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 »

Flow Charts

Meet the marriage of rap music and Microsoft Office: (link) Why do I have the feeling Herbert Kornfeld made some of these? Thanks, Marlon. Go »

Blood Lines

A few weeks ago, I dropped a glass bottle of salad dressing on the kitchen floor, making the house smell like vinaigrette for a day. Today, I stepped on the last errant bit of glass hiding in a crack of tile by the corner. Better my foot than the cat's paw, I guess; I don't lick between my toes. Go »

Illinois-a Will Destroy Ya

Today, I was asked to jot down some memories of living in Illinois. I thought about a topic and wrote: Some of what I miss most about Illinois is the delicious, filling food. Loose meat sandwiches at the Maid-Rite in Peru, chocolate shakes at the Steak ‘n Shake in Normal, deep-dish pizza at Pequod’s in Lincoln Park, monte cristo sandwiches at the Sunrise in Macomb, horseshoes at the Field House in Springfield, pecan waffles at the Waffle Company in Mt. Go »

Help Needed

Our friend Bill used to work USF tech support in the early nineties, the days of Windows 3.1 and 28.8k modems. Go »

Parting Thought

I read in the news today that a British businessman will get to visit space in 2009 on his frequent-flyer miles alone. (link) I bet this gives David Phillips a damn good idea. (link) Go »

His Name is Bond

[Spoilers for Casino Royale.] One of my favorite bits of any fan-invented mythology is the identity of 007: It is held by some series fans (and me) that "James Bond" is merely a codename. When one Bond is killed or retires, another one takes his place and assumes the same name, which is why you see a different actor every decade and the man doesn't age despite having been around since the Kennedy administration. Go »