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| Scientists Discover The Nearest Black Hole Turns Out It's Hanging On Your Livingroom Wall |
So, I've been journaling (written journal -it usually doesn't show up here) concerning my wake/sleep habits and my weight, which I have determined without question are related. Both are part of a base-level cycle of TV watching, of all damned things. This will probably kill me if I don't get it sorted out.
Without any exaggeration, I have managed to become a screen addict and, more specifically, a TV addict and, in particular, an addict of short, pointless little dopamine hits from the Roku YouTube channel and TikTok (on YouTube).
I am literally capable of watching this pointless shitshow of colored lights, subliminal sex, and superficial cleverness for hours at a time, usually while snacking on something, boosting the "hit" with another addictive additive, kind of a speedball without the needles. My sleep cycle has shifted to well into the early morning hours, which is resulting in me sleeping further and further into the morning without ever feeling like I'm resting. Last "night" it was near-daybreak when I finally broke loose, and WAY late morning before I re-entered the world.
My weight is up 2+ kilos (5 lbs) from when I was already calling myself a fatboy. I am old, and dragging around this extra shit on top of the extra shit I already had will also kill me sooner or later, and probably sooner. My endurance for much of anything is already bottomed out, and it's all downhill from here.
In summary: I've identified two intertwined things that are of zero benefit to me or my life, either one of which is likely to kill me and either way are certainly a waste of time and resources. Here are a couple of clues:
(1) Even when I'm directly engaged in these destructive pastimes, I'm aware what I'm doing but the banging alarm that has been sounding for weeks is deep-muffled in cotton and stuffed away someplace where it assumes a value of "zero importance" until, half-wake in my recliner, I brush the chips and sausage packaging off, and stagger to bed near-blind with nothing to look forward to but a crusty, unrested, dragging, hung-over morning of regret; and,
(2) This "insight" is about as obvious as a steaming turd on my keyboard, but somehow I've managed to sneak into it so gradually I just hadn't noticed.
It's fucking ludicrous.
If there's a better description of an "addict" I don't know it. I've spent considerable time ragging sad-sack Z-gens and their "glue the phone to their face" addictive behavior and general uselessness. I've spent more than considerable time being astonished at giganto fat-bodies on the internet (MORE SCREEN TIME) bitching about us horrible fat-phobes for not accepting them.
In 99% of the cases these wobbling "Wall-E" cartoon characters are me: A huge health problem that is, without putting too fine a point on it, 100% my own fault and 100% under my control. Incidentally, it's also 100% bitched about by my doctor every time he gets a shot at it, not because he's some corporate asshole who hates fat people, but because THAT'S HIS FUCKING JOB.
The appeal of joining up with the latest "equality" movement and being a proud fat boy who blames the world for not accepting me and takes offense at them for making no unearned accommodation for my two-axe-handles-across-the-ass specialness is strong -- it's damned sure stronger than just nutting up and losing the fucking weight, which turns out to be actual work.
I mean for chrissakes, how is any of this anyone else's fault? Short answer: It ain't.
Probably the only thing I despise more than learned helplessness and weakness based in sloth and an overweening sense of entitlement is someone blaming their goofy shit and failed lives on everyone except themselves. I won't be that guy.
Irony: After all that time deriding the utter uselessness of Gen-Z blue-screen junkies, SJWs, and lazy fat-asses all bitching for equality and a "fair share" with regular humans, here I am, retina-fried, burned out, worn out, and waddling my porcine self into extinction.
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| My Preferred Brain-Killer Is Roku YouTube Poe-tay-toe, Poe-tah-toe |
Fuck that noise. I ain't joining that wailing wad of also-rans down their sad-sack "Bravely Woke" paths to failed mediocrity. Let's try something else.
Don't expect updates. I'm mostly just annoyed (and I write about annoyances -- hah! -- another habit). That's why I mention any of it at all.
My problem. My accountability.
Well, guess what. I lose sleep, muscle mass, and more of my few remaining useful brain cells on a regular basis by staring into the void known on Instagram as "reels". I enter a weird sort if stasis and just stare and stare, and watch the next one and the next one and the next one after that. I never got addicted to drugs or sex or gambling but the connection from Internet "content" creators through my eyeballs to my brain seems made of steel cord, virtually unbreakable.
ReplyDeleteUnless I stir up a little motivation, then I drop out of it fine.
But there's something brilliantly captivating about an endless stream of short videos that feature either car crashes, floods and avalanches, or enormous jiggling tits. Apparently that's all I watch because that's all it brings me. I suppose others' mileage may vary.
"Brilliantly Captivating" is in fact the exact phrase to be used in all discussion of these media, as it indicates an intentional act (duh) AND near-total success in pushing whatever buttons any given human happens to have on board to make a widely-applicable product that's simultaneously more addictive than crack -- and which they then "give away". It's fucking genius.
