I started the last post before leaving for the party; I'm back now, and my hair's as long as it was yesterday. Hair cutting places close earlier than I'd expected.
My brain's oddly quiet. I'm not sleepy or physically exhausted, but I'm tired somehow. Something invisible went shoop! up inside me sometime this afternoon - probably in the library, but I didn't notice until I walked into the mass of people at Berkman^2 and felt like being very still, and very quiet, and sort of nonverbally interactive*. Towards the end, Hanna got me sparked up talking about engineering education. (Thanks, Hanna.) Some things will drag me into enthusiasm no matter what. It's probably the best way I have of identifying my actual calling(s) in life, since I usually get excited about everything and excitement is easily mistaken for deep passion.
*Sign language is especially handy for times like this.
I'm lucky to have friends who'll make me interactive despite myself. I got eaten by a giant whiteboard amoeba and did some area calculations for the missile silo. Worked out an a capella arrangement on the train. I've got to find a way to sketch them out on paper now that I haven't got Sibelius. Lilypond? I'm not good enough at it yet to make the process non-laborious. (I would say the same for emacs.) I should probably invest the time and learn.
For the most part, though, a tiny clear voice is the only thing singing through my head. That's mostly metaphorical, but not entirely. That's why I came up with the a capella arrangement (SSAA); it's a good way to get a song unstuck. It also reminds me that vocal percussion is on my to-learn list. (Oddly enough, I can let that thought go calmly, without feeling the need to get really excited and chase that thought down. See? Weird.)
It's odd and rare for my mind to be so still. It often means I'm sick, but I don't think this is the case now. At the very least, it means I have something to think about that I haven't yet realized I have to think about. The best thing to do in these cases is usually for me to go to sleep.
I used to have a sketch in the back of my old notebook this summer indicating that I was "too tired to ask for hug." (It doesn't do any good right now because I don't have that notebook, and I'm the only one in this apartment.) Years ago I found that leaning my head against something temporarily - wall, window, furniture - is a passable substitute that doesn't require the presence of another human being, and lets me have a single point of physical contact (which I'm very conscious of) to focus my brain on, so there would be something there for it to stay on without pumping up the adrenaline. (I kinda wonder if a hat would do the same thing, if I didn't wear it all the time but put it on when I needed to be conscious about focusing a bit.) Stretching works as well, but is less easy to do in public.
My mind is still operating sans its usual --verbose flag. So I'll stretch out a little, and then I'll go to sleep. It's good to more consciously articulate what I'm learning about the way my brain works.