Punch Drunk

I am just in a crappy mood. There’s nothing that can be done about it, per se. The thing that would do me the most good is flipping my schedule back around… but until my night shift rotation is over, that’s just “unpossible.” Even when I’m in a crappy mood, though, I don’t show it to other people. I am still my nice, sweet, accommodating self on the phone and via e-mail, while inside I am burning for a good night’s sleep.

It bothers me that I’m not in a good mood, because that’s not my normal personality. My normal personality is fun-loving, if a bit introspective. It’s hard to replicate that when I spend my “days” feeling like I’ve been run over with a MAC truck. Before you even ask, I am definitely getting enough sleep. It’s just not the same type. It’s interrupted and jagged. My dreams are fragments of conversations and places long left in the Kodak Carousel of my mind.

Actually, I’m going to have a little fun with that one. Here, without any context or explanation, are some of the punchlines to the fragments:

  2. Two would have done it.
  3. Awwww…. you have the boobs I always wanted.
  4. It’s just true.
  5. Why are you touching my butt?
  7. Not my goat…
  8. When you don’t count, you slow down, and the Baptists beat us to lunch!
  9. …and then Kevin got bored.
  10. Oh look! Better people.

If any of you want to use this as a quiz, I’ll tell you if you’re right or not.

  1. You’ll have to dig really deep for this one. I doubt you got it.
  2. You didn’t get this one, either. But if I told you the story, it would make you cry with laughter.
  3. Not that one, the other one.
  4. Probably not- less a story, and more a phrase I picked up.
  5. Probably not. But it was said by one person at the top of the ladder to someone at the bottom.
  6. There’s no way you didn’t get this one if you know where the reference came from (video game).
  7. You totally got this one.
  8. My Portland friends wouldn’t get this one, but my Houston ones might.
  9. Every story that begins this way includes peals of laughter and “OH MY GOD!”
  10. Never gonna get it. Cue En Vogue.

There’s no rhyme or reason as to whether my dreams are going to be funny, sad, or both. But that’s how I like it. Life is varied, and so are dreams. Without sad dreams, the funny ones aren’t funny enough to get me to laugh in my sleep.

Even though I am often in a crappy mood, I laugh a lot more these days. Being punch-drunk in the mornings after I get off work somehow sharpens my comedic reflexes, but the lack of myelin on my nerves means that the jokes are most likely in the rated R to X spectrum and back again. I can’t help it. I’m just on the “think it, say it” plan… and sometimes I leave out the “think it.”

I don’t know. Maybe that’s in my best interest for now. It’s been a long time since my primary focus was humor, even if it is Tosh-worthy. I spend a lot of time thinking about how to change my focus and drive so that humor and love radiates instead of grief and heartbreak. Because, see, losing this person cracked me open in a way that I didn’t anticipate. She was, as I have said before, my blog before I could type. I feel like I’ve lost the audience for which my writing flows the most easily, because I’ve been doing it since June of 1990. You have replaced that audience in more ways than you’ll ever know, but at the same time, writing letters to her specifically was a writing exercise in and of itself. There was not a single school day (and I wish I could say I was kidding about this) from the 7th grade on in which I didn’t scribble something. There’s a familiar patois to it that, in a lot of ways, feels like a mojo I’m trying to recover.

It’s one of the main reasons why I’m having trouble with my regular rhythm of posting. I have to find ways in which I can express myself that are different than I’ve ever done before. I feel like I’ve said what I want to say about the relationship itself, because I’ve told all there is to tell. The remainder is how it affects me and will continue to affect me, even though my hope is for a natural denouement as I find the person that I was meant to be.

Keep supporting me. Keep telling me to write to you. Let the patois develop between us, so that we have a thing, too. It feels like a mojo I’m trying to develop. 😉

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