hisssssss!
To prologue: I'm feeling better now, but this entry's kind of about anger and sadness.
Being tired leads to frustration about being tired leads to insomnia leads to being tired. I think I've figured out one of the ideas that really get me in House, especially season finale: losing brainpower makes me craaaaazy, because my brain is the trove of everything I've got is me. I hate feeling like I'm not giving my 'A' game, and when I'm tired I don't get into anything enough to be giving my 'A' game.
The other day, I got an EKG here in Shanghai because it's relatively cheap though the equipment's all the same. Turns out I have some crazy 'nonspecific t-wave abnormality' thing, which is common and nonlethal on its own, which my examiner chalked up to poor rest and lack of exercise. The result is my brain doesn't get enough blood. The effect is what you'd expect: lethargy, daze, lack of mental energy, shit concentration. Yeah, yeah, I know I bitch about that every day, but now I'm getting really fed up with it because it's been screwing with my mood.
I don't think I've taken it out on anybody; I hope not. I have, however, been in a pretty shitty mood and it's no one's fault -- yet. I know if I don't do something about it soon, the blame will be all mine.
To say my blood pressure or heart irregularity is the origin of the problem would be an oversimplification, I'm pretty sure. Among the problems: nerves from my office internship and especially my teaching, the raging heat and 'nuclear mosquitoes,' living in close quarters with my mom who has an insaaaaaane temper and a very personal way of mounting her attacks, MU* politics both IC and OOC. So that's... six or seven different 'vicious cycles' feeding into fatigue, frustration, and back to the first, all whittling my axis down, and I have the physical fortitude of a kitten to start with.
SO here's the plan! I'm more physically active now that I have to walk an hour every work day with computer equipment, water, umbrellas, and a smaller bag strapped onto my back with a few more pounds of canvas. However, I only work four days a week: Tuesday through Friday, so I need to come up with a gameplan (read: route) for exercising on the weekends which does not involve difficult navigation (or getting kidnapped by Commies in some obscure border). I must also sleep earlier: even 2AM's too late, so I'll shoot for 11:30PM and probably end up dying at 12ish.
And if I come out of this still dumb as a brick and just as slow, well, that's the Bchan you've come to love anyway.
If you feel blah and gross and useless, I strongly recommend to putting earphones in and turning up your music really, really, really loud. 'Garage'-style punk rock worked for me. I felt so much better in only ten minutes. Though I couldn't hear for a little while afterward.
I don't talk about the fights I have with my parents much because I don't think they're important, but I've been thinking about the note my mom and I left Hong Kong on. What a blow-out! My mom is a little me, I think; we sometimes let things pile up last-minute just to prove to ourselves that we can handle the worst possible scenario, never mind it was self-sabotage. Well my dad's a mellow, methodical man, and he flipped out this time. That rare explosion cued the fallout from two decades of super-violent anger. My mom's personal attacks are very loud and simple and mean, usually about intelligence, laziness, and often decrying any hobbies that are not strictly necessary for survival and the amount of time dedicated to them, with particular bias against computer technology; the metaphor of narcotics comes up frequently. There's lots of Mandarin swearing. Anyway, it got kind of ugly. The kind of ugly that makes people afraid of my mom.
I began to wonder how afraid of her I am, why I'm not more bothered by these moments that I've seen terrify other accidental witnesses, and I decided I am more afraid for her than for myself. Might sound dysfunctional, but I think it's common sense: the panultimate measure of love is how much it hurts you when something bad happens to your person -- and, selfishly, vice versa. To that effect, one of the bigger gestures of love is hoping they'd walk through fire for you, and refusing to make them do it. I know it feels nice to be the object of jealousy, overprotectiveness, obedience without question, attention of all kinds, and even regret, if you're the type that likes to make a point, but I digress. What I mean is, a tangled web often indicates much unnecessary bullshit.
I keep it simple in my head: I love my mom. I know brute force isn't the best solution as often as she uses it, but I honestly don't think she can change too much at this point. She's a survivor, clawed her way out of the Cultural Revolution while her neighbours were jumping off rooftops, wound up alone in the States at thirty with a high school education and no English and but a little money. She knows how to shut up and work damn hard, and for her even that is fighting. Fighting is who she is. I can respect that as long as it doesn't shake up the health of her head and body; I take her advice with a grain of salt and move on. Frankly, if blowing up gets things out of her system, I'd rather get sprinkled by fallout than let her fears and hopes for me poison her in silence. Exasperating as it gets, it never hurts me because I know what's behind it. Nothin' but sweetness, baby.
this long entry was kind of inspired by my neighbour's cat:
My neighbours live in a little metal hut thing; I think they do menial work for a nearby residence. They do not own a phone, never mind the Internet, so I seriously doubt they can afford veterinary care, but the condition of their cat kind of freaks me out.
She has blood 'tears' clotting at her eyes, and bald patches on the insides of her legs. She doesn't hesitate to approach human smells or sounds and her its belly and everything, but startles when touched. I got my first close look at her today, so I don't know if she's deteriorating or not. Anyway, to make this all about me -- I had this awesome scenario in my head where I got badass and bought a magical drug and cured her one day on my way home from work. Advice is welcome. Her family's good to her in their fashion, but I think they'd be annoyed if they saw me interfere.
