As I stand at my desk, looking at the distant reflection of color that is all I can see of the outside world from the part of my employer’s building I work in, I can’t help but think of last year’s torrential storms and the hour and a half I spent stuck in a bathroom, waiting for the tornado warnings to clear. The storm now distending the sky, wrapping it unevenly in darkness long before the sun is due to set, will not be as fierce as the storm last year that left me without power and anxious about something entirely new after I finally made it home between tornado warnings. Even if the weather reports can no longer be trusted as much as they once could, I’ve spent my life watching for storms of all kinds. I know when one is coming by the way the air feels on my skin, by how the temperature and pressure change, by how the wind blows and the various layers of clouds move relative to each other. I studied a lot of meteorology as a child, with the same fervor as I once studied trains and Richard Scarry’s books, but only because I once got surprised while hiding from my family in the woods by a torrential storm. Sure, the science of it all was interesting, as were the remote and–in my eyes–exciting places such science got done, but I was looking for practical lessons and I learned them well enough that they serve me still. I can’t tell exactly when the storm will happen, but I can tell that it will and how bad it will be.
Continue readingMusing
Dreaming Through It
For the past few years, I’ve been dealing with an increasing number of dreams. For a lot of my life, I didn’t really dream much aside from a few repeats. I had one when I was younger about being swallowed by a blanket that showed up every time I got sick (our family called this specific blanket “the sick blanket” since, as little kids, we got bundled cosily into it when we weren’t feeling well), a weird warped-perspective dream about being a tiny dot that couldn’t move around my parents house every time I got sick after I was ten or eleven, and some weird tons-of-armies-fighting-a-giant-war dreams that were basically my imaginary play games given life and ridiculous scale by my sleeping mind. I’m sure I had other dreams from time to time, but I really didn’t have many and it was only in high school that I realized that most people dream much more frequently. These days, though I still don’t dream often, I now have about as many dreams a month as I used to have in a year. Generally speaking, they’re a much wider variety these days, having replaced the old “got stuck in high school as an adult somehow” anxiety dreams of my college years and early twenties with a much greater breadth of mental fiction. Unfortunately, this uptick in dreams coincides with me starting to finally process the trauma of my childhood and so most of my dreams since then have a dual attachment to my present and something I’m working through or have mostly worked through from my past. It’s kind of exhausting, to be frank, but I try to stay focused on it being a good sign that my mind is actively healing from the stuff I went through as a child.
Continue readingRepetition Is The Key To My Job Security
One thing I’m known for amongst many of my oldest friends is being willing to repeatedly tackle a problem. I will bang my head against a wall until it caves or I do. I’m not one to feel particularly bad about failing at something, nor do I tend to spend a lot of time caught up in self-recrimination. I’ll take a moment to assess what happened and what I could try differently and then get right back to it. I’ve got my limits, of course. I won’t keep tackling a problem I know I can’t solve and I’ll eventually give up for at least a while to rest if I’m feeling particuarly worn out by my efforts, but my limits for this kind of repetition and effort are much more expansive than most people I run into. This is one of the qualities that has made me a good software tester. Unlike a lot of my peers who will write up what they saw and move on if they can’t reproduce the issue quickly, I will (when the situation calls for it) dig in and keep messing with things until I either figure it out or I feel like I’ve done my due diligence. This is an ever-moving goal, unfortunately, but it’s still something I and my coworkers have come to count on. If there’s ever a tricky little bug with a lot of finicky details and no clear cause, I will usually be sent in to figure it out because I will just keep trying stuff without letting it wear me down. It’s worked so well in the past that everyone on my team knows me for this quality at this point, for better or for worse. They can always count on me to do whatever needs doing in as exacting detail as it needs (if not maybe a little too exacting sometimes).
