Needle, Meet Haystack

Every month, the baking club at my office elects two members to prepare baked goods to commemorate the birthdays of all of their co-workers for that month.  As the only male (and the newest) member of the baking club, I knew that my first production had to be a good one.  And for my first time making a cake, I think I did a pretty decent job.  But this isn’t a story about a two layer devil’s food concoction with milk chocolate buttercream frosting and a dark chocolate raspberry ganache.  No, this is about the other baked goods that one of my co-workers consumed for his birthday this month.

This is about the cherpumple.

The bastard dessert offspring of the turducken (chicken inside a duck inside a turkey with stuffing between the layers), the cherpumple is a pumpkin pie baked inside a spice cake, topped with an apple pie baked inside of yellow cake, topped with a cherry pie baked inside of white cake.  Obviously, the whole thing is frosted.  It looks kinda like this (that’s the most appetizing image of one I found; they put the pumpkin/spice cake layer on upside-down though).

Last weekend, the birthday boy got one of his very own.  He brought in a slice a couple of days ago for lunch (“It’s too big to have as a snack – it’s a meal itself,” he said) and was unable to consume the whole thing.  So he shared it with me.

Now, I’m no stranger to ridiculous, odd, or unnecessary foods.  As one of the first people on the Internet (that I know of) to eat the mythical quad-down and live, I’ve apparently built up a bit of street cred.  So without hesitation, I took the carb-laden, sugary monstrosity and properly devoured it.  Five minutes later, it sank to the bottom of my stomach like a sack full of bowling balls being dropped from a helicopter into a lake 200 feet below.

As I scrounged for Tums in the break-room, I pondered the existence of novelty foods within this scope – items like the foot-long cheeseburger, the macaroni and cheese quesadilla, the New York pizza burger, or the fried cheese sandwich.  Why does it seem like every fast food place is just stealing ideas from This Is Why You’re Fat?

The answer, near as I can tell it, is because of two things: what food is, and what food isn’t.

Food is a utilitarian item that’s turned into entertainment and spectacle, sometimes even art.  We all need to eat to survive, but we play with flavors, combinations of ingredients, the appearance of the dish, and the overall execution.  We lionize our consumption through TV networks and shows devoted to food and cooking, even though they offer recipes at best, and mind-numbing food porn at worst.  And the way to keep food interesting (because the palate craves variety, after all) is to increase the ridiculousness.  Eating the quad-down and the cherpumple gives me stories to share with people.  Consuming fish eyes, fried alligator, rattlesnake jerky and yak sausages provides me with unique experiences and memories.  So creating ridiculous food items that we know are bad and unnecessary are another way to do this.

Food, however, is not a universal constant.  Unlike music, movies, books and TV, there is a line between the expensive “good stuff” and the meals of the unwashed masses.  Some people pay thousands of dollars for a single meal of opulence (or just a sundae) because they can; others pay as little as possible to have enough food to get them through the week because they can’t.  Food cannot be universal across class and economic boundaries, because then it loses the spectacle, the wonder, and the art.  So it’s compensated for by creating unholy monstrosities, replacing expense and exclusivity with revulsion and availability.  In this way, the line is removed: people can be just as impressed at one’s eating a meal at French Laundry as they would be at hearing of someone eating a seven-layer burger.  The fat and the grease lubricate the wheels of fascination, tying the highbrow and lowbrow together.

While the cherpumple angrily thrashed against the walls of my stomach, I wondered why I had been so excited to eat it.  Wouldn’t I have been just as happy proclaiming the success of the cake that I had made myself instead of adding this matryoshka of horrors to my foodie resume?  Was I attempting to reconcile the highs and lows of my eating career?  Was this some deeper message that stood as an example of the recession’s affect on out palates?  Or was I simply channeling George Mallory, eating it “because it was there”?

Maybe it was all of the above.  Or maybe I just can’t pass up a free slice of cake-pie.

