It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m back waiting at the bus stop, which in many ways is preferable to the way things were yesterday, and so many days before, though I won’t get into the specifics. I had a rather significant exacerbation of my insomnia last night/this morning, by which I mean I woke up extremely early, even for me—and I’m writing this at 5 am, so “extremely” early is early indeed.
I came very close to just getting up when I couldn’t sleep and walking the five miles to the train station (rather than waiting for the bus to go the other one) and getting the first train of the day. The only thing that really stopped me is that I didn’t want to start the day all sweaty*. It’s not so bad to end the day that way—there’s no one to whom I’m coming home who has to deal with my sweatiness, and I can just doff my clothes and get a shower and get ready for “bed” when I get back to the house.
Other than that, there’s not much going on in my life. As you all know, I’m not writing fiction anymore**, and I’m not writing any new music, nor learning any new songs. I think the last thing I did that was “new” on the guitar was figuring out the tune to Baker Street, especially the sax riff. That might have been before New Year, though, so it’s been a while. It didn’t take very long, though it was quite satisfying for a moment. That sax riff is amazing, and almost everybody recognizes it when they hear it.
Otherwise, everything is mainly empty, and it’s harder and harder for me to distract myself. I wish I could just go catatonic or something. But I don’t think my psychopathology is of that type.
Everything is also very noisy, and that’s irritating. I don’t wish I were deaf—or deafer than I already am—but I do wish everything were quieter. I particularly wish people did less loud talking, and especially less loud talking about nothing at all.
I started trying to read and work through problem sets—at least all the odd numbered problems, so I could check the answers after doing them—in my old, used copy of Thomas & Finney’s Calculus text, which was the one I used in my undergrad days. I’ve completed one problem set, very early in the book.
It’s easy stuff, of course, at that point in the text, but I figure reviewing and practicing isn’t going to hurt. I knew someone in college who literally did every odd-numbered problem in the textbook so he could master the material, and when test times came, he got terrifically high scores on exams that everyone else found difficult.
Obviously he’s inherently very smart—that made him fun, because it’s nice to be around someone smarter than yourself, so you can learn things—but as with many people who are very smart, he also worked quite hard.
I think it would be nice to try to master some more mathematics so that I could actually do some of the calculations related to General Relativity and Quantum Mechanics at more than a rudimentary level. I’ve also tried to restart reading Sean Carroll’s Spacetime and Geometry, which was really good as far as I had gotten before, but which I stopped partly due to limitations on my mathematical skills.
I think I should probably just try to muscle through things this time, and just file away the bits I don’t understand yet—mostly mathematical formalisms, since the concepts aren’t that difficult—and maybe then get them more and more as I come back to things later.
Of course, all this is really just a fantasy, an idea of me trying to “recapture my lost youth” by attempting to complete some version of a Physics degree on my own. It’s a pipe dream. I don’t think I have the will to carry it through, because I really don’t have the will to do much. The only advantage the idea has is that all the other things I do for fun are steadily losing their charm, so maybe I’ll be able to focus on it by default. I doubt that will be enough, but who knows?
I suspect it won’t be, though. I feel like everything is coming to an end for me. That’s all right, I guess. It’s not as though I’ve really brought much joy or happiness to anyone in the world, and the people I love don’t tend to find me tolerable over the long term. I think I’m probably a net loss to the world, and the loss of me would not be a net loss.
I would like to go out in a unique and semi-dramatic fashion, though, as long as it doesn’t cause too much unnecessary inconvenience for other people. It can be slow and drawn out, and may even, in the process, lead me to some new personal insight or adjustment or revelation. I don’t know.
That’s all probably a fantasy, too. I’m not sure exactly what I’m thinking or what I’m getting at.
I’ve just passed 800 words or so, and someone once told me that about 800 words is the best length for a blog post if you want people to want to read it.
I’m sorry, I don’t think this has been very coherent at all. I’m not feeling well in general, in case it’s not obvious; I’m having some GI** trouble, the cause of which is uncertain. I’ve taken medicine for it, and that’s obviously done at least some good—after all, I’m waiting for the bus so I can head into the office—but it’s not completely taking care of it, and I feel the temptation to just head back to the house.
The trouble with that is, it’s too easy to fall into the trap of just not going in at all, and not doing anything at all, and just withering away. Which, I guess is not necessarily that bad. But, as always, I don’t want to inconvenience people. Heaven forbid that anyone should be inconvenienced by me. I already hate myself; I’d like not to add too much fuel to that fire.
However, my belly pain is actually starting to increase somewhat, and I think I’m going to have to go back. The last thing I want to do is have a “crisis” on the bus or the train and have to make my way back from there.
Further bulletins as events warrant, I guess.
*It turned out that I had some form of enteritis, also, including a low-grade fever, so it was probably just as well that I didn’t even try that walk. Perhaps the developing issue contributed to my worsening insomnia, now that I look back at it.
**Which I guess is no loss, since no one seems to care about the fact.
***That’s gastrointestinal, nothing to do with the military.