A Bi Weekly Blog About the World, The Stuff that Troubles the World and How Sitting Quiet and Paying Attention is a noble form of Battle
JULY 1st, 2018: CANADA DAY, NATIONALISM, PARANOIA
Happy Birthday country of mine.
Numbers. Of Course it would be numbers.
For the record, I've never gotten along with numbers. The language the gods they say; and good for them for loving it that hard. It is nice to give it it's place in the world. This just proves that, regardless of what I think of myself when in a mood or having one of my airs I'm just godlike, and not actually a god. Ever since sixth Grade when the secret list of ratings came out (a list that the girls discussed, and debated, and argued about for weeks that rated all the boys on a scale of one to ten) and I found out I was a lowly six. (In retrospect, I get it. I was a gangly and weird looking kid between the ages of twelve and twenty two when I finally grew into the six foot frame I was saddled with.) But man, did that number send me on a bit of a spiral. This difficult relationship with numbers has followed me all the days of my life. I'd count them, but that'd be counter productive considering what I'm on about. It is hardest to get over myself, to get out of my head, to stop thinking woe-dehell-is-me when I'm tired; a thing that happens every couple of weeks when my artistically friendly but sleep-repellent schedule gets the better of me. When I'm tired everything becomes math; the number of hours of work left until the weekend, the number of hours off between the jobs, how long until I eat next, how long have I been awake? How lone will I have before I get to go to sleep next? How long is that sleep? What if I can't sleep? What if that five hours becomes three? And I work another twelve hours tomorrow! Can I function on three hours of sleep when I'm working twelve? How many hours does all of this zombieness taking off of the back end of my life? It is hard to recognize the ridiculousness of your thoughts when you are tired and your “Survival” brain takes over. It is all statistics and anecdotes, stories and snippits that you've heard of sleep deprivation fucking up soldiers and all of these ridiculous thoughts of ridiculous situations that may never arrive but when you are tired your brain knows you are not focused so it is going to do nothing but parade the worst case scenarios out in front of you and as much as you love a parade if you don't catch yourself you're going to wind up catatonic on a park bench trying not to cry. Yea. So I'm taking a moment. I'm sitting on a ridiculously cold (okay, no, not ridiculously cold for early March but a bit cold compared to what the last few weeks have been) bench in a show heavy park looking at the sun trying it's best to bust through the cloud cover and I'm trying to breathe. It is a good cold. Not the miserable wet and snowy cold that makes my bones hurt. This is that crisp and sharp cold that makes everything gorgeous to look at. My brain is ridiculous when I just let it go. The truth of the matter is yesterday was a good day. I didn't get a lot of sleep, true, but I read a couple of chapters of a really good book instead and had a really substancial meal and a hot shower and my batteries are actually fairly charged from the week. A cup of coffee before the book store this afternoon will take the foggy edge off and I will be fine. And when I go home tonight I will more than make up for the sleep I've lost so, really, brain-o-mine, what the fucking hell are you on about? It all becomes math when I get tired because of this thing I have with numbers and it's all, really and profoundly, ridiculous when you think about it. I can spend the morning being miserable thinking about the numbers and whining about how tired I am or I can take a deep breath of this air and watch those squirrels trying to run on the frozen puddle and I can listen to the children laughing at the snow dog that someone made over night and I can just be here and enjoy here. Today is looking to be a good day. I am grateful to have it. It is hardest to get over myself, to not take myself too seriously, when I'm tired. I guess I have an inner toddler that just gets cranky at bed time. No matter. Today is going to be a good day. I am grateful to have it. I am going to spend as much of it just breathing this air and seeing these things and enjoying my meals and my work and having good conversations with the other people who have bags under their eyes and look as rough as I do. I'm just going to breath, and see, and smell, and touch, and feel. If I can't trust my brain to calm the hell down I will go back to the absolute basics. Happiness right now... … and having absolutely nothing to do with numbers or math.
Apologies, of course, to the book store who may have some problems with this declaration when I try to settle up the cash at close tonight.