Today’s post is gonna have to wait, guys.  My stomach and head teamed up to beat me up today, and it’s not going too well.

New post will be going up tomorrow, provided I haven’t puked everything up by then.

One of my best friends is taking a major life step this week, moving from Phoenix to Los Angeles to pursue his lifelong goal of becoming a working actor.  He’s really excellent at what he does, and I believe that his talent will allow him to ascend to the level of stardom that he deserves.

We met up for drinks last week and were discussing his big move.  Having made the decision to go to a new place with few or no contacts, safety net, or firm plans beyond a loosely-defined goal three times before in my life (Tulsa, London and DC), I shared some of my experiences with him.  And out of the conversation came 10 rules that we decided should be followed by anyone looking to make a new life in a new place.

Whether it’s a new location, vocation, or social group, here are the 5 rules you should keep in mind:

1. Keep your distance. As tempting as it is to call, text, Tweet or Facebook everyone you know to keep them in the loop about your new experiences, limit your exposure to your social groups as much as possible during the first few weeks, so you can get settled and focus on establishing a base for yourself, personally and professionally.  And this way, when you do reconnect, you’ll have plenty to talk about!
2. Have an adventure. Explore, ask questions, and get acclimated to your new surroundings.  Being new gives you some advantages, the least of which is the ability to make mistakes, quiz others, wander around, and try out different things.
3. Try on some new personality traits. Your new opportunities do not mean that you have to act in the same way that you did before.  Break the bad habits that you thought were holding you back.  If you feel like you were too strict, too negative, or want to make some change, this is the perfect time to do it – in a new setting, with new people who don’t know how weird you used to be.
4. Relax.  It can be stressful and scary to find yourself in a new place, but there’s a reason that you made the decision to go there – remember that reason and relax.  You don’t need to feel overwhelmed because of your decisions, and you definitely don’t need to stress out about making a positive change.
5. Stick to the script, but be prepared.  When following the goals you’ve set for yourself, you may get diverted by other opportunities, people, and situations.  And while you may not notice it at first, it’s important that as soon as you do, you reevaluate whether you want to continue down that path.  Sometimes, you can be pushed further out of the way of your original goals than you had intended – take time to consider if you’re going where you want to go.

Getting a fresh start can seem imposing, and offers many chances for success and failure.  But being aware of yourself and what’s going on around you can be all that you need to make the most of it.

I’ve noticed a strange trend that’s popped up over the past couple of years, and it seems to be affecting everyone from my technophobe parents to my consistent gadget-updating friends.  It’s quite scary, actually: people are no longer checking their voicemail.

My parents leave their answering machine blinking for weeks.  One of my best friends since preschool changed his greeting to, “TEXT ME.”  I can’t get a hold of an ex-roommate  because he hasn’t checked his messages in almost two months.

It’s quite frustrating.  So not too long ago, I decided to have fun with it.

Thanks to inventions like caller ID, phone number playback, and recognizable phone voices, the actual content of the message, unless it’s something rather pressing or serious, doesn’t need to be much.  After all, most voicemail messages boil down to one thing: “call me back.”  So with that being the implied content of every message, there’s no way to stick to the script.  So in the past, I’ve left messages as:

• A GI JOE sleep-away camp counselor warning parents about a possible COBRA spy
• A guy who thought that his bad date went really well
• An old man who keeps randomly pressing the buttons on the phone because he thinks he’s ordering his prescription refills
• A monkey with terrible gas
• A phone-in game show host who was offering fabulous prizes, like a pair of used flip-flops
• A representative of the financial aid department of a university that discovered that they had moved the zero one decimal place to the left on a report that they sent
• A pocket-dialer telling secrets about the recipients to their friends
• A faith healer who heals people over the phone
• A person who thinks they’re getting great signal reception, but it keeps cutting out

There are lots more, but the problem is that by the time most people listen to the messages, they’re just confused.  So while it might be funny right away, or even a couple of days later, once it passes the one-week mark, the message just seems out of place.  However, it does lead to some great calls back.  And I’ve noticed that I get quicker replies these days, too…

“Oh, man, it’s definitely going to start raining now,” Aaron says to nobody in particular.

