June 11, 1989
Spent this sunny Saturday alone in the office listening to Götterdämmerung and trying to draw a decent room for the princess to live in. On my way out, I swung by 77 Mark to see if anyone was there. Found Doug playing solitaire on his Mac II. He invited me on a river rafting trip on the Salmon River in Idaho at the end of July. I said yes. I ought to be done with the game by then. If not, five days off should do me good.
Could it be that I have a mild manic-depressive affective disorder? Last week I was depressed. Now I’m bouncing off the walls. It’s a desperate, manic kind of energy, and I can’t say I’m happy, but I will say this: The colors seem brighter. The air seems cleaner. The sun is warmer, the rain is wetter, the mist is mistier. The stacks of plates on the Nautilus machines go up and down easier and I can feel my blood pumping with every heartbeat. I don’t know why, or how long this will last, but I like it a whole lot better than going through the day half-asleep.
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Wow, that does sound bipolar. Seems to have worked out for you, in any case.
It’s such a coincidence – I’ve been born on this day, June 11, 1989. Thanks.
Sometimes, when you drain yourself to extremes, these extremes backfire on you. Or at least, they complicate your life at that moment. The effects of that is what you must have been feeling, after so much work. It is not an alien concept to me, either; so you’re not alone.