat candy.
Figured out why I feel like I need a nap after eating a grapefruit--apparently sertraline is one of the 85 (that's the actual number, no exageration) drugs that grapefruit interferes with, and the result is "excessive drowsiness and solemnence". Okay, then. Maybe start eating grapefruit at bedtime, instead of morning?
I have been assuming that the problems I've been having with my fingers--joint pain, swelling, stiffness, itchiness, and redness--were arthritis. Now I am beginning to wonder if perhaps they are chillblains from my chronically cold hands.
I think I'll dye my hair tomorrow night. Got the wedding coming up this weekend, and heaven forfend if my mom's best friend has to gaze upon me with my grey locks. I caught crap from her about it last summer, and I'm afraid if she starts with me again, Spouse is going to pop her one. (He really hates her.) Better just to avoid the problem and slap on some brown dye.
The winter of horribleness is not letting up--still dealing with bitter temps, snow after snow, and biting wind chills. We are getting a storm now, and probably another one for the weekend, wedding or no wedding. Oh, Well. We'll deal with it as best we can, and not fret over it in advance. (Wow, I still can't get used to the way these dang pills totally kill my anxiety.)
After following Lileks since the 1990s, and getting to feel like Jasper was a personal friend, the news from The Bleat has gutted me. I've been sobbing like a little girl. He was a lovely old gentleman, and even though we've known for a long time that the day would come, and he was a staggering 19 years old, it still feels like a knife to the heart. It doesn't help that James Lileks is a very talented writer, who can make you feel it as though you were there.
Having a good, emotional cry may have done me some good, though. It has been a while. I have been just kind of floating, lately. I feel like a robot. I do everything I am supposed to do, but it is all done with a bizarre disconnect. Like my brain is processing the data--it knows what has to get done, and even seems to understand why it has to get done. And although it doesn't particularly want to do anything, it's easy to override the inertia and get stuff done...but it doesn't feel any thing or really care. Like I said--a robot. Even things like this, or my new Tumblr, which should be personal and heartfelt...more like an obligation I have to fulfill because a goal was set, or an activity was prescribed.
What is the natural state of mankind? It seems like modern culture treats happiness as the default--yet I have to doubt that. I don't know too many people who are truly happy. Seems like I would know a pretty good bunch if it was the norm.
Or maybe we've just been screwed out of the ability to know what would really bring about happiness. We spend our lives being bombarded with false messages about the keys to happiness, and at this point, we have completely lost touch with what our primitive brains would consider a happy thought or feeling.
Perhaps I should just embrace zombiehood. Who says I need to feel anything? I could just roll with it. Settle for basic functionality, instead of pushing for all those fancy ups and extras like happiness or passion or ambition. There are a lot of people who would be glad to just be able to get through a day. Welcome to Stepford!
Or...maybe all of this is just the meds. From what I can tell, A-Ds are a total crapshoot, and even if they do what they are supposed to do--even a little--the side effects bring as many or more problems than the primary effects clear up.
We take the pills because we can't stand who we are anymore. And then we end up hating the person the pills turn us into.
Reading: "Dorothy Dixon and the Mystery Plane" (1933), by "Dorothy Wayne" (Noel Sainsbury Jr.)
"Why Not?" (1915), by Margaret Widdemer. This one looks to be as enchanting as other books of hers. It�s another of her �mildly dissatisfied young woman has suddenly has the means to pursue happiness�so she does� books.
Listening: Goo Goo Dolls, Bill Withers, U2, Muse...and that one cool song with the whistling that I can't remember the title of or who did it and I can't be bothered to look it up. (UPDATE: It's "Young Folks" by Peter, Bjorn & John)
At Random:
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