Lord I gots the vapours

I had a most unusual (for me) experience yesterday at work.
The track drapes in the front room were mussed and the folk asked me to try to fix that. So I got up and took a look, and determined that the hooks on two of the folds were out of the little plastic part of the track. Incidentally I absolutely HATE those kind of curtains. Why oh why do we need to make something as simple as a piece of fabric mechanical? You will never find those in any house I live in, ever!

Anyway, I had to go behind the curtains to try to fix that. That’s when I realized I was dizzy with the kind of dizziness one gets occasionally from standing up too fast. I was talking it through, that I felt dizzy, that I was going to wait a second, then I would reach up again, get dizzy again, all the while still talking about what I was experiencing.

Suddenly I heard a whooshing noise, then a loud a loud clunk, only realizing when my head started to hurt that it had been my head hitting the floor. I was really confused as to how the floor had reached up and smacked me in the head. I sat up and I seemed trapped in some weird cave of white light, white walls and white curtains. I was trying to fight my way out of miles of unending dusty curtains. I was quite disoriented.

I finally got disentangled. I could see the nice, normal, living room. But man did I feel surreal. Poor Mrs. Folk was pretty wigged out. She has pretty severe verbal difficulty due to Alzheimer's so she was having a lot of trouble expressing her discomfiture. Old Mr. Folk seemed to take it pretty philosophically however. Eventually we laughed and laughed, Mrs. Folk and I. Probably because it made her extremely nervous, and aside from the surreal feeling I continued to have for a couple hours, I was really terribly embarrassed. So what to do but laugh?.

I find it odd that embarrassment was the overweening sensation. How could one possibly find anything embarrassing about something as unexpected and uncontrolled as fainting? But that is exactly what I felt, kind of stupid, clumsy, and idiotic. Embarrassment, what a strange, social construct. In retrospect I realize that I spend an awful lot of time either feeling or reliving it. And I hear it’s even worse in some other cultures. I sure wish there was a pill for that.

Gen-somnia

I have a classic picture of the old man. He is clearly sitting on a couch, cast a little sideways. One arm is up laying along the back of the couch. His chin is on his chest, and he is totally out. Of late this is me most evenings in Nigel’s big comfy chair as well. Then, about one twelfth of the time, when I finally can get up and go to bed, I have insomnia. So did he.

I’ve always had very strange sleep. Up to about age eleven I never wanted to. I remember when I was about six or seven, my mom burst into my room at three in the morning to ask me if I couldn’t, perhaps, polish and rearrange the furniture at a more reasonable hour. I then basically slept straight through eleven and twelve. I discovered serious partying at thirteen and never wanted to sleep again ‘till I was about twenty-six. All during the latter I became almost narcoleptic. I would fall asleep, uncontrollably, inappropriately, and often inconveniently, at the drop of a hat. I basically only took naps for thirteen years. Naps being anywhere from three seconds to 4 hours. I also invariably begin to dream instantaneously. This constant waking and dreaming has always made for much confusion between the worlds.

I now have fairly decent sleep hygiene. I really do. I take little to no caffeine. I get up pretty much at the same time every day. I nap (intentionally) pretty sparingly. I don’t take the evening dose of one of my meds because it can disturb sleep. I (mostly) use the bed only for sleeping. One reason being that the feeling of that full body stretch when one first goes horizontal is just, so, delicious. But this year I have struggled more and more with sporadic insomnia. I suspect it’s genetic.

We seem to be saddled with more than our fair share of lousy genetics in my family. It has become almost a game to see with whom which traits will pop up next. Like instead of Bing-O it’s Crap-O. Don’t get me wrong, we have a few really good genes like serious brains, some particular beneficial sensitivities, my hair, umm, hmm, - that’s really all I can think of off hand.

I think I’m about up to A. On this side of aging I feel the P & O looming. I’m sure that they’ll pop soon. Which of course leads up to the question, what then is the prize? I’m damn sure it’s not money, could it really be wisdom or is that just old folky, trying to feel compensated, claptrap?

