skepticlysm

Tag: life

  • TL;DR

    TL;DR

    • Supposed to.
    • Not suppose to.
    • The d is important.
    • …
    • Yesterday, driving back from my uncle’s 70th birthday party, I thought about the term “supposed to” a lot.
    • Specifically, I thought about it through the lens of how we’re “supposed to” operate in society.
    • You’re supposed to want things.
    • To want the same things.
    • Big houses.
    • New cars.
    • Fancy clothes.
    • You’re supposed to want to get ahead in a career.
    • To aspire to wealth.
    • And power, I guess.
    • You’re supposed to agree with everyone.
    • To follow the flock.
    • Giggle with the gaggle.
    • Goddamn, I have never been good at it.
    • I have tried.
    • I have tried so hard.
    • All my life.
    • Most of my interactions with everything professional has been me pretending, trying to fit in, trying to be liked and seen.
    • Because I don’t fit in naturally.
    • And some part of me knows that, and is desperate to not be alone because he can’t understand what’s wrong with him.
    • But trying to be what you’re supposed to be is hard.
    • …
    • Hell, I wonder if burnout is this.
    • We’re “supposed to” be more and more productive, and all the fucking media I see in my threads tries to make me feel awful if I’m not striving to be more productive.
    • (insert Peter’s rant from Office Space)
    • I wonder if this is why I react the way I do about AI.
    • I can see AI as a tool to help me refine some of my thinking and creative ideas.
    • Kinda.
    • But the flip side of that is it’s refining ideas toward the Great Average.
    • Which won’t be making me more productive, it’ll be making me more intellectually and creatively lazy in the long-term.
    • (The science on creativity says it’s a muscle, btw, and one everyone has.)
    • If you’re using AI as a tool to augment your productivity, to have it replace some of your more rote work output, why the hell are you doing that “work” in the first place?
    • Which lands us back in Supposed To-land.
    • All this shit we’re supposed to be doing is leeching our humanity and our lives.
    • Sucking all the joy and meaning away.
    • When I think about this stuff driving the car, it’s because I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.
    • Why can I not just do what is expected?
    • Why do I not get satisfaction from the expected?
    • (I’m aware this isn’t just me and I’m not trying to be a precious little flower, but I can’t speak for anyone else, so here we are.)
    • For three weeks after college graduation, I got to hang out with my cousins, Brandi and Josh, in the outskirts of Chicago (and also Las Vegas).
    • I bought two CDs on that trip.
    • 1) Evil Empire by Rage Against the Machine
    • 2) When I Woke by Rusted Root
    • While Rusted Root played, Brandi and I talked about something, though I can’t remember exactly what, but she paused mid-sentence while flipping through the CD-book, and said, “I’d like to hang out with these guys.”
    • At the time, I thought, Brandi, you crazy.
    • Now?
    • She was right this whole fucking time.
    • We were at Mumford & Sons last night and while I listened to the lyrics, I kept imagining them sitting around a studio strumming their guitars and chatting about life and music and how they must feel so goddamn fulfilled by what they’re doing.
    • Yes, yes, I can do those things in my “spare” time.
    • No time is spare.
    • Creation is not less than, and it sure as hell has immense value.
    • I’m not opposed to working, mind you.
    • Creating anything is work.
    • But doing something someone else has determined the organization needs is not what I’m … supposed to … be doing.
    • It isn’t.
    • I’m not wired for that.
    • I do it anyway.
    • Because I’m scared of being destitute.
    • Full stop.
    • That’s the whole reason I have worked for something else my entire life.
    • Something.
    • Because businesses are not fucking people.
    • The same as AI aren’t.
    • Think about this.
    • You have a job, your career.
    • How often do you determine what you do on any given day?
    • Are you far enough up the food chain you get to decide how to spend your day?
    • Do YOU set your tasks?
    • Sure, there are days where you’re given a task and allowed to complete it how you see fit.
    • But how much agency do you have in choosing that thing?
    • Food for thought.
    • Food for myself and my family, a roof over their heads.
    • When I look around, there’s not a lot of things I want anymore.
    • Stuff.
    • There are some. I am a consumerist, after all, but things.
    • Physical things.
    • Not a lot of those.
    • There are plenty of things I want to DO though.
    • I want to see Ghent in Belgium, and to go to European holiday markets, not to buy stuff, but to live moments.
    • Yes, many of those moments have people in them.
    • Most.
    • I’d rather trade something I wanted to make for those moments.
    • I want to make art, to sell stories built from my imagination and words.
    • I want to talk to other people in my craft about what we’re creating, and then I want to talk to the people who hopefully have enjoyed what I’ve created about how it affected them.
    • I want to learn to make and play music.
    • I want to paint.
    • And build shit.
    • I want to live doing the things that bring me solace.
    • But … living the here and now is surviving by doing assignments other people give me until I’m used up and reach that government mandated retirement age, a number chosen by those who already have enough funds to buy their freedom and agency.
    • Life’s being suppressed by “supposed to,” squashed by the consumer economy and all the tasks we’ve been assigned to survive in it.
    • I’m not making a political statement.
    • I’m talking about our entire modern way of life.
    • This is not how it is supposed to be.
    • There is plenty.
    • Your value and worth are not your assigned hourly-wage.
    • Which brings us back to that other album I bought in Chicago, Evil Empire.
    • (And I’m sitting here wondering if an examination of Zack’s lyrics is a detour from today’s theme. Maybe yes, maybe no.)
    • So … I won’t.
    • I highly recommend going to read his words on that album, or hell, stick your headphones on and listen to it audio book-style.
    • Zack’s a goddamn prophet.
    • And he’s rebelling against “supposed to” in every way.
    • I have struggled with it my whole life, wrestled with the fear of being poor, of being a failure.
    • More internally than externally.
    • I’ll go do what I need to do, but inside, it’s a maelstrom.
    • That scene of Agent Smith talking to Morpheus while the latter is chained to the chair.
    • That. That moment.
    • And before you go, “Well, why don’t you just do what you want?”
    • Goddamn what a dismissal that kind of thing is.
    • What an uninformed, unempathetic take to have on someone else’s situation.
    • We have to stop trying to make other people fit in the boxes we build in our heads.
    • We alike, but we are not the same.
    • You’re supposed to have empathy.
    • You’re supposed to have the opportunity to be fulfilled.
    • To life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
    • Not to provide value for stakeholders.
    • TL;DR: fuck “supposed to.”
    • Thanks for stopping by.
  • The Hourglass of Wasted Years

    The Hourglass of Wasted Years

    • Up until you get to the word “peace,” the bullets were written on the Word app on my phone a week ago two weeks ago yesterday.
    • So, with my thumbs. In a car.
    • I sent these to Hamby on his birthday.

