Even though we’re going to talk about social health tonight, don’t for a moment think this was intentional and that I had prepared a “theme of the week” or some such malarky. Let me disabuse you of this notion immediately. If this shit were actually planned out, we would’ve ended years ago, because such practiced discipline for a blog would be as sustainable as a wood-burning Prius.
While physical health seems to be on the ascendant, only one adjective will suffice for my social well-being: stalled. Most of my time outside of work is spent with people from work, which isn’t a negative in and of itself. I don’t regret a minute of it, frankly, but there’s this compulsion to diversify, whether wrongheaded or not, and on this front I am deficient. I was secretly holding a torch for the alumni association. If such associations are designed to foster goodwill toward the alma mater, however, then something went terribly, terribly awry along the way.
It hasn’t all been for naught, of course. It’s the skills, as always, that have been invaluable. Better capacity for social situations. Heightened proficiency at small talk. Improved articulation on the phone. All things that, had I not continued down this path, would’ve eluded me entirely. But it’s time to cut my losses and look elsewhere. It’s back to the drawing board.
With any luck, you’ll start to see our posts hit the e-presses at earlier, saner evening hours, though this phenomenon won’t be driven by a passion for writing or any such high-flown conceits. That would be ridiculous. By now, you should know that vanity and self-interest will do in a pinch here, whenever passion is in short supply, but it’s actually sleep–or the prospect of shuteye, more to the point–that’s driving the change.
I’ve been thinking about working a regular sleep schedule into my accidental regimen, simply on the strength of how noticeable a difference it can make. 1 AM seems to be my limit. Anything after 1:30 AM, and I turn into a pumpkin–an impatient, denser pumpkin, if yesterday was any indication. But today, buoyed by a full night of rest, I crushed it, mental pistons all afire, my productivity wholly in my command.
Even a visit to the doctor’s office this morning was like clockwork. It’s been a couple years since I had a blood test, so when the screen came back with a clean bill of health, I was admittedly relieved.
“How much exercise do you get?” my doctor asked.
“About 30 minutes a day or…every other day,” I offered.
He seemed to approve.
“What do you do?”
“Mostly aerobic,” I equivocated, until I thought better of it. “Uh, ping-pong.”
Amused look.
“Are you good at it?” he pressed.
“I’m OK.”
“‘OK’? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m being modest,” I shot back.
The entire visit was short and sweet, an economical 15 minutes from waiting room to checkout. When I thanked him for the logistical efficiencies of his office, the old chap explained how he was “obsessed” with not wasting time, and furthermore how we wasn’t trying to be a “social doctor.”
“That’s perfect,” I nodded in agreement, “because I wasn’t going to tell you my life story anyway.”
Firm handshake, and that was a wrap. I should’ve shaken his hand again for not asking me about how my Thanksgiving went. There’s always next year.
Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, November 29.