The status quo is not awesome enough.
Jesse's fallen in love with Glee, and so on our way to and from my Uncle Tom's in Indiana last weekend (his band Knee Deep In The Weeds was headlining the Avon Rib Fest) we listened to the soundtrack. I have to admit it's pretty good, but the crowning moment for me is when the show star, Matthew Morrison sings a duet of Dream On (yes, *that* Dream On) with Neil Patrick Harris (yes, *that* Neil Patrick Harris) and they both hit that ridiculous A flat.
And so I've had Aerosmith running through my head a bit, and some part of me thinks about that song and about how much easier it probably would have been for both MM and NPH to have bailed on that note and let some instrument play out the craziness on their behalf, but neither of them did, and I suspect that might even be part of the point of the song. The song is a bit about how time slips away from you and the next thing you know you're a lot older and not too much smarter or stronger or fitter. That's what happens to me, in any case.
My dad has long said that a person who is firmly grounded in reality will end up unhappy and depressed occasionally because they realistically assess the extent to which their lives do not line up with the dreams that they have for themselves. They might be doing fine on someone else's scales, but on their own scales, the status quo just isn't awesome enough. Their scales are less societal and more ancient. I know mine are: Nil satis nisi optimuum.
I think I've been in a slump for a bit. It's likely hypothyroidism based, my meds are probably not giving me as much help as I need, and my doctor wants to wait a little longer to reassess since he thinks my Vitamin D levels have something to do with it - my follow-up appointment isn't until late September. But I can't wait until September. It's June, almost July, and I don't have three months to sit around while the cycling season slips away from me and I gain weight and continue to sleep until 9-10 in the morning and then spend the next 8 hours bleary-eyed wondering when I get to go back to bed.
Some people might think I'm doing OK, hanging in here, making it to work every day, getting a decent amount of work done, doing a little yoga most mornings, keeping my house clean and my teeth brushed, but I feel like I'm collapsing, and I know Jesse's gotta be feeling it too. I'm relying on him way too much, hardly going anywhere or doing anything without him, and while to the outside observer I might look OK (yesterday I cleaned the kitchen and mowed the yard), to him I'm worried that I look like a big fat lump of pathetic (perhaps in part because I feel like such a lump).
And I think the strain is causing us to fight some. To quote the Counting Crows, "In a house where regret is a carousel ride: we are spinning and spinning and spinning."
But now I need the carousel to stop. I need the rest of the song. The part where there's a girl in a basement coming out of her shell. I need to get up in the mornings and get some fresh air and exercise and ride my bike regardless of rain. To be sure, I'll be OK. "You got to lose to know how to win." I just wish I was better already.
And so I've had Aerosmith running through my head a bit, and some part of me thinks about that song and about how much easier it probably would have been for both MM and NPH to have bailed on that note and let some instrument play out the craziness on their behalf, but neither of them did, and I suspect that might even be part of the point of the song. The song is a bit about how time slips away from you and the next thing you know you're a lot older and not too much smarter or stronger or fitter. That's what happens to me, in any case.
My dad has long said that a person who is firmly grounded in reality will end up unhappy and depressed occasionally because they realistically assess the extent to which their lives do not line up with the dreams that they have for themselves. They might be doing fine on someone else's scales, but on their own scales, the status quo just isn't awesome enough. Their scales are less societal and more ancient. I know mine are: Nil satis nisi optimuum.
I think I've been in a slump for a bit. It's likely hypothyroidism based, my meds are probably not giving me as much help as I need, and my doctor wants to wait a little longer to reassess since he thinks my Vitamin D levels have something to do with it - my follow-up appointment isn't until late September. But I can't wait until September. It's June, almost July, and I don't have three months to sit around while the cycling season slips away from me and I gain weight and continue to sleep until 9-10 in the morning and then spend the next 8 hours bleary-eyed wondering when I get to go back to bed.
Some people might think I'm doing OK, hanging in here, making it to work every day, getting a decent amount of work done, doing a little yoga most mornings, keeping my house clean and my teeth brushed, but I feel like I'm collapsing, and I know Jesse's gotta be feeling it too. I'm relying on him way too much, hardly going anywhere or doing anything without him, and while to the outside observer I might look OK (yesterday I cleaned the kitchen and mowed the yard), to him I'm worried that I look like a big fat lump of pathetic (perhaps in part because I feel like such a lump).
And I think the strain is causing us to fight some. To quote the Counting Crows, "In a house where regret is a carousel ride: we are spinning and spinning and spinning."
But now I need the carousel to stop. I need the rest of the song. The part where there's a girl in a basement coming out of her shell. I need to get up in the mornings and get some fresh air and exercise and ride my bike regardless of rain. To be sure, I'll be OK. "You got to lose to know how to win." I just wish I was better already.