About sixty-five winks, give or take

I have had a sleepy day today. Slept most of the morning and afternoon, and I will likely go back to sleep once I am done blogging.

I am handling it well. For now, I am willing to take my body at it’sd word that I need to catch up on sleep. At some point, more sleep will start making me feel worse instead of better, and that is when I will have to try to keep myself busy and awake.

Towards that end, I bought a paper and pen word puzzle book recently. It’s an addiction I feed only rarely, because once I am in it I tend to become a little obsessed and while it’s harmless and possibly even beneficial to do that now and then (after all, it’s more active and stimulating than just reading), if I didn’t keep it on a pretty short leash I would likely enter into some terrible state of compulsion, obsession, and utter madness.

So every now and then, I get one (1) of these variety puzzle type magazines and do everything that appeals to me in it, and then I am done for another long time.

You have to set limits on these things or they can get out of hand.

That, plus my getting back into using my synthesizer keyboard to learn to play music, or at least the right hand half of the music, means I have been successful in making myself more active lately, and given me things to do besides use the computer and sleep.

It’s a small start, but you know, baby steps. I also did my little workout routine tonight for the first time in a couple of weeks, and that feels good.

Any victory against depressive inertia and the anti-action bias is a good thing. I still have a great deal of negative momentum to overcome before I can actually truly believe that sometimes I would be happeir doing things than not doing them.

It’s the dysthymic trap that makes you equate action with danger and inaction with safety. You become so habituated to a low-action, low-risk, low-stimulus lifestyle than even the tiniest change causes enormous ripples of fear and chaos through your soul and makes you react by becoming even more still, instead of just staying in the fight and learning to cope.

You know, like normal, happy people do.

Maybe I should go to a Sad Party.

That was weirdly adorable in a kind of disturbing way.

In other words, I love it.

I wonder if that kind of party might actually prove quite cathartic and therapeutic for some people. A place where it’s not just acceptable to express your sadness, it’s expected. Normally in society, you are supposed to keep all that shit inside so that you don’t make others sad.

Which is bullshit, of course. The whole idea is that by expressing your sadness, you get it out, and sure that might make others a little sadder, but seeing you feel better will cancel that out, and even if it doesn’t, you will get over it quickly.

Just knowing that I helped said person is enough reward for me, to be honest. But different things have different costs for different people.

Anyhow, a sad party might help people who have trouble expressing sadness otherwise, especially men.

Maybe that was what emo was all about. But somehow it got all caught up with fashion, competition, lookism, and all that other bullshit, like these movements always do.

Perhaps we need an “it’s okay to be sad” movement. No fashion, no makeup, no dress code, nothing for big business to co-opt and destroy.

Just telling people that it’s okay to be sad. It’s not something to be ashamed of and you don’t have to hide it and feel like you are somehow failing people by not being happy.

If your sadness disturbs them, good. That is what it’s supposed to do.

Also therapeutic : watching trucks not QUITE make it under a certain railway trestle.

Courtesy of those thoughtful and attentive folks at 11foot8.com, who tirelessly capture and catalog the endless battle between trucks, low hanging train trestles, the laws of physics, and people who don’t read and/or understand what clearance warnings mean.

Having watched the compilation, I have developed some broad categories for these encounters.

There’s the “almost kinda made it”, which is when the vehicle makes it except for some stuff sticking up from the roof of their vehicle gets knocked off.

There’s the “a little off the top”, where a significant amount of the vehicle’s roof is shaved clean off and yet the vehicle keeps going.

There’s the “hot knife meets butter”, where the top is sheared off and the rest of the vehicle is opening up like a can of tuna as well.

And then there is the ultra rate “deboxing”, where the whole cargo area of the vehicle is knocked off the vehicle, more or less intact.

One wonders why that particular spot is so accident-prone. According to the FAQ, the local authorities have done more than enough to tell people what is coming up. They have signs on all three streets that lead to that particular spot and they even have a system set up that makes lights flash if the vehicle weighs too much and therefore is most likely to be too tall to make it.

People just aren’t playing attention, I suppose, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

Oh, and I did a little music today.

I am happier with how this one turned out than with the previous ones, although as per usual I am not happy with the ending.

I am just not good with endings. Maybe the brevity is the problem. I need to develop, execute, extend, and complete music ideas faster in order to make the whole thing work as a tight little package, instead of something that seemed like it was going somewhere then just stopped.

Still, yay, music and cute animals!

See you tomorrow folks.

2 thoughts on “About sixty-five winks, give or take

  1. The thing I noticed when watching the 11foot8 video was the number of people who just kept going. I wondered if they were too embarrassed to stop, or were afraid of getting punished, or decided they didn’t need all that stuff on the top of their vehicle, or just figured, “Well, too late to do anything about it now.”

    • Well we can’t see much further than the trestle. I imagine most people who look like they kept going stopped just a little further along the road.

      And presumably got out of the vehicle, looked at the place where the top of their vehicle used to be, and said “SHIT!”.

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