Is it the nature of modern human life that we multitask ourselves to oblivion?
I'm just askin'.
My routines have been all out of whack. I spent four days, the week before last, under the care of one of the largest companies in the world. I was there for training for our building controls software. It was really quite fun, in a room filled with both state of the art equipment, ready snacks, and a corporate trainer whose mission was to enable 11 of us to fully understand and embrace the curriculum. I was able to sleep in a little later, help get Emma on the bus, a different route to and from, lunch out. . . when you've been institutionalized as long as I have, it feels like cutting school.
This week was the reality that not much had really changed. Let's just leave it at that. The reality is that 'things' are just getting worse, a steady deterioration. They have been for some time. The longer it goes on, the less we keep up appearances, the less appointments we make, the more we withdraw. It's not bad, and we have a very lot to be thankful for. It's Bittersweet all over the map, babaaay. I've just been delaying writing because I've been looking for the clouds to part. A couple of my best online friends are new to this game, the last thing I want to do is discourage them so guys, know that this has as much to do with who I was before Emma was born as it does with her. As with so many other things, she's the magnifying glass, the fulcrum, the point where so many things just have to focus through. That I am feeling so weak and worthless and not able to overcome, like I'm supposed to, is a function of so many things. I got my blood-pressure meds doubled a few weeks ago, I think it's affected my thinking. Gonna talk with the doc this week about it. My passions are muted, modulated. I've been on a short bout or two of anti-depressants over the years, this is not like that.
I'm not wanting to complain, really, it's more a matter of documentation. Don't need to call me with awkward conversation. I'll do better, next time. I've got great friends and family, and I'm talking with them. I had a serendipitous phone conversation with one of you, this week, that still resonates in my heart. Nick, the warmth of your fires, lately, have been both nostalgic and inspiring to me. The realization that some of my scars, while still sore to the touch, have healed some. Keep those fires burning. Tom, your consistency, through your book and music reviews, even - I baffle at my attempts to understand how you manage your time, frankly. I could sure use a conversation with you, about now.
We got the tree today. The lights on the house, that I left up all year, came on last night. Most of them. Christmas is coming a little late this year, and it's already shaping up into a less-than-stellar year. Some years you can just feel it. "People make too much of Christmas, sometimes", Garrison Kiellor just said in the background on the radio ("A Prairie Home Companion", a radio show for those of you across the pond). I don't think I'll be making too much of it, this year. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe it'll kick in a few days before, I won't fight it, but it will be alright if it doesn't. I've had worse ones, for sure.
Sorry, no Dave Barry wackiness this time, no gravitas. Just me. Kinda disturbed. Some good, some bad. Bittersweet.
