skepticlysm

Lunch Hour

Written by

Skeptifist

in

  • Sitting here listening to Daft Punk’s Tron: Legacy soundtrack.
  • While I write random things for work.
  • And this.
  • Obviously.
  • I can go back and forth.
  • Also, it’s lunch hour.
  • (Was. – Editor)
  • EPIC cyberpunk sounds while writing a Code of Conduct for an internal communications platform I get to launch.
  • …
  • Let’s start that over.
  • I didn’t get any further than that last Friday and didn’t pick it up over the weekend.
  • The dependable lists died that quickly.
  • Which is frustrating as fuck.
  • Which makes me want to go into the whole indentured servitude rant again.
  • I won’t.
  • There’s no point.
  • And you’re tired of hearing it.
  • I’m tired of not being able to do much about it.
  • <Insert segue here.>
  • Yesterday, the kid and I went to meet my parents at Texas Roadhouse for lunch.
  • Dad’s birthday was Saturday.
  • When we got in the car, I handed her my phone, told her to find some music.
  • She put on a Punk playlist.
  • The first song was from Bad Brains.
  • Made me proud.
  • How much do we need Punk right now?
  • That raw, scream-in-the-face-of-the-system energy.
  • I popped in my earbuds getting out of car this morning, to continue listening to my “Liked Songs” playlist.
  • Turning out of the parking garage and onto the sidewalk, Rage’s “Guerilla Radio” came on.
  • There I am, gimpy from pred withdrawal, hobbling the block-and-a-half to work feeling the lyrics of that song.
  • We need Art like that so damn much.
  • The other observation: I’m experiencing right now what I’m going to feel like physically if I make it to my 70s.
  • Fucking prednisone.
  • Fast forward 20 years, I’ll be hobbling around with my hearing aids connected to my phone, still listening to Rage.
  • The kid told me a couple weeks back that sometimes, she listens to extreme Metal when she’s frustrated or mad or getting ready to do something she doesn’t want to do.
  • The hardcore, scream-o kind.
  • Surprised me.
  • Illuminating.
  • Because there have been more than a few mornings when she gets in the car and puts her headphones on.
  • I get it, kid.
  • What’s funny is that I never really subjected her to anything harder than Lamb of God.
  • She found it on her own.
  • Hours later, I’m still playing my “Liked Songs” playlist.
  • It just served up “Pocket Full of Sunshine.”
  • Been a helluva mix.
  • But how would it not be, really?
  • They’re all songs I’ve liked.
  • Genre chaos.
  • Most of the drive to work was thrash metal.
  • Two or three from And Justice for All.
  • And this Anthrax song, “Breathing Lightning,” which I love because of how it makes me feel.
  • Has this expansive, defiant, hopeful feel to it.
  • I can’t explain it better than that, and you probably wouldn’t like it like I do, especially if you’re not an Anthrax fan.
  • I won’t try to convert you, either.
  • We don’t do that here.
  • Trying to convince anyone of anything seems like a waste of time these days.
  • Try to get anyone to do anything these days …
  • (This one’s got a high Kid Quotient.)
  • The other night right before we all crashed, she said, “I really like writing down my thoughts about film.”
  • “Yeah?”
  • “Yes. Did you like writing about movies?”
  • “Yes I did. I liked it a lot.”
  • She’s really digging her “History through Film” class (I think I have that right).
  • A whole class where all you do is watch and discuss films?
  • Sounds like college to me.
  • But that “writing about movies” bit.
  • I wonder if there’s going to be a trend back toward strong voices in the fight against the algorithm.
  • I want that to be on the horizon.
  • Stop telling us what to see. What to think. What to feel. What to be mad about.
  • Start fixing things.
  • Oof.
  • Just deleted about … 15 bullets.
  • Because oversharing.
  • Not a good idea to disclose your vulnerabilities.
  • Emotional regulation when everything is full blast all the time.
  • So …
  • One of my friends who’s faculty at the college, gave me a mug when I got back from the brainssss.
  • *See photo if you’re on the Book of Faces.
  • (I promise I’ll get the blog template updated to something with pics. I miss the pics.)
  • Anyway, for those without … captions.
  • It’s one of those that looks like it has lines in a kind of nonsensical pattern.
  • Only when you turn the mug sideways and focus can you see what it says.
  • (Which is probably a truism for surviving the world.)
  • (Turn shit sideways. Focus. Conquer.)
  • Anyway, it says “Fuck This Shit.”
  • I feel like a rebellious teenager walking to and from the break room.
  • This just happened.
  • A person in the hall shook her head at me, said, “Hey.”
  • I said, “How are you?”
  • She kinda grumbled.
  • I nodded. “Yeah, it’s a Monday.”
  • She said, “How are you?”
  • I said, “It’s a Monday,” and then gave that raised mug mock salute … with the FTS Mug.
  • Now, if you’ll excuse me, lunch is over.
  • Back to the grind.

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