Edit:
Being tired leads to frustration about being tired leads to insomnia leads to being tired. I think I've figured out one of the ideas that really get me in House, especially season finale: losing brainpower makes me craaaaazy, because my brain is the trove of everything I've got is me. I hate feeling like I'm not giving my 'A' game, and when I'm tired I don't get into anything enough to be giving my 'A' game.
The other day, I got an EKG here in Shanghai because it's relatively cheap though the equipment's all the same. Turns out I have some crazy 'nonspecific t-wave abnormality' thing, which is common and nonlethal on its own, which my examiner chalked up to poor rest and lack of exercise. The result is my brain doesn't get enough blood. The effect is what you'd expect: lethargy, daze, lack of mental energy, shit concentration. Yeah, yeah, I know I bitch about that every day, but now I'm getting really fed up with it because it's been screwing with my mood.
I don't think I've taken it out on anybody; I hope not. I have, however, been in a pretty shitty mood and it's no one's fault -- yet. I know if I don't do something about it soon, the blame will be all mine.
To say my blood pressure or heart irregularity is the origin of the problem would be an oversimplification, I'm pretty sure. Among the problems: nerves from my office internship and especially my teaching, the raging heat and 'nuclear mosquitoes,' living in close quarters with my mom who has an insaaaaaane temper and a very personal way of mounting her attacks, MU* politics both IC and OOC. So that's... six or seven different 'vicious cycles' feeding into fatigue, frustration, and back to the first, all whittling my axis down, and I have the physical fortitude of a kitten to start with.
SO here's the plan! I'm more physically active now that I have to walk an hour every work day with computer equipment, water, umbrellas, and a smaller bag strapped onto my back with a few more pounds of canvas. However, I only work four days a week: Tuesday through Friday, so I need to come up with a gameplan (read: route) for exercising on the weekends which does not involve difficult navigation (or getting kidnapped by Commies in some obscure border). I must also sleep earlier: even 2AM's too late, so I'll shoot for 11:30PM and probably end up dying at 12ish.
And if I come out of this still dumb as a brick and just as slow, well, that's the Bchan you've come to love anyway.
If you feel blah and gross and useless, I strongly recommend to putting earphones in and turning up your music really, really, really loud. 'Garage'-style punk rock worked for me. I felt so much better in only ten minutes. Though I couldn't hear for a little while afterward.
I don't talk about the fights I have with my parents much because I don't think they're important, but I've been thinking about the note my mom and I left Hong Kong on. What a blow-out! My mom is a little me, I think; we sometimes let things pile up last-minute just to prove to ourselves that we can handle the worst possible scenario, never mind it was self-sabotage. Well my dad's a mellow, methodical man, and he flipped out this time. That rare explosion cued the fallout from two decades of super-violent anger. My mom's personal attacks are very loud and simple and mean, usually about intelligence, laziness, and often decrying any hobbies that are not strictly necessary for survival and the amount of time dedicated to them, with particular bias against computer technology; the metaphor of narcotics comes up frequently. There's lots of Mandarin swearing. Anyway, it got kind of ugly. The kind of ugly that makes people afraid of my mom.
I began to wonder how afraid of her I am, why I'm not more bothered by these moments that I've seen terrify other accidental witnesses, and I decided I am more afraid for her than for myself. Might sound dysfunctional, but I think it's common sense: the panultimate measure of love is how much it hurts you when something bad happens to your person -- and, selfishly, vice versa. To that effect, one of the bigger gestures of love is hoping they'd walk through fire for you, and refusing to make them do it. I know it feels nice to be the object of jealousy, overprotectiveness, obedience without question, attention of all kinds, and even regret, if you're the type that likes to make a point, but I digress. What I mean is, a tangled web often indicates much unnecessary bullshit.
I keep it simple in my head: I love my mom. I know brute force isn't the best solution as often as she uses it, but I honestly don't think she can change too much at this point. She's a survivor, clawed her way out of the Cultural Revolution while her neighbours were jumping off rooftops, wound up alone in the States at thirty with a high school education and no English and but a little money. She knows how to shut up and work damn hard, and for her even that is fighting. Fighting is who she is. I can respect that as long as it doesn't shake up the health of her head and body; I take her advice with a grain of salt and move on. Frankly, if blowing up gets things out of her system, I'd rather get sprinkled by fallout than let her fears and hopes for me poison her in silence. Exasperating as it gets, it never hurts me because I know what's behind it. Nothin' but sweetness, baby.
this long entry was kind of inspired by my neighbour's cat:
My neighbours live in a little metal hut thing; I think they do menial work for a nearby residence. They do not own a phone, never mind the Internet, so I seriously doubt they can afford veterinary care, but the condition of their cat kind of freaks me out.
She has blood 'tears' clotting at her eyes, and bald patches on the insides of her legs. She doesn't hesitate to approach human smells or sounds and her its belly and everything, but startles when touched. I got my first close look at her today, so I don't know if she's deteriorating or not. Anyway, to make this all about me -- I had this awesome scenario in my head where I got badass and bought a magical drug and cured her one day on my way home from work. Advice is welcome. Her family's good to her in their fashion, but I think they'd be annoyed if they saw me interfere.
Edit: