Health, Welfare and General Sanity Ruminations
Entry 06/08/2014 11:00:40 AM – Mentat 702
Sleep is for the weak… Or so adrenaline junkies often say.
For me, sleep is an important part of my ability to focus on one subject at a time, instead of flying off in a forty million different directions and finding thirty things to do at once. It allows me to look at my problems from an unconscious standpoint and allow the unconscious to work out the problems my conscious mind can’t wraps itself around. Usually by simply seeing it from a more primal perspective. Without uninterrupted sleep, I often find myself more impatient, more short-tempered about problems or even more prone to avoiding a problem in lieu of complete procrastination. That’s precisely what I’ve been going through the last couple of weeks.
My focus has been shot.
My ability to face stressful situations has caused me to avoid and procrastinate whenever possible.
I’ve found myself anxious when I really shouldn’t be.
I’m clumsy as hell. Last night when I was making myself Cinnamon & Sugar Toast for dessert, I happened to have spilt the teaspoon of sugar all over the table and floor. The dropsies on everything else have been more pronounced. And “best” of all is that the amount of scratches, black & blue marks, and gashing I’ve done to my hands because of this more pronounced.
And worst of all… I’ve had more raging moments than I should have because of this lack of sleep. While I’ve had moments where things have triggered my seeing red; at least I’ve been able to take control of them quickly enough for them not to run rampant as they have in the past.
To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what the contributing factors are for this lack of sleep… Well, it’s not so much lack as it’s more scattered. For example, I will fall asleep like I normally do. Then I’ll wake up 3 – 4 hours later. Then I’ll stay up for 1 – 2 hours. Then fall asleep again to complete at least 6 – 6½ hours sleep.
Wash… Rinse… Repeat… For at least 10 days.
It’s not as though I’ve had stressful dreams. Most of my dreams, while bizarre were not the typical Cthulhu, face-eating weird-fests I typically have. Or even the sort of dreams that conspiracy theorists would be having a blog-party about. If anything they’ve been the sort of bland that friends and acquaintances tell me about whenever I asked them what they dreamed about: Life, Work, Friends, Family… Everyday sort of dreams. Hell, somewhere in the last 10 days, I’ve had more than usual erotic dreams as well… About 5 or 6 if I recall correctly. And what makes them so memorable was that I had been completely lucid in them; right down to one where I recalled the previous dream and made a comment within the dream that I “deserved” this sort of distraction.
It’s not entirely the stress of the summer as it’s beginning to loom on us all here in the Tundras of New England. Sure, there had been a couple of evenings where I felt like I was hotter than usual and struggling with my sheets — but that was quickly remedied by a fan in the window and lightening the sheets and blankets for the summer.
It’s not as though the neighborhood’s to blame… Since the weather’s been warming up, the idiots evacuating from Tammany Hall at closing time are a bit more sedate now then they were at the end of the Winter/beginning of the Spring. Sure, I can hear them occasionally when I’m up at that time, but they haven’t been as rowdy. In fact, they’ve been almost as sedate as the folk that frequent Lily Marlene’s next to the house.
It’s not as though my diet’s entirely to blame… Although I admit there was a couple of nights where what I had for supper did in fact bite me in the ass appropriately. Like the time I had the Mexican Red Chili Taco recipe. Funny thing that, I’ve also had the Moroccan Chicken Stew which was in fact spicier and that didn’t give me heartburn or acid reflux at all. Nothing a glass of milk and sitting up while I digested it didn’t remedy the problem.
And it’s not as though Moe’s to blame either. He’s a rather marvelous bed-time companion; moreso than either Cricket or Tiger ever were. He comes to bed when I’m about to pass out. He’ll get up without much fuss if I roll about a bit and then come back to bed when I’ve stopped moving. While he doesn’t try to get under the covers like either Cricket or Tiger, he’ll make his presence known only if it seems I’m mostly awake and even then he sleeps no higher than my waist. In fact, the only time I’ve heard him make a fuss has been when I cover my head with a pillow to create the absolute dark I need when I’m light-sensitive (pre-migraine). Then he’ll meow blue-murder until I either pet him or call to him. (I need to check with the woman that had given me him. I vaguely remember her saying to me that he’s a rescue from an estate sale; I get the impression that his first owner might’ve been old and died which might explain the anxiety he has when I’m covered head to toe in bed. Especially given that when I leave the house he doesn’t meow abandonment issues like Cricket used to. In fact he’s quite silent when I leave the house for hours at a time).
