I spent the long weekend — all four delicious days of it — watching a LOT (a LOT!) of NHL Playoff hockey and eating a LOT (a LOT!) of rich, rich food, including one highly-recommended smoked duck clubhouse at Jasper’s Downstream Pub, with yam fries. I also ate chocolate, an EXTREME brunch of epic proportions, apple cheddar muffins, nanaimo bars, and so on and so on and so forth.
The thing about long weekends is, while it is just so, so good to have a break from reality for even that extra two days, they also become problematic in a few ways: first and foremost, they destroy your appetite for work; you return, surly from your stint of sunshine, alcohol and food (and hockey… delicious, delicious hockey…) and lack motivation to carry on the day in a productive and useful manner. Secondly, they allow you far too much alone-time to think about whatever it is you don’t have enough time to consider in your waking, 9 to 5 lifestyle. And third, they royally screw up both your eating and sleeping patterns to the point where you forgot it was possible to gain five pounds in three days, and you’ve suddenly become accustomed to staying up until 3:30 a.m. and waking up at 10 a.m. Sometimes too much free time is still too much. Yet, I value that time so, so, so much; a break from routine, even if it toys with a well-oiled machine of a routine, is at times just what someone needs as a refresher, in spite of the fact that it is too much.
It’s the ‘thinking’ thing that gets me though; too many thoughts crowd an empty space suddenly, and they can be all-consuming and bothersome, when you are supposed to be un-bothered and un-phased because of your miniature vacation. The more you think about things, the bigger and more intense they become; they grow, when no growth would otherwise be necessary.
And suddenly your crowded thoughts start to push you up against foreign walls and into crevasses of those walls and you have difficulty breathing because your thoughts have outgrown you and are suddenly so bothered by them, you have to take a step back and think, why the fuck am I bothered by this? Why has this suddenly begun to matter!? What am I doing thinking so much about this when it is truly, really nothing?
And then you return to your waking life, that life of 9 to 5, and you sit back and realize that you are truly overreacting, that your thoughts do not control you; you should learn – really, you should – to control them.