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Winsome mild depression brought on by sleep dep 2008-11-05 - 11:47 p.m. 
I felt like a wreck today. Emily wanted me to spend the night at her place yesterday. I almost never do this on weekdays. One reason is that, mentally, I just worry, keep myself up, and inevitably have to shuffle off to my place in the wee hours or catch a few hours after dawn.It ended up being a sojourn to my bed at 4:30am. I was in a despondent, down low mood through all of today. Granted, I found out some of my complicated analyses had been done incorrectly, and the new ones are strange and not as thrilling. There was a constancy of hopelessness and tired resignation. Bowling league made me forget about work and Emily endlessly wondering what to do about my check engine light being on. It's the exact same problem with no real solution, but I've gotten no less than 3 places to try their hand at it and fail. So I figure I can squeeze a free diagnostic out of one of them. The game project has a fair number of new applicants. I accepted one because he does the writing style just right; he also had some good ideas. Think I might try writing until bedtime instead of reading about post-election analysis. While it was exciting and insert MSM buzzword and civil rights era reference here, I'm glad the whole thing is over. Getting on to repairing the clusterfucked wounds of the nation's particulars is urgent. (Although for a moment there, around the Republican convention, I was scared bone-white at the thought of McCain dying and leading the real Bush III to office. Christ Jesus what a sobering horror). I'm thinking of getting prescriptions for sleeping pills and wellbutrin. The former because, sometimes, insomnia needs a soft sledgehammer straight to the side of its face. The latter because my long-term memory and attentional capacities have seen much better days. Stress can literally shrink the brain area responsible for creating autobiographical memory. I believe it. I also believe that life is overly complicated in intricacies that don't require memory. The trouble is, what I think is important is sometimes useless, and what I think is useless is mostly important. I could be fucked six ways from Sunday by Old Scratch himself about remembering every planned social event and its particulars in rapid and sometimes unbidden succession. But invariably, upon the altar of lost attention or engorged inner disputation, I get it up the ass. I get it up the ass but good. Being in a long-term relationship is fun and curious. |
