All we can hope for is a light / that shines on / after we're gone
For those who did not know, despite the haphazard, stream-of-consciousness way I tend to type these entries, some of them have a bit more thought in them than is ever apparent. Regardless, however, I tend to put the most thought into the title. Unfortunately, though that lyric and song ("Black Tiles" by Wild Flag) are certainly on my mind, and though I have a focus on the light that shines on, I feel a more appropriate title would have been "regressions: a two week cycle."
My current project has been to achieve and maintain a fairly consistent sleep-wake cycle. It worked beautifully, actually, and still does to an extent. The reality today, however, is that I am in a dark and cold spot. The weather shifted abruptly on Thursday. Prior to that, it was an unseasonably warm season; I would go so far as to label October hotter than usual. Despite the usage of my SAD lamp, however, Thursday caught me off guard.
But there are other factors, antecedents that run deeper. The miracle that began 22 October, of a regular sleep-wake cycle started probably around the 30th. What happened? Well, despite not having any candy on Halloween Day (which I find odd, really) I have been consumed with sugar.
Everything may be going well, but my sugar intake is killing me --sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Thus, between the weather and bad, impulsive decisions, I am not where I would like to be.
What am I doing to fix it, you ask? At this time, I am not challenging myself. I don't really know what I did yesterday, and today appears to be a bit of a self-conscious mental health day.
I see now how I am responding to environmental factors, such as the weather and negative behaviors and attitudes all around me. We can only surround ourselves in a bubble for so long, before the bubble bursts and the purity we may have felt is tainted.
It is undoubtedly clear that I am being melodramatic, but there is still some hope, some truth. I suppose in that sense, the lyrics I did choose are apt. I want that light to be shinning on. But what am I doing to keep it lit while I am alive?
Something important is going on within me, and again I am caught up in that false dichotomy (truly the term and concept of dichotomy are false, but let's return to that in a moment and remove the "false" part for now) that the long-term and the short-term can be distinguished. I ate some sugar today --does that mean I'll be diabetic tomorrow, or that later today I will only consume chocolate?
And the melodramatic cycle returns. It would appear that I am caught up in a system of logical fallacies that I cannot explain.
I purposefully and self-consciously studied History and Language because I sought ways to control myself and those around me. If I could name, understand, and explain the historical antecedents, and frame it with appropriate language that would work to my advantage, why not?
Sound is the underpinning, the most raw and basic form of communication. Literacy and knowledge of the written word is revolutionary. Either way, language is ideological. To this day, I view it as a cruel joke that my parents native languages are not English, but seemingly more logical, purer, more beautiful languages. English is the blight of my existence.
But there is another aspect to language. Language is also cultural and historical. As I have explained recently, certain authors --particularly Shakespeare, Milton, the Romantic poets, Oscar Wilde, etc -- undoubtedly kept me from pursuing advanced studies in the English language --I did not want to be tainted by a culture that still manifests itself through Adam Smith and his legacy --capitalism.
In that sense, though I am no longer a self-proclaimed Marxist, and though my actions and thoughts do display an incongruous nature, I am still fairly sure I could classify as a Leftist. But, politics aside --as they tend to be economic in nature in the current era, and are thus materialistic in nature --what am I doing to develop beyond that?
I don't think this entry will do me any good. Nor am I certain it could be edited in a favourable manner. But alas, because it only taints myself, and no others, I will let it stand.
I hope it all works out.
RIP Andy Rooney.
My current project has been to achieve and maintain a fairly consistent sleep-wake cycle. It worked beautifully, actually, and still does to an extent. The reality today, however, is that I am in a dark and cold spot. The weather shifted abruptly on Thursday. Prior to that, it was an unseasonably warm season; I would go so far as to label October hotter than usual. Despite the usage of my SAD lamp, however, Thursday caught me off guard.
But there are other factors, antecedents that run deeper. The miracle that began 22 October, of a regular sleep-wake cycle started probably around the 30th. What happened? Well, despite not having any candy on Halloween Day (which I find odd, really) I have been consumed with sugar.
Everything may be going well, but my sugar intake is killing me --sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Thus, between the weather and bad, impulsive decisions, I am not where I would like to be.
What am I doing to fix it, you ask? At this time, I am not challenging myself. I don't really know what I did yesterday, and today appears to be a bit of a self-conscious mental health day.
I see now how I am responding to environmental factors, such as the weather and negative behaviors and attitudes all around me. We can only surround ourselves in a bubble for so long, before the bubble bursts and the purity we may have felt is tainted.
It is undoubtedly clear that I am being melodramatic, but there is still some hope, some truth. I suppose in that sense, the lyrics I did choose are apt. I want that light to be shinning on. But what am I doing to keep it lit while I am alive?
Something important is going on within me, and again I am caught up in that false dichotomy (truly the term and concept of dichotomy are false, but let's return to that in a moment and remove the "false" part for now) that the long-term and the short-term can be distinguished. I ate some sugar today --does that mean I'll be diabetic tomorrow, or that later today I will only consume chocolate?
And the melodramatic cycle returns. It would appear that I am caught up in a system of logical fallacies that I cannot explain.
I purposefully and self-consciously studied History and Language because I sought ways to control myself and those around me. If I could name, understand, and explain the historical antecedents, and frame it with appropriate language that would work to my advantage, why not?
Sound is the underpinning, the most raw and basic form of communication. Literacy and knowledge of the written word is revolutionary. Either way, language is ideological. To this day, I view it as a cruel joke that my parents native languages are not English, but seemingly more logical, purer, more beautiful languages. English is the blight of my existence.
But there is another aspect to language. Language is also cultural and historical. As I have explained recently, certain authors --particularly Shakespeare, Milton, the Romantic poets, Oscar Wilde, etc -- undoubtedly kept me from pursuing advanced studies in the English language --I did not want to be tainted by a culture that still manifests itself through Adam Smith and his legacy --capitalism.
In that sense, though I am no longer a self-proclaimed Marxist, and though my actions and thoughts do display an incongruous nature, I am still fairly sure I could classify as a Leftist. But, politics aside --as they tend to be economic in nature in the current era, and are thus materialistic in nature --what am I doing to develop beyond that?
I don't think this entry will do me any good. Nor am I certain it could be edited in a favourable manner. But alas, because it only taints myself, and no others, I will let it stand.
I hope it all works out.
RIP Andy Rooney.