Aaron has a desk by a window, meaning that not only does he have a light source, but it’s natural light.  My cubicle has neither, which explains why I’ve been looking more pale than usual lately.  Aaron’s got seniority at the company over most of the department, so this tells me that I have to put in a good amount of time if I ever want to see the sun.  But at least his window only has a view of the parking lot, so it’s not that great.  ”The wind’s picking up too.” he adds before returning to whatever project he’s working on.

By the time I look out the window fifteen minutes later, I can see that things have picked up.  Bullets of water are crashing towards the ground, moving like a swarm of angry bees as trees, bushes, and the rest of the decorative outdoor plants in our office center are shaken left and right.  The sky bellows a deep boom that shakes the roof a bit, and the mid-afternoon sun has all but disappeared.  It is most definitely raining.  I think of all of those people who say that Arizona is a dry, desert wasteland and hope that their smug asses are somehow caught outside right now.

It lasts for about an hour, intermittently making the tap-tap-tap noises against the window that make it seem like there are several more employees in the office, and for some reason, they all use typewriters.  I don’t notice that it’s stopped, partially because I’m not near a window, and partially because my headphones are on, and I happen to be listening to a really good song.  So by the time I leave the office a few hours later, I’m surprised to see the giant puddles that have formed a moat around the parking lot.

Driving home, I notice a large number of trees that have been knocked over into the road, causing the traffic to slow down, even though it’s already piddling along at a snail’s pace due to several inches of dirty water under our wheels.  And then I think of the large, unsteady trees in my yard.  And the fact that my 13-year-old dog who hates storms is home alone.  And that the house is surrounded by trees.  And I want my car to sprout wings so I can get home quickly to see if she’s okay and to make sure that the house isn’t destroyed.

I finally make it home, and the house is in one piece.  Sure, there are a bunch of branches strewn all over our yard, the neighbors’ yards, the street, and the roof, but nothing is damaged.  Then, I walk in, greet my dog who probably didn’t even consider any of the mortal peril I feared she was in, and hear an odd sound coming from the den.  It sounds like wind.  Which is probably because the storm blew out the biggest window in the entire house.

Instantly, my brain kicks into recovery mode.  I cordon off the area to prevent pooch-related interference, assess the damage, and begin picking up glass shards.  I then realize I’ve cut my hands, so I go wash and dress the bleeding mess on my fingertips and find my work gloves.  The glass is all piled or bagged, and I go for the measuring tape.  The window frame is about 6 feet by 9 feet.  A quick trip to the local hardware store and ninety minutes’ worth of duct taping later, and the window is patched up.  Half a roll of paper towels later, and the floor is dry, most of the tiny glass surprises found and discarded to the trash.  Ten minutes of noting mentally to lift with my knees later, and all of the large branches are in a pile in the back yard.  And one early morning run time later,  and the house looks mostly back to normal.

Storms don’t care if you had planned to go for dinner with your best friends, or work on a project, or watch a movie.  Storms are ignorant of the age of the trees in your yard or the tiny cracks in your windows that you weren’t aware of.  Storms are indifferent about your feelings, your health, your passions, your friends and family, and your job.  Sometimes they’re metaphorical storms, like a personality or a project or a chore.  And sometimes they’re literally storms.  You might not know that they’re even present, but you will know when they have passed by.

So you can try to fight the against the rain and the thunder and the wind.  Or you can ignore it.  Or you can clean up after it and move on.

What will you do when the storm comes?