Chemical Castration

I’ve been having a bit of a “flat affect.” You may not have noticed.

So “we” are trying some new things. Massive doses of vitamin D3 is one. Three weeks after taking 5000 IU’s a day my levels are up into the bottom ranges of normal. Therefore I assume, that there was in fact, a previous deficit. Even though it’s one of the least expensive supplements I’ve ever gotten I am glad to say I can now drop on down to 3000 IU’s. Every little bit it helps.

Also it would appear that somewhere a hypo-thyroid thing appeared. I am being told that this nifty new pill will put some zippy in my pip. Am I pzipy yet? You tell me.

Then there’s the perennial favourite, which is that it is no longer February and early March in Michigan. This winter was a straight out bitch. What a long drawn out drag.

And there is the slow burn, subtle furious-ness at government and their insistence and propaganda that as a fat smoker I am THE embodiment of THE problem. Slow burn hatred is never good for my productivity. But again, I’m sure noone noticed.

And there you have it, the word castration is coming from the Greek word kaezein.
And that’s a cheesy movie reference, if you don’t get it it really can’t be helped.

No promises, and knock on simulated wood veneer...

But, maybe, I’m back.

It is still rough, ruff, ruffe, but I feel a little less paralyzed in all lobes of my monkey mind.

Sorry for the freakout/bailout but that’s what happens when your blogger has “issues”. One of which is literally overwhelming anxiety from it being an election season. Man, do I have a hard time processing all that shite. It’s as if it has the properties of a big, sticky wad of suffocating, smeary, putrid, plasticene. And then it’s as if it was shot straight into my mainline just clogging up all my functions and trying to beak apart my heart. Why does it always have to be in fall when I am already struggling through a major seasonal affective shift? As well as why are people such little bitches about it all?

For those in the know

We’re experiencing another rash of Uncle Bunny setbacks. So send vibes, thoughts, whatevs you gots his direction. I wouldn’t mind if you sent some to my family as well, as that situation deteriorated as well.

Cold turkey, will sure give you the runs

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my checkered, chessed, and parcheesi’d past, it’s to step down, over cold turkey, whenever possible.
Now for some people (court ordered, boneheads, recalcitrant) or in some circumstances (Jail, rehab, de-tox) or with some substances (me & tobacco so far) it’s not likely to work.
But cold turkey is for that brand of people who say things like “Go ahead, punch me as hard as you can, right in my stomach”. And I guess if you’re just a flat out pain freak it might even be fun.
But my step down program has always worked (other than tobacco) every time I’ve needed it to and it’s relatively painless. It’s based on halves and doubles. Either cut the dose in half each time or double the time between or if you really need to be macho, both.

I used to think withdrawal was meritorious in that it would make one think thrice about picking up. But then I used to enjoy a bit of pain as well. And the reality of pain is one of our most fleeting memories. (Thank you brain chemistry for that at least.) I am so over that bit. And I have also learned that if one is determined to pick up, nothing is likely to stand in the way, other than a bullet ot something of that ilk.
People who are in that headspace don’t call their sponsors. That is one of the big ass problems of 12 stepping.

I mention all this because I will be off the caffeine by Monday. I started at the level of one cup tea, one cup coffee on Weds. Thurs. I had one cup tea. Fri. 1/2 a teabag. Today 1/4. Tomorrow a few grains. So far, no debilitating headache. Sweet.

So if I can painlessly get off it, compared to the pretty severe pain it causes me, I’m ahead in the game. Of course when the memory of the pain it gives me has fleeted, I could easily forget to not pick up..... Cuz coffee, tea and chocolates are such sweet poizens.

I Loves Me some internet

Yesterday I suddenly had the burning question strike me. “what is the largest known cell?”
I never seemed to have a free, focused moment to ask the net yesterday, but this morning I suddenly remembered, queried and eh voila it is the ostrich egg. Or if one means the longest cell, it’s a nerve cell in a giant squid. Or if it’s the largest cell in the human body the gametes cover both largest and smallest.