Done yesterday

( done 20090223 )

Many parts of yesterday were intensely frustrating, and I found myself getting stressed, falling apart, and getting depressed over that. I guess SSRIs just raise the baseline a little.

I see that I did notice feeling loved when Colleen snuggled me at 5am. I noticed it falling asleep last night, too, with her back snuggled against mine. But most of the feelings I noticed were negative ones.

Five things from Tibicina

I have asked a couple of people for five Things that they associate with me, to ramble on about in my journal. I extend the same offer to anyone who comments here. These are from tibicina.

Dylan

Bob Dylan is one of my musical role models: I figure that if he can get up on stage and sing his own songs, so can I. And for the most part I prefer his version to any of the more popular covers, though that may just be a case of what I heard first, or possibly my preference for a more folk-like style over rock or pop.

My favorite song of his is Desolation Row, which I transcribed off an LP back in high school or college (which probably explains why I can still perform the entire thing off-book). It has a melody that's wonderfully well-suited to my usual picking pattern; I can sit and noodle on it for a very long time. Lilly, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts (which is Colleen's favorite) is another one like that. It wasn't until this year, when I wrote QV, that I wrote a song that exceeded DR in both length and pickability.

I think what attracts me to Dylan is the surreal quality of much of his poetry. Unlike me and Janis Ian, I don't think Dylan makes much of a distinction between writing songs and writing poems.

I note in passing that Bob is from Hibbing, Minnesota, which (as we used to say back in Northfield where I went to college) is a very good place to be from.

Beards

I started growing my beard when I went away to college and got away from the high school dress code. I did a lot of experimentation back then, going through several styles of gotee and a waxed handlebar mustache before finally settling on a full beard. The fact that my electric razor disappeared sometime in my first or second year of grad school has nothing to do with it.

I know of only one person in California (Dave Uggla, who knew me at Carleton) who's ever seen me without a beard, and it's not my wife. Colleen has warned me that if I ever shave it off she won't recognize me, and will probably slam the door in my face. Which doesn't look particularly good without it -- I inherited my father's weak chin.

Guitars

My first guitar, back in high school, was a cheap Harmony with cheese-slicer action that cut my fingertips to ribbons until I grew calluses, and sometimes even then. My parents got me a nylon-strung Carlos when I went off to college; it's currently lent out to (if I remember correctly) one of the Y.D's friends who needed a loaner to learn on.

The first guitar I acquired in California was my lovely Martin O-15, which Colleen promptly dubbed "Snuggles". We found her at an estate sale for $40; she'd obviously been well-loved (the previous owner had swapped the outside tuners around to make the strings straighter) and occasionally somewhat abused.

I acquired "Plink", my Vagabond travel guitar, sometime in the early 1990's. Plink is small enough that I can play her in a chair with arms, and she sounds wonderful plugged in and amplified; she's been my usual guitar for gigs for the last several years now.

The Epiphone 12-string was inherited from Fred Capp when he, in turn, inherited a Guild from our friend Stripes. She hasn't told me her name yet, and I don't play her much.

I bought my first Ovation, "Ruby" (named for the color of her soundboard) just before my Interfilk gig at GaFilk. It turned out that I didn't like her sound plugged-in, and it turned out that she was really awkward on plane trips. Last year I replaced her with "Flame Darling" -- that was a clear case of love at first sight; I was only able to buy her because the Y.D. had just expressed an interest in learning guitar, and a strong preference for Ruby.

The chaoswolf's black Little Martin is named "Cindy"; we have an unnamed Applause on loan from Colleen's friend M, and pocketnaomi's lovely tenor guitar, "Belle", is presently visiting, hanging around the house and looking sweetly seductive.

Colleen has threatened me with divorce or murder if I ever bring another guitar into the house. I think she's serious. It doesn't keep me from looking at banjos occasionally.

Hugs

I love hugging and being hugged. I'm told I give good ones; I guess bears are good for that. That leads me to...

Bears

I'm not sure how my association with bears first came about, though Mom tells me I was very attached to my teddy bear as a toddler. I don't remember.

I've always reminded Colleen of a bear, either Pooh or Paddington, though I've often felt and acted a lot more like Eyore. One of our favorite animals in the zoo is the spectacled bear, to which I bear (as it were) a remarkable resemblance).

My first persona in alt.callahans was "The Medium-Sized Teddybear", a deliberate reference to Cordwainer Smith's Middle-Sized Bear. I became the Mandelbear after describing myself as the positively imaginary half of the cubic Mandelbrot set, a fractal which now serves as my default icon on LJ. An infinitely fuzzy, fractal, alien teddybear suits me well.

Musically I occasionally describe myself as "a bear of very little range".

River: notes from my walk

Today was only the second day in about a week that I actually had a chance to walk for as long as I like to at lunchtime. That was good.

I noticed an odd, or at least interesting, effect: I was walking at my usual pace up until the point where I started thinking about pulling out my phone and calling a friend. At that point I slowed down to my usual "depressed" pace. As soon as I put the phone away, I sped up again.

Making phone calls appears to be strongly associated with being, or becoming, depressed. To the extent that even thinking about making a call is depressing. Presumably it's a learned response, and presumably it's part of a feedback loop that reinforces the association.

I can keep poking at it, but I don't think I have the mental tools I need to analyze or to correct this kind of problem. I've been thinking about my phone phobia on and off for at least a month, and I seem to be no closer than ever to understanding it. Suggestions?