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
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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 »

PIMP

Many thanks to Miah Poisson and Ines Sarante for throwing a great 30th birthday party for Miah this weekend. I don't play much Guitar Hero, but apparently I play enough to win a tournament against Miah's GH-obsessed coworkers, or maybe it's just because the game is ridiculously handicapped against experts. I'm just happy because I won a pimp stein: We ate lots of great food, had fun with karaoke, and talked until the hour was late. Go »

DMV Mystery

My last car, a 1996 Mercury, was registered in my mother's name, so every year in December (the month of her birthday), the registration sticker would be delivered to her at her house and she'd have to pass it to me to put on the license plate. No big deal. A few months ago, I bought a 2007 Dodge in my name, though she co-signed the credit application since I had no credit history. Go »

Redundancy

Can we add "information overload" to the list of phrases retired from the language due to clichéd overuse? It is apparently now used to describe anything remotely intense. Go »

Rambling Phone Post

Does it make sense for me to keep my phone? Work has provided me with a cell phone. I broke my home phone last weekend, and I could buy another one at Target for ten bucks, but I wonder if I should finally kick the $45 monthly bill and stick to either the cell phone or something like Skype (for which I'd have to buy a mic). Go »

Pandora

[This post wound up being very long-winded and self-absorbed, but that's what blogs are for, I guess.] For years, I've gotten increasingly picky about how I listen to music. Sometimes I just want to listen to everything I have on shuffle, but sometimes I want to get more specific like only music from one genre on shuffle or all songs by one artist in chronological order, and sometimes I want to get really specific, like songs about dreams or artists from Michigan or recordings featuring violins. Go »

So Long, NCSA Primer

Someone asked me for help learning HTML today. I turned to my trusted traditional source, the good old primer at the National Center for Supercomputing Applications at the University of Illinois, but alas, it has finally been removed after all these years. This was one of the major how-to guides in the early years of the web, and it's the very guide that I used to teach myself HTML one weekend in 1996, from which this very site you're reading has since evolved. Go »