My introduction to Facebook... left me in tears. If the `Trying Facebook' entry came out seeming angry rather than sorrowful, then I should probably apologise to anyone who read it. When I went to bed, that night, I wanted to cry. My wife asked me why I'd come to bed so late, I said "Because I'm depressed". "This whole Facebook thing has just got me really upset", I said. She said, "Then delete your account--it's OK, you don't have to use it." I told her, "It's not Facebook per se--it's that it seems like my friends are telling me that they basically don't want to be bothered corresponding with me unless I can solve all of these puzzles. That's what's bothering me." When I awoke the next morning, I wanted to cry. We were going to go visit Pam's sister and her family, so I made myself a `healing mix' on my iPod.
There were more, but I was back in perfect health by #16. #4 is where I broke down, and where I began rebuilding. Several of the pieces listed above are ones that I find profoundly moving (Canon, in particular, always makes be cry--it's just that beautiful). Listening to them--experiencing them all in series like that provided a sensation of... liberation, hard to describe. Maybe it's like flying--soaring. It's like..., I don't know--it's like being loved. In some way, being immersed in beauteous music is (perhaps) the same sort of experience as the `pure light' experience that the doctor described in `Sunshine'. [Reply] |
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