    :begin transmission…

    • “Conan, what is best in life?”
    • “To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women.”
    • “Good!”
    • What? Ohhhh. Conan Gray.
    • Imma wait in the car. You kids have fun.
    • Okay, but for real, I am waiting in the car reading while they’re at the show. In Kansas City at the Starlight Theatre.
    • And I’m listening to Iron Maiden.
    • “Wasted Years.”
    • And then “Sea of Madness.”
    • I’m going back to my book now.
    • Peace.

    :end transmission.

    • I didn’t really listen to Iron Maiden much.
    • (That night.)
    • Because I could hear the crowd singing every word of every song that Gray gentleman sang.

    See video.

    • Sounded like a musical European football match.
    • They had an amazing time.
    • Steph recounted the moment where the guy took stage and all the crowd in line for swag, refreshments, and the bathrooms screamed and sprinted for their seats.
    • I imagine that’s what it was like during The Beatles era.
    • I remember us rushing the stage and pushing all the folding chairs to the ground at my first Metallica concert, but I don’t remember any outright sprinting or screaming.
    • Then again, my memory’s getting spotty.
    • Brain infection.
    • Moose out front should’ve told ya’.
    • (I get at least a year leaning on the brain infection excuse.)
    • (No, I’m not asking.)
    • I wrote 800 words about AI and military deployment on American soil.
    • You’re not going to get to read it.
    • What’s the point?
    • All this shit at the same time.
    • All my shit at the same time as this shit.
    • Can get overwhelming.
    • I assume I’m already on the List.
    • I think I’m happy that song I mentioned two weeks ago wasn’t AI-generated.
    • Much less creepy.
    • Tracy mentioned she wished she could’ve seen me when that happened.
    • I’ll tell you about it.
    • I was typing something, and then I heard my name.
    • Stopped typing.
    • Aloud, “What the fuck?”
    • Not Loud, because work.
    • And then I kinda looked around my office, maybe sorta waiting to see if anything else was going to talk to me.
    • I might’ve wished it did.
    • I’ve wanted to do one of those ARGs like depicted in Fincher’s The Game.
    • Even played a video game … 20+ years ago that did a lot of that.
    • Called “Majestic.”
    • I think about ARGs all the time.
    • I feel like a read about one where they kidnap you, drive you across town, dump you, and you have to get back to “base” without being caught.
    • I thought it would be cool to have one like that here where you have to get from one side of downtown to the other in a designated amount of time without getting shot with nerf guns.
    • Like an escape room, except your friends are hunting you.
    • Probably higher tech ways to do that, but …
    • Going to be part of the LLC.
    • Yo.
    • I forgot my earbuds … one day last week.
    • (Full admission, I keep writing lists, but not finishing, and then saving them as “unpublished.”)
    • I don’t remember what day last week I started this one, but … well, nevermind. It was a week ago today.
    • And why is “nevermind” not one word?
    • It’s said as one word.
    • I’m sure it was “never you mind” or something Little Old House on the Prairie.
    • Anyway, yeah, yeah, I forgot my earbuds, which is fucking awful.
    • That would seem to make them the second most important piece of tech I own.
    • (I guess I can include the phone, since the buds don’t really work without the phone. Goddamn phone.)
    • Another thing I hate to admit, but this MacBook Air I have is my all-time favorite thing to write on.
    • Other than journals.
    • Journals are the best.
    • And I’d be doing more of that, but holding a pen doesn’t feel great at the moment.
    • I will overcome!
    • Or some shit.
    • Okay, this is the point where I started adding new shit.
    • Consecutive Mondays.
    • I’m listening to the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 soundtrack by Hans Zimmer.
    • The music is way better than the game.
    • Been listening to it in the car, too, which is kinda funny.
    • Dramatic scores for your driving needs.
    • Makes me want the five-point seatbelt.
    • Last Friday, I got off early because I’d done back-to-back 11-hour days.
    • Sat in the recliner and read the newest issue of Wired.
    • There’s a story in there by Steven Levy about what’s happened to Silicon Valley.
    • Story’s interesting.
    • To me, anyway.
    • But it got to me in a bunch of ways.
    • There’s the presence Wired has had in my life.
    • It inspired my decision to switch from Pre-Med to Journalism.
    • Dumb, but … true.
    • No, that wasn’t the only reason.
    • Most of the writing in Wired in the ‘90s felt like a tech-addled Gonzo publication.
    • Which leads us to Hunter, who also had a huge influence on my attempt to be a professional writer.
    • I know I mentioned that memory before, lying on my side in the hallway of whatever the hell building it was (I’m looking at the map, but it’s not telling me), reading Fear and Loathing and laughing so hard I was crying.
    • I wanted to write like Hunter.
    • I wanted to be in Wired.
    • I wanted to have a column like Dave Barry.
    • Didn’t do one goddamn bit of it.
    • Sure, I was a film columnist for 11 years.
    • Sure, I’ve been editor-in-chief of four or five magazines.
    • Why did I not try to write for one of those publications?
    • Maybe I wasn’t good enough, but I don’t think that’s the reason.
    • The Why is … I never tried.
    • And as the sand runs through the hourglass, I feel despondent and desperate about it.
    • Maybe “Do Not Go Gentle” should really be “Do Not Stand and Watch.”
    • It’s so easy to be taken off track from your dreams in this world.
    • So easy because you have to make a living, right?
    • You have to be productive.
    • Produce, motherfuckers.
    • And to the hells with your fulfillment!
    • And this is the revelation I’ve had about work, and I’m embarrassed it’s taken me this long.
    • Do your job.
    • Think about that statement.
    • You have to have a job.
    • At your job, you do what they want you to do.
    • Sure, there’s problem solving involved.
    • You think about how to do that task.
    • But that thinking is about that thing.
    • Is that thing you’re thinking about personally fulfilling?
    • Most of us aren’t really asked to … think.
    • It’s to their benefit.
    • You get the check, sure.
    • And the … Benefits.
    • But the agreement is you’re there for them, not you.
    • I have felt, all my life, there’s a box I’m trying to break from.
    • My mind and desires, my limbs and sanity, pressing against some confinement I cannot see or touch or taste.
    • The fear of being poor has a crushing grip upon me, unseen chains and shackles.
    • That fear keeps you, well, me, from taking the chances I should.
    • And again, I can see the sand running short.
    • There’s a bit of spiced panic.
    • I shouldn’t be sharing this crap.
    • This bit of a journal that’s personal therapy.
    • Saw this thing on Insta today, and I’m going to retype it because I want the vid shared.
    • “Fall in love with some activity, and do it!
    • “Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn’t matter. Explore the world.
    • “Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into deeply enough. Work as hard and as much as you want to on the things you like to do the best.
    • “Don’t think about what you want to be, but what you want to do. Keep up some kind of a minimum with other things so that society doesn’t stop you from doing anything at all.”*
    • – Richard Phillips Feynman
    • Oof.