Before we get into it, let me just say that I don’t like the term, “entrepreneur” – it sounds like the worst combination of pretentiousness and disgust, like if a snooty person was being judgmental and said something like, “Oh, so you’re an entrepreneeeeeuuuurrr…interesting…”

Man, I hate snooty people.  What with their monocles and pocket watches and pencil-thin mustaches.  And that’s just the ladies! (ba dum bum!)

I think a better term would just be “business owner” or even “head of a new start-up.”  Something a bit more ambiguous and professional.  ”Entrepreneur” sounds almost amateur, like you’ve got something to prove.  It’s got that feeling of “unemployed, but this is what I tell people I do to cover my ass” about it.  So let’s just use “business owner” and forget all about the E-word.

That being said, I don’t talk much about my work as a business owner.  That’s because there isn’t much to say about it without discussing myself.

My first real experience with independent business ownership began at the age of three, when my parents opened a hair salon (an interesting stretch from their having been a college professor and elementary school teacher before that).  During the 13 years that the store was open, I saw the physical, emotional and financial toll that it took on them.  And from that experience (including working at the shop for around 40 hours per week over all 7 days), I decided that I would never go into business for myself.  I wanted none of that responsibility, none of the stress, and none of the risk.  From that day on, I vowed to work in the corporate world, enjoying the protection and security of working for a bigger company that would take care of those things for me.

This ideology progressed until my junior year of college, when I came to the realization that I needed experience, and no one was just going to give it to me.  So I created my own micro-advertising company, taking care of all aspects of the craft and using my friends as clients.  I did work for their bands, social clubs, side businesses and charity projects.  And through it all, I managed to learn a few things.  But I saw it as a means to an end, and leveraged that experience into an entrepreneurship with a larger advertising firm.  And in that time, I started to see the advantages of freedom.

The second business opportunity came after graduation.  Having no solid job prospects, the opportunity to start a record label with my best friend seemed like a risk worth taking.  The results of that decision have been documented on this blog before in the retreat to move forward series.  Long story short: it didn’t end well.

And the third?  Well, I’ve mentioned one of my bosses before (who, depending on what we’re doing, is either my boss or business partner, depends how technical you want to get), but beyond that, all you need to know is that I learned quite a bit from my earlier experiences, and so far, those problems have not come around.  But the lessons of being a business owner three times over have taught me a few things that I wish someone had told me straight off the bat:

• Everything is personal. Since the company is your work and based on your ideas, everything that happens to it reflects on you.  A few months ago, I commented on a post on Sydney Owen’s blog about entrepreneurship where I tried to explain the psychological issues that come with owning a business.  And one of the biggest things is this: you’ll need to have a thick skin about everything.  Following a dream, a passion, a hobby, or a friend blindly into what you hope will be a success all means that you’re putting a lot of yourself into the final result.  So your business becomes an extension of you, a defining part of your life.  So when a client is upset, a contractor does a bad job, or a payment doesn’t go through, you feel it more than if you were just doing work for another company.  It’s yours, and everything that you do reflects on your business.  And vice-versa.
• It’s not about working harder, just smarter. This might make me lose Penelope Trunk as a commenter, but Tim Ferriss is kinda right.  His book, The Four-Hour Workweek is all about finding ways around overly complicating your business, getting other people to to take care of the small stuff, and getting to focus on what matters.  And while some may argue with his methods, the core of the book is spot-on: you don’t need to pull ridiculously long shifts and do everything yourself; you can get help, outsource, hire assistants, or try new ways of doing things.  Your customers will never know all of the details of what it took for your good or service to get to them, and they probably don”t care*, so why put so much weight on it?  Just get the job done.
• There’s no such thing as balance. I used to think that I could balance two jobs, this blog, my occasional music ventures, a bunch of evil plans, a social life, exercise, and a decent amount of sleep without issue.  But I quickly realized that I couldn’t.  Try as you might, something will always come up to derail your plans, and you will have to sacrifice something for it.  It’s the opportunity cost of having your own business.  So you have three choices: kill yourself with stress, stop planning things entirely, or give something up.  There’s always a cost to what you do, even if you’re not aware of it.  And you’ll never be able to have anything close to balance unless you give a few things up.
• You may fail.  Prepare for it, but never hope for it. Failure is never good.  It means that you didn’t succeed.  And sometimes, you’ll get the two confused.  But while failing is bad, not having an escape route planned is worse.
• Always make it look easy. Your business, as mentioned before, is intrinsically tied to you.  So if people see you sweat, they’ll think the same of your company.  You don’t have a big brand to hide behind, or a good team of spin doctors (or The Spin Doctors) to help you diffuse whatever issues you’ve got going on behind the scenes.  Whether it’s financial woes, employee problems, product issues, or some other concerns, don’t go telling everyone you know.  Keep it to those who are in a position to make changes or help you out.  The more you gossip about your own company, the worse off the both of you appear to others.