And finally, it’s not because of this milestone of turning a half-century (in a couple of days). While sure it’s been on my mind, taking a conscious and unconscious temperature, I’m finding myself in the sort of anticipation that I had when I had my epiphany at 25. While sure that time has come and gone and I suspect that I won’t have another — it’s certainly not enough for me to losing any amount of sleep over. If anything I’m not looking forward to my birthday with the same apathy, lack of gusto, and anxiousness I’ve had for many of my birthdays in the past (other than 18, 25 and 45). Sure there’s a little something there as I realize, “holy shit, I’m going to be a half-century old”, but it’s not the sort of “HOLY SHIT!!! I’m going to be 50?!?!” most folk have when they get to that age. Heh, I thank my mother’s side of the family for that sort of non-event enthusiasm. They’ve never made much of a fuss about their birthday and I’ve maintained that tradition through most of my life.
*shrugs* Whatever it is, I hope it passes soon. Or I’ll be seeking out help for it.. And hopefully that help won’t mean pills…
Speaking of Moe, he’s gotten way more comfortable with me (and the house) now that the weather’s stayed warmer. Sure he’s not all in my face or on my shoulder as he typically is during the winter, it’s just that he looks forward to time with me when I decided to take a nap. For as long as I’m above the covers or don’t have a thrown on me, he’ll climb up on me and fall asleep on either my waist or my chest. And like a 4 year old (child) that can sleep any way and anywhere: he’ll happily sprawl out hanging his head off of me while catnapping. If I’m sleeping under the covers, he’ll sleep at the foot of the bed instead.
Also because of the warmer weather — he sleeps through most of the day like a lump on a log. If he eats then, it’s a nibble or two. Most of his eating — wet and dry food — is either early in the morning when I fill his bowls, or in the middle of the night when it’s cooler.
Some of the random thoughts that I’ve had the last week or so are as follows…
The smells at this house are definitely different than what I had gotten used to in the Valley. Gone for example is the fact that I can’t smell the bakery in the early morning. The nearest bakery to this apartment are Scialo’s and Palmieri’s, but they’re too far for from here for any bakery smells. Not to mention they open up later than Maya’s in Olneyville, which was open at the butt-crack of dawn every morning. In it’s place I get barbeque and burger smells from Lily Marlene’s at night. Not to mention cigar smells from there and Tammany Hall in the late evening when the winds are just right. Sometimes in the morning I might catch the smells of dryers and fabric softeners from the apartment complex on Knight and Swiss St, or Addie’s. Lately through it’s been construction smells of asphalt (from the renovation/stripping) they did on Knight Street, or the apartments opposite here on Marcello at least for the last couple of weeks because the landlord’s getting the place prepped for new tenants (now that the loud, redneck tenants there had moved out last month).
Across the street here, I’m beginning to suspect hanky-panky of some sort from the chav there (my family calls him a wigger, but he lacks the bling). One, they never open their windows or blinds. Two, in the last week they had put in security cameras on the second floor that watch the driveway and front area of the house. While either the chav, or their kids occasionally make appearances in the yard, there’s just something about their actions that raises suspicions. I was reminded of the idiot at 32 Tuxedo that did the same thing (kept his windows constantly shut and shades drawn). Turns out that the ex-tenant at 32 Tuxedo who disappeared like a thief in the middle of the night was running a marijuana hydroponics set up that when he moved out — douche-bag ex-landlord was whinging up a storm about the thousands of dollars of costs to the water bill that had been run up by the tenant.
