log: into the sea


3,097-670,483: 780(+/-??): 43-6,114(0.91%): 84.1 %–41.8 %

The new school semester started on Monday. So far, so good. Finished the first week’s work already. This morning, at 4:30AM, I have my first meeting for my global inequalities in healthcare research apprenticeship. I have my instruction manual but am not quite sure where to begin or whatever. There’s like nine pages on how to input the information. I’m looking forward to learning all this boring nonsense and I’m hoping to learn it today. Most jobs, the first day is the hardest. Things get easier. Then at 10AM, it’s my booster appointment. And, then, after that, later this week, I have to pick up a new pair of glasses.

current glasses

Mixed in with that, more school, another research apprenticeship, and, well, life, I suppose, Looks to be a fairly busy semester but I’m looking forward to it. I’m also looking forward to my glasses. I had progressive bifocals in Cali, but here, for the last couple of years, I’ve just had something that corrects my distance vision. I can read without glasses –which is a weird new development that happened about a year ago– but I can’t read with my glasses. And I can’t see much at distance without them. It’d be better if I needed reading glasses. I could just drop those motherfuckers down my substantially sized nose and peek over.

these sunglasses are my old progressive prescription

I have to do A LOT of taking my glasses off and putting them on and, well, it’s really fucking annoying. (Not that this is such a great time to have glasses anyway. With the masks and the fog and all.) It’s particularly annoying if I’m trying to watch a lecture and take notes, taking glasses off, putting them on. Or in the myriad of situations now where I have to navigate through my phone, look at a screen, do a QR thing, whathaveyou. I often need to carry a bag when I’m out and about and I only have so many hands, you know?

So yeah, back to bifocal progressives. The frames are pretty huge. I think a problem with my last pair of progressives was that the frames were just a touch too small. You need big fuckers for these things. And I’ve also found bigger glasses do better with the fogging.

Always a bit a weird and nerve-wracking getting new glasses though. It’s like buying a new face. And, I fucking hate having glasses. Like, I’m grateful that they help with my eyesight but I hate them. I hate the cleaning, the carrying around, all of it.

As far as the more general situation goes. A bit up and down. My wife has been a little distressed lately. New Year’s hit her kind of hard. She’s a cheerful and optimistic sort of person. The sort of never-ending nature of this thing got a bit on top of her when the years switched over. It sort of made the idea of another year of this real. And it’s tiring.

The sudden loss of hope can be quite tough.

Making matters worse, of course, is me.

I’m generally just not the most reassuring presence. I must be helpful in some sort of way because people do keep me around but when someone needs hope? When a bright side is important to your happiness? Er . . . I’m not really who you go to for that. Particularly in real life. Anyone who knows me irl will tell you – I’m a fucking bleak robot. Funny, maybe, but certainly bleak. Just a non-stop arctic wasteland of a person who keeps getting worse.

In the depths of her sudden and terrifying brush with deep hopelessness, my wife said “I think I’m feeling the way you do. Is this how you feel all the time?”

“Yes, it sounds like it.”

“Jesus. How do you keep from walking into the ocean?”

“What makes you think the ocean will be any better?”

Then she made that noise. I remember that noise from early in our relationship. It’s the sound someone makes when climbing a mountain, thinking they’ve reached the top, then they see — there’s just more mountain. Sounds a bit like a tire deflating.

I hear that noise fairly often. Usually when people realize that I’m somehow even worse than I seem, probably even worse than that, and there’s just no bottom, no off-switch, no fucking end in sight. I am exhausting. I know this about myself. I’m not thrilled about it either. But I’ve accepted it. We can’t all be beacons of light. Some of us are blackholes.

old pic from toronto

The miracle of the thing is how well the two of us get along. We fit each other so well. Some of that is probably because neither one of us takes ourselves seriously. I don’t know.

Happy for it though. And happy that she seems to be feeling better. She claims the charts and diagrams I showed her didn’t help but I think they did. They help me. I love a chart.

The local charts show that our numbers are levelling and decreasing. Problem is, we haven’t faced OMICRON yet. So that surge is still ahead of us. I’m hoping it more or less holds off until my booster is active. Right now, I have a bit of a “one day before retirement” feeling. Depending how that surge goes, and I expect it will go badly, about the most optimistic I can be about it is — maybe we’ll be able to reduce restrictions sometime in February without that being a criminally irresponsible thing to do. Maybe.

Doubt it but there is a vague possibility.

On the bright side, I suppose I have a while longer to wander around the woods at night. A few more encounters with vampire deer in the dark and whatever else is out there.

In the meantime, before I’m attacked by feral dogs, slip and fall off a cliff, or am gored by a wild pig and left to bleed out under the stars, it’s just going to be boosted, masked, and following the guidance. Just trying to navigate this thing the best way I can figure out.

I’m happy I get to do that with my wife. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with.

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