There are a lot of good and bad things about being a business owner instead of working for others.  And while it may be easy to write off the whole thing as risky, stupid, crazy, or brave, it’s not that difficult to get into.  As long as you take the time to really think about what you want to do and how to do it, you have a pretty decent chance of success.  Unless you call yourself an entrepreneur.  In which case, you might be a snooty jackass.

* Unless you sacrificed some living creatures or something

Last weekend, I went with a few of my friends to see Scott Pilgrim Versus the World.*  As a long time SP fan, I’d been eagerly anticipating this movie for a while.  As a fan of Edgar Wright (Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead, most of Spaced, etc.), I’d been eagerly anticipating this movie for a while.  And as a fan of Arrested Development-era Michael Cera (hey, that rhymes!) I’m a big fan of MC when he isn’t playing the same role that he has since Superbad, and had been eagerly anticipating that for a while.  So all told, I was really dang excited.

The movie did not disappoint.  If you like good movies, you should see it.**

The one thing I wasn’t sure if I would like, though, was the music.  The eponymous character inhabits a world in which there are a good number of bands (including his own).  Turns out I didn’t have anything to worry about, since there are some great tunes in the flick, from performers and groups like Beck, Broken Social Scene, Frank Black, and Metric.

The soundtrack is pretty rad.  If you like music, you should get it.**

The reason I’m bringing all of this up is because I get songs stuck in my head.  Frequently.  And my usual practices of song-stuck-in-my-head-removingness have failed.  In fact, three songs have been stuck in my head: “Invisible Gurlz,” a so-odd-it-works mashup of Katy Perry’s “California Gurlz” and Genesis’ “Invisible Touch,”  the horrible and crazy “Caramelldansen,” and most loudly, Scott Pilgrim‘s own “Threshold,” performed by movie band Sex Bob-Omb.

So, I’m gonna try to pass them all off on you, Internet readers!  Click the videos below and prepare to have music stream in through your ear-holes and never leave. Hum the songs in public places like a crazy person!

“Threshold”

“Invisible Gurlz”

“Caramelldansen”

Sorry about this, guys.  It’s like that part in The Ring when what’s-her-face makes all the duplicates of the tape to save herself and her family…

* I also went to see The Expendables, but that doesn’t really apply to this story.  They both are good movies, though!

** Unpaid endorsements, I swear.

You may have seen those cheesy commercials for Match.com or eHarmony or some other online dating site bragging about how many relationships they start online.  And I thought it was a bunch of crap.  Until I found out that it’s actually true (articles here and here) and impacts friendships as well.  But why does this work?  Because of one simple fact, best summed up by the late, great George Carlin:

Sometimes, a little brain damage can help.

