Archive for the ‘Existential Angst’ Category

More Tales of Insomnia

October 27th, 2009

What do you do when you have a sleepless night?  Here is what I have been doing since about 3am:

1. Trying new positions in the vain hope that I will finally find one that feels good to all parts of my body simultaneously.  I have these stupid arms that always get in the way.

2. Worrying about stuff.

3. Thinking about enjoyable things to get me off the worrying topics, which keep me up.

4. Thinking about relaxing things to get me off the enjoyable topics, which also keep me up.

5. Giving the internet another chance, after a serious let down earlier tonight.  The one thing the internet promises is endless diversion so I get really indignant when I run out of stuff to do online.  Maybe I should take up video games?

6. Feeling guilty about wasting time online and switching over to writing a cover letter.  This completely undoes any progress on relaxing and being happy and lands me squarely back at worrying, because I do not have a job and I need one, and now I’m really fucked, so I might as well just get up and have breakfast.

Which in this case is half a cherry danish.

Blue

September 26th, 2009

I am back.  I don’t imagine there are many of you left but I am away from home and that always makes me pensive, and then add being at the apartment alone plus the rye I had at dinner plus the song I posted last time I was here (Remember?  Isn’t it a sad song?) and you get a blog post.

I am a creature of habit, more so than most people I think.  When I hit on something I like I will stick with it for a long time.  For example if I really love a song I can listen to it over and over for hours at a time.  Or several hours at a time, every day for weeks in a row.  I have been ordering the same sandwich at Subway two to four times a week for the last three years.  I have certain books that I have been reading once or twice a year for over a decade.  I only use one brand of toothpaste, the brand I’ve been using since childhood.

What I am saying is I like predictability and on the personality scale “openness to new experience” I score low.  Travel is new experiences – travel upsets me greatly.  Even though I am staying with a great friend and even though I am on a fantastic course, I really just wish I was home.

Strangely, I used to live here (I am on the east coast), but that doesn’t seem to be helping.  In fact every time I see some familiar sight from my time here, I get a wave of loneliness that I just can’t explain.  So I am finding it very painful to be here.

Still, despite it all, I am glad I came.  I have had other experiences this week that have changed me for the better I think, and so it is not all gloom and doom.

Just some of it.  Particularly at this moment.

When It’s Not Really Anonymous…

September 19th, 2009

No one likes a whiner, and the only person interested in my excuses is me – so, I will just say that despite having a lot of potentially interesting things to say to the internet, none of it is suitable for public consumption, hence the long silence over here.  I believe this is part of being an adult: suddenly you find yourself embroiled in Things which require delicate handling, and so you have to put your little narcisisstic project (blog) aside.  I have always enjoyed my personal posts best, and that’s the stuff that I have had to close off.  So I am not much motivated to write on other topics, since those other posts (on God, for example) were usually the product of leftover energy or a build up of momentum from the personal writing.

I am not sure what I’ll do with this space in upcoming days.  For now I will leave you with this, a very favourite song of mine, an old (and sad) QOTSA track.

Freud Speaks

September 10th, 2009

On human happiness, an excerpt from Freud relevant to a conversation I had last night:

And how could one possibly forget, of all others, this technique in the art of living?  It is conspicuous for a most remarkable combination of characteristic features…. But it does not turn away from the external world [as other ways to attain happiness do]; on the contrary, it clings to the objects belonging to that world and obtains happiness from an emotional relationship to them.  Nor is it content to aim at an avoidance of unpleasure – a goal, as we might call it, of weary resignation; it passes this by without heed and holds fast to the original, passionate striving for a positive fulfillment of happiness.  And perhaps it does in fact come nearer to this goal than any other method.  I am, of  course, speaking of the way of life which makes love the centre of everything, which looks for all satisfaction in loving and being loved.  A psychical attitude of this sort comes naturally enough to all of us; one of the forms in which love manifests itself – sexual love – has given us our most intense experience of an overwhelming sensation of pleasure and has thus furnished us with a pattern for our search for happiness.  What is more natural than that we should persist in looking for happiness along the path on which we first encountered it?  The weak side of this technique of living is easy to see; otherwise no human would have thought of abandoning this path to happiness for any other.  It is that we are never so defenceless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love.

From Civilization and Its Discontents, 1927.

Sulk

September 2nd, 2009

Good news: the dress was easily remedied.  This is why I am not a seamstress: all I saw was disaster, whereas they saw a simple adjustment of the breast padding and boom, the dress fits and I will look fabulous.  Er, as fabulous as one can look in a bride’s maid dress.  So I will look shiny, I guess, and vaguely uncomfortable.

Bad news: my internal female parts have gone back into revolt, which I assume is some kind of aftershock phenomenon from the IUD.  It’s been a week of feeling sometimes fine alternating with sometimes crampy after the total hell of insertion day, but right now I am back in full on pain.  All I want to do is lie in bed and, since sleep seems a remote possibility, allow my mind to wander.  Maybe watch some bad TV, maybe have a rye.  I would probably offer up my prized collection of Philip K. Dick books for a slow back rub.  But back in real land world, I will be hosting, cleaning, making dinner for guests, and doing girly nailpolish stuff with my neices.  Those are all good things, I just find it hard to enjoy them when I feel like I’m being stabbed in the guts.

So I am feeling rather sorry for myself right now.  Sulking is unbecoming but if you can’t be self absorbed on your own blog, then really, where can you?

