addled
When I woke up this morning I had a great idea for a blog entry that I’ve now forgotten. Aren’t those the best kinds of great ideas, the ones you forget? Because that means they can remain great forever, unexamined by second thoughts that reveal them to be stupefyingly mediocre, serviceable at best.
A friend of mine once told me that he had come to understand the meaning of life, in one startling instant, while high on pot. Upon awakening the following day his existential concept had flitted away, irretrievable to his sober mind. But he was certain that he had discovered “it” and was pleased to have had this vision while high, reinforcing his idea that stoners are god’s chosen people.
I’m having what I’ve come to call a hypoxic-brain day. It feels like my mind is suffocating, and no matter how deeply I breathe I can’t draw enough oxygen to clear it. It’s like trying to see the world through a shower curtain, or trying to drink oatmeal. Everything takes longer—walking, reading, writing—and requires more effort. I feel more like a liability than an asset at work right now, but I can’t go home because that would require driving and when I’m like this my reaction time sucks and I can’t seem to keep my attention from drifting no matter how hard I try to focus on the road. And it’s raining. Being a liability at work is one thing, being one on the road is quite another.
Around my partner and friends I sometimes refer to my supposed brain damage—as diagnosed by a neuropsychologist after a battery of tests that followed last year’s seizure/stroke/whatever—in a joking way. It comes in handy when excusing oneself for a lapse in memory or judgment. Usually, though, I doubt I have a genuine brain injury. But then there are times like these, when I have to keep prying myself out of mini fugue states to refocus my clouded faculties on whatever I was doing before my mind wandered off. Just now I feel addled with all the costs of being high and none of the rewards, and for the record I feel impossibly far from discovering the meaning of life.
A friend of mine once told me that he had come to understand the meaning of life, in one startling instant, while high on pot. Upon awakening the following day his existential concept had flitted away, irretrievable to his sober mind. But he was certain that he had discovered “it” and was pleased to have had this vision while high, reinforcing his idea that stoners are god’s chosen people.
I’m having what I’ve come to call a hypoxic-brain day. It feels like my mind is suffocating, and no matter how deeply I breathe I can’t draw enough oxygen to clear it. It’s like trying to see the world through a shower curtain, or trying to drink oatmeal. Everything takes longer—walking, reading, writing—and requires more effort. I feel more like a liability than an asset at work right now, but I can’t go home because that would require driving and when I’m like this my reaction time sucks and I can’t seem to keep my attention from drifting no matter how hard I try to focus on the road. And it’s raining. Being a liability at work is one thing, being one on the road is quite another.
Around my partner and friends I sometimes refer to my supposed brain damage—as diagnosed by a neuropsychologist after a battery of tests that followed last year’s seizure/stroke/whatever—in a joking way. It comes in handy when excusing oneself for a lapse in memory or judgment. Usually, though, I doubt I have a genuine brain injury. But then there are times like these, when I have to keep prying myself out of mini fugue states to refocus my clouded faculties on whatever I was doing before my mind wandered off. Just now I feel addled with all the costs of being high and none of the rewards, and for the record I feel impossibly far from discovering the meaning of life.
posted by Teresa | 4:00 PM
3 Comments:
Be safe, sweeties. I'll make the hon-sup.
I remember writing a whole children's novel once in my dream and trying desperately (within the dream) to wake up to write it down. I did sufficiently remember it when I woke up and surprise, surprise, it sucked.
I applaud your forthrightness in your entries! I know it must be somewhat scary to reveal your innermost thoughts, but let me tell you, I appreciate it. I am proud to call you my friend.
Seriously, though, why should your mindfog prevent you from driving? It doesn't stop anyone else . . .
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