Chapter H, as in Hibernation

A hibernating man is a happy man — when equipped with the right tools to make that hibernation productive.  See, I’ve long been the type of guy who “doesn’t interact well with others” (I think that’s a line of some psychobabble that one or three docs has laid on me), and when I’m confined to my confines, it’s not like it really changes the game for me.  Like I might have said before once or thrice, conversation is just a necessary evil to getting what I want.  I don’t think too much about it.

And why should I?  It’s not like anyone else ever thinks about me.  Everyone who approaches you has an agenda, and everyone who you approaches just wanted to be left the hell alone before (and during) the time you disrupted them.  It’s hard enough to make the fragments flying around in your own head fit together — when you introduce this outside sheet (especially when this instigator doesn’t have his head screwed on right in the first place) you’re really giving your head something to cry about.

But most of the time it doesn’t cry, or it did and you never noticed it, because you’ve pumped so much sheet into your system that you don’t know your right hand from your nose.  Now you are someone who isn’t even fit to interact with society, and yet on so many levels you are expected to.  You are told that it’s abnormal to not greet someone when you are greeted, to not give a farewell when someone gives you a farewell, to turn your back on someone in the middle of a conversation.  This is a flawed system, because on so many levels the interaction we are forced to deal with (I mean, think of all the gatekeepers you need to go through to get what you need on a daily basis) creates an outstanding frustration within each one of us that is never properly channeled.

See, if one is to take the necessary steps (and who, actually, knows what “necessary” is these days) to expunge this frustration, and it must be done regularly in a “healthy manner” (i.e. one that does not directly lead to lashing out at others or yourself in a way that produces most long-term effects and some particularly violent short term effects), this frustration can cause several of the necessary wires within one’s head to fray, and these loose connections can lead to a permanent correction by your brain to allow itself to function if only to complete it’s necessary tasks (i.e. to keep you breathing and your heart beating) — NOT to mention everything else that needs to be accounted for such as remembering to eat and drink water and move your muscles every once in a while to keep them from shriveling up.

I mentioned “healthy manner” as though I understand what that means, but I do not, so I resort to any manner that is going to expel these frustrations from my body and to forget about the impending frustrations that are sure to lodge themselves starting somewhere in the region above or below the pit of my stomach (it often rises from there, and in unfortunate circumstances, and I really mean unfortunate, it lowers).  And I am happy to use a bit of my free hibernation time in my quest for this manner, and I find the result of this quest to be particularly pleasing, particularly when I no longer have any recollection of the beginning of that quest or where that quest is supposed to end up.

But I’m making it sound like the sole purpose for engaging in a hibernation session is to embark on some theoretical journey to nowhere, and that is surely not the case.  I mean, I don’t really have an agenda (but who really EVER has a solid agenda, meaning one that can’t be altered when something better comes along!), and I’ve already mentioned that I don’t appreciate when someone else has an agenda, so why make myself into the very thing I despise!  I really don’t think that seems like a good idea now does it?

I will say that most hibernation sessions are unnanounced, and they are often initiated while I’m already engaged in some other activity and I rather suddenly see the need to free myself up for some ‘me’ time.  To this end, I often keep the things I most need close to my hibernation destination, as in water, some small non-perishable snacks, cigarettes, plenty of music, a scissors, plenty of newspapers and/or magazines.  I tend not to keep alcohol around for its deleterious effects toward any goals I’ve set during that particular hibernation.  Depending how long I’m planning to be ‘in’, I may or may not keep a meal or two with me, and usually nothing that doesn’t mind sitting on the floor with me for some time.

I can’t really go on with this right now.  I mean, the rest of it is semantics, really.  It will make more sense in due time.  Really, in due time.

Note to Self: Two Bags Allowed on This Flight

I try to go through my life without carrying too much baggage with me.  I’m specifically talking about baggage created via interactions I’ve had with people; this baggage is typically emotional, sometime psychological, always unsatisfying.  In fact, it often requires a great amount of thought on my part, and I haven’t even told you how much I do not enjoy thinking, although I would not be surprised if you haven’t figured this out yet.

For one, I need to find space in my head to think just a little bit about this baggage (if the baggage is already there, it’s obvious I don’t know how to get rid of it or I already would have, so yes, I’m going to need to think about it), mainly to assess it every so often to make sure it’s not something that can casually be packed into a tighter corner or, best case scenario, jettisoned. 

