Long weird week

So yeah. It's been a strange week, and a long one. I've been busy as hell with work and such, and all that. Trying to train my newest co-worker and doing two or three people's jobs all at the same time. Feh.

I'm going to babble and rant here, and it's a long one, so go get a snack and a juicebox.

Sleepy

But, on the upside, I did get my machine to treat my sleep apnea, so that's been interesting. I've only slept with it on two nights now, but I definitely feel a difference already. Yesterday I was able to get through my day at work with about 3-4 fewer cups of coffee than I normally drink, and I wasn't nodding off at all. I also didn't fall asleep in the car going to work or going home. So yay, I'm happy about this.

Most folks with sleep apnea severe enough for the "machine" get a CPAP, which just blows a constant flow of air at a set pressure into the mask. Those lucky, lucky ones who are too bad off get a BiPAP. The BiPAP has a sensor that knows when you're exhaling, and lowers the pressure until you inhale again. This is for those who need an air pressure so high to keep their airway open that they wouldn't be able to exhale against it effectively.

Guess who needed a BiPAP? That's right, yours truly. It's kind of cool though. The pressure changes help me get to sleep by providing a nice rhythm (why the fuck does "rhythm" have that extra "h"? I had to double-check my spelling because it didn't look right, and that doesn't happen to me much). Inhale loud machine noise, exhale quieter machine noise. Inhale loud, exhale quieter. Repeat until unconscious.

The first night went great. I only awakened once, because the dog woke up and needed to go out. Usually I wake up 1 to 5 times on my own, so this was miraculous. Also, I had not moved, not one bit. This presented a problem, as when I awoke my whole right side was numb. It took about an hour to get the feeling 100% back in my right hand. Awesome! Second night was ok, but not as good as the first. Oh well. Everybody tells me this takes time - even though I feel better already.

Anyway, enough about that. What else made the week weird? Well...

Dead Celebrities
Warning: I may piss you off with this part

It's well-known amongst those who know me that I run a friendly little "Dead Pool" competition each year. As a result, my friends, family, co-workers, and people I barely know have gotten into the habit (which I strangely encourage) of immediately informing me of any celebrity death announcements, and ask me if anyone had the celebrity in question on their list.

This week, Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson all died. All were on somebody's list in the competition. Farrah and Michael? Same day.

I was busy at work, and suddenly I have the second job of fielding chat, phone, and e-mail inquiries about the Dead Pool status. I was busier than a date rapist at a sorority party.

I get called morbid, sick, disgusting, ghoulish, cold, soulless, heartless, callous, and just plain mean for running my annual competition, and it doesn't bother me one bit. And this week, I feel like explaining why that is.

You see, we're talking about celebrities. People I don't know. People you don't know. People your cousin's friend tells you he knows, but he's lying about it. The people who do know these celebrities don't know me, and they don't read my blog or my Facebook status and they aren't participating in my Dead Pool competition. So I'm not rubbing someone's death in the face of those who knew them, cared about them, had a personal relationship with them. What I am doing is amusing myself with the concept of death, because for someone who spends any amount of time contemplating their existence (and, by extension, contemplating their own mortality), it's either amuse yourself with the concept of death or live in paralyzing fear of it. I laugh at death!

In our current culture, many people feel like they have a personal connection with celebrities. They become personally vested in the life of this person they've never met. So they seem to develop this illusion that I'm rubbing their face in their favorite celebrity's death. That I'm hurting them somehow.

Now I'm certainly not above having my feelings vested in a celebrity I don't even know. Witness my feelings about the death of Hunter S. Thompson. However, I don't get so vested that I think of some slight to them as a slight to me. And that's where I part company with those who say I'm heartless.

Also, there's the fact that every time a celebrity dies, somebody is going to call it tragic. Even if said celebrity was 110 years old. Yes, maybe it is tragic to those who actually knew and loved the person - but you and I? We are having a relationship with a public persona, not the human. I feel bad for those who had a real relationship with that person, because they lost someone, but death happens to everyone. We all experience the loss of loved ones in our life, and we don't expect someone who never met said loved one to cry about it.

There is one way I will call a celebrity death tragic, and that is if the person had much to left to give their art/science/profession/whatever but was cut short. It's the art, the science, or what have you that these people are contributing to our lives, and I agree that those things can add value to our lives and give us a reason to feel vested in that celebrity. Hence my feelings about Thompson - his writings added some meaning to my life. Still, I don't view his death as tragic, because his prime was over, and he wasn't going to be writing another Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or anything any time soon.

And this is where my little tangent converges with this week's celebrity deaths.

I've heard some guys lamenting the passing of Farrah Fawcett, because she was their first celebrity crush or what-have-you. And I get that. But why mourn her death if the part of her you care about was how she looked 30 years ago? Did you really get turned on by 60-year-old Farrah? I doubt it. And let's face it, she was never a serious or talented actress, she was a sex symbol. When your most critically serious role was the template for every LifeTime Channel movie ever made, you don't have a lot of credibility as an artist. So, tragic for her family and loved ones? Yes, in this day and age 62 is young to die. For the rest of the world? Not so much.

Then there's Jackson. Sure, he was a cute kid who could sing, and made a bunch of music that a whole lot of people inexplicably (to me anyway) love. But the music he was famous for was done over 20 years ago. He was planning a comeback tour, but do you think he was going to recapture the Thriller days? Wasn't going to happen, my friend. And then there's the biggest reason his death was no tragedy: one less child molester in the world. If you have ever complained that O.J. got away with murder but claim the King of Pedophilia - oh, so sorry, I mean "King of Pop" - was just "misunderstood," you are one delusional hypocrite.

Enough of my bloviating. Done for now. Mattbear out.