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 »

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

Damn it. After The Sims 2, I'm not ready for another glitch to ruin a game. Elder Scrolls IV has always been a little buggy, tending to lock up my Xbox when it gets too excited for instance. Go »

Shoulda Seen It Coming

The news that Princeton's infamous ESP research lab is soon to close (link) is both heartening and a little disappointing. On one hand, if there's anything at all to ESP, then skeptics should have no objection to private donations funding some bonafide scientific research into it – no harm done except for a hint of legitimacy. On the other hand, this lab was a black bruise for Princeton and its "findings" were routinely debunked, and a facility investigating exceptional claims must have exceptional adherence to scientific standards. Go »

New Baby Upstairs

WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH... Go »

More Free-Fallin'

A skydiver's chutes won't open, he falls 12,000 feet and survives with minor injuries, and the whole thing is captured on his helmet camera. (link) You have to click on the speaker to activate the sound. Go »

Newer Neighbors Upstairs

"That's the fucking truth!" "You're a fucking idiot!" "Shut the fuck up before I slap your ugly head!" Go »

That's All I Have to Say About That

Remember those somber anti-piracy messages before theatrical movies a couple of years ago? Like the near-weepy set painter whose wife and kids were going to live in the poorhouse if you illegally downloaded The Big Chill? They must have had an effect on me, because instead of sadness or sympathy, they were all I could think about when I read that the make-up artist for Forrest Gump killed herself and her husband. Go »