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 »

Wests Take Southwest to Southeast

As Steve West mentioned, he and Brenda recently visited Sarasota for a week of fun. In advance, we rented an AirBNB (cat allergies prevented staying at my place) and kicked around some ideas for what to do, but we were concerned about unpredictable fatigue and other medical complications and knew that we had to take it one day at a time. The trip had a bumpy start, with Kelly taken by ambulance to the ER the night before (she recovered quickly) and a difficult Southwest flight and Uber pickup for the Wests, but that all quickly felt like it was behind us as soon as the fun began. Go »

WLW: Here's What You Do

No kooky doctor stories this week, as I've been left to my own care, or should I say, the care of everyone around me. I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm sincerely glad that people care about me enough to offer advice. It's just, there's a LOT of advice, from all directions, at the drop of a hat, and much of it conflicts with other advice. Go »

Something Comes Along to Intervene

I've been enjoying "Meddle" and "Remedy" by Little Boots, two great electropop songs with catchy hooks, perfect for summer. But I didn't really take her seriously as an artist until I heard "Stuck on Repeat." It's pop music on acid, like Kylie Minogue produced by Captain Beefheart, and the unlikeliest hit song of the year. Go »

Tooth in Advertising

Every time I go to the local Carmike cinema and watch their pre-show reminders montage, I wind up thinking about dentists. First they show King Kong howling with those yellowish fangs – he needs a veterinary dentist. Then it's the pirates of the Caribbean; they have gold teeth so they need dentists too. Go »

Cold Turkey

Last night, we visited friends to celebrate "orphans Thanksgiving," for those of us who don't travel north to see our families. My family lives right here in Sarasota and we already had a nice holiday dinner on the beach (mmm grouper), but I wasn't about to miss a gathering with friends. The food was good and the company was great, but what I didn't expect was the cold, or I'd have put on more than a t-shirt and light slacks. Go »

Manly Pastimes

"So what did you do this weekend?" "I went drag racing." "Really? Go »