    *Fun facts about quote marks. You don’t close them off at the end of the paragraph if the same person continues to speak. You save it for when they’re finished.

    No, it’s not a football match.

  • Epistolary Nonsense

    Epistolary Nonsense

    • Belt
    • I don’t know why it says “belt.”
    • This document’s been open for days.
    • I mean, yes, I need a new belt.
    • Had to get one in Minnesota, and it sucks.
    • Might as well be plastic.
    • Okay, maybe I remember.
    • Facebook heard me say belt, so I’ve been getting a lot of belt ads, which is funny, because I don’t even have the Facebook app on my phone.
    • Anyway.
    • It showed me one I liked, so I clicked.
    • Pretty sure it’s coming from China.
    • Pass on that.
    • Not because I’m opposed to having China make my belt, but because I don’t want to wait on it for two or three weeks.
    • That’s one thing Prime did to me for sure.
    • NOW! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!
    • Maybe “belt” was the start of an incomplete to-do list?
    • I do have a to-do list in my journal.
    • There’s a bunch of creative projects on there at the moment.
    • I have a bunch of list stuff in there, period.
    • And I’ve lost the ability to remember if I’ve already written those up and sent them out in the ether.
    • I could go reread the old lists.
    • Scan, really.
    • But then it becomes like walking through a door and forgetting what you came in there for.
    • Let’s get serious.
    • Caramel.
    • Apple.
    • Empanadas.
    • Fuck yes.
    • The Wife actually called me on the phone to ask me if I’d seen they were back.
    • I had not.
    • We scratched the itch.
    • They are just as delicious as I remember.
    • And that marketing campaign.
    • Oof.
    • “Relive Y2k”
    • I mean, yes please?
    • The Matrix was right.
    • 1999 was the peak of human civilization.
    • Saturday, driving up Harvard, I saw someone whom I presume was homeless.
    • I also assume it was a woman.
    • Who had her backside hanging entirely out.
    • Some kind of shredded black shirt, red thong.
    • Footwear.
    • I mean, yes, it was hot.
    • I get it.
    • But I felt like probably she needed some help.
    • I get the feeling of being unsafe some might have being around the homeless.
    • 99 percent of them need help.
    • (I have hands-on experience working with this population.)
    • But we’re all convinced that despite not being asked to be born, you’re only value to society is … work.
    • Fucked up.
    • Something else that happened while driving …
    • Slayer’s “Seasons in the Abyss.”
    • I’m not a huge Slayer fan.
    • But I love that song.
    • (Okay, “love” is a strong word.)
    • And it is appropriate on a Monday morning commute.
    • “Step outside yourself and let your mind go …”
    • “Close your eyes and forget your name …”
    • No?
    • Maybe just me then.
    • Over the weekend, I saw someone post about Harry Potter night at the Driller’s game.
    • Harry Potter Night … at … a … baseball game.
    • I mentioned that to the kid.
    • She said, “What’s wrong with that?”
    • That right there is the difference in generations.
    • Sure, Quidditch, a sport, is a huge part of those books, but … in my day, magic and sports did not mix.
    • “As you go insane, go insannnneeeeee.”
    • My office door sticks.
    • Standing there with my coffee in one hand, keys in the lock, turning, and nothing happens because the door has swollen in its frame.
    • For real, if you want me to not go in, I’ll do that.
    • What if after a Zoom meeting, I can’t get out.
    • I’m on the fourteenth bloody floor.
    • There’s no jumping.
    • And don’t get me started about Zoom and Teams meetings under a no-WFH mandate.
    • Control.
    • Lately, when AI comes up, my brain sticks me into that sequence from Joe Vs. The Volcano when he’s going into work.
    • Gray and drudgery.
    • And I’m back in that spot where I don’t understand the techbro need to replace creatives.
    • You can’t smash out the creative impulse just because you want to make another buck.
    • Art is the soul of humanity.
    • Why do you think there are cave paintings?
    • Just one of the things happening today … I’m researching yoga.
    • I’ve talked about that before.
    • On the work list, not this one.
    • I need to be doing that.
    • Prednisone withdrawals are wrecking my joints at the moment.
    • I’m in this stage where they hurt so bad, I feel the need to stretch them incessantly.
    • I dropped an earbud.
    • Getting down to get it was excruciating.
    • This shit better end.
    • That’s all I’m saying.
    • From time to time, I stick Spotify in Lyric mode.
    • Today, during Anthrax’s “I Am The Law,” it called him Judge Drucker instead of Dredd, and said, “Druck it” instead of Drokk.
    • Joey’s not mispronouncing anything.
    • Spotify’s lyric AI sucks.
    • And you should not trust it.
    • It’ll have you singing “Dirty Deeds and the Thunderchief.”
    • Another thing I saw the other day …
    • This clothing company called Other.
    • Saw they were doing some Metallica apparel.
    • I followed them.
    • Yeah, $100 t-shirts.
    • Wtaf.
    • Sorry, sirs, but that’s “getting tricked by biz-ness.”
    • …
    • I came up with a new short story idea the other day.
    • First one in a long time.
    • The Book does not allow me to cheat on it creatively.
    • I’m going to have to write this one, however.
    • Might be epistolary.
    • Can journal entries be considered epistolary?
    • Whatever, that’s the format I’m thinking.
    • Only if I do it that way, dialogue might we weird.
    • (I might be overthinking that part.)
    • Bat!
  • Lunch Hour

    Lunch Hour

    • 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.
  • Time Theft

    Time Theft

    Sept. 2

    • Now I’m to that point where I think I have notes that could be part of a list in two or three different places.
    • But I’m in the recliner and I don’t want to get up to find a notebook.
    • Or get my computer glasses.
    • If there’s anything that could put a dent in one’s GenX creds, it’s reading glasses.
    • Then the dogs demanded food.
    • So I got up to do that.
    • This is what you want, right?
    • Play-by-play.
    • Announcer One: “And he throws the paper towel toward the can and it’s … no good! He missed again.”
    • Announcer Two: “It’s been decades and he’s still not practicing that. I think we can anticipate continued failure.”
    • Announcer One: “You’re probably right on that.”
    • How horrible would that be?
    • Would you do it for, say, one million dollars?
    • How much would …