We’ve all got fears, insecurities, skeletons in our closets, baggage, issues, problems, worries, oddly-shaped moles, and several metric tons of crazy and history, all pent-up and waiting to be released upon the unsuspecting masses, sometimes in the form of friends, family, pets, or significant others.  We don’t want to put it all out there at first, because we fear being rejected for being our “true selves.”  So we keep things inside, not telling those closest to us about how we actually sorta-kinda like watching Spongebob Squarepants reruns, or how we may have once faked a sprained wrist to avoid revealing that we’d hugged a cactus.*

So we’ve got all this brain damage that makes us beautiful, unique, possibly helmet-worthy snowflakes, and we crave a way to get it out there.  In the past, this was apparently done by smoking heavily, drinking a lot, and having affairs.  But now, we have the Internet.

We share everything now: vacation pictures, stories, opinions, links to stupid cat pictures, random musings, advice…we share.  And in doing so, we reveal more about ourselves than we might in person.  Instead of seeing someone across a crowded room, making small talk, and then, over the course of several days, weeks, months, or years getting to know them, we just jump right in.  We get to know personalities before we get to know people.

There are some who share all their dirty laundry, from sex to literal dirty laundry, but who keep things like their jobs or their favorite colors private.  There are others who put together little vignettes and offer anecdotes without giving much of a comprehensive picture.  But we become interested in them because of who they are on that deep level that movies, TV and cliché-ridden books tell us we’re searching for.  With only a few minutes of reading, we gain deeper insight into the lives of others than some used to do in a lifetime.

Part of the explanation for why this works can be found in the fractured cliques of the World Wide Web.  People can gravitate towards niche communities – everything from general categories like sports and entertainment to the oddly specific, like the 1983 Denver Broncos or Timothy Dalton-era James Bond fan-fiction.  Whether they’re active or passive members of these communities, they get to know others from the inside out, forming deep social connections on a level that loudly proclaiming, “The Chiefs should never have won that season closer against Elway, and James should have gotten with Lupe, too!” in public would never achieve.

Getting to know others within these communities is easier, too.  There’s already an air of familiarity to the whole situation, and all involved have something very deep and personal in common.  In some ways, friendships created online can be stronger than those made in real life.  So shouldn’t we apply those concepts to our everyday, non-Internet lives?

While radical honesty wouldn’t be the best policy here, it wouldn’t hurt to be more open to others about your likes and dislikes.  Get involved with groups that share your hobbies.  Don’t be afraid to let your freak flag fly!  Being open and honest about what you like and enjoy is the best way to connect with others, and there’s no reason to feel weird about it.  After all, everyone’s got a little brain damage.  And believe it or not, that can actually help.

*THIS IS NOT A ROYAL ‘WE’ – I DID NEITHER OF THESE.

Guys, if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: life is not a sandwich.  It’s hard to think of at first, but I believe we all understand the concept by now.  In fact, I remember the first time we had this talk in that post where, I said…um…oh, crap.  I never actually published that post.  But if I had, I would have said something like this:

Life is not a sandwich.  Or if it is, you shouldn’t treat it like one.  Sure, you can put any number of things you want in it, but the more you add, the more difficult it will be to keep it steady.  Even with good support, things will slide out.  And the tastes will mash together enough that you might not even like what you get.  And you’ll have a harder time getting it in your mouth than you would if you’d taken the time to pick out what you really wanted.  Sure, it’s fine to snack and sample, but don’t put everything on there and hope for the best.  To thine own palate and digestive abilities be true.

Now that that little bit of self-quoting is out of the way, let’s snack on the genesis of the sandwich problem that we all face, the nadir of self-actualization and happiness that seems to face almost everyone.

It’s a little something called choice.

The greatest thing about the world today is that there’s no shortage of things that you can do, people you can meet, and adventures that you can have.  We’ve come a long way from the utilitarian hunter-gatherer days, and entered into a world where companies can make millions of dollars selling nothing.  It’s ah-freakin’-mazing.  You can be a farmer/fitness guru/hedge fund manager/gourmet chef if you want. Or a massage therapist/DJ/TV and film extra/video editor.  Heck, I know those guys!*

The problem starts when you have two many different titles, and when they start taking over your life.

