Friday, May 29, 2015

Boring Personal Notebook!

I'm not a blogger. I occasionally scribble & click 'publish'; there's a difference these days. However, they still call what this thing is that I'm typing into a 'blog', so I had better do what one does, and update it. 

  • Maybe we should stop calling the boring personal journals 'blogs' anymore, and call them boring personal journals. How about Notebooks? That's always how I thought of what I do, when I do this. It's the typing version of me sitting with a pen & paper, talking to myself. 

Why You Should Keep a Journal (and How to Start Yours)
Image from Lifehacker; no idea how to credit the image. Please claim.

  • I've been working on a big, fat, overwhelming writing project. Project Two. I used to have three big projects, but one got *fired. I chose one of the remaining two as the one to get all my attention and be brought to completion first. It said no. We had a bitter argument. It won & was perhaps a little smug about it. Whatever, Project One.
 *folded into the one I'm working on now. Such is the author's superpower. 

  • I've been power-learning French with the use of Duolingo. I highly recommend it. I can't imagine a free app being of any higher quality. I was exposed to French as a very small person, then it was dropped (I changed schools, unfortunately). But that little bit was enough for French to come with natural ease in high school. I aced those classes, then dropped it again, as we do. Between those two bouts of exposure, I'm good enough to be truly powering through the Duolingo program. It's nice to feel kinda good at learning something right now. My brain is still okay.

  • I've turned into a bit of a Marvel geek. GotG woke a new version of an ancient, very important something or other in me. It's evolved, this thing, with these stories as the happiest help I've had in a very long time. My mind is still okay. 

  • Related (and late to this area of the party): I just started watching Agents of Shield this very evening & learned of a SSSerum/Gamma/etc. Hero cocktail. I am totally going to think up an actual cocktail for this occasion. I will keep you posted.

  • Other stuff I'm watching: Halt and Catch Fire, starring Ronan the Accuser/Ned from Pushing Daisies/Roy from The Fall. He is a virtuoso & I have *a lot of thoughts on this amazing person, particularly concerning The Fall. Easily my favorite actor right now, and among my favorites of all time. Also Alton Brown's Good Eats, Daredevil, Cosmos, Nova/PBS stuff & a bunch of other stuff on Netflix. Usually Deep House Radio on Pandora.
*I'll write a whole entry on Lee Pace, sometime.

  • I'm still at the same day job, attempting to save funds to head home to Seattle in late August. I heart NY, but I'm looking forward to this in a big way.

  • I've lost just over 50lbs from my heaviest weight, 35 of that recently. Keepin' on, with a ways to go.

  • We are Groot.

Still from the end credits of Guardians of the Galaxy

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Literary Fireworks in a Cracked Article

From a "listicle" at Cracked:

“...I was on a ton of painkillers. If you've only had them for minor injuries and in smaller doses, you probably don't know about the hallucinations. By comparison, I was lucky: My roommate was tripping hard on his drug cocktail. I saw little animals coming in and out of the buildings outside my window, but that poor guy was hollering about the CIA coming for him and trying to formulate elaborate escape plans. It got so bad that I called over a nurse and told her that my roommate needed psychiatric help.
She told me I didn't have a roommate.
I was in the room alone.

When I didn't believe it, she pulled out the security video of the room, which showed me talking to an empty bed. So either I'd hallucinated so hard that I hallucinated a whole other person's hallucinations, or the CIA is really, really thorough.”
Gobsmacked. I scrunched in my limbs and gasped, "OH! Oh, oh my God!" I physically, vocally, viscerally reacted to this teeny tiny story & its big, fat surprise. When that happens, you cut that thing right out of your screen, pin it up and yank your muse out of the ether to take notes. This is every damned thing a great short story should be.
Wild, sustained applause, Anonymous and Evan V. Symon. Hat's off. The timing was cosmic. I'm taking myself out on a long-awaited, low & slow writing intensive tomorrow, my one day off this week. A date with an actual ink pen & a sheaf of erstwhile trees (and booze). And I am taking this tiny story as a reminder of what the fuck I am trying to do. Thank you. :)

Friday, February 27, 2015

Of Ice Ghosts & Unlocked Passageways

I felt like a Popsicle: A subfreezing rocket of wind hammered my forehead every with every step I took during the Siberian Express snowstorm a few days ago. I turned a corner into the protection of some buildings and thought, 'Whew, so relieved'. But then, 'Relieved? It's still four degrees Fahrenheit!' Hey, I'm cold-hardy, but wow is this tiresome. And when you are a weather-spoiled Seattleite, you get to feeling like, right, this shit is just not even called for.

Attempting to escape the shrieking attempted murder of a -15F Abominable Ice Ghost.
Fruitless search for image credit. Please claim.

New York City feels like home to me in an old, deep way. I will write at some point about what that means and why it was necessary to come live here. But starting now, I'm hunting, collecting & cataloging this city rather than passively soaking it in. Because? Because I'm heading back to Seattle. One more glorious NYC spring, one more scorching NYC summer, then home at the end of August.

Getting knocked senseless by lethal Arctic weather definitely spurred this decision, its timing (to some extent), & made it easier than it would have been, but. But, there's this whole other thing. About that, if you're so inclined, after the jump. 

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Love v Fandom

Hey, happy Super Bowl XLIX. We’re playing the Patriots today at 6, and I’m really trying, at the behest of my fellow Seattleite co-worker, my Washington fan & a few others, to get excited about this. Or, as excited as I should be or would be if…IF. So much stuff, but the brain injury issue firstly (chronologically - this was the launchpad of my disenchantment - and primarily). 

Also, a lot of the other stuff that isn’t the actual game has become somewhat tiresome for me - surely with my light on after that first thing. I'm sitting upon a heap of bothers now, and I may go over the list here sometime (soon? although you could guess most of it). But I want to go on record before this game is even played, let alone before the fat lady sings, that although I’ll always love sports as much as I was wired before birth to love them, and all that’s important to me about them, I’m finding myself drawing back from American Football. 

As this happens, I’m realizing I have to just let it happen. I won't be anything outside authentic. Today, as lately, I'm pressing upward on my fan’s spirit & energy, making it feel kinda forced and somewhat artificial. I’m not keeping that up after today. Football is like food: ain’t quitting it. I can’t do that & I wouldn’t do that. And I would fight to the death for the right of an adult American, having being given all possible things to consider, to make decisions about his career. But I’m not feelin’ it so much anymore. I’m still here, just faded, maybe a ghost meandering around in the shadows somewhere. The sports love is (and will remain) where it's always been, it's the fandom is fizzling.

I will enjoy this Super Bowl. My fucking team is in it and they are at their historic peak. They are amazeballs, incredible and occasionally seemingly miraculous. And when it’s over, I’ll be tipsy, full & ready for bed. And happy (Go Hawks!) if not with a victory, then with that my guys were in it and with how they brought it, because they will bring it.

And then I’ll go to bed, and when I wake up, I’m hoping my spirit will be on good a growth spurt for this pruning.