I haven’t blogged for a while, but my life has been going great! That said, I’m concerned about the rioting and the racism. I’m hoping it will lead somewhere positive, like expanded awareness (and that’s already happened for me), but seeing people getting beaten up and hurt is alarming. I’d say it’s best to stay far from the angry crowd. I stronly approve of protesting, but my concern is always that it will turn to rioting, which I don’t approve of. The message needs to get across without damage, violence, and lawlessness.
I also sense that the coronavirus has a lot to do with this. You can tell your countrymen to isolate for a certain period of time, but the danger is that tempers will flare and, at some point, become downright combustible. I don’t know what was right or wrong with the social distancing. Maybe it saved us all from a horrible fate, or maybe it was needless idiocy. It’s one of those things that I don’t have the answers to. I’m not sure if anyone knows. I guess there are arguments for both sides. But I do believe that our politicians tried to handle it as well as they could.
But I do suspect that the social distancing created a layer of hostility beneath the surface that was just waiting to go nuts. And that’s unfortunate, because the violence and destructiveness are undermining the important message that needs to be conveyed. They’re also keeping me from joining in, due to concerns about safety. I don’t feel secure joining any protest that might become a riot.
In fact, I bought some 2 x 4s yesterday at Home Depot. I was scared I’d get pulled over by a cop wanting to know if I had them for looting. But had that happened, he’d have gotten an earful about my table saw and its millisecond shutdown that occurs if your finger touches the blade. But fortunately, Home Depot sells the 2 x 4s in 4′ lengths now, so I didn’t have to drive home with the boards going out my car window.
My city (Louisville, KY) has been under curfew for a while now. I’m proud to say that the protesters here are far less aggressive and much more peaceful than in other places. Louisvillians are good people. It must be because of the Kentucky Derby. (Said rather tongue-in-cheek, because that’s all we’re associated with; and every secondary association–country music, cowboys, riding your pony through town, living on a horse farm, and southern accents–are all patently false. I’d say we’re more akin to any major [yes less-than-humongous] city, such as… I don’t know… some major Ohio cities or Denver or Indianapolis, etc. Only better, because our neighborhoods aren’t suburbs. They combine houses with shops with businesses with parks.) But I digress.
Wow, I must be in a meditative mood. I’m rambling a bit and feeling thoughtful.
A very good friend of mine has insisted that I read books again. So, having followed his wise counsel, I find myself at chapter 7 of Jane Eyre, which I’ve read before. It’s a favorite of mine. I’m also going to try rereading Pride and Prejudice, of which I bought an illustrated copy. I don’t think I’ve read it since college.
It feels good to be reading again. I think I’ve been blaming my mental health (side effects of my drugs, to be specific) for my inability to focus on books. But the truth is that I’ve encountered one crappy book after another over the past several years, and it tears down morale every single time. So I’m going to stick to rereading for now until I’m feeling more confident to try new books.
And even with authors whose books I’ve loved, it’s still been an issue. They’ll sell out and publish a crappy book, and I lose my faith in reading even more. And, like, with Pride and Prejudice, I’ve seen movie or live theater versions of her other books, but I didn’t enjoy the storylines. So for now, I’m going to reread every book I’ve ever loved, and honestly, that ought to occupy me for a long, long time.
Oops, I missed my chance to get to the post office. It now closes in three minutes. Hmm… I guess I could drive out to the late-hours one.
I’ve been building some wooden tabletop Christmas trees to try to sell on etsy later this year. They’re coming along great so far! They have three stacked isosceles trapezoids (I had to look that term up right now… I’m not that brilliant at math!) of decreasing size (yet with overlap), and the upper piece is a triangle. I’m going to stain them red and put a black upholstery pin (way more durable than basic pushpins) in the center of each of the four units. I’m very hopeful that they’ll actually sell. I’ve never been good at selling stuff I make.
I saw people carting things away from the business across the street earlier today, so I went over there and entered. There were three men inside, and one woman outisde in a car with a U-Haul attached. She eyed me warily. Once inside, one of the men said, “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Is the guy who runs this place here?”
“That’d be me. How can I help you?” He came zipping toward me. “Can we talk over here? You aren’t wearing a mask.”
[Eyeroll.] I always wear one when I go inside stores or businesses, but this was impromptu, and I was caught without my mask.
“I’m here about my rug.” I pointed to the floor.
“You bought that? Please, keep moving. Can you step outside?”
So I got booted from the store.
“Let me call the owner,” the man said. “What’s your name?”