Continue readingWrapping Up Fruits Basket
At far too late at night (an admittedly subjective time), I finished Fruits Basket with my friend. We started Season 2 a few weeks ago, but got caught up in it as the second season came to a close and wound up watching the last season of it in about a week as we crammed it all in before she and her husband would be entirely unavaiable due to traveling for a wedding. I was desperate to finish watching it, swept up in the story as I was, and she was willing to sacrifice sleep to share one of her favorite stories with me, so we burned the candle at both ends and now I’m at a loss for what to do with myself once again. Less so than with Final Fantasy 14, but, unlike Final Fantasy 14, I still find myself thinking “I can’t wait to watch more Fruits Basket” and then remembering that there’s no more for me to watch and getting utterly devastated as a result. I wouldn’t really compare the two since one is a video game that took me 1100 hours to get to the end of the first major story arc that has completely reshaped the way I spend my free time every single day and the other was a 60-some episode anime that took a few months to watch only because we took a bunch of time away after my friends went to Japan for their honeymoon and I got super caught up in Final Fantasy 14’s story line (which didn’t leave much room for anything else, especially during a period when I was so emotionally exhausted even before dealing with the emotional complexity of Final Fantasy’s story). Feeling at a loss after Final Fantasy 14’s story is a result of not just storytelling but the end of something I’ve been doing for half a year, but the feeling following Fruits Basket is entirely due to the strength of the storytelling, the memorability of the characters, and the uncompromising manner in which the truth of the characters is laid out by the end of the show.
Continue readingGrowth, Change, and The Illusion Of Both
It has been a bit over a month since I first wrote about it, but I haven’t stopped thinking about the Ship-Of-Theseus-Of-The-Self in regards to myself, my biological family, and my experiences with them. It’s not really an active, all-consuming thing, but the entire train of thought hasn’t been far from my mind in a while. Historically, summers have always been rough for me, especially in regards to family issues, due to a string of birthdays and how often the worst events of my childhood happened during the summer, so it’s not surprising that I can’t really get these thoughts that far from the surface of my mind. I’ve also been encountering a bit of family issues in media recently, what with watching Fruits Basket and finishing Final Fantasy 14’s Endwalker expansion, so that certainly hasn’t helped keep it off my mind. It was actually the stuff from Final Fantasy 14 that prompted the latest branch of this thought tree. In Endwalker, there’s a difficult family situation that is resolved by the end of the expansion and, as I played through the post-expansion patch content, the thought occurred to me that the family member causing problems in the expansion “lived long enough to grow into a better person.” Which got me thinking about my grandfather, who probably did the same thing, and my parents, who might never. It’s a grim thought, that, and one that filled me with a great deal more grief than I expected it to when it popped into my head, but I genuinely have no idea if my parents will accomplish that particular feat or not.
Continue readingFalling Asleep, Waking Up, Or Staying Up
For a few years now, I’ve had the end of Friends At The Table’s fourth season (Twilight Mirage) bouncing around in my head. Not the way the story played out, though I’ve thought of that plenty, but the very end of it. As the season wraps up and the last bits of the game they played slowly fade out, the final theme starts to play over what turns out to be one of the characters from the season interviewing his allies. He cycles through a bunch of questions and the person answering them usually changes from one question to the next with very little repetition, with one notable exception. This final question lends itself to the name of the song that’s playing as the season winds down and the various characters answer questions posed by the interviewer, and is what has stuck in my mind for so very long. The interviewer asks the crew if they prefer falling asleep or waking up. Everyone answers with their own thoughts on the matter, providing information about not just their answer but also their view about the world and the part they have to play in it, because they’re not just answering the question but speaking about why they prefer their given option. The way this question and series of answers are framed makes it clear that one answer isn’t “correct” or that one mode of thinking isn’t preferable to another. Instead, it leaves you, the listener, to consider their words and reflect on how these interviews, which ostensibly occurred at the halfway point of the season rather than the end of it, might change or alter how you feel about these characters and the events you’ve been listening to for some thirty-ish episodes. It’s really well done and has stuck with me as much as anything Friends at the Table has done (and that’s genuinely a lot).
Continue readingNo Socially-Enforced Patriotism For Me, Thanks
For past decade, almost, I’ve felt a decent amount of shame every time Fourth of July comes around. The US hasn’t been worth celebrating in a long time (perhaps ever, given its imperial nature, horrible systemic treatment of its own minority citizens (not to mention the treatment of non-citizen minorities), centuries-long campaign against indigenous peoples, etc., etc.) and, with every passing year, I feel more and more reticence to even mark the day, let alone do anything that could be construed as “celebration.” I mean, sure, to most people, it’s probably just an excuse to get outside, light some probably-illegal fireworks, and grill up some food, nothing more. There aren’t a lot of mandated days-off for most people and this one, a rare time where most people don’t work that overlaps with when kids will be free to do whatever they like, is in a prime part of the year for vacations and just getting out in the sun. I can see people just taking it as a day off and not digging too deeply into what it means to have an annual patriotism festival, but I can’t get these thoughts out of my head. Especially now. Especially with the current government. ESPECIALLY given the secret police, the ever-concerning rise of more and more overt fascism, and how the party nominally positioned to offer resistance is failing to do much of anything one could charitably describe as “meaningful.” I can’t stop thinking about it at least a little bit.