    Sept. 4

    • That’s what my life’s come to.
    • Journals and lists half-finished, ephemeral thoughts lost to brain damage and time.
    • This is the real reason I haven’t started Substack or Patreon pages.
    • Squirrel!
    • Time theft!
    • I had two thoughts falling asleep last night.
    • First: paint colors for various rooms in the house.
    • That banal gray’s gotta go.
    • Second: Life Plans.
    • Being the age that I am, the tick of the clock echoes loud in my mind.
    • All the things I wanted to do but haven’t.
    • The undone, I understand those are my fault.
    • I never had a plan, and when you don’t have a plan, you end up eddying, spinning in the stream, going nowhere, or somewhere, just not a where of your own.
    • I feel the lack keenly.
    • The urgency.
    • One of the things I promised myself in the ICU was to stop wasting time with things that don’t fulfill me.
    • It sounds selfish to type it aloud.
    • The world demands a profession, production for stakeholders.
    • You don’t get a roof or food or leisure if you’re not producing.
    • It gives no fucks if you’re happy.
    • If you’re enjoying your time on the blue marble.
    • The inability to break free crushes me.
    • Gets my brain trapped in a miasma of aimlessness.
    • My most “felt” line in movie history?
    • “I must get out of here. I must get free.” Agent Smith, The Matrix.
    • (No, don’t put me on suicide watch. I don’t roll that way.)
    • But that feeling of being trapped by debt and jobs and money.
    • Fuck.
    • Someone’s telling you what to do.
    • Always.
    • Just me?
    • Cool.
    • I saw this chart yesterday … the other day … a day this week … that talked about traits associated with both high and low life satisfaction.
    • Had a lot of both.
    • But with age, there’s this evolution of wants I’m experiencing.
    • I don’t want a lot of things anymore.
    • I’ve talked about this before, right?
    • I’d rather have trips and memories.
    • The craving’s still there for things.
    • Like we’re addicted to the next new thing to own.
    • Shirts.
    • Bags.
    • Cars.
    • Phones.
    • Beds.
    • (I do want CDs and Blu-rays, but that’s a different issue.)
    • (That’s about subscription freedom.)
    • (Okay, it’s not a different issue.)
    • All kinds of shit that won’t last and doesn’t really give us anything.
    • Hell, isn’t everything designed with planned obsolescence these days?
    • Here I am, complaining.
    • Kinda.
    • Lowers my life satisfaction.
    • One of the things on there that grabbed me.
    • “Respect for Authority” on the good side.
    • Which made me ask the question, “Did they check the responses vs. intelligence?”
    • Sigh.
    • Well, goddamn, if this isn’t a joy to read.
    • Heh.
    • Sorry, sorry.
    • Theme of the week maybe?
    • Mark and I had this conversation today about games, specifically about Helldivers 2, Call of Duty 7, Battlefield 6, and Delta Force.
    • Yeah, sorry, I’m a shooter at heart.
    • But most of what we talked about was how much greed has wrecked video games.
    • CoD and Battlefield were Maddenized.
    • Crank out one every year for reliable profits for the master control company.
    • Money’s made a joke of CoD in particular.
    • It’s a hardcore military shooter where you can skin your character like a literal cartoon.
    • Greed kills innovation.
    • EA is like that company in Ready Player One.
    • Video games combine numerous different kinds of creativity to produce … fun.
    • Engineers and coders have to get creative with their technical expertise to make a playable product.
    • Traditional creatives – writers, artists, composers – take the tech and breathe life and humanity and cleverness into it.
    • If it’s all the same, they’re missing the point.
    • Less for more!
    • Shrinkflation is real.
    • Like, we’re addicted to Hostess Donettes.
    • A year or two ago, they took off that metal closing tab on the top of the bag.
    • This month, the made the bags smaller, added more ink to the packaging so you wouldn’t notice, and reduced the number of donettes you get by three.
    • Hostess! Engaging in Shrinkflation! You thought we wouldn’t notice, but … we did.
    • Well, fuck it. We’re on a rant. Let’s keep going.
    • I’m not sure this next part actually is.
    • I remember back in the day, because of iTunes … I became anti-Apple.
    • The ecosystem was too locked down.
    • And I never did buy into that “it’s better because it’s simpler” nonsense.
    • I was Microsoft for Life.
    • Or so I thought.
    • The slip started when they killed Windows Phones.
    • Ended up on Android.
    • Now I have … hell, I dunno, four gmail accts?
    • And I’m on my third or fourth Pixel with GoogleFi.
    • I wrote about getting a Mac as my work computer, which lead me to getting a Mac to replace my Surface tablet, though I do also have a Windows rig for gaming.
    • Oh, and the Xbox.
    • I made a joke about this to Steph earlier, but … looking back, it’s what I wanted.
    • I’m free of any one ecosystem.
    • Free to choose which to use for what thing.
    • I still don’t own a Playstation.
    • Won’t, because, you know, I don’t really want one.
    • And we’re back into the Problem of Things.
    • Cagetalism.
    • Break the ecosystem!
    • I’ve looked into setting up a personal Cloud system for the fam.
    • Everything costs money, but in the long run, I like being free of their system.
    • And I like not having AI helping by reading all my things.
    • Ah!
    • I don’t have control of these things.
    • This is what happens when the product has a life of its own.
    • I imagine this is how authors felt when they tell you the characters took the story away from them.
    • What will the next bullet be?!
    • The fuck if I know.

    No movies, books, shows, or music. We did get some vidya games. We’ll see what happens next. Stay tuned.

    Oh yeah, new blog template. I’m not sold. I miss the pics. Oh yeah, I had this link about the goodness of being bored as told by a Harvard prof.

