30 May 2017 - Scotland Day 11 - Ham, Cheese, and Whiskey

Evening. It's 10:06pm as I begin writing this, and the sky is far brighter than it should be. 

Day 95 with Lexapro. The first mild twinges of withdrawal started occurring later today, at least I think that they have. I've not been listening to my body as closely as normally today.

Mood: 6 overall,  4 right this second. 

I really need to start religiously jotting things down as I do them; these days have been packed with activities, and I'm starting to forget what I've done a few hours after they happen. 

The events that follow aren't necessarily in chronological order. 

• Some standing stones. I don't remember the name and I don't feel like looking it up. There were, for some reason, four sheep in the little enclosed area with the artifacts; naturally, I attempted to pet them. It didn't work - they all walked away from me as I approached, even the ones that were laying down. Sheep are kind of ugly and stupid-looking up close; I recommend observing them from a distance.
• Skara Brae. It was a cool archaeological discovery; I think that if I ever decide to go off the grid, I'll live in a neo-Neolithic settlement. The overpriced cafe had scones; I got one, along with a bit of clotted cream and freshly made strawberry rhubarb preserves, which was fantastic. I also had a cup of coffee, which was good, but too strong. It was a big mistake - I always forget how coffee irritates my stomach, and I get motion sick easy as it is. 
• Highland Park Distillery. The process for making whisky is about what I expected, given my understanding of how alcohol is made, but it was very interesting nonetheless. I ate a handful of sprouted barley; if it were sweetened a bit, it would make a lovely snack. I'm apparently super sensitive, because the building with the actual copper stills, and an explosive, ethanol-laden atmosphere, was somewhat painful for me to stand in. My eyes stung, and I was made aware of small cuts in my face that I didn't know that I had. One of my favorite moments on the tour was when we were allowed to sniff two casks, one made of Spanish oak and the other of American, to see the difference. Many people in the group of 15 didn't notice any differences between the two, but they smelled like night and day to me, and I could even pick out distinct notes in the fragrance. I wanted to sit there with my nose shoved into a bung hole for a long, long time, breathing in the rich odor. Our tour guide, when discussing the skill that goes into whisky-making, touched on how there's a certain amount of natural talent required, and a small part of me thinks that I have that raw ability. I could be a decent whisky-maker, if I wanted to do so. My absolute favorite part of the tour, though, was the whisky tasting at the end. We sampled two whiskies - a 12 year and a 40 year. I preferred the flavor of the 12, but the scent of the 40. Being walked through the process, of how to properly taste whisky, allowed me to notice things in the spirit that I never would have. At the end, we got to keep one of the glasses we used. I purchased two bottles of the 12 year from the gift shop - a miniature one that I'll give to my father as part of his Father's Day gift, and a full sized one for myself. I'll savor it. 
• Some cathedral. I don't remember the name. It was pretty on the inside, though I had a very strong urge to rob and defile the premises. 
• Ness Point. In the mornings, seals apparently hang out there, but we went in the evening. There were no seals, but I did find six large, beautiful shells. 
• Yesnaby. They were cliffs, it was extremely windy, I felt pure and alive and my fingertips got very cold. I drank more cider than I'd intended; Favorite Person gave me hers as she didn't care for the flavor. 
• The Flattie. Bar #2 of this stay on the islands. I like the atmosphere of it more than The Ferry Inn yesterday; this pub had a warmer feel to it, both literally and figuratively. There was a glowing fireplace, which I liked very much, and it seemed cozier, despite being a more open space. I'd told myself that I wasn't going to drink any more today, but Favorite Person owed me a drink, in exchange for my repairing a rip in her raincoat. I had more whisky. 

I'm probably forgetting something, but at this moment, I don't care. 

Food was interesting today. I had two ham, Swiss cheese, and strawberry jam sandwiches, one for breakfast and another for lunch. It was an incredibly good combination, though I may have to use a different bread next time, go easier on the cheese, and be more liberal in my application of jam. Dinner was curry over rice. Between meals, I feel like I was constantly snacking on something - candy bars, crisps, digestive biscuits, something. It felt like there was just a conveyor belt of food going into my face. 

Psychologically, today was overall fine, at least until this evening. There was a lot of laughing and joking with the other students; I felt like a part, a member, like I belonged for once. That feeling seems to only come when my mind is quiet and my attention is focused beyond my self. After Yesnaby (which was after dinner, and after there was some alcohol circulating in my blood), though, I began to tire, and when I am tired, my focus tends to shift from the external to the internal. The whisky I had at the bar didn't help. I've found that, more than anything else, drinking intensifies my normal need to be affectionate, amplifying it to the level of being an almost painful thing. In those moments, as I sipped at the Highland Park whisky, I wanted to lay against Favorite Person (if you've been following this blog for any time at all, this shouldn't be surprising), but didn't; I don't want to be annoying. With no outlet, the need to express my affection morphed into a deep sadness, a rare emotion for me.

To go off on a bit of a tangent, it frustrates me how sad and unhappy are used as though they're interchangeable. They aren't - sadness and unhappiness are nowhere near the same thing. To be sad is to have a presence; to be unhappy is to have an absence. Sadness is a cool, thick layer that smothers; unhappiness is an emptiness that draws all matter to itself and yet never fills.

They're not the same.

Once I started to feel that sadness creep in, along with the tiredness that never left, I forced myself to stay in the bar a bit longer before coming back to the hostel, where I now sit and write and eat. I don't know what I'll do, since while I'm tired, I'm not sleepy.

I'll figure it out.

Tomorrow is supposed to be more outdoors stuff. I don't know exactly what. 

Until then. 

30 May 2017