When you’re addicted to work, spreading yourself too thin at even one job, taking on the brunt of several more responsibilities can be a killer.  What you gain in time on these tasks equates to less time for leisure, be it with friends, family, or significant others.  And the more time you spend on your multitude of titles, the less they become hobbies, having morphed into work.  Eventually, you’re consumed with more stress than you are with enjoyment.

There’s that old saying, “It’s not a job if you love what you do,” but the problem comes in when you do the parts of the job that you don’t love.  And those will always be there.  Multiply that by the number of different jobs that you give yourself, and eventually, you’ll reach a breaking point.  And for those of us who choose to pursue these different paths, the thing that most often suffers is our personal lives.

Sure, one could organize to the point of insanity, but the cracks will show, especially to those who are close to you.  And while one might be content to work hard now for more leisure time later, the problem comes in when it becomes known that it won’t be the same leisure time.  The place that you and your peers are in right now, life-wise, is very similar.  But the longer you postpone it, the further you will drift apart.  Trading memories of fun for memories of working is no way to live.

So even if it might pain you to do so, cut back or cut off certain activities.  There are weak links in the chain, and they’re usually only there because you’ve decided that they should be there.  By becoming engrossed with many activities, we lose our sense of priorities; the more involved you are, the harder it will be to let go.  But taking a step back to reevaluate things, to make sure you have enough time to relax, be happy, and sleep, might be the best way to figure out how to let go.

Maybe you should start by making a sandwich.

* Seriously, I know those guys.

It was probably around 1:15 AM, Eastern Standard time.  I can make this educated guess because I had determined that there was at least another hour of Tim Burton’s version of Sweeny Todd left on (I’d tuned in for “Meat Pies”) at around 12:40 AM, the last time I’d looked at a clock.  And from what I could tell, the plot had a fair ways to go.  Also, I could tell that Johnny Depp is a decent singer.

After several days in Kingston, I was planning to leave at the crack of 5:00 AM to take a flight back to Toronto to take another flight back to Phoenix.  While the previous three days were filled with a lot of drinking, rabblerousing and general tomfoolery, the last had been a time for lazing about, doing some bits of work and just enjoying myself.  Lunch at a local favorite had been stellar, though the room service meal I’d decided on was a poor showing.  Nevertheless, the day had been filled with walking around town and across a bit of Lake Ontario, checking out the local scene and writing.  It was fairly exhausting.

And yet I couldn’t fall asleep.

I tell people that I have morning amnesia – I wake up and am a bit unaware of my surroundings, the date, the time, or (on occasion) how long I’ve been asleep.  This was especially fun for one particular ex-girlfriend, who made the mistake of falling asleep on my arm.  But that’s another story.

The thing I don’t tell people is that I can get evening amnesia, too.  If I’m up for too long, my mind will enter a drunk-like state, where I’ll still be fairly lucid, but will sometimes black out and wake up the next morning with no clear indication of what I’d done.  Usually, my evening amnesia-addled mind does stuff that I’ve been holding off on, to mixed results.

So at 1:15 AM, I had the last moment of lucidity before I woke up at 4:15 to get ready for the flights back.  I took a quick glance at my laptop, and apparently, there were several pages of notes scribbled down about a new site idea that I’d had, and my Gmail page open to a receipt showing that I’d bought a domain for the site.  I don’t remember any of this.

But the notes were solid, and the domain is a good one.  So I guess that I’m all right with this sort of behavior…for now.  But what happens when my evening amnesia starts to take on ambien-like properties?  Will I wake up one morning to find myself in another country, married to a woman who I’ve never seen before?  Will I have a stack of pancakes made and waiting for my consumption?  Will I have decided to run for public office?

There’s something strange going on in my head, and I don’t know where it’s going to lead.  All I can do is try to get a little more sleep time in, so I don’t wind up doing anything stupid, like buying a massage table on eBay.

Oh, wait.  I did that six years ago when I was in a similar state.  Shit.  This is worse than I thought.