Little d is a combination of fatigue, aimlessness, boredom, and general negativity. It also usually involves, or produces, a fair amount of guilt or self blame. Situations that bring about little d are various, but in my case, working night shift is a fairly reliable precursor, due to the following, predictable, circumstances:
- It's a lot of effort to stay up all night.
- It's hard to sleep during the day.
- Spending 12 (or more, depending on commute) hours away from home leads to (almost) inevitable neglect of domestic affairs, nutrition, and exercise.
I decided to call this condition little d because, naturally, there is a Big D. Before I gave it a name, I used to think little d was like a distant relative-- maybe second cousin, twice removed-- to Big D. Just because little d visits now and then, there's no reason to expect Big D to come and stay. Now I think little d grows up to be Big D. I can't explain how it happens. One day you are grimacing at a pile of dirty dishes, then another day you find you don't like yourself much anymore, are actually convinced that no one has ever liked you, and decide to stay in bed for a long time.
This is generally a silly blog, so I won't dwell too much on Big D. Things like blogging, knitting your ass off, and passing for an adult are difficult when Big D is around, and I'm doing at least some of these things without much effort. But I am on guard now. Part of the point of this hat thing is to keep little d in check. Knitting, in fact, is one of my best defenses against little d-- take up yarn, needles, and a pattern, and Lo, child, salvation is at hand! In a few hours, you have physical evidence that you do not suck, and you are prepared to tackle necessary, mundane tasks.
Writing is more complicated, since it's harder and the results are not guaranteed to do you credit-- to yourself or others. This is not to imply that my knitting is unequivocally awesome (though it is), but that writing creates more self-doubt. I can lay in bed, visualizing exactly how I'm going to put the words together, but still get up the next day and spend hours staring at a blank screen... or, let's be honest, wasting time. When it comes to little d, knitting is diplomacy-- writing is getting on a soapbox and yelling "Bring it on!" So it's dangerous, in a way, but for some reason I am still compelled to do it.
So what is the point-- knitting hats or writing about it? Chicken and egg, again. How about a picture?
*Excuse me, farting around. I should really try to clean up my language.