Alive, Undisputed
[LOBO]
My best guess, when explaining the random fits of rage, would be a combination of lack of sleep and “Seasonal Affective Disorder” ... something I typically get in March. The extreme temperatures of the Midwest have made the outside extremely inhospitable and arguably deadly; the absence of warmth and sunshine coupled with the extended time trapped indoors has made for some frayed nerves -that the last few years have been fairly Hellish just pours gasoline over the whole condition.
I'm not sure how or if the poor sleep is connected, but it warrants consideration. My memory and ability to concentrate have notably suffered. This is probably how I lost my driver's license in the first place. While the identification card has since been located and recovered, I've been needled randomly while attempting purchases -most poignantly at a semi-local WalMart where I shopped weekly- where company policy was applied rather than common sense.
-I exploded in fury. And I would argue it was justifiable, thus I offer no apology and will never shop there again. Still, it's clear my general moodiness is obvious in all facets of my life. The few unwanted brushes with the general public seem to only exacerbate my angst; traffic and road construction triple the length of projects. People, somehow utterly oblivious to others, seem to obstruct my every move, and conversations seem disjointed, disconnected, analogous to a poorly-tuned radio. Quietly, I suspect that the intelligence of the population has dropped an average of fifty IQ points ...
Woman: What are teenage boys thinking when they look at me like that?Me: They are plotting the shortest route to your ovaries.
Woman: Eeewe. What do they think about when not looking at me?
Me: The shortest route to someone else's ovaries.
None of this is true of course. It's in my head.
A way to calm down and relax -as mentioned in a recent post- seems most imperative, lest another unlucky and unwitting individual face a massive supernova of my culminating, hair-trigger frustration.
Addressing the sleep issue seems the only approachable angle. I've spent the last week taking unwise amounts of time off of work, and indeed slept days away in my typical broken and haphazard fashion. My dreaming is wild and oddly exhausting: while not nightmares in the fearful sense, they are of wars, natural disasters, post-apocalyptic survival, almost borderlining into strangely rich and textured yet-unlikely adventures that would make little sense in “reality.” Colossal, impossible vessels -organic and bioluminescent in appearance- crash into crowded cities, killing untold tens of thousands as I watch in a helpless, macabre, and horrified awe. Abandoned houses I explore seem to change shape once inside, offering tunnels that could not fit in the architecture, precarious walkways, wide and dangerous chasms to jump, dungeons and underground waterfalls and streams, endless creatures to fight, puzzles to solve …
Admittedly, going insane isn't for everyone.
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