Weakened
by Scott Hardie on August 16, 2006

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
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 »

Newer Neighbors Upstairs
"That's the fucking truth!" "You're a fucking idiot!" "Shut the fuck up before I slap your ugly head!" Go »
Mystery Gift
Thank you, Johnson, whoever you are. I received what I presume is a birthday gift hand-labeled from someone named "Johnson" in Jacksonville, Alabama, postmarked Anniston, Alabama on May 22nd. This means it's someone who knows me well enough to anticipate my birthday and know my home address. Go »
And If You're Not Careful, You Might Learn Something
Ten things I learned from watching the entire run of The Cosby Show over the last few months on Netflix streaming: - Cliff wasn't the only one who wore wild sweaters. - Seinfeld was celebrated as the "show about nothing," but this show had even less plot. Entire episodes just riffed for twenty minutes on Vanessa fretting over a test or Theo having a crush on a girl, nothing more. Go »
Meow Mix
Thanks Evgeni: Cat Music. 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 »
Jackie Mason | August 17, 2006
[hidden by author request]