DeleteI had to take all the games off my phone ~ Solitaire, 2048, Wordbrain, etc. ~ because I literally could not stop playing them in the night. Why? I don't understand it. I knew they'd be available the next day, but I kept grabbing my phone through the wee hours to play more. I decided to "only" play the NYT daily games for $5/month, but eventually I found their archives, so I had to give that up too. Anyway, missing sleep or screwing up your sleep schedule makes you hungrier... FACT. Your brain is like I'm tired mommy, but it's daytime when there's work to be done and no napping allowed, so you do the next best thing to keep it going ~ snack! Snack snack snack, and preferably sugar for that instahit. I don't really know why the screen is so addictive, but it is. Personally, I can easily quit watching vids because they bore me, even if there are cute animals, but the games? Nope. Can't stop...
ReplyDeleteI'm pleased to report that I missed the game tidal wave. Thank God, as I have no doubt that my susceptibility to electronic mind-fuckery is well established. Everyone around me is running puzzles, GTA, WOW, Call of Duty, and shit involving dragons and elves. Closest thing to interest that I've been able to generate is the occasional "(Your Fantasy Group Here) Con" wherein gamers, creators, illustrators, and comic book people converge for a weekend of non-real-world related stuff. This virtually ALWAYS results in large wads of frankly astonishing females wandering around playing hard-core dress-up and getting their inner slut on under the banner of "cosplay". Sounds judgemental -- it isn't.. It is in fact the only time I can manage to truly get enthusiastic about whatever TF they're banging on about. I still don't give a twaddle about the games -- but they're damned fun to look at, and to be honest I appreciate it. If that requires me to half-listen to some dweeb droning on about the social dynamics of the 3rd season of Babylon 5 in order to hang out with that banquet of imaginary toys getting my "hunt/seek" adrenals punched about every 30 seconds for an afternoon, I'm all in.
DeleteAstonishing females safely getting their inner slut on is frankly among the reasons I got into Burning Man. Those days appear to be over, though. I'm not the youngster I was (I started going at 50) and nowadays it's all just too big a pain in the ass. My girlfriend is vaguely curious, but this year is out, and besides though she's shown laudable patience with my bullshit so far, it's only been six months and there's a lot of time yet to become terminally aggravating.
DeleteAnyway, yeah, games. The fancy ones never got me. The super simple games that go on your phone are hella addicting, though, and I've had to uninstall several many times, after reinstalling just for "a few minutes." At this moment there are none.
That's the problem with the relatively leisured society, we don't have a driving need to do useful shit that involves getting off our arses. Or asses? Particularly when retired. We're the rats in the boring rat cage that press the levers for cocaine till we die because what else is there to do? And these digital buttons are horribly addictive. Still, as you rightly say, it's our own fault. At my place I probably waste a few hours a day, more if you count watching Westworld. But I'm not tech savvy, get bored by games of any kind including board and card, and there's dogs to walk, a property to be patrolled and tinkered with, and books to be written. Also Greek to be learnt... I'm planning a couple months in Greece... and the ever shifting goal of finally relearning to play keyboards. You gotta have stuff you want to do, I guess, and stuff that has to be done even if you don't wanna. Fake early Alzheimer's and forget where you put the smart phone?
ReplyDeleteIt's been 20 years since I did a major weight-loss activity that resulted in me being "right sized" and I felt so healthy and energetic and life was so good. I was told, 20+ years ago, that I looked "unhealthily skinny", but the weight was exactly right for someone of my height and build. I had muscle density, which influenced the weight. I was supremely fit. I reasoned that they thought it looked unhealthy because they were used to seeing me as a plump-to-fat middle-aged woman.
ReplyDeleteBut when I did lose all that weight and was still quite pleased with what I had done, thus prone to proselytizing about how amazing being healthy was, people weren't happy about my comments. See, I tended to say negative things about *my* being fat and unfit, but they read them as me saying mean things in general about other fat or unfit people. They were quite sensitive. I couldn't convince them - and eventually stopped trying - that I was talking about my hatred of how fat I had been. Me. About me. Other fat people can be fat. I don't care if they're fat or skinny. I find more value in who a person is, than in how they look, within reason.
Anyhooo, the weight came back gradually over time, and dramatically after some life-changing events, and I am back to loathing myself and my fat. Still, the fat people around me, at least two of whom I happen to love dearly and whose fatness concerns me only because they face the same health traps I face, they can go on being fat. I don't care if they're fat or skinny. I am likely to say unkind things about a fat person who is an unkind person, and unkind things about a thin and fit person who is unkind. The words I use may involve descriptions of them. "That fat fuck" for example. "That orange-tinted, unhinged, lard-assed piece of shit", for another. Or "that bottle blonde, stick figure of a weapons-grade numpty" Like that. It's not talking about "all" skinny/fat people. Just specific ones, with descriptions that are intended to help identify the person.
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