"Research. Government archives. Detective work. Few lucky guesses. Easy." [said Zaphod.]
"And then you stole the Heart of Gold to come and look for it with." [said Ford.]
"I stole it to look for a lot of things."
"A lot of things?" said Ford in surprise. "Like what?"
"I don't know."
"What?"
"I don't know what I'm looking for."
"Why not?"
"Because . . . because . . . I think it might be because if I knew I wouldn't be able to look for them."
"What, are you crazy?"
"It's a possibility I haven't ruled out yet," said Zaphod quietly. "I only know as much about myself as my mind can work out under its current conditions. And its current conditions are not good."
For a long time nobody said anything as Ford gazed at Zaphod with a mind suddenly full of worry.
"Listen, old friend, if you want to . . ." started Ford eventually.
"No, wait . . . I'll tell you something," said Zaphod. "I freewheel a lot. I get an idea to do something and, hey, why not, I do it. I reckon I'll become President of the Galaxy, and it just happens, it's easy. I decide to steal this ship. I decide to look for Magrathea, and it all just happens. Yeah, I work out how it can best be done, right, but it always works out. It's like having a Galacticredit card which keeps on working though you never send off the checks. And then whenever I stop and think--why did I want to do something?--how did I work out how to do it?--I get a very strong desire just to stop thinking about it. Like I have now. It's a big effort to talk about it."
I could never exist like Zaphod. I'm not a freewheeling kind of person. I get ideas, work out how best to execute the ideas, and follow through. For me, life is about planning and putting those plans into action. If I don't do this, I get anxious. I don't enjoy feeling unprepared.
For example, this morning, as I was taking my shower before heading out to church, I suddenly realized that it was my Sunday to play the pipe organ for the service. There I stood, shampoo dripping into my eyes, in a sudden state of panic. My pulse rate increased. My breathing quickened. I was on my way to a full-blown anxiety attack.
Here's what I did--I quickly finished my shower, got dressed, ran out the door, drove to church, and practiced for a good 45 minutes before the service began (Usually, I practice three or four hours the day before until I feel comfortable with everything--the music, songs, and organ settings.) I played under a state of almost terror. But, I made it through the hour with very few noticeable mistakes.
At the moment, I'm still recovering from this morning's adrenaline rush. Now that it's all over, I'm feeling drained. My body is going into adrenaline withdrawal, which means I could take about a two-hour nap.
That is what surprise does to me. It gives me hours of absolute worry and fear, followed by several more hours of recovery. I may feel normal again by about eight o'clock tonight, just in time to get ready for another day of stress at work tomorrow.
Yesterday, I set myself up for stress. I had a lot of things on my to-do list: blog, mow my lawn, pick out church music, play for Mass, create the discussion guide for my Book Club meeting, and then clean my house. It was an exhausting day, but I did manage to get all of those tasks done. Surprisingly. As I was heading into the bathroom with a bucket and sponge, I really had second thoughts of continuing. However, I persevered and finished my work.
Here is what I have to accomplish for the rest of the day: print out my discussion guide, throw together and meat-and-cheese tray, and take a nap. Then Book Club.
Hopefully, no more surprises for Saint Marty today.
There's a place in this world for valium....
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