  • Arrow to the Knee

    Arrow to the Knee

    • So the kid does this thing.
    • If she starts a book, she feels bound to finish it.
    • Obligated.
    • I don’t think I’ve ever been that way.
    • Last night, well, yesterday, she read an entire 400-page book she didn’t really like or enjoy reading.
    • Me: “I don’t understand why you read books you’re not enjoying.”
    • Her: “Because you never know. It might get better. It might have a great ending.”
    • Me: “If it’s not good, you know that’s not going to happen.”
    • Her: “It might.”
    • And then there was something about having bought the book, so maybe a bit of financial obligation, too?
    • Me: “You know, if you got a Kindle, you can do samples of books.”
    • Her: “I’m not getting a Kindle. Stop trying to sell me on a Kindle!”
    • You will learn, grasshopper.
    • When you’re away at college and money is nonexistent, you’ll be calling home to beg for book money.
    • And because that’s a good habit, I’ll probably still give it to her.
    • Because I’m a sucker.
    • Since I’m kid talking today …
    • We have one of those L-shaped sectionals.
    • She sits in the corner against the wall.
    • The Korner.
    • She’s earned the nickname Corner Troll.
    • I did not give it to her.
    • Anyway, there she was yesterday when I got home from work/grocery shopping, book propped up on knees, covered in blankets.
    • (No, I don’t know what book it was. I can’t keep up.)
    • There’s this croissant bread, a whole loaf, I’ve found intermittently at Whole Foods, and only Whole Foods.
    • She loves it.
    • I carried it into the … TV room and showed it to her.
    • Her eyes widened.
    • I turned around and started to walk off.
    • “You bring me that bread!”
    • Made me laugh.
    • I have a bread problem.
    • I won’t foist any of the blame upon Steph.
    • (She likes it, too.)
    • Genetics.
    • Hellva thing, right?
    • Foist was a Wordle word a couple of weeks ago.
    • I think.
    • You know what’s awesome about having some kind of growth near/in your brain?
    • You get to make all kinds of jokes and excuses.
    • “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that. Brain tumor.”
    • I’m doing it for at least a year.
    • We’ll see what October brings.
    • (Next MRI.)
    • Yesterday, we listened to party hits from the 2010s.
    • Today, I’m on someone’s “Songs that give me the thousand-yard stare” playlist.
    • Not bad so far.
    • I guess I should give you Spotifyians the link just in case.
    • Here:
    • Oh, wait.
    • I’m not online.
    • Long story.
    • I’ll get online to post this.
    • Obviously.
    • Also, I have no recollection of adding the playlist to my Library.
    • Sigh.
    • It’s probably all AI-generated.
    • Which goes against my values.
    • I get the potential of AI.
    • It has the ability, as a tool, to revolutionize a lot of things.
    • Definitely going to change our world.
    • I hope the outcome is not Elysium.
    • I wish people would focus on that instead of trying to take the human out of everything.
    • Creatively speaking, I’m sure they’ll use AI to make all the things.
    • I’m definitely having an old man response to it.
    • I’m not alone, and plenty of the AI rebels are younger.
    • But all it can ever do is mimic the human experience.
    • It can’t have any of its own.
    • Even when it’s sentient, its experiences will be alien to ours.
    • Until we all start getting implants anyway.
    • I won’t be around for that, but the kid might.
    • I have a novella I started during the Pandemic about that kind of thing.
    • It got bulldozed to the side by the book.
    • I’m told sometimes it takes years to write a book.
    • The fact mine’s unfinished makes me feel like a failure.
    • I talked to my therapist about this.
    • All fear-based.
    • Loss of identity.
    • Negative self-talk.
    • Working on it.
    • I’m self-aware on a lot of things now.
    • Would not have gotten there on my own.
    • I’m a therapy zealot.
    • It’s changed my life.
    • Could change yours, too, if you need it.
    • Working on the book yesterday …
    • Okay, my process involves reading what’s already there to get in the right flow and headspace.
    • And I had an idea about an interaction between two of my main characters that changes their relationship a bit, so I’m going to have to go back and rewrite a bunch of conversations.
    • I think I told you that.
    • Anyway.
    • During rereading yesterday, I made myself laugh.
    • The protagonist has a super dry sense of humor.
    • And I could hear her delivery.
    • I laughed out loud.
    • Just once.
    • But … kinda felt good, you know?
    • Battled some of that impostor syndrome.
    • Brad sent me this Trae Crowder clip yesterday where the comedian riffs on the advantages of being dumb.
    • He’s not wrong.
    • (I’ll find that link, too, here in a minute. You won’t be able to see it on FB, but it’ll be there on the blog.)
    • (No, I’m not doing the comment link thing.)
    • (Maybe.)
    • (If someone asks for it I suppose.)
    • (I’ll post it in the Discord.)
    • (About time to share that again I suppose.)
    • Gonna have an Old Fashioned tonight.
    • Just the one.
    • I actually want to build a Top 10 Best Old Fashioned list for Tulsa, but …
    • I don’t want to go to all the bars to try to figure it out.
    • Maybe Top 10 Best OFs in Tulsa Restaurants.
    • Still a bold quest.
    • Nevermind.
    • I like ‘em at Jimmy’s Chophouse.
    • Waterfront.
    • Bull in the Alley.
    • The Tavern.
    • (McNellie’s Group cornering the market …)
    • Oh, Charleston’s.
    • I guess it’s Friday when you start thinking about cocktails before lunch arrives.
    • My weekend to-do list is monumental.
    • Things piled up (sometimes literally) while recovering on my ass for 12 weeks.
    • Speaking of that.
    • Don’t do that ever.
    • I’m sure part of the pain I’m dealing with is the Prednisone leaving my body, but goddamn man, everything is tight. Everything hurts. When I stand up, I look like an old man. I mean, my freaking heels hurt, and that is the worst.
    • Sitting all day in an office chair doesn’t help.
    • Standing desk, bro.
    • You know what I’m going to say, right?
    • …
    • C’mon, I repeat the hell out of myself.
    • “Do not go gentle” into that good weekend.
  • I Mean, What the Hell

