It’s Tuesday morning, which should come as no surprise, since yesterday was Monday. I am on the earliest train right now—I just got on board less than a minute ago, I’d say, and certainly it only just left the station. I woke up early, as usual, and just didn’t feel like I could sleep anymore. On the other hand, although I did wake up early, I can at least report that I didn’t keep waking up over and over again before the final time I woke up, so I seem to have had a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep. That feels like a major boon*.
Today’s date is a little fun, if you’re using the American ordering of the numbers. It’s 10-11-2022, which of course is a mini pattern, with a ten and an eleven doubling into a twenty and a twenty-two…all on a “Twosday”! So, again, a bit of fun with numbers, if you like that sort of thing. Possibly I’m the only one in the world who finds it amusing. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I regret to say that I wasn’t able to make a video yesterday, or rather, I wasn’t able to complete one. I started one, but we had one of our various weird situations at the office, with a potentially returning coworker, who was there quite early, and that interfered with my ability to do a video. I got less than five minutes of talking done before the interruption came. I did fiddle around with trying out the video recording on my tablet again a few times during the day, just for experimentation, but that was all. I ended up knocking the tablet stand over while reaching for something else, and thus knocking over the tablet, but it was not harmed in any visibly detectable*** way.
Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to make a video today.
I think I need to update my “gravitar”, or whatever that term was, that generates the accompanying picture that goes with blog posts, because it shows a picture of me from about ten years ago, in which I was trying to look vaguely amused and whimsical. It’s a perfectly good picture, of course—“perfectly” not being meant in its literal sense, obviously, since I don’t know what a literally perfectly good picture would even be—but I think it makes readers not quite internalize the blog posts and things that I’m sharing as serious. I think people read my blog posts in which I try to express my distress and depression, and they see that stupid “gravitar” of me smirking ten years ago, and they think, “Oh, he’s not really all that fucked up right now, he’s just exaggerating for dramatic and/or comedic effect.”
I don’t like the guy in those pictures. But I guess that probably goes without saying.
It’s been a long time since I updated that picture—I don’t recall even how it’s supposed to be done, frankly, but I’m sure I’ll be able to find it somewhere on the WordPress site, which is where I added it originally. I need to upload something that’s accurate to how I am now.
I finally have returned to the particular train and the particular seat across from that National Suicide Prevention Hotline poster that I wrote about sometime in the past, and this time, I remembered to take a quick snap of it. That happened between sentences while writing this blog post. You probably didn’t even notice it; it was such a swift process that there was nary a hitch in my writing!
I’m not being serious, of course. Well, I did take a picture, I’m serious about that. But of course, the time stream of me writing this and the time stream of the final blog post are not the same. The flow of time is different in the two, and the flow of time in the blog post per anyone reading can be entirely different as well.
That’s kind of curious to think about, at least for me. I might have mentioned before that if our universe were simulated, down to the Planck scale in space and time, each calculation of interactions could, in principle, take billions of years for some simulating advanced civilizations, but then, after the googols of years it would take to calculate enough of them, we on Earth might still only experience the outcome as the passing of a second, for instance.
I don’t know why an advanced civilization would bother with such things. But it’s a thought experiment, the domain of spherical inclined planes and frictionless cows, so just go with it.
Anyway, I’ll share the picture of the poster, because one thing that bothers me is that they not only split the infinitive (to be), but they underlined the word with which they split it. I think it would have been more effective, if anything, to write “It’s OK to be not OK”. Even the more proper “It’s OK not to be OK” would be preferable to me.
I truly appreciate and admire the sentiments****, but the split infinitive just makes me more depressed than ever. The uses of this world and the usages of words seems utterly irrational and pointless to me. There’s just nobody home.
Might as well shut off the lights.
*Not a reference to Major Boone**.
**I don’t know who “Major Boone” might be, but it would be a good name for a character.
***Nothing I could see, anyway, with or without my reading glasses. I’m sure there were microscopic scratches and dings, the inevitable hallmarks of entropy, such as will accumulate on even the most durable of substances. Even diamonds surely lose a carbon atom or two whenever one rubs at them. The surface atoms, after all, cannot be bonded each to four other carbon atoms, unlike the interior atoms; some must be bonded only to three, and perhaps some even only to two. And the ones that are bonded to four other atoms in their traditional tetrahedral lattice, are obviously not in an unbreakable arrangement, or there would be no way to cut diamonds. As far as I know, there is no such thing as an unbreakable arrangement.
****And I don’t want to denigrate the hotline, though my personal experience with them was regrettable because the PBSO came and took me away to a shithole, which I’ve talked about before. I was only there for less than a day, but it was humiliating and associated with nerve damage to my left wrist, and it did not end up helping me feel better in the long run. None of this was the hotline’s fault, and I recognize that, but it was quite unpleasant, and is one of the reasons I hesitate to use their services. I think about calling (or texting) them more days than not, but I don’t think I ever will. I’m not worth their effort, in any case. There are many far better uses for their resources than something like me.
I also believe it’s ok to feel vulnerable and admit it… We have been conditioned to toughen up.. especially men. In the long term, it doesn’t benefit because one is just avoiding issues.