For the longest time I never realized it was possible to carry a limited amount of baggage.  I always assumed baggage could keep piling up and piling up until the point where the weight of it was not only completely unsatisfying but would cripple me into drastically altering my lifestyle (I don’t know what this means, but I’m speculating that, yes, I would not appreciate this).  But the beauty of floating through the years is in realizing that the longer you float, the easier it is to retain the qualities of a floating entity.  I mean, specifically, I am not physically able to carry around as much baggage as I was ten years ago.  My head will do whatever it takes, actually, to jettison some of that baggage and further keep myself afloat with minimal effort.  That way I can continue to float and experience the added benefit of having less baggage to deal with.  This is also a function of acquiring the skills to prevent certain types of bags from boarding my flight (i.e. my screening processes are a bit more strict these days). 

I’m really thinking of making things better for myself in quite a few ways, and this strikes me as being one of the easier issues to tackle, this baggage.  I really think I can help myself here.

Chapter W, as in Time Served for Time Wasted

I’ve always understood how to take something and turn nothing out of it. It’s not as difficult as it may seem, depending on what you start out with, and I always start out with something easy to increase my likelihood for success. I’ve chosen the basis of my existence, really.

Not to be dramatic, although I will be for just a moment, but time is simultaneously the most important thing to ever happen to me along with my biggest enemy. If I had more time, I wouldn’t very well know what to do with it. If I had less time, I might find myself initiating a new activity that all of a sudden requires more time than I now allotted for myself. I often wonder which is worse.

Right now I’m being punished with not being able to use my time correctly, also known as a permanent anxiety. That means that every free moment I have to think is filled up with thought of what I’m going to do with that free minute, and why I’m not using that free minute in a way that someone else might use that free minute, and that that free minute only feels like 30 seconds, etc.

I see it as my punishment for not being bright enough to come up with a solution. I mean, I know other people out there don’t even think about this kinda stuff, which says to me they are living their lives in complete denial or they are not as bright as me (I lean toward the latter because it helps me sleep through the night, metaphorically speaking).

Sometimes I feel punished because I have morals that dictate I would feel guilty if I were to commit a crime or otherwise do something that would lead to incarceration, because I sometimes feel that solitary confinement would be the best thing for me. I mean, I am prone to hibernation, aversion and sometimes disdain toward others, and I don’t need much to survive. You could shove a tray underneath the door with some gruel and as long as that comes a few times a day and I have an adequate supply of oxygen, I’m set, really.

I think movement is also overrated. I often spend many minutes on end without so much as moving a muscle (now, it’s hard to do that with your mind, which certainly is a muscle because in these circumstances your mind must be paying enough attention to keep those major bodily processes going for you).

Because I think in this way, I am able to simultaneously expend a good amount of time while perpetuating the very time-wasting techniques that cause myself that anxiety that I mentioned before. Hence, time served for time wasted. It’s not even a conclusion, really, because things will continue in this fashion and I really don’t think I’ll ever be able to do anything about it.

Addendum aka The Doctor’s Office : Act 2

With everything that has happened to me in my life, I ought to deserve (yes, I am OWED) a truckload of the good stuff. Yet I seem to be back in these offices with increasing regularity, playing pitch and catch.

I mean, i’m back in offices of this type, but not necessarily the SAME office, but I’m gonna face it– they’re all the same and serve the same purpose, as long as I can get what I need, see, and I don’t worry about that one anymore. I’ve got it down pat.

It starts off something like this:

“So, how have you been doing lately?”

“Oh, not so well — it seems I’ve had a bit of a relapse.”

“Hmmm … well, can you tell me about it?”

And then I go on some long tirade about how I was neglected this one time when I was six and it popped back in my head when I was eating a cheese sandwich one day or that my 5th grade teacher had a vendetta for me and turned my classmates against me for the better part of that school year, yadda yadda.

See, none of it matters if I make it seem that it DOES matter to me, regardless of weather it’s my kitten dying or the sun staying behind the clouds too long one afternoon, I don’t need to justify it anymore. If I seem like a reasonably honest person, and I seem to be reasonably in need of some treatment outside of telling stories within the office once a week, then I’m going to get some pills.

But I really think it’s time for you to know I’m turning these pills into what I want. I am not interested in the pills — this is kids stuff. SOME people like them, but for me, eh, they don’t seem to do much. I’m holding out for something better, and I made a pact with myself that once I went to this “better place”, I would do everything in my power to remain there via whatever means necessary. Well, it took me some time to figure out how to do that, but you know, even the toughest nuts will crack if you apply enough pressure for enough time. I really think that.