I told him. While he was on his phone, I drifted over to my dad, who I’d handed over control of LuLu to. They were waiting patiently across the parking lot.
The man showed up a minute later. “He didn’t answer. He’s old. He doesn’t always answer. But I see that the rug has a ‘sold’ sticker on it. Sorry about that! Do you live nearby?”
I pointed across the street and told him he could bring the rug by anytime.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “It’s too big and heavy. You’ll have to come and get it.”
[Eyeroll.] There I was, ready to have it already! Like, give it to me now, buddy! And he’s shaming me for not wearing a mask, and then for wrongly presuming he could handle getting a floor rug across a street. [Shakes head and rolls eyes.]
He’s lucky I was in a good mood. Otherwise, I might not have been so tolerant.
I paid for the rug in March. The store was going out of business, and the owner told me he’d let me have the rug once they closed up shop soon. But right after the transaction, the pandemic hit, and the store closed for good. (His intention, he told me, was to try to stay open into April and May, even in the absense of paying the rent, if he could stave off eviction. The coronavirus had other plans.)
I’m hopeful I’ll get the rug soon! It cost $50, it’s huge, and it should improve my dad’s downstairs office area. And if I don’t get it, I’ll have to take the old guy who sold it to me to small claims court. Good grief.
Our current rug belonged to Granny Smith, and it’s a red braided rug that has been unraveling in chunks for some time now. It’s become a safety hazard and an eyesore. That rug gotta go!
The new rug looks oriental, and so it won’t cause issues with safety, being that it’s not braided in a circular shape.
Oh my gosh. I came into some money recently, and I bought one of those toothbrushes that flosses your teeth for you while you brush. (It seems I’m clinically incapable of forcing myself to floss.) Isn’t that amazing? I got the thing up and running last night and used it for the first time. My shirt got drenched, but my teeth have never felt so clean!! Oh my gosh. For the first time ever, I might start getting good reports from the dentist! That’ll feel great! I think this has been a great investment in dental health.
I’ve become aware that my short-term memory is shot to hell. I’ll have a thought in my mind, like that I want to do something or look into something or go someplace, etc., etc., and then the thought vanishes. Not just the thought, but the type of thought. And I’m left thinking, what was I thinking about? Was it someplace I wanted to go? Something I wanted to do? Sometimes it comes back, and other times, it disappears for good. I don’t know if it’s side effects of my medication or if my brain is fried. I have reason to believe that part of my brain has atrophied based on images taken of my brain, but I also have reason to believe that Prozac treats depression (or, in my case, pure O from OCD) by thinning out thoughts and thus preventing the ability to dwell upon something negative or obsessive. A direct effect of this would be the inability to focus.
I should talk to Dr. Phlegm about it and show him the photos of my shrunken brain, but he might still be only seeing patients by phone one day a week. This doesn’t feel urgent.
I started noticing cognitive issues in my late thirties. (I’m 43 now.) That was when I’d use the wrong word inside my head. Like, I was thinking about how I never speed when I drive, and I never make unnecessary lane changes; and I meant to refer to myself as a conservative driver, but I accidentally referred to myself as a Republican driver. The synonym doesn’t really work there!
Nowadays, using the wrong word happens all the freakin’ time. I accidentally referred to the top triangle of my Christmas tree as the star. I know stars go atop Christmas trees, but the ones I’m making will just be the tree. No stars. That’s just an example. My brain is fried. Often, especially when I talk (versus writing), I pause midsentence and “lose” the noun I’m looking for. Aren’t I too young for this? And earlier today, with my dad, I balanced on the stoop next to our front steps and said, “Look, I’m balancing on.. whatever this thing’s called.” I do that all the time.
Intuitively, I blame the Prozac and wonder if I should take less of it. But the world doesn’t deserve to be terrorized by me, so nobody panic! Yeah, just… no. I mean, there are other times when I wonder if I need more Prozac. I’ll start having my initial obsessive thought–the one that leads down a slippery slope to complete irrationality–the thought that something isn’t right. Something isn’t right. Hmm… what could it be? And then I’ll think of a few things that are off, but the feeling doesn’t go away. It’s definitely something. But what? The fact that that thought has been bothering me lately is high evidence that going down on Prozac could be disastrous.
Without Prozac, I don’t just become unhappy. I become irrational and impossible to interact with. It’s scary, because I wholly lose control over rational thought, and I dissolve into a puddle of complete insanity. And the idea that something isn’t right is the last rational thought I have before I make a carnage of my life.
Yeah, I guess I’ll try to live with the short-term memory issues. No one’s life is perfect, anyway.