    I Mean, What the Hell

    • Yeah, this work stuff.
    • Tomorrow’s my last half-day before resuming full-time on Thursday.
    • There’s not been one day in the last almost two weeks where I haven’t come home and fallen asleep in the … den?
    • Is it the den?
    • It’s the TV room.
    • The room we spend most of our time in.
    • That’s why they’re called Living Rooms, I guess.
    • Our house is weird.
    • There’s one room that’s like a wide hallway with a fireplace.
    • Anyway, the point …
    • You haven’t been getting lists because of work.
    • Ironic.
    • Maybe Alanis’s version.
    • Maybe the actual version.
    • Who can say.
    • I have notes in my notebook.
    • Those were relevant at the time.
    • And looking at them now, I’m not feelin’ it.
    • Them.
    • Feeling them.
    • Which would …
    • I mean, rehashing my anger toward our lives of indentured servitude … done it already, and I’m too tired from my job to try again.
    • Which is all you need to say.
    • Those notes were from July anyway.
    • Barely.
    • The day before the end of July.
    • I did spend that particular afternoon listening to Twenty One Pilots.
    • That shit should be hyphenated, by the way.
    • Twenty-One Pilots.
    • Compound adjectives are hyphenated.
    • And judgment is not spelled with an E before the M.
    • I did have a note about grammar, so … that written list might be paying off a tiny bit.
    • A tad, as it were.
    • Also from the notebook:
      • Parking garage
      • WFH
        • Idiots
        • Interview
      • Virgin Islands
      • Negative Inertia
      • Tai Chi
      • A/C guy
      • Read Wednesday’s notes
      • Walgreens
    • The other day, the kid and I went to Walgreens for dessert.
    • She offered to drive.
    • Alas, we did not have the Pilot because it was in the shop.
    • And I haven’t taught her to drive a manual yet.
    • Anyway, we walked into Walgreens and saw a Reese’s display of pumpkins and bats and ghosts and whatnot.
    • You know, the Halloween stuff.
    • And I thought, “Of course that shit’s on sale, it’s olll … oh, shit.”
    • I have time warped.
    • 2026 is going to have to be my year, because I missed a quarter of this one.
    • Woosh.
    • But yes, it’s too damn early for Halloween stuff.
    • Three solid months.
    • At least two months early.
    • Right?
    • We’re willing to give stores a month before a holiday to sell the shit for that particular holiday, right?
    • Virgin Islands?
    • Ooh, right.
    • Bought this book about how to refine your writing/research process, and at the end of the introduction from the author, he signed his name and followed it with … “Virgin Islands.”
    • Bro.
    • You sonofabitch.
    • Rubbing that shit in.
    • “I wrote this book and self-published it and now I get to live in the Virgin Islands while you buy my book and daydream of breaking free of your indenturedship! Sucka!”
    • It’s like that meme of the dude flashing the Peace sign from someone’s freshly dug grave.
    • At least he didn’t use AI to write it.
    • (Because then anyone could repackage it and sell it with a different name and get their own Virgin Island residence.)
    • (Or maybe he got to write the book because he already had money in the first place.)
    • I collect books about writing.
    • My three favorites are probably Hemingway’s, Stephen King’s, and Elmore Leonard’s 10 writing tips, which is a … list.
    • Last week, the kid told me she was reading the intro for King’s The Life of Chuck, and said it sounded like my writing.
    • I told her his book, On Writing, was really good and that she should read it.
    • She said, “Perhaps.”
    • The really odd part of that … I haven’t read a lot of King.
    • Fewer than five.
    • A few days ago, we were talking about work/school and trying to be creative afterward.
    • “I want to work on something creative, but when I get home from being bored all day at school, I can’t do it.”
    • “It’s difficult.”
    • That’s not my real problem.
    • Yes, it’s true, but …
    • Wait.
    • I’m about to overshare.
    • …
    • Nevermind. Not doing that.
    • Authenticity.
    • Gross.
    • It would smell like excuse refuse.
    • Funny how that is, right?
    • Your feelings about a thing are legitimate.
    • Your struggles to overcome a thing are real.
    • And yet, say them aloud they become excuses.
    • Oof.
    • Do your therapy.
    • Do the work.
    • Overcoming the thing is the goal.
    • Avoiding the thing is the problem.
    • Blameshifting is the problem.
    • Own your shit. Conquer it.
    • You go to therapy, right?
    • No?
    • “You think that air you’re breathing is real?”
    • Again!
    • “Fear is the mindkiller.”
    • Inertia is the worst.
    • Trying to write from a recliner in the … TV room … while the kid’s watching The Office (which I never got into) …
    • (We can still talk about tacos without them being Trump, right?)
    • (Nevermind.)
    • I started getting ads for tai chi.
    • Which I want to do.
    • Finding a place though.
    • Do you know what that’s like for introverts?
    • Going to a class of any kind?
    • But especially those martial arts classes.
    • (It is a martial art, but not one where they punch each other in the head; doing that when you have a titanium plate in your dome and a rescabbed scar is probably a bad idea.)
    • I want the habit, though.
    • I get tired of push-ups, you know?
    • (This is what I get when I write when I should be napping.)
    • (Seriously, this one’s a sack of cats.)
    • (Imma stop now.)
    • (You’re welcome.)

  • You Are Our Last Hope

    You Are Our Last Hope

    • Last week, on my first half-day back at work, I fired up the laptop, started typing on my wireless keyboard.
    • The E key did not work.
    • How does that happen?
    • The keyboard, far as I know, was not touched while I was gone.
    • dEad.
    • …
    • I’m actually in a bit of a quandary.
    • Writing these during recovery was a bit of a different experience than writing them for work.
    • I’m not sure I want to go back to doing them the other way.
    • The work way.
    • Unfiltered feels better.
    • I haven’t ruled it out yet, but I’m on the “no more for work” side of the fence at the moment.
    • Let me tell you a story. I started a journal entry this morning where I lamented the fact that most of my writing these days is lists of random thoughts. Five years I’ve been communicating that way on a regular basis. I’m out of habit making paragraphs. Maybe even coherent arguments, or expounding upon the paragraph’s subject to a logical conclusion (provided you believe I have any logic at all).

      Like everything else, I beat myself up about it. My writing skills are somehow suffering. I can’t stay on topic to write a proper essay. A visual representation of a hyper-active brain. Not that mine’s hyper-active by diagnosis.

      Not sure any of that is true, but it’s the current mental narrative.
    • I dunno if you know this, but I am hard on myself.
    • DID YOU KNOW: Journalism schools coach you to keep paragraphs to one idea.
    • That might be one sentence or a few.
    • Definitely not those epic ones that create giant blocks of copy labyrinths where eyes get lost, take wrong turns, wander off, lose the train …
    • I often wonder who really pioneered the style of writing.
    • (We didn’t really study the history of the mechanics of journalism writing in school.)
    • (Only best practices.)
    • Write clearly.
    • Fast.
    • Small words.
    • Objective words.
    • Truths.
    • I felt, at the time, it made my fiction better.
    • Because when you use objective descriptors, you create a better picture, something shared between you and the reader, and your intent is accurately conveyed.
    • Trying to narrow the gap because there always is one.
    • Reading is a subjective endeavor, after all.
    • …
    • Recuperation still in process.
    • Came home today, sat on the couch.
    • Put my feet on the coffee table.
    • Snoozed.
    • Typing now, but I’m still tired.
    • Could nap some more.
    • Oof.
    • On the other end … well, in the corner of the sectional, the Kid is reading Plath’s “The Bell Jar.”
    • I never have.
    • She reads more Lit than I do.
    • Makes me proud.
    • “What’s that about?”
    • Her: “A girl who goes insane.”
    • “How is it so far?”
    • “Good so far.”
    • “Is she insane already?”
    • “No, but she’s very weird.”
    • Kinda makes me want to read it.
    • In other fun news, I hit my head on the corner of a thing taking a bite of a taco, stabbing my scar.
    • Bled into napkins.
    • Currently, I have a new scab.
    • The wound’s covered by a layer of Neosporin and a Band-Aid.
    • Gifted.
    • Makes me wonder if I am, in fact, clumsy.
    • I don’t think anyone would’ve ever described me as graceful.
    • But I’m not uncoordinated.
    • You don’t get to start teaching knife fighting classes after a year if you’re uncoordinated.
    • Yesterday, the new boss scheduled a department bonding activity.
    • Axe throwing.
    • Never done that before.
    • Got there.
    • Had to sit and watch for a few minutes and listen to people going, “Are you going to throw next?”
    • C’mon, man.
    • Don’t rush me.
    • A) Still not comfortable having a room of people watch me do a thing.
    • 2) Still hate being bad at things.
    • ii) Especially new things.
    • Half the crew threw with two hands, like a wind-up behind their head.
    • I think the old man in Last of the Mohicans threw that way?
    • I envisioned whacking myself in the back of the head with the axe.
    • No, thank you.
    • Took me a bit.
    • Had the armed goth manchild babysitting us show me the technique.
    • Started chucking.
    • I ended up with three or four bullseyes, but the one in the pic was the best of the bunch.
    • Could totally get into that.
    • First, it’s hella cathartic.
    • And then it’s a skill for post-Trump America.
    • And also they did not teach us to throw our weapons in Kali class, because … if you throw your weapon, you no longer have it in your hand.
    • Duh.
    • I’ll go back is what I’m saying.
    • To your unasked question: yes, my shoulder is sore (in the good way).
    • So is the rest of my body.
    • 11 weeks of lethargy will kill a 50-something.
    • Oh, fuck. I’m a 50-something.
    • Seriously, I wish they’d just rebuild me like the Six Million Dollar Man at this point.
    • My heels hurt (so they need stretching).
    • My shoulders, neck, and thighs are sore from the bike ride three days ago.
    • Four?
    • My hips are still sore from the trip.
    • My IT bands are making my leg go numb.
    • What.  The. Actual. Fuck.
    • Do Not Go Gentle … or go Nap.
    • Whichever.
    • I’m wearing a t-shirt featuring a Molotov cocktail drawn by one of my great friends.
    • I love the sentiment behind that.
    • Create a work of art based on a poor-man’s explosive typically used in riots and social upheaval.
    • I sometimes want my words to be a hand-made, hand-tossed explosive.
    • We’ll get back to a regular schedule soon.
    • Until then …
    • Never give up. Never surrender!

