Posts Tagged ‘insanity


Better (?) Living Through Video Games: Tetris and the Brain!!


Two great Wikipedia snippets I chanced across today. About Tetris.

According to THIS (click) playing Tetris can actually improve the efficiency of cognitive functioning AND help people recover from traumatic events faster than NOT playing.


It can also make you go crazy. (click)

We report, YOU decide. I just want to go play some Tetris now. The voices agree with me.


Twilight parenthood

DISCLAIMER:  There are probably no references to vampires in this post.  Besides this one.  Google is not your friend.

Many of my last seven years as a parent have been spent in a state of twilight.  Not entirely lucid, not quite asleep.  I’ve come to regard it as normal, and even to cherish the feeling brought on by days, weeks, or (sometimes) months without an uninterrupted night of sleep.

It starts when they are newborn, especially with your first.  You are getting MAYBE an hour or two of sleep at a stretch, which deprives your brain and body of the good REM sleep that you need.  As a result, you start to go bonkers.  This is a good thing, because if you were entirely aware of the psychological, spiritual, and moral implications of the new arrival of a human life — that you had a hand, so to speak, in creating and bringing into this world — you’d likely go far more deeply and irreparably insane.

Then they get sick.  There will be no rest on the nights when you “sleep” camped out on the recliner with a trash can under one arm, ready to spring to full alertness and catch the vomit at the slightest noise or other cue… most of which are false alarms, but which you can’t afford to ignore.  Or it might be the spiking fevers, the whooping or wheezing of a cough, the sharp cries of pain from newly-cut teeth or the ubiquitous ear infection.

Even when NOTHING’S WRONG you will lose sleep, because the predatory fears of the future do their best hunting at night.  When all seems calm, it’s easiest to remember that the world is a scary, dangerous place… and despite our constant reassurances to the contrary, monsters DO exist.  Twilight hours spent in prayer for our little ones come so often, but never as often as they should.

So, why bring this on yourself?  Why bring on the heartache, backache, and forced insomnia?  And WHY would anyone choose to bring an innocent, defenseless, undeserving human being into a world with such evil and suffering?

I can’t explain it if you haven’t been there too.  Sorry, it’s a little bit of a “red pill, blue pill” thing.

I’ve taken the red pill four times now… and I am eternally grateful for each of them.  Because whether they occurred on my timing or (much more often) not, I am blessed with each nighttime cry I comfort, each diaper I change in a pitch-dark room, each nose I wipe, each bedtime story I read, each sleepless night I undertake.

There will be plenty of time to sleep when they’re grown, and these rooms are quiet and empty.  In the meantime…

… have to go.  She’s crying again.  Where did I put that Tylenol…


Road Rage

It’s one of my deepest pet-peeves: people driving big d*mn Chevy pickups too fast down the highway, throwing gravel that invariably chips my windshield, resulting in several $30 repairs over the years, and at least one new windshield (and a new rear-quarter glass… go fig.)

I try to see Jim-Bob Chevy coming, and give him a wide berth on the highway.  Sometimes it works.  Today, however…

I had left school to make it back to town for a meeting with my pastor, the nature of which had the potential to turn confrontational.  It DIDN’T, but at the time I was a little keyed-up.  Earlier in the day, I had accidentally bottomed-out my poor little Lancer (loudly) while rushing to drop off some overdue library videos from last week.  Also earlier in the day, I had a student turn violently angry and cuss me out cold for no apparent reason.  (He apologized later.)

Suffice it to say, my day had been a roller-coaster of blood-pressure and stomach acid surges.

And then I see it: a white late-model Chevy Silverado pickup comes blazing up in the passing lane.

I clench my teeth, and mutter out loud “DON’T you dare do it… don’t DO it, d*mmit…”

And he does it.


A quick look toward my passenger side-front glass.

*expletive, expletive*

There is a CRACK, at least 8-10 inches long, which has INSTANTLY formed near the bottom right corner… the exact location and variety of which is nearly impossible to repair.

Did I mention we can only afford to carry liability on our cars?

*enormous expletive*

I have only vague, red-tinged recollections of what happened next.  I remember flashing my lights, honking wildly, and gunning it up to 90 to run the sucker down.

I remember cutting in front of him — a kid in a baseball cap and his buddy, completely ignorant of the pain they had caused me, and the lingering death hovering a mere eight feet and two closed doors away.  I slowed down.  He passed me.  I rode his butt, alternately gunning the engine and falling back, for the next several miles into town.

When we got there, did I come to my senses?  Oh no.  I followed him across town (which was, admittedly, the direction I was going,) turning when he turned, and hoping like anything that I was scaring the hell out of him.

I wondered what I would do when I caught up and he stopped.  I imagined saying something like, “I just wanted you to know that you, in your successful attempt to gain two minutes in your drive to town, managed to fling gravel through my windshield.  Now you’re here, and I’m out money I DON’T have to replace this less than one-year old windshield.  Congratulations.  I hope to God you feel bad, you little sh*t, and I hope you take other drivers NOT in big-*ss Chevy trucks into consideration the next time you decide to break the law and speed.”

Something like that.  Yeah.

So anyway, a few random turns later, he stops over by the YMCA.  Afraid of what I might actually do to him (or have done to me,) I keep on driving, knuckles white on the wheel and eyes fixed dead ahead.

Anyway, then I had my meeting with Pastor.

An hour later, murder was the furthest thing from my mind.  On the way home, I kept my eyes peeled for that white Chevy pickup.  I wanted to find them and leave them a note, apologizing for how I behaved, and telling them how much of a jerk I felt for doing that to them.

So if you read this, 9KJ-ZO3, the crazy guy in the little white Lancer is sorry for being an *expletive*, and hopes you can forgive him.


One week until Christmas, world still insane…

‘Tis the season for utter craziness.  God Bless America!

First item up for bids: a 10-year old Florida girl gets arrested for cutting her steak with a knife.

Read about it HERE.

Insanity In Action #1: Way to demonstrate how to be a responsible adult there, teachers… Call the cops on a little girl.

Next, what says “Christmas cheer” better than a 33-year old New York woman fondling Santa Claus?

No, really—click HERE to read for yourself.

Insanity In Action #2: Be careful who you call “Ho Ho HO,” old man… Some people may interpret that as a come-on.

Finally, in a bright spot, Bill Clinton gets pwned (pronounced “hahahahaha,”) in a response statement from the RNC following claims that G.H.W. Bush would join him on a worldwide tour to apologize for his son’s (current President Bush) bad behavior.

(Click HERE.)

Insanity In Action #3: People actually WANT this man back in the White House…

IN SUMMARY: Whether it’s your cutlery, your hands, or your opinions… maaaaaybe it’s a good idea to keep things to yourself.

The random musings of a 30-something, West Texas high-school science teacher. Hoo-RAY.
August 2020


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