Lost my left arm this morning.

The left arm of my glasses, that is.

Probably should have led with that.

Anyhow, the thing just plain fell off, which was quite upsetting. To compound the tragedy, I had the glasses off and saw what, to my bleary eyes, looked like a bit of schmutz on the spot where the arm should connect to the rest of the frame, so I brush it off…only to feel the teeny tiny screw that will be impossible to find on my messy floor and that holds the whole thing together fall off.

Lovely. Well that thing’s gone forever.

In retrospect, the signs were there. The fit on my glasses had been getting worse.

One incident in particular comes to mind. About two weeks ago, I woke up from a nap and put my glasses on like usual, but they felt wrong. Off kilter. I took them off and looked them over as best I could ^[a] and found no obvious issue, so I put them back on and put up with the weird feel of them.

So honestly, I could have seen this coming.

Ironically, this happened on the very day I had planned to finally get around to calling up my eye doctors (with the atrocious name FYIdoctors) and making a long overdue appointment for a full eye exam

You know, glaucoma test, peripheral vision test, pupil dilation, the whole nine yards.

So I googled FYIdoctors (urk) in Richmond, and the only one the official website for the chain says they have in Richmond is way the hell out on Five Road.

But the one I went to last road was at Three Road and Westminster Highway, which is like four blocks from here.

So that set me back on my heels for a while;.

It’s entirely solvable, though. The number for the closer clinic is out there somewhere, I just have to up my Google game.

Been having a super sleepy day too. And it is about to reclaim me.

Son of a bitch.

More after the break.

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Meeting myself halfway

I have got to start keeping it together better because I only made it to 366 words before the sleep monster dragged me back to bed earlier today and I’m “supposed” to do at least 500 words in the first half of my blog entry.

Hence the name.

Clearly something has destabilized my sleep schedule and the underlying assumption that by time I have lunch (usually between 1 pm and 2 pm) I will be awake enough to do Part One of my day’s blogging is no longer valid.

I’ll give you a second to catch up with that sentence.

I really need to learn to be less prolix.

And to stop using obscure words. Like prolix.

Now I can solve the problem of my sleep schedule not lining up properly in many ways :

1. I could go to bed earlier. Not impossible but I am reluctant. I treasure the hours between finishing watching stuff with Joe and Julian (between 1:30 am and 2 am) and when I go to bed for reals (between 7 am and 8 am). They are the happiest times of my day because all the world around me is asleep and I feel free and relaxed as a result. It’s when I am the least anxious. So that’s out.
2. I could delay lunch/blogging until I am awake enough to finish. No dice, that’s too unstable a schedule. My health is best when I eat at the same times every day.
3. I could divorce lunch from Blogging Part One. Have lunch at the proper time, but let blogging wait till I catch up on sleep. That’s fairly reasonable on paper but the transition would be rough. Still, it would give me more time to hang with my fuzzy friends on Tapestries and be more social in general. So there’s that.
4. I could go back to doing all 1000 words in one go, with supper. I mean, I did that for many years, I could do it again. But I like the two part system. It gives me something to look forward to and two chances for self expression. The things I express in part 1 are unlikely to be what’s on my mind when I do part 2. And I would hate to go back to my whole day being a wasteland of entropic ennui up until 7 pm or so every day. The two part system stays.
5. I could just learn to accept that part one isn’t necessarily going to be 500 words or more any more. Make peace with the new reality and stop treating it like a disaster and a failure and see it instead as a natural adjustment to my routine that serves the high purpose of making my life match what is going on inside me instead of trying to work it the other way around.

Those are the options I can think at this moment. No doubt there are many more.

You know, I am a much more competent and resourceful person than I normally give myself credit for. Sure, I have spacial and visual issues, but I can handle them no problem if I stay calm and use all this mental muscle to either circumvent obstacles or, if that’s not possible, move them out of my way.

It all has to do overcoming your negative bias enough to believe that you can and will overcome your problems and succeed despite what all your excuses tell you.

That’s why you have to murder those fucking excuses. They are poison pills that kill you by giving you permission to give up when you haven’t even tried yet.

I’m not saying it will be easy. In fact, it will probably be one of the hardest things you ever do because those excuses have shielded you from the world for a long time.

Whenever the world tried to wake you up and drag you out into the light, like a squid squirting ink you deployed an excuse and swam away free.

But now you know this to be true, and that means that you now have two choices :

1. Cut the excuses loose and learn to grow again, or
2. Decide you’re happier being depressed.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.