  • Trepidatious

    Trepidatious

    • What a long, strange week that was.
    • And now we sit on the Wall of Trepidation, the Precipice of Return.
    • I haven’t missed work.
    • I didn’t think I’d be out this long, but … apparently recovery from a craniotomy and treatment of a brain growth takes longer than you expect.
    • Even sick, even with all the health nonsense wrapping up, I enjoyed my time of freedom.
    • It gave me perspective.
    • I won’t get into that because some of my TCC people are on here.
    • But once you’ve had daily freedom for a substantial amount of time, combined with a nearish-death experience, well …
    • Epiphanies occur.
    • I had two for my book, for instance.
    • One of them means I have to go back and rewrite almost every interaction between my two mainish characters.
    • The other is probably for book two, but … might make it into this one.
    • Then there were the self-revelations.
    • The elation of not being told what to do.
    • (I cannot overstate the feeling of that; I could do so much more without that in my life.)
    • Sigh.
    • At least I’m returning triumphant.
    • The enemy might be vanquished.
    • Or it might be regrouping like Sauron, the eye ever watchful.
    • We’ll wait and see.
    • I’ll battle my hope, keep it battened down.
    • I’m not sure if I’ll have time to continue the Black List here.
    • Okay, that’s horseshit.
    • I’ll fit it in.
    • It might not be every day.
    • I need it to be every day.
    • Good habits are only good if you keep them.
    • Another aspect of my return to work, especially as it relates to this … I’m not sure I want to go back to writing sanitized versions for work.
    • Sure, that’s where this all started.
    • And most of what I write here is fine.
    • But I like the NSFW bits.
    • I like not censoring myself.
    • Though, frankly, I have still avoided politics and I’m not sure why.
    • I have a list of unrelated-to-work To-Dos.
    • Get the LLCs done.
    • Get the mic I need for the podcasts.
    • Get the websites built.
    • Get the merch train rolling.
    • Keep writing.
    • Get back in shape (already kinda started on that one).
    • Lots to do.
    • Time moves pretty fast.
    • If you don’t make moves to control yours, someone else will.
    • I have taken advantage of the convalescence.
    • Or let it take advantage of me, anyway.
    • Move it.
    • Walking around last week, I lamented the fact I’d forgotten my pocket notebook.
    • Things would pop into my head and … what to do?
    • Sure, I could use a Notes phone app.
    • But then I have to remember to check it because that’s not part of my routine.
    • (FU, computer grammar police; I mean “have to,” not “must.” This isn’t a fucking period piece.)
    • Here’s what I did: I emailed myself the note.
    • From Gmail to my primary.
    • One of them was an Insta post.
    • One of them said, “Metalhead.”
    • Which, yes, obviously.
    • But in this instance, not what you think.
    • LWIL: I have a titanium plate and screws in my head now.
    • Had no idea.
    • No one mentioned it before.
    • Beforehand, the neurosurgeon said she’d be putting the bone they removed back.
    • We’ve spent 11 weeks thinking the bone spot was just in there regrowing, fusing back with the rest of the skull.
    • And she said she did that, but also … plate in my head.
    • “Don’t worry. It won’t mess up any MRIs.”
    • Got that, lady. Already had three of those since the surgery.
    • There were other revelations in that appointment, like the size of the tissue she removed (think diameter of a dollar coin).
    • Anyway.
    • Metalhead.
    • Accurate.
    • Again.
    • And literal this time.
    • One of the other emails says, “311 drums.”
    • The drummer for 311 is a badmotherfucker.
    • So was Green Day’s.
    • Sublime … isn’t.
    • No, I’m not going to elaborate on that.
    • At the time of this writing, Snacks is standing on my chest, Kong in his mouth, begging me to save him from Emmy.
    • Because she takes his away every time, obviously.
    • Nevermind he’s bigger.
    • She’s meaner and more tricksy.
    • Yesterday, I stood by the backdoor and watched those two take care of business, and I could feel the inferno with my eyes.
    • (Steph was trying to nap, and our doors beep when you open, so … monitoring it because I didn’t let it fully close.)
    • While I watched, nearly napping, suddenly I felt a touching, touching of my little toe.
    • Looked down and Ginny had settled next to my foot, extending her paw to lay atop my toe.
    • Then she climbed up on the couch arm and asked for pets.
    • One of the cats missed me.
    • The other attacked my leg because I did not hold her long enough.
    • And probably for being gone for a week.
    • She’s still not talking to me.
    • Cat, sometimes we have to leave home for a spell.
    • Doesn’t mean we’re leaving you.
    • Don’t be a clawing shithead about it.
    • Thanks.
    • – Mgmt
    • On the way home from Minnesota Monday, I put on my “Liked Songs” playlist.
    • It literally played the entire time with no repeated songs.
    • Well, maybe a couple, but only because I’d liked two different versions of the same song.
    • I don’t think the women hated it.
    • We rolled my Dad’s Subaru Forrester.
    • … Okay, I have trouble reconciling that in my head.
    • He’s a Chevy guy.
    • It’s his first-ever brand-new car.
    • I’m used to him tooling around in a GMC 4×4 extended cab, extended bed, monster truck.
    • Still not sure how he ended up with the Subie.
    • (His doesn’t blow holes in its engine block walls like mine does.)
    • Anyway, he loans it to us for these Minnesota trips.
    • It is the best road trip car ever.
    • (Except for napping in the passenger seat; so I’m told.)
    • Android Auto is awesome.
    • Better than Apple Carplay.
    • What I’m saying is … I guess I have a shitload of “Liked” songs.
    • I did spend an afternoon in Minnesota adding songs to it, so there’s that.
    • Want a taste?
    • “Francesca,” Hozier
    • A ton of Metallica songs (because I had not liked them individually).
    • “Eruption,” Van Halen
    • “Enjoy the Silence,” Lacuna Coil (cover of DM)
    • “Santa Monica,” Everclear
    • “Brain Stew,” Green Day
    • “Prayer of the Refugee,” Rise Against
    • “The Distance,” CAKE
    • “Slither,” Velvet Revolver
    • “Judith,” A Perfect Circle
    • “My Hero,” Foo Fighters
    • “Float On,” Modest Mouse
    • “Shame,” Stabbing Westward
    • “Highway Tune,” Greta Van Fleet
    • “Personal Jesus,” Depeche Mode
    • “Break Stuff,” Limp Bizkit
    • “Even Flow,” Pearl Jam
    • “Creep,” Radiohead
    • “Bleed it Out,” Linkin Park
    • “Hash Pipe,” Weezer
    • “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” Twisted Sister
    • “Song 2,” Blur
    • “Let’s Go Crazy,” Prince
    • “I Wanna Be Sedated,” The Ramones
    • “Need You Tonight,” INXS
    • “Could Have Been Me,” The Struts
    • “Back in Black,” AC/DC
    • And we’re stopping on that one, because it’s thematically appropriate (and sets off a whole bunch of summer memories in someone’s Camaro).
    • There’s a fuckton more, obviously.
    • I guess I could share it, but … feels kinda personal.  
    • See you tomorrow, probably.

