Uncertainty

Awake again (after 17 hours asleep) and not sure how I'm feeling.

The exhaustion might be a stealthy form of depression. I'm one of those people who experiences hypersomnia rather than insomnia, and when I tried to take my emotional temperature just now I came up with the equivalent of the Magic 8-Ball's "Reply hazy, try again".

The emotional disconnect could also be a flare up of my borderline personality disorder. If it is, then another dish has been added to the smorgasbord of dysfunction the last several weeks have served up. Oh, joy.

I'll see how I feel -- if I feel anything -- after I've had some coffee and woken up a bit. All I really want to do is crawl right back into bed. That, however, is not an option.

"How A Comic Is Made" by Tracy J. Butler

How A Comic Is Made: The Boring Version.

This little article also provided me with my new favorite sketch:



(Image copyright Tracy J. Butler)

Step 4. Agonized Self-scrutiny

As anyone dwelling in the artist's milieu could tell you, this is a vital and, one might say, defining characteristic of the artistic process. There are a number of methods to be utilized here: long brooding walks in the rain, pensive posturing atop cemetery monuments, LiveJournal updates, or simply spending some time crumpled in a heap, face down on the floor. "I'm a creative cipher - a husk empty of meaningful expression!" and "What am I doing? I'm such a hack!" are some of the more popular platitudes for this state of mind.

How perfectly it describes my feelings at this point.

Possibly the stupidest idea I have ever heard

Behold, The Open-Source Boob Project. (Check the journal as a whole for later posts on the subject, including an attempt at clarification.)

The skinny: a proposition that at some sci fi conventions, men should be free to ask any woman if they can grab their breasts.

More commentary (and more links) here.

And here.

All I can say is this: in my present mood, any guy who walked up to me and said "Can I feel your boobs?" would instead be feeling the painful end of some Wen-Do self-defense techniques.

So what do y'all think? Is this actually a good idea, or do you agree that it's really not? I'm willing to listen to reasoned arguments.

The little things

The sirloin tip roast I put on earlier will be finished in about forty minutes. I just put some carrots in with it and there's rice bubbling away in the rice cooker.

I have to fast from no later than 1:30 am, so I intend to have a really good meal to carry me through to my A1c test tomorrow.

The whole Open-Source Boob Project thing has me more annoyed than it probably should. Let's just say that I'm taking grim comfort from the fact that if a man attacked me now, knowing even what little I know, I could probably hurt him badly enough to make him leave off assaulting me. We were taught to hit hard enough to break a one inch thick pine board, and that's more than double the force needed to break a collarbone, a nose, or a kneecap.

Something's wrong. I'm not usually this... vindictive. Oh, I have my moments. But this just doesn't feel right.

Perhaps my GP will be able to help me figure it out tomorrow.