It feels like time for a new blog. Actually it feels like I've had some wine, but that is a similar enough feeling.
I just finished watching, from Netflix, DJ Shadow: In Time and On Tune. I enjoyed it more than the when I saw him in concert last year at House of Blues. That sentiment is probably apocryphal to those of you who worship at the altar of live music. But I enjoyed really seeing what he was doing. Or I'm just an insufferable iconoclast.
What else to say? My receptionist has turned into my sounding board and an invaluable resource re: advice how to navigate the minefield of staying in contact with exes.
For about 6 months I've felt a little distant from myself. Like I'm missing passion. Not really depression -- no suicidal ideations or excessive lethargy or even apathy. Maybe a better description would be anhedonia (a lack of experiencing of pleasure from pleasurable activities). For some reason jogging helps. Which is odd because I dislike running and it causes me discomfort in my knee. Perhaps I just enjoy the genuineness of the human experience.
I'll end with a related quote:
"It's of some interest that the lively arts of the millennial U.S.A. treat anhedonia and internal emptiness as hip and cool . . . Hal, who's empty but not dumb, theorizes privately that what passed for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human . . . is to be in some basic interior way forever infantile, some sort of not-quite-right-looking infant dragging itself anaclitically around the map, with big wet eyes and froggy-soft skin, huge skull, gooey drool."
I just finished watching, from Netflix, DJ Shadow: In Time and On Tune. I enjoyed it more than the when I saw him in concert last year at House of Blues. That sentiment is probably apocryphal to those of you who worship at the altar of live music. But I enjoyed really seeing what he was doing. Or I'm just an insufferable iconoclast.
What else to say? My receptionist has turned into my sounding board and an invaluable resource re: advice how to navigate the minefield of staying in contact with exes.
For about 6 months I've felt a little distant from myself. Like I'm missing passion. Not really depression -- no suicidal ideations or excessive lethargy or even apathy. Maybe a better description would be anhedonia (a lack of experiencing of pleasure from pleasurable activities). For some reason jogging helps. Which is odd because I dislike running and it causes me discomfort in my knee. Perhaps I just enjoy the genuineness of the human experience.
I'll end with a related quote:
"It's of some interest that the lively arts of the millennial U.S.A. treat anhedonia and internal emptiness as hip and cool . . . Hal, who's empty but not dumb, theorizes privately that what passed for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human . . . is to be in some basic interior way forever infantile, some sort of not-quite-right-looking infant dragging itself anaclitically around the map, with big wet eyes and froggy-soft skin, huge skull, gooey drool."
_jordan_:
I often experience similar feelings and exercise always helps me too. Although it seems my dodgy knee is a bit worse than yours, so I stick to the smimming pool.