Continue readingSweating The Summer Heat
Thankfully, all of the weather prediction services were more-or-less right about the end of last week’s heatwave. Unfortunately, as I mused at the time, the official end of the heatwave took only it’s obscenely high temperatures. The otherwise toasty high temperatures and still kinda high low temperatures have stuck around, always overshooting the day-to-day forecasts so that every single day winds up hotter, more humid, and much less comfortable than expected. It has made occupying space in my apartment a bit more tricky than usual because even something as innocuous as making dinner can put a lot of heat in my apartment that my AC unit just can’t handle on top of the day-to-day heat of summer and sunshine. I don’t remember my AC unit struggling this much in the past, but it’s certainly possible that it is genuinely working less well now than it used to. I’ve had old AC units die on me in apartments before and I know that the more heavily they’re used, the faster they wear out and the layout of my current apartment demands heavy use if I’m going to actually control the temperature in any space other than right next to my AC unit. All of which amounts to me starting to sweat most days when I’m in my office, playing games on my computer. Maybe I should spend less time in my office where there’s no good airflow and two large heat generators in a small space (me and my computer), but it’s difficult to imagine that my upstairs room where all my entertainment stuff is located will be much better when I can feel the heat swamp me every time I move around that room.
Continue readingThe Endless Road To Recovery
It has been over a year since I went from “struggling” to “barely getting by” in terms of my personal health. A year ago, I was on vacation with my siblings and struggling to get enough sleep due to back pain from a mix of how a medicaiton I was taking messed with my joints and how my old, worn-out mattress had negatively impacted my back (which had only become apparent when I was trying to sleep on a not-horrible mattress). Things pretty much only got worse from then until mid-October, where they slowly reached a degree of stasis they stayed at until early January. Since early January, my physical and mental health have been variably up and down as I’ve dealt with more new medications, physically intensive work at my job, long days, too-short nights, and a general feeling of isolation that has left me wondering why I even bother with all of this stuff. I’ve written more posts about how I’m slowly improving than I care to count and this one was initially going to be no different. Things are improving, sure. I’m feeling a bit less tired than usual and while I’m more uncomfortable than ever as a result of the high temperatures and trying to change a sleep schedule I’ve more-or-less maintained for most of my life (at least two decades), I do think things are getting better. I don’t know if they’ll stay that way, if they’ll improve further, or if something else will crop up that has me feeling worse again, but I can’t help but feel like I’m trying to climb some kind of trick staircase that has me constantly feeling like I’m moving forward while I never actually get any further from the bottom.
Continue readingSlow-Cooked Considerations
After what has turned into three horrible, sweaty days, the heat wave is ending. It has not ended yet, but the wisdom of the remaining pieces of the US national weather prediction aparatus have declared that, by the time I’ve gotten my necessary groceries and made my way home, it will be over. My two sleepless, restless nights will not be joined by a third and the ruddy, glistening sheen of sweat I’ve taken to wearing in the place of my normal mistless pallor will finally take its leave. Even now, as I type this, all my weather apps and services cry out that the worst has passed. “All will be well,” they say, “With a fifty percent chance of severe thunderstorms and a constant overnight temperature not much lower than last night’s.” My office is muggy, made so by the water I’m constantly drinking to feed the stirring air that whicks all perspiration from my skin to compliment the moisture that made making its way through the heavy filters and cooling processes of the building’s HVAC system that leaves this place a dry husk devoid of comfort in the winter and my little thermometer’s delcaration that it is only seventy-six degrees in my litle rectangle does little to comfort me as a result. After all, what does the number mean to me when the only way for me to stop sweating is to sit in my chair and refrain from any kind of movement? What’s the point of knowing the temperature when even the movement of standing up to examine the digital readout is enough to pop tiny beads of just-drunk water on my forehead, upper lip, and forearms? It is hot, it cannot be denied, and I do not need a thermometer to tell me that.
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