Well, it hasn’t been the best of years. I’ve spent most of it heavily medicated, curled up in beds or baths at home or in hospital. However, there have been some highlights, and the extended period of time at home made me remember some stuff I’d forgotten, like how important philosophy is to me, and how much I enjoy spending time alone.
The ways in which people interpret the world have always amazed and intrigued me. How two people can look at the same situation, be armed with the same knowledge about it, and yet still come out with different conclusions (aka ‘politics’). How two people can have a very similar experience and yet react in wildly different ways. How something that can floor one person won’t bother another.
But even more subtly: how the individual ways in which we think about the world – our personal hermeneutics – help us to see things through a unique lens.
I was finally feeling more alive again this week, having essentially spent three weeks asleep. I caught up on a bit of work, and read some stuff, and watched some stuff, and generally had a fairly relaxed time.
Well, apart from nearly making a chemical weapon in my bathtub when a giant spider appeared in it. That wasn’t so relaxing. (There are no pictures of spiders in that post. Or this one.)
…because this is how these things go. One day I’m swimming for three quarters of an hour, pounding laps up and down the pool, walking home in the light mist of rain under the orange glow of the street lamps, climbing the stairs to my flat, winding down with a book for the evening, getting into bed feeling almost well.
And then the next day I wake up and my ribs are aching and I taste blood in the back of my throat, and it feels like there is acid coursing through my veins. On the way up the stairs from my bedroom I stumble into the wall and have to rest there for a moment, because seven steps is just too many to be able to climb in one go. I try to work, of course, because I am me and that is what I do, but ultimately I have to admit defeat and pull a blanket around my shivering skin and curl up on the sofa.
Like so many other people, one of my resolutions this year was to eat less crap and do more exercise. Partly to lose weight, but partly just to make myself feel more human and less like a potato.
The exercise thing actually started last year, and continued pretty well, so it’s more of a keeping-going than a starting-up.
In December 2014, I moved into a flat. Since then, various things have gone wrong with it, and it’s needed a lot of work. The work is now almost complete, and when it is I’ll post an update here with a sort of “tour de flat”. But in the meantime, this is what happened.
I had to write it all out for my landlord, who was trying to work out how much compensation they needed to give me in order to make me not take them to court. Once I’d written it all out, I looked back over it and thought, “Holy shit, no wonder I’ve been so stressed.”