Home > mood, type 1 diabetes > mid-September


The shorter daylight is becoming rather noticeable. I wake up on workdays and it is still somewhat dark, and now not long after 7 in the evening, it is dark. So we’ve begun our descent into darkness and the eventual depths of winter.

I’ve now bowled 3 nights in the league I’ve joined and so far there is no any profound sign of improvement. I’m averaging around 125 per game. I like some aspects of bowling — trying to develop a routine, developing a consistent release and choosing a place to aim each roll of the ball. I like those, that’s a challenge I can enjoy and think about. My biggest struggle with the game is the environment of the bowling alley — it’s loud and there’s a lot of distraction going on. That doesn’t mean bowling is bad or wrong or anything, it’s just that those are aspects to its environment which are very stressful for me, and leave me feeling rather whacked-upside-the-head by the time league night is done. For other people, that’s exciting and good, it energizes them.

But I’d definitely like the sport a lot more if it took place in a quiet and subdued environment.


I took a day trip out to Catoctin National Park and Cunninghman Falls last week. Cunningham Falls are the highest set of falls in Maryland. Unfortunately, with a somewhat dry summer, the falls weren’t all that impressive. Still, it was good to take a quiet day alone to myself and do a bit of hiking. It had been quite a while since I’ve hiked in a somewhat mountainous environment.


About 2 weeks ago, I came somewhat close to tapping into something that almost became a poem or something I could consider a poem. For the first 10 lines or so, the words sounded right, I could see a cascade of images, and then there was nothing more. I tried to push it along, open it up, tried to play off the sounds of the words already written down, but nothing came from them but trite hackery which left me despondent and wondering if I might ever be able to shake something out of my head ever again. I suppose maybe it’s encouraging that the impetus continues to rattle around in my head, and sometimes I get some flashes of how I might be able to turn my head within the imagery to see something more, to hear something else, to find the bits of drama and tension. Although sometimes now I think perhaps I am just too afraid of that drama and tension, I still have the shadows of the last great drama and tension in my real life and those shadows haunt me into a paralysis.


Got blood drawn for an A1c last week. Results came back as 5.8%, which is pretty good as usual. I was expecting 6.0% maybe, I had a bit of a rough patch late in August when my basal metabolism cranked up higher and I lagged behind with correcting the Lantus dose.


I don’t know whether it is good or bad, but I’ve been having a lot of erotic dreams lately. I suppose it’s good in knowing that I still have sexual desires and thoughts.


Over the past year and a half, I’ve tried 3 gluten-free beers. Redbridge, New Grist Beer, and New Planet Off Grid Pale Ale. Of them, my taste buds think that Redbridge is the best so far and tastes most like regular beer made with barley. New Grist is okay enough, but its flavor isn’t as satisfying. New Planet’s ale was the worst of them, it’s one that I would avoid from here on out and I only finished drinking it because I didn’t want to feel like I had wasted the money on it.


I find talking with others at times a near alien experience for me now. I end up wondering if anyone ever actually communicates. I don’t know, I really don’t know. Or maybe it’s just that for the vast majority of people, it works for them and they don’t think about it the way that I think about it. Or it works good enough. But it’s never worked all that well for me and now I’m here in a period of life where I’m absent any sort of confidant. Of course, it’s been like that before, but now it’s a more profound sort of absence, because there was a significant period of time where it seemed like I knew at least one real sort of communication and I had a confidant. Now there’s none and that has become like my own little descent into Douglas Adams’ conceit of the Total Perspective Vortex. The Vortex could induce madness in a sentient being by showing them a tiny dot inside a vast empty space and there was sign which pointed at the dot and said, “You are here.” I am here now. I was here before but without perspective. Then my life zigged in a amazing way and when it zagged back, it left me off at the dot but now a sign pointing at it and saying that I am here.

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