*Sigh*

August 31st, 2009

I have a lot of shit to get done today.  We are having guests for the next week – Husband’s brother and his daughter, who are in town for a family wedding.  They arrive tomorrow.  My apartment is gross – there is literally a moldy tomato on my kitchen counter and the infamous pink scum is back in the bathroom sink, among other sins of domesticity.  The office, soon to be guest bedroom, still looks like hell but to hell with it – I’m going to shove all the debris into the closet and call it good.

So I am now going to buy some pop to fortify myself for the work ahead and dive into the cleaning….  Seems such a shame after such an awesome weekend!  I really had an amazing weekend and am not ready to be back in real life yet.

It Still Itches

August 11th, 2009

Recently I was in the forest and got some kind of bite or sting on my leg, sort of at the point where it’s too scandalous to be called thigh but too tame to be called ass.  You know?  One of those indeterminate regions of the body like the nape of the neck or the inside of the wrist – is that an innocent place or no?  You’d probably show it but who would you let touch you there?

Anyway, the point of this is it itches like madness and when I am out and about I am always torn between my intense urge to scratch the ever loving shit out of it and my desire to not look like I am scratching my behind in public.  So far itchiness is beating decorum and my reputation continues to slide, as it did a few days ago when a friend noticed Sepultura on my torrent software and expressed his surprise that anyone in my household would listen to something… something like that.

B Vex: Disappointing Expectations Since 1979.

But oh well.  You can’t please everyone all the time – perhaps not even one person most of the time.  To thine own self be true, etc.

Taking To Bed

August 6th, 2009

Remember urban malaise?  I have it.  For days now I have been an utter slug, doing nothing, wasting hours – in fact, the day before yesterday I literally went and laid in my bed for three hours in the afternoon because there just wasn’t anything I could think of that I felt like doing and it seemed like bed was the most comfortable place to declare defeat on the day.

Then last night I realized I was sick or getting there, which could probably explain the lack of energy and motivation.  So I put myself to bed around ten and slept through until nine this morning, when I woke feeling basically fine but still like a lazy wastrel.  Today I am committed to cleaning up around here and not going back to bed for hours and hours, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.

I don’t know what’s up with me.  I feel strangely fine for a sick person, strangely sick for a well person.  Something is missing and I can’t put my finger on what it is.  Ever since the weekend I have been a washout as a person.

What about you?  How are you doing?

I Has A Gross

August 4th, 2009

Oh god.  It’s, what, 4:20?  And I just realized I forgot to brush my teeth this morning.  Gah!  I have been revolting all day and I didn’t even know it!

Eeeuuch!

(Frantic brushing commences here)

Urban Malaise

July 26th, 2009

I was at a wedding this weekend when I ran into a friend who has been away – he moved to Newfoundland last year, which is as far away from Vancouver as you can get and still stay in the country.  He moved for two reasons: one,  you can buy a house in St John’s for literally ten percent of a house in Vancouver (and the Vancouver house would be a crack shack in east Van, whereas the St John’s house would be a tidy little fixer-upper right in the city); and two, he and his wife are getting into urban homesteading.  Their ultimate goal is total self sufficiency, involving small scale farming, keeping food animals, solar power, and other back to the land type stuff, minus the total renunciation of modern life that some back to the landers seem to go for.

We had a great conversation about what I call urban malaise, a sort of listless boredom that is nearly subconscious and that permeates modern city living.  I used to be trapped in it quite a lot, as epitomized by my TV watching experience: I would find myself lying on the couch for hour after hour, not really interested, mildly bored, a little bit restless, yet so passive and sapped of energy that I would rather watch yet another hour of brain wasting garbage than get up and do anything.  I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t even really entertained, but I was held captive by my own complacency and a lot of flashing colours and sounds.  It wasn’t until I cut our satellite that I woke up, after a period of withdrawal, to the fact that I had been wasting all of my free time.

I think this is a very common experience in people who have most of their material needs met.  We are a passively receptive society waiting to be entertained without too much thought required of our entertainment – or only thought of a certain repetitive, uncreative sort such as that required by video games or much of internet culture.  It is easier to do the same thing over and over while being stimulated with periodic rewards and arresting graphics than to get up and do anything.  I have been trapped right in there, and it is only from the outside that I see it.

My friend said something really interesting at the wedding: he told me he is never bored in Newfoundland.  He is a busy man, with a wife and friends, a business, and a home that he is constantly at work on in one way or another, be it planning or implementing moves towards self sufficiency.  And we agreed that work for yourself is not like work for some company that’s paying you an hourly wage: there is something much more rewarding about turning your own earth, setting up your own home, caring for your own needs with your own hands – and this is a joy that urban life denies us.  We haven’t the space to do it, nor the funds (try buying land in this city!), and in many instances, we don’t have the inclination.  If it isn’t easy and immediately rewarding, we don’t want to do it.  We are an entitled society also.

But I am getting sidetracked – my friend reported that the last time he was bored was the day before the wedding, when he was in Vancouver with friends.  And then he said something else: All my Vancouver friends are bored and they don’t even know it.  Urban malaise!

So of course not everyone is bored and not all city dwellers are doomed to misery and unfulfillment.  But I think this environment is well suited to a facilitation of complacency.  And under it is disquiet, a sense of emptiness or “is-this-all-there-is” – but no, this is not all there is.  The challenge is finding a way out.