  • En Guarde!

    En Guarde!

    • The status quo has got to go!
    • On this trip to the great North, I received nothing but good news.
    • The neuro surgeon told me she didn’t want to see me again.
    • The infectious disease guy stopped the current antibiotics.
    • I now reside in the Mad Eye Moody realm.
    • …
    • “Constant vigilance!”
    • Wait and see, but … they think they got it.
    • Not a diagnosis with a name or anything like that, because nothing about this is easy or makes sense.
    • But …
    • I’m not sure what to do with this.
    • Process it in public, obviously.
    • When you have a giant growth in your head that has gotten into your brain, and the fucking Mayo can’t figure it out, you start to count your remaining years in single digits.
    • The worry feels immense.
    • Hope … well, hope is fucking dangerous.
    • Even now.
    • I still have to manage my hope.
    • The Specter looms, you know?
    • Because they don’t know what it was, they can’t say for sure, so we don’t know for sure.
    • Hope has to be managed.
    • It’s all a different kind of trauma, right?
    • Takes time to heal.
    • Minute-to-minute, hour-to-hour, day-to-day, year-to-year.
    • And having something like this changes your perspective.
    • Affects your Evaluation Matrix.
    • There’s a lot that becomes “not good enough.”
    • Hence that opening line, which no doubt I heard somewhere else.
    • (No, I’m not going to look it up.)
    • “Rage, rage against the dying of the light!”
    • Yeah, definitely going to get the tattoo now.
    • I have hoops to jump through there.
    • But I’m jumping.
    • So much of our lives are treading water.
    • Or you’ve switched fulfillment for jumping through hoops at your job, trying to advance.
    • More and more, to me, that seems a waste of time.
    • You’re limited in your jobs by managers or bureaucracy.
    • You think you’ll advance.
    • Because that’s the contract.
    • But that contract doesn’t actually exist.
    • It doesn’t actually matter how good you are.
    • How much time you give them.
    • How many KPIs you help achieve.
    • It’s all about the circumstances.
    • Timing.
    • Bah.
    • Too long others held the wheel.
    • Is it the same for you?
    • Hmm.
    • Yesterday afternoon, we hit some vintage shops here in Rochester.
    • I bought … And Justice for All on vinyl.
    • I don’t … own a record player.
    • The kid does.
    • I may hang it on the wall in my office and be done with it.
    • Last week on Discord, we talked home offices/working spaces.
    • I’m proud of mine.
    • First official one I’ve ever had.
    • One entire room in the house dedicated to all the categories of my nerdom.
    • There are a lot of books.
    • Computer.
    • Keyboards.
    • How lucky am I, right?
    • There it is.
    • Luck.
    • Do we ever give credit to the fortune in our lives?
    • Where you were born.
    • The opportunities you take for granted.
    • We’re hard-wired to notice the negative.
    • Like I’ve heard mention 5-to-1, 7-to-1, 10-to-1 positive to negative.
    • Meaning, it takes 5/7/10 positive things to overpower one negative.
    • I started seeing that first in regard to relationships.
    • And then it spread to everything else.
    • Think about it like this.
    • If you’re a boss, that ONE time you get onto your employee weighs as much as five compliments.
    • If you’re a husband, that one shitty comment weighs as much as five good deeds.
    • Because we’re wired to be on guard.
    • Too look for the bad.
    • So we can survive.
    • This is the root of the division in America.
    • The Bootstrap Bullshit.
    • (Go look up the etymology on that when you get bored.)
    • (It’s a retread of “Let them eat cake.”)
    • You only control you.
    • I’m sitting here typing on a table with wheels in a hotel room.
    • The Wife’s in a Teams meeting, headphones on.
    • The kid’s “asleep” behind us on one of the queen beds.
    • Walgreen’s keeps calling.
    • My legs are going to sleep and everything itches (again. still.).
    • Shortly, we’re going to have breakfast at Hollandberry, which is an amazing diner we found about half our trips here ago.
    • They serve this thing called a Pannekoeken.
    • They yell the word when they bring it to you.
    • Sounds like, “Panic again!”
    • I still haven’t tried it yet, but I am today.
    • I’ll post a picture later.
    • Goddamn, I love breakfast places.
    • Somehow, I have not been to Blue Moon in … half a year?
    • On my agenda for when I get back, even if I have to go alone.
    • Deep breaths.
    • Holy shit, you guys, I may be cured.
    • Sure, my car’s motor has a hole in it.
    • But …
    • Sigh.
    • Still here.
    • Still breathing.
    • Still sharing.
    • The bar’s been reset.
    • Maximum fulfillment is the goal now.
    • The status quo has got to go.