Foaming At The Mouth
That Settles It; It's Time For A Change
So this entry is very long overdue. It's been kicking around in my head for well over a month now, back when I had seen posts from notoriousDUG and scarekrow echoing with frustration and despair. Generally I'm not the type to publicly admit to my pains or difficulties; for me, it always feels like I'm sucking around for sympathy. Not that I think it's wrong in general, just that it's wrong for me. And this in spite of the fact that many friends and acquaintances tell me they want me to share and support me as I vent. But for reasons that are pretty much my own, over my life I have come to aspire to stoicism, except for those all but closest to me.
Yet when I saw others in hard water I felt that I owed it to the community of people I know to demonstrate empathy, that I let everyone know that they weren't the only ones and that I was going through exceptionally bad times myself.
Beginning about January 20th, I was enduring one of the stressful months of my life and it was coming at me from all sides. It began with financial stress (anybody keeping up with the stock market these days?), continued with ongoing dating bummers, and was compounded by a physical injury, thus preventing me from regular exercise, my preferred form of release and structure in my life. Pushing me over top was a medium-sized family crisis involving my mother. Not her fault, but I had to be there for her and the emotional draw on me was taxing.
All of this meant severe nervous strain. There was one morning in particular that was a heroic effort just to keep it together, literally on a minute-to-minute basis. The one point I drew from this time was that something in my life, particularly in my stress response process, had to change before I faced a real crisis situation and found myself unable to answer the bell. All the crappy, petty complaints I had about my life beforehand, I was praying I could go back to being concerned about them once again.
Generally speaking, the storm passed. But it was yet another stark reminder that I have virtually nothing in my life to complain about (this is a large part of why you don't hear me venting; a concious appreciation of the charmed life I lead). That and a healthy respect for real misery and just how close we all stand to tipping into the abyss.
Now I'll tell you a boring story. When I was a kid, my grandmother lived alone in a bungalow alongside the Edens Expressway, just off Devon. She was about half deaf so she'd crank up the TV to top volume. When she died we took the TV back to our place, but the sound system was shot. No matter how we turned the volume, either nothing would come out or it was so loud you could hear it in the basement -- no middle ground or nuance, just extremes. And now I feel like that is what has happened to my nerves: after a lifetime of taking things too seriously and pushing the panic button over nothing, plus several years of pursuing an exceptionally stressful career, every bump in the road is like turning the volume up to eleven. Like the speaker in Grandma's TV set, my nervous system knows nothing except to go full-tilt. The priority in my life right now is the same as always: getting stronger.
Other notes:
I was in the St. Patrick's Day Parade again this year. We went out afterwards and here's a tip: Go to a Mexican restaurant on St. Patrick's Day and you'll have the place to yourself. I think we'll go to an Irish place for Cinco De Mayo.
My beloved Pilates instructor, Heather, is back from grad school in England! Huzzah! She doesn't start teaching again until the end of the month, it's at a different location than I'm used to, and it'll be at 6:30 in the morning. In a related note, there are people who wake up early enough to go to a 6:30 AM gym class. I can't decide if I'll wake up early or stay up late.
Because I'm a strikingly handsome devil, I have a civic obligation to maintain my looks. The other night I went to CVS to get a reasonably priced but proven exfoliant, one that would serve to the make this skin more supple. Things just didn't go as well as planned and the wrinkle under my left eye got worse and the nearby skin got dry and flaky. Well fuck you, Neutrogena!
I had forgotten how tasty authentic tamales are. Or at least the ones authentic enough to remind me of the local hot dog stand of my youth. That rough cornmeal taste takes me back...
That Settles It; It's Time For A Change
So this entry is very long overdue. It's been kicking around in my head for well over a month now, back when I had seen posts from notoriousDUG and scarekrow echoing with frustration and despair. Generally I'm not the type to publicly admit to my pains or difficulties; for me, it always feels like I'm sucking around for sympathy. Not that I think it's wrong in general, just that it's wrong for me. And this in spite of the fact that many friends and acquaintances tell me they want me to share and support me as I vent. But for reasons that are pretty much my own, over my life I have come to aspire to stoicism, except for those all but closest to me.
Yet when I saw others in hard water I felt that I owed it to the community of people I know to demonstrate empathy, that I let everyone know that they weren't the only ones and that I was going through exceptionally bad times myself.
Beginning about January 20th, I was enduring one of the stressful months of my life and it was coming at me from all sides. It began with financial stress (anybody keeping up with the stock market these days?), continued with ongoing dating bummers, and was compounded by a physical injury, thus preventing me from regular exercise, my preferred form of release and structure in my life. Pushing me over top was a medium-sized family crisis involving my mother. Not her fault, but I had to be there for her and the emotional draw on me was taxing.
All of this meant severe nervous strain. There was one morning in particular that was a heroic effort just to keep it together, literally on a minute-to-minute basis. The one point I drew from this time was that something in my life, particularly in my stress response process, had to change before I faced a real crisis situation and found myself unable to answer the bell. All the crappy, petty complaints I had about my life beforehand, I was praying I could go back to being concerned about them once again.
Generally speaking, the storm passed. But it was yet another stark reminder that I have virtually nothing in my life to complain about (this is a large part of why you don't hear me venting; a concious appreciation of the charmed life I lead). That and a healthy respect for real misery and just how close we all stand to tipping into the abyss.
Now I'll tell you a boring story. When I was a kid, my grandmother lived alone in a bungalow alongside the Edens Expressway, just off Devon. She was about half deaf so she'd crank up the TV to top volume. When she died we took the TV back to our place, but the sound system was shot. No matter how we turned the volume, either nothing would come out or it was so loud you could hear it in the basement -- no middle ground or nuance, just extremes. And now I feel like that is what has happened to my nerves: after a lifetime of taking things too seriously and pushing the panic button over nothing, plus several years of pursuing an exceptionally stressful career, every bump in the road is like turning the volume up to eleven. Like the speaker in Grandma's TV set, my nervous system knows nothing except to go full-tilt. The priority in my life right now is the same as always: getting stronger.
Other notes:
I was in the St. Patrick's Day Parade again this year. We went out afterwards and here's a tip: Go to a Mexican restaurant on St. Patrick's Day and you'll have the place to yourself. I think we'll go to an Irish place for Cinco De Mayo.
My beloved Pilates instructor, Heather, is back from grad school in England! Huzzah! She doesn't start teaching again until the end of the month, it's at a different location than I'm used to, and it'll be at 6:30 in the morning. In a related note, there are people who wake up early enough to go to a 6:30 AM gym class. I can't decide if I'll wake up early or stay up late.
Because I'm a strikingly handsome devil, I have a civic obligation to maintain my looks. The other night I went to CVS to get a reasonably priced but proven exfoliant, one that would serve to the make this skin more supple. Things just didn't go as well as planned and the wrinkle under my left eye got worse and the nearby skin got dry and flaky. Well fuck you, Neutrogena!
I had forgotten how tasty authentic tamales are. Or at least the ones authentic enough to remind me of the local hot dog stand of my youth. That rough cornmeal taste takes me back...
VIEW 19 of 19 COMMENTS
... im not posting a pic my ass anyways, if you know what i mean.