There is No Bottom to Any of it, is there?

I spent most of the day trying to come to terms with an unforeseen side-effect of my prescription. The doctor had prescribed HCTZ for my blood pressure, which has spiked over the last year. Under most circumstances, a patient pee's a bit more often and feels lethargic. This usually passes within 7-10 days as the body adjusts to the medication.

In my case, the lethargy was extreme. I went from sleeping 5.5 hours a night (my normal baseline for 30+ years) to sleeping 12-14 hours a day. My schedule, -- a frenzy of university classes, work, child-rearing and spending time with my beautiful GF -- collapsed to "procrastinate, sleep, get up, mainline coffee, take a nap." The doctor thought I should try taking the pill at night instead.

The morning following the first night dose was interesting. I must have slept funny because I woke with a sore neck and the beginnings of a cluster headache that slowly throbbed its way towards full-metal migraine. I was dizzy, sitting down. Standing up brought stars and darkness -- like fingertips pressing inward from the edges of my vision.

I turned on the TV -- never a "smart move" when the room is already spinning.

The collective Id of the west is now focused primarily on the Itchy and Scratchy show. It is above the masthead, every single day. It is always breaking, the waves of a syphilitic ocean of BS, forever breaking against our parched and crumbling consensual-reality shoreline.

"Ugh." was the only response I could muster.

I've always believed that there are two modes to human experience, shared by all. That we are each "maker" and "user." Makers produce and create the things we need and enjoy to maintain our existence, from the food on our table to the shoes on our feet. Users consume these resources, compensating the makers for their innovation and expertise. Each of us is part maker and part user. Within our sphere, we work to provide the grist for all possible mills. Outside of it, we use what others provide and the great circle of consumer-life spins accordingly. The past decade has upended that paradigm, thrusting the inverted human forward into our consciousness. The "taker" who imagines itself a maker, while trampling legitimate users in a vain quest to elevate its own personal "brand," or ego to prominence and domination over all others.

The hunter who returns from their winter trip and offers jerky to his co-workers is a maker. A personal totemic "hero" to hungry peers who share in the experience by enjoying the fruit of his labors. I am just as happy to be a user as I am a maker, but it is situational. I never feel "full" or "satisfied" from my consumption of the product of a taker. How can I? Their contribution isn't part of the wheel. It promotes nothing, except the over-inflated (and warped) drives of its originator(s).

And they are everywhere. Like the proverbial monsters of "THEY LIVE" it took a new pair of "shades" to see them clearly. They dominate all news cycles with half-assed ideas, clueless bumbling legislation, and pointless, whiny protest. "ME TOO!" they shriek. "LOOK AT ME!"

Every factory worker, garage door installer, artist, or enthusiast is pushed to the back of the queue. "We will get to you in a moment, but first -- this look behind the curtain at TAKER CO." Their output is daily, relentless and all-consuming. They swallow all light until nothing remains but a narrative monument to their own inept and hateful blundering.

This locus crowds out everything else like a cancer. Its influence spreads faster than Gonnoreah at Coachella.

I long for the days when actual makers and their relationship to the rest of us was the primary focus of our collective dialog. But those days are done. This is the age of inanity, the template-matrix for all possible (and profitable) hells.

My stitches itch. My prescription has more side-effects than anything else. I'm sure there is something I can take for that to.

And the band played on. The song is a siren call to oblivion. A black hole for black hearts and grubbing fingertips, begging for an encore.

I am totally feeling you.

Analysis of what has happened has become more important and takes up more bandwidth than what actually happens.

The babbling narcissists found on all forms of media have done this. They enjoy hearing themselves talk so much that they drone on endlessly, about everything, insisting that we should deeply care about it all, even what happens on the other side of the world or with minuscule segments of the population.

It's so over-whelming and all-encompassing that it's sometimes easier to just be over-taken by it. But I do resist. I just keep telling myself that I have to be in this world but I don't have to be of this world.

Heres a great little thread with some alternative blood pressure treatments. www.abovetopsecret.com...

Great rant in a hurry or id comment

a reply to: kosmicjack

Amen, brother.

That last bit is such good advice I am printing it out and taping it to my forehead.

a reply to: BlueJacket

Thank you, I'll definitely pour over that thread as I work through my day.

You rock!

Good read. Thanks for writing that.

I assume they already are, but have them test your potassium regularly with those symptoms, and if low, ensure they are prescribing supplements. And keep testing after that, as too much is equally dangerous for the heart.

My mom is on loop diuretics (and in the past thiazides) and it is a continual balancing act.

I wish you luck and health. (And less stress! And I feel you...)

Peace.

a reply to: LesMisanthrope

High praise, coming from you. Thanks for reading me.

a reply to: AceWombat04

Thank you, I'll definitely ask my doc about the potassium. Be good to yourself as well!

a reply to: kosmicjack

That's just it. There's too much noise. I want to fall asleep to a story about Bigfoot. I don't even care if I "believe it." But being in this world and not of it is a delicate balancing act, isn't it?

I hear of some "maker" that I admire and enjoy, dropping everything to "protest," and I am conflicted five ways from Saturday with a layover. On one hand, "Good for you, guy! If it moves you that strongly, go speak your truth-to-power." On the other hand, --"gah! How is this helping? WHO is this helping?"

Both thoughts wash out within a second or two and are immediately replaced by swearing and selfish thoughts about when I am going to get the next chapter of his graphic novel. Or the last book in a series I enjoyed. Or a 5E version of Gamma World (to play with my son). A tinier, more powerful battery for my favorite gizmo. VR that doesn't totally suck. New vinyl.

I get that these thoughts make me a bad human. I get that I am a middle-aged guy, born on Earth day who loves things a little too much. I mean I love the stuff that I love, you know? I don't want my coworkers to stop bringing in that jerky. I'll pay if I have to.

The worst part? I really do care. I overthink and analyze and second-guess my own motivations I double-check arguments I have with myself. Someone's gotta check my facts. I love my friends, my kids, my girl. I love my coworkers and peers and classmates. I love my country. I love where I live.

I want to see it continue. I want to see it thrive. I'm an idiot like that.

I'm torn between fiery idealism and cold cynicism, just like everyone else.

I believe we only know the things we know because we read the things we read. I also believe there are at least three ways to skin a cat. The world could have been anything, and we chose "this." We keep choosing it too. That's another ugly truth.

To be in the world, and in each moment, doing the things I love, making my own small contribution. To ride that wave, and see how far it can take us.

I don't want to be "of" this world. This is just temp work, right?

I want my makers to be making. It doesn't have to be fancy. I don't even mind if I can't "have it all."

Somewhere out there, my favorite writer-director should be brainstorming a new series based on my favorite space-opera.
My brother John should be fixin' up some fresh jerky. The world should move in a positive direction. It's good for all of us.

That's all I'm saying.