Overpowered by Funk

Now that the holidaze are over, I can settle in to my usual seasonal affective disorder (whose apt acronym is SAD). Despite my being an agnostic (really, I’m afraid to declare myself an atheist due to family circumstances – dad’s a minister, mom is Church Lady -- and who knows if I’ll be able to make this declaration in the future, as we lurch toward a evangelical Christian theocracy), I like Christmas and appreciate all that it represents (you know, the Jesus stuff, love, redemption, etc.), but the gray days and black ink winter nights tend to bum me out on a chemical level. I suspect that thousands of years ago my peeps used to find a good cave to crawl into and sleep ‘till April or May. No daily grind for them.

In the interest of full disclosure, dear reader, I’m struggling with how much of myself to reveal here, as I’m a pretty secretive (read: insecure, self-loathing) person. Obviously, there already is some built-in anonymity to this blog, and I’m careful not to include too many identifying or revealing details to protect the innocent and guilty alike. But I’m having trouble sharing right now. I will, however, forge ahead and attempt to smash this writer’s block/blue mood….

Ever since I came down with a cold before Christmas, my snoring at night has become so freakin’ loud that I’m banished to the living room couch (otherwise, the wife can’t sleep, and that’s no good). To be honest, the snoring has been a problem before I was sick (and the doc said I need to drop some of the daddy poundage to eliminate it), but it is now worse than ever. So, when the weather permits (or I don’t wimp out), I’ve started running again at night (the half-way mark on my run is a poster of Jennifer Garner on a phone kiosk in the 70s…yowza, pant-pant, woof-woof, hubba-hubba!) and have cut out all snacks, etc. at night. Root for me, dammit! Gotta lose the fat, work the heart, and flood the brain with all-natural happy juice that will kick out the funk.