Anthony’s Tony’s (the business owner for the upholstery store at the corner) nephew was here working on his truck on the street. Well, he, the chav across the street and one of the chav’s friends that’s here Monday through Friday while the chav’s wife is at work — were in some sort of committee trying to figure out what the problem with the truck was. When I left my mother’s to come home after installing the air conditioners for her, Anthony (my landlord) was out there trying to help him out, and I couldn’t help but overhear the tales of woe from Tony’s nephew on how the inspection sticker had been stolen (quite the work given the adhesive lasts more than a year and can only be removed by razorblade), how he had been arrested and how they beat him up while he was in lock-up. While I was trying to hide the facepalming I was doing while unlocking the front door, I caught the look of two passers-by that were walking their dogs that were laughing visibly at the over-dramatic tales of woe. Apparently, they didn’t believe his story any more than I did and Anthony being as deaf has he was, didn’t hear any of it.
Then Tuesday when my mother and I got up at our usual time (6 AM) and headed to the laundromat, we stopped along the way at an ATM only to find her Debit Card is missing. Seems that over the weekend she had cleaned out her wallet and in the process of that, misplaced her card somewhere in the house. Of course she stressed out. Of course, I tried my best to keep her calm. We called off the laundry trip for the next day while she looked about the house for the missing card. The bad news was that she couldn’t find it. The good news is that it wasn’t lost outside of the house as my mother’s been monitoring her account and nothing unusual has happened. So she’s waiting 3 – 5 business days for the replacement/copy card to come in the mail. That didn’t mean that for the remainder of the day (until her trip to the bank to request a replacement card) she wasn’t completely stressed out about it being missing. And of course, even with me trying to keep everyone calm, it felt like it was just a veneer to being stressed out myself.
[Last Edited: 06/08/2014 09:57:53 PM]
I’ve come to the decision that I want nothing to do with queerfolk in Rhode Island. They’re rude in ways that I cannot even begin to describe. Try simply to chat with them and they completely ignore you. When they try to chat me up, while I’ve been friendly with them they get intimidated because they see my first requirement (of my 4 Rules of Dating) of 6’4″ and taller as the deal breaker for them having any sort of chance. When they push forward, it’s almost always because they want a Friend-with-Benefits, have the sort of daddy fantasies that scream instead “Daddy issues” to me, or *dry heave* NSA, which is met with complete shock that I want something more substantial, or ignored because I want to take my time.
I recall I made mention in previous journal entries of attempting something more… long-distance. I admit though, I haven’t really tried at all. For one, I haven’t tried socializing in any place where folk socialize and mingle. Well other than perhaps one or two MMOs, but those are gamers and not the sort of folk that socialize much other than to get to the end of some mission or another. And even then — there hasn’t been anyone really to spark my attention, other than to make a joke or three with. Eh… In any case, I have more important issues to work on, instead of dating anyway. I just need to cut out whinging on this subject and move on without so much as a second thought.
There’s more to write, but I can’t remember at the moment as I’m tired. I’ll make one more attempt tomorrow… Until then.
[Last Edited: 06/09/2014 08:47:31 AM]
Oh I remember now what the point I forgot about last night… Had to do with something that I was dealing with in an MMO I was playing (Rift). Was with the guild I play with on my main character (Hyakinthos) and I believe I was either doing a dungeon or a raid with them. The straight boys were going on about how they’re glad that the “heavy hitters” aren’t in the group as it allowed them to score better points on the DPS meter. It was (basically) a show of e-peen at it’s finest. Uh, as a Saboteur when it comes to groups of mobs no one — and I do mean no one — can come close to the DPS I’m capable of doing. Even during the Raid I did last night, if I started first early with the attack I was ahead of everyone by 10% of the total damage.
But apparently because I’m not cock-slapping a boss one-on-one during the fight with that awesome amount of damage, I’m simply to be treated like the red-headed step-child and it doesn’t count. Ha, silly straight boys and their e-peen games. It always gives me a chuckle the demented rules straight men and boys make up in order to prove their superiority in a situation. Ironically, I was taught somewhere along the line that if working as a team and defeating the issue (be it opponent, obstacle, or problem) is a win for everyone. Too bad this is a lost lesson for many…
Anyway, I’m really done at the moment. Two more days and counting. And I’m going to be a half-century. Woo… Until the next time.
Activity Since Inception
Some of My Mad Scientist Work