Weekends blow. in The Napkin.

Second rest day in a row. Weird how it messes with my head.

I have no desire to do anything.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve written that. I would have just stayed in bed and done “nothing”, but my back was getting achy from laying down so much. (9 hours of sleep is, indeed, sufficient time to be supine.)

I’d say “are there actually people who want to do things?” but I don’t need to go any farther than my dating track record. If I’m depressive, I date women who are more manic on the spectrum.

What did Airk say about my dating track record? I was saying out loud that I don’t know what the women I date have in common. He said they’re all “damaged”. Ha ha. Granted, I think we’re all damaged, but he’s not wrong.

But yeah. Women I date are bit more get-up-and-go. Their attention span is all over the place, and I help them focus. Not necessarily one thing at a time. Candi and I would play Everquest2 while watching Golden Girls, after all. The sweet spot where that extra attention harnessed? Tashy has a bad habit of playing games on her phone and totally zoning out. I’m sure it annoys her on a level, because it means she’s ignoring time-passing things she wants to do.

Hrm, probably not something I’d put in a dating ad. “Looking for a damaged, manic geek who likes sushi.” Oh, I don’t like sushi. Just been an odd quirk that most of my ex’s have in common: they like sushi.

There’s water coming up from the ground again. Le sigh. Again. At least once a year, there’s something dripping from the ceiling or coming up from the floor. Hrm. Sounds dire when I type it out, but I’m rather resigned at this point. I have a carpet cleaner and have taken up buckets and buckets of water. If I weren’t so resigned, I would have called maintenance by now.

I checked the water heater. It’s not that. So, it’s probably just the foundation. Again. I know I’ll probably just be given some loud-ass fans to dry shit out.

How likes getting their feet wet when they are wearing socks?

I hate that feeling.

No desire to do anything. No desire to do anything I might “enjoy”. Huh. Kind of sounds like depression.

I’m sure it has been posited that depression might be just part of the human experience. If you consider consciousness a hallucination, as I do sometimes, it only makes sense that the hyperawareness of simply being is, well. How can you not be depressed about existing?

I still take comfort in that I will be dead someday. That this mundane day-to-day crap will be over. I do try to make the most of each day, but gosh. If you told me I were immortal, I’d just drink until I couldn’t remember I was aware of my consciousness.

Five bucks says I’ll feel better after my workout tomorrow. REST DAYS SUCK. But, gotta take them to be smart about fatigue management.

There was a Ask Mama Nana segment that spoke to me. Oh, in case you needed a cast refresher.

She is, indeed, an actress, as she’s nothing like her Major Kira persona. She’s like a gay aunt who will give sage advice. Both soothing, but ready to party. If that makes sense.

My question would have been about, well. Should I force myself to date and get it over with? Someone else submitted a similar question, though I think it was in the context of a widower. Both her and the audience response was effectively “no”. Don’t force yourself back out there. Take your time.

And really… I don’t really date. Whatever “dating” means. I don’t do casual sex. I win women over by them getting to know me. It’s… not that complicated, really.

I wouldn’t want to get to know me right now. I’m a mess. : D (Or so I feel sometimes.)

Ah, but we’re always messes.

Sigh, whatever.

Oh, I just zoned out.

I joke I could just stare at a wall to pass the time, but I’m not sure how inaccurate that would be.