another suitcase in another hall
Mar. 7th, 2004 11:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbicideI've really gotta rethink my sleep schedule.
After my sleep-deprived collapse yesterday, I proceeded to stay up until 5am. I forced myself out of bed at 10 so that tomorrow won't be completely fucked, but the effects stayed with me all day.
Today was a bookclub Sunday, so I frogmarched myself to B&N early to actually read the book in question. It's only 150pgs long and I churned through most of it. Wish I'd spent more time on it, but definitely glad I didn't wimp out on bookclub.
I read until 2pm and met![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drexeldeb for lunch and much anticipated pictures/tales from her recent trip to Hong Kong. It was a lovely way to spend my afternoon. We had an interesting discussion about travel--how it is a dual journey: external and internal. I also realized that I've been somewhat nomadic. The longest I've stayed in one place was the 5 years I lived with Amy in Hayward. I've been moving every year or two before and after that, since high school. Huh. And she's loaned me the next book (Life of Pi) for which I am eternally grateful because I just can't spend any more money right now.
Bookclub was a lot of fun. As we've gotten to know each other better our discussions have started going on greater tangents about our personal experiences. I'm also trying to seduce them into seeing Hildago with me. Viggo + pretty horses. Rawwr. Does a movie really need more?
Anyhow, Man's Search for Meaning was a good choice. It certainly made me think about my attitude toward life. Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, suggests that "...we can discover this meaning in life in three different ways: (1) by doing a deed; (2) by experiencing a value; and (3) by suffering." Learning from our suffering, but not perpetuating misery by worrying about things outside of our control. And "...what matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general, but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment."
He made an interesting comment about how life vacillates between distress and boredom. And that there's a curious guilt phenomenon, where one feels unhappy, and then feels guilty about being unhappy. As if being unhappy = life is terribly wrong. He also had many inspirational comments about the power of love (which unfortunately is sending me into Huey Lewis land, but I'll forgive Frankl for this). And after all, Moulin Rogue tells us, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." I must now go kiss my cat.
Argh. I'm so hungry. I skipped breakfast, had a sandwich for lunch and then skipped dinner. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to prepare food of any kind. In fact, I quite lack the motivation to walk to the kitchen and eat toast. You know that whole thing about drinking water to curb hunger. Bullshit. I've had to pee 700 times but my stomach is still rumbling. I even lack the motivation to chew, so there's really no hope for me tonight. (I'm clearly guilty of all the flaws Frankl points out about humanity perpetuating its misery).
And I was listening to My Sharona earlier, which always, always makes me immediately stop whatever I'm doing and dance. I decided to channel that energy into an actual workout. And then almost passed out. Every muscle hurts. Owie.
Also major guilt for largely squandering my weekend and not doing any work on Ellie's quilt. Her birthday is next week. I simply can't do anything requiring manual dexterity tonight, so I'm going to bed now and plan on working late into the night all week in my own personal sweatshop. Her birthday is Wednesday but we're not celebrating it together until Friday.
After my sleep-deprived collapse yesterday, I proceeded to stay up until 5am. I forced myself out of bed at 10 so that tomorrow won't be completely fucked, but the effects stayed with me all day.
Today was a bookclub Sunday, so I frogmarched myself to B&N early to actually read the book in question. It's only 150pgs long and I churned through most of it. Wish I'd spent more time on it, but definitely glad I didn't wimp out on bookclub.
I read until 2pm and met
drexeldeb for lunch and much anticipated pictures/tales from her recent trip to Hong Kong. It was a lovely way to spend my afternoon. We had an interesting discussion about travel--how it is a dual journey: external and internal. I also realized that I've been somewhat nomadic. The longest I've stayed in one place was the 5 years I lived with Amy in Hayward. I've been moving every year or two before and after that, since high school. Huh. And she's loaned me the next book (Life of Pi) for which I am eternally grateful because I just can't spend any more money right now.Bookclub was a lot of fun. As we've gotten to know each other better our discussions have started going on greater tangents about our personal experiences. I'm also trying to seduce them into seeing Hildago with me. Viggo + pretty horses. Rawwr. Does a movie really need more?
Anyhow, Man's Search for Meaning was a good choice. It certainly made me think about my attitude toward life. Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, suggests that "...we can discover this meaning in life in three different ways: (1) by doing a deed; (2) by experiencing a value; and (3) by suffering." Learning from our suffering, but not perpetuating misery by worrying about things outside of our control. And "...what matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general, but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment."
He made an interesting comment about how life vacillates between distress and boredom. And that there's a curious guilt phenomenon, where one feels unhappy, and then feels guilty about being unhappy. As if being unhappy = life is terribly wrong. He also had many inspirational comments about the power of love (which unfortunately is sending me into Huey Lewis land, but I'll forgive Frankl for this). And after all, Moulin Rogue tells us, "the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." I must now go kiss my cat.
Argh. I'm so hungry. I skipped breakfast, had a sandwich for lunch and then skipped dinner. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to prepare food of any kind. In fact, I quite lack the motivation to walk to the kitchen and eat toast. You know that whole thing about drinking water to curb hunger. Bullshit. I've had to pee 700 times but my stomach is still rumbling. I even lack the motivation to chew, so there's really no hope for me tonight. (I'm clearly guilty of all the flaws Frankl points out about humanity perpetuating its misery).
And I was listening to My Sharona earlier, which always, always makes me immediately stop whatever I'm doing and dance. I decided to channel that energy into an actual workout. And then almost passed out. Every muscle hurts. Owie.
Also major guilt for largely squandering my weekend and not doing any work on Ellie's quilt. Her birthday is next week. I simply can't do anything requiring manual dexterity tonight, so I'm going to bed now and plan on working late into the night all week in my own personal sweatshop. Her birthday is Wednesday but we're not celebrating it together until Friday.
