A friend (new GOO devotee Aaron Weiss) once said he had read about a psychological study that found people don't feel like they've had a weekend if they didn't have free time on Friday night. That was my experience this weekend: At the office till eight, then sitting down with pizza and a DVD only to nod off on the couch by nine thirty. I may have woken up refreshed on Saturday morning, but there was this crushing feeling that the weekend was almost over, that sort of numbing dread you feel every Sunday night an hour before bed. I trudged through the weekend working on various tasks and got plenty done, but it never once felt like a weekend.

And the sad part, besides all of it, is that I took out my frustration on myself. I denied myself fun, forcing myself to work on projects to "make the most of it" as though it was a curse to have free time but not enough of it. When Sunday night came, I kept staying up later and later, refusing to go to bed because I felt "cheated" out of my weekend. I entered enough goos into the site to last through September, but by the time I was done it was time to get up and go to work (I needed a six o'clock start that morning for complicated reasons) so I just got dressed and went. All day long, the office spun on an invisible axis while I waged war with my eyebrows to keep them open, and though I tried to blame myself or promise myself I wouldn't do it again, I couldn't. Why do we take out our frustrations on ourselves and only make things worse?


One Reply to Weakened

Jackie Mason | August 17, 2006
[hidden by author request]


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

The Tiger

This is the second of four weekly blog posts about diagnoses that have completely changed my life since the pandemic started, after The Dragon. Last week, I wrote about my liver disease, which doesn't have any direct, detectable signs. It's not as if I feel any pain in my liver, or that I can sense that it's not working in the same way that I could tell right away if, say, my eyes stopped working or my lungs stopped working. Go »

Toothiness, Or: More Bad Dental Humor

You know what company makes my favorite commercials? Oral-B. (link) (link) The camera careens inside the "Oral-B Institute," where a legion of white-coated scientists look sternly at interactive hologram displays and lasers carve out futuristic technology inside reactor chambers. Go »

It's a Small World

Somehow "small" doesn't do Earth justice. (link) Go »

R.I.P. Nicole

You know those memes about how 2020 just keeps getting worse by the month? I didn't like them before because it's been such a very awful and depressing year that I'm not in the mood to joke about it. And now I really don't like them, because for me, June has indeed managed to be even worse: My friend Nicole died suddenly of a stroke on Friday. Go »

Illinois 2015

Kelly just wrapped up a weeklong conference in Chicago. I flew in to join her for a few days afterwards to visit family and friends around Illinois. Trip highlights: - Adventurous food at the state fair in Springfield: Krispy Kreme donut cheeseburger, deep-fried cheesecake on a stick, Cuban barbecue pork nachos, mmm. Go »

This Blog Post Definitely Doesn't Conform to NPOV Standards

I once coined a rule that you couldn't read more than three complete articles on Wikipedia without running into a reference to some obscure joke from The Simpsons, Monty Python, or most commonly, Family Guy. Seriously: I just now clicked two links and landed at Anarcho-syndicalism of all things, and sure enough, there's Holy Grail in the "trivia" section. Should it be plural like that, since no one is ever going to enter another item of trivia? Go »