Freeday 27 August 1999
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Pic of the day: Where peaceful waters flow ... This minor river here passes by the School of Agriculture and the Old Church and churchyard. "Where peaceful waters flow" lyrics by Chris de Burgh. Excerpt.
I took a walk past the old Saxon well,
And if you don't know by now, you never will: As I came to the bus stop today, I found out that I had put on the wrong shirt. (I can't believe I actually wrote "skirt" there. Thank God for the backspace key. Whoever invented it should get a fat reward in the realm beyond. Also there ought to be a Nobel Prize for nifty things. Things like ball point pens, self-winding watches, e-mail and yes, the backspace key. It can't be worse than giving prizes to old warriors who for some reason temporarily stop waging war.) Anyway, this shirt did not have my cards in its pocket, as it should. My bus card, to get on the bus. My key card, to get into my office at all times. My bank card, to pay stuff. I could do without my library card for a day, certainly, but being totally cardless just wasn't feasible. So I had to walk home to get my other shirt with the cards.
The walk between home and bus stop is ca 10-12 minutes, and the next bus
was set up in 15 minutes. Then 45 minutes to the next again. This
way, putting on the wrong shirt costs me one hour of work, which will
be dutifully deducted from my next pay. Oh well. At least I got some
extra fresh air and exercise. Which I would not have if I used a car.
I'm having new bouts of irrational happiness. Well, pretty close to ecstacy. Sometimes it comes suddenly ... I think of it as "euphoria attacks". Like panic attacks, you know, only very different. It may come for no reason at all, or a small amount of happiness or a sudden insight. And suddenly I'm in the middle of it. I can control myself, but it is hard. My breath becomes shallow, and my muscles tense hard without me willing to. May brain is flooded by intense pleasure, like close to the most intense pleasures of the flesh. But it is not localized in any part of the body really. Often I feel a need to make meaningless statements, words or sounds, or just howl. (Is that a full moon outside? Uh-oh.) It sure feels good, but it is also a bit strange. I mean, what is happening to me? Is it simply that I have not fetched my alloted quota of happiness lately, and now it spills over? Or is it like some kind of mini epilepsy that conveniently is located near the pleasure center of the brain? I do suspect the first, because it seems that these spells are rare if I "happify" myself with happy music, funny books etc regularly. The latest days I have been thinking mainly about serious stuff like sickness and death and the job. So perhaps my happiness chemicals have been just stowing up until they overflowed? This afternoon as I was leaving work, for instance, I happened to think about colostrum. "Raw milk" as we'd call it around here if we spoke English. The first milk after birth, containing lots of special proteins (albumins and stuff usually found in the immune system). I remembered the proteins and their supposed significance to babies. And I remembered the pancakes and stuff that we farmers used to make from cows' raw milk. And I rembered my literature teacher talking about these foodstuffs in a famous novel and their significance as life symbols. And as I remembered it all at once, my memories spreading outwards like rapidly forking lightning, it sort of overloaded my rational mind. The whole of it formed a new kind of pattern that forced my mind over in non-speech mode. (Thinking in words is the natural way for me, this gives me great control over my thoughts but it is sequential and somewhat slow.) Anyway, the jarring of my brain over into non-speech mode triggered a pretty strong pleasure attack. I've had a few more this evening, but it's starting to recede now. Man, it looks incredibly sheepish in print. Like I'm worried about it or something. Fact is it's hard to worry while you are deliriously happy. But when it's over, it sure feels strange. And it's not a sexual thing. I know sex and happiness are supposed to go well together, but there is not the slightest twinge in my built in hydraulic desir-o-meter. (Well, meter is obviously an overstatement, but you know what I mean.) |