I’ve finally returned to thinking about the future again, after my month (or so) of chaos and stress. I’m not at the point of making any plans yet, since I’m still letting myself finish recovering from all that stress, but I have begun to imagine how different scenarios might play out. It’s the same sort of exercise that you do whenever you talk about a dream house, an ideal occupation, or a fantastical life. There is little focus on the specifics or the likelihood of that dream coming to fruition as you instead just spend the time imagining what would be the most fun or pleasant way for things to be. Dream houses have secret tunnels, hidden doors, hedge mazes, and oddities like towers or lighthouses or live-in garden hermits. Dream occupations hopefully focus on things you find fulfilling rather than the odd power fantasies I always hear from people who’ve bought in to capitalism. Fantastical lives are either incredibly vague things when they’re “realistic,” especially these days when an ideal life is stuff like “not sad all the time” or “I don’t have to worry about money while living modestly” and so on, or they’re hyper specific as you imagine yourself living in the fantasy or sci-fi or alternate world of your choosing. Instead of focusing on any of those, though, I’ve been imaging what my ideal day would be.
Continue readingDay
Making The Most of a New Day
Wren checked the clock and saw they’d overslept. Grumbling under the music playing from their phone, they heaved themselves upright and sat on the edge of their bed for a few luxurious mintues, mind blank as sleep slipped slowly away.
After their routine of exercise, stretching, coffee, showering, and breakfast, they slumped into a lounge on their deck and spent an hour planning their week. Meetings were maneuvered, appointments shifted, and plans confirmed as their second cup of coffee dwindled. Wren clambered off the chair after finishing, left the pool of lamplight on their deck, and went for a brisk walk through the woods.
It still felt wrong to hike in the dark, but they’d adjusted to wearing a headlamp and marked all their favorite paths with reflective trailmarkers. Their parents had gotten used to winters without snow eventually, so they figured it was just a matter of time.
After their hike, Wren settled down for lunch in their kitchen, absorbing the warmth and light of a sun lamp while eating. They could have taken vitamin suppliments, but they found comfort in the routine of basking.
After cleaning up, they settled into their office and put in a few hours of work, doing a few pages of roughs and working on some flats for their currnet graphic novel. The idea was about five years old, but it felt nice to draw sunlight. Nostalgic, even thought it had only been a few months since the Shutter project failed, cutting Earth off from sunlight permanently.
Since the shutters were all solar panels, humanity had plenty of power to turn the moon into a replacement. Days were 28 hours long now, after adjusting the moon’s orbit, but Wren always felt like they were built for days like this. Shame about the tides, though.
Recorded and Reposted: At End of Day
When the day is done and the fire’s stoked,
When the night is fresh and the world is cloaked
In star-soft mantle of darkening blue
I still have one last job to do.
I compile the words I have found,
Feeling out their shape and sound
As I sort them into categories
In preparation for all the stories
I haven’t had the chance to tell,
Until the fire’s down to a sullen swell
And the first glimmers of morning sun
Tell me that my work is done.
Chasing Down Words
Some days, I just run out of words.
I watch them flee like a flock of birds
Thrown to wing by some hidden fear
As deafening silence draws near.
Some days, I only catch a few.
The rest stay just out of view
As I spend my time hunting down
That one specific hidden noun.
Some days, I catch all I could want.
I walk away feeling nonchalant
Only to eventually find
The empty pen they left behind.
Some days, I build elaborate traps.
I make complex plans and draw maps
So I can make sure I get my fill
Even if they’re mostly swill.
Some days, I catch words with ease.
I can have as many as I please
Because they cluster around me
As if they just want some company.
Some days, there are too many to stand.
They tug and pull and angrily demand
Everything I have to give,
Like they don’t care if I die or live.
Chasing down words is a lot of work.
Even if I choose to wait and lurk
Instead of constantly giving chase
I always wind up in a race.
Eventually, I have to make do
With whatever words I could accrue
In my day’s painstaking labor.
Some days, I just run short.
Happy Independence Day
I’ve always loved the idea of Independence Day. The entire world caught unprepared by the sudden and hostile invasion of an alien species who just completely kicks the world’s collective asses until the (of course) scrappy USA-based resistance force finds the weak spot and saves the world by valiantly sacrificing of itself in order to do so. US exceptionalism at its best. Such a great movie. In the few years I had the money and autonomy to do so before I left the state for college, I’d buy myself some Chicago deep dish pizza and watch it every 4th of July. It was my tradition that I’ve only had the opportunity to reproduce once in the 7 years since then.
This year, however, I was given the wonderful gift of celebrating US independence by watching the sequel. If you’re curious, it’s basically the same movie except the rest of the world is pretty much destroyed, the US government is killed, and the US exceptionalism is a bit more subtle. Just a bit. Oh, and they totally set the stage for more sequels. I’d kind of be okay with a few dozen of those movies, if I’m being honest. I’m not going to see them because I think they’re going to be wonderful examples of cinematography. I watch them because they’re decent action flicks with good pacing, funny bits, and not enough narcissism to take themselves seriously.
That last element is key. Not taking itself too seriously. I’m a big fan of that idea. I enjoy anything that can take a step back and laugh at itself. A lot of the better meta humor is a pretty good example of this. Shows like Community, comics like Order of the Stick, writers like Terry Pratchett. They’re all very good at poking fun at themselves.
I feel like any attempt to do that with a national US holiday is met with some resistance. There are the inevitable trolls of course, but a lot of people can’t seem to understand that making jokes about something isn’t necessarily disrespect. If you think about it, the general rule for humor is that it’s not considered bad taste to make fun of a particular group so long as you’re a part of that group. Since I’m a citizen of the USA, I should be able to make fun of my own country. People should just chuckle and crack a few jokes of their own. I’m pretty laid back as well, so I wouldn’t even care if citizens of other countries made a fun jokes as well. Humor unites us and all that.
Unfortunately, there is inevitably at least one person who just wants to rain on everyone’s parade because they think their country is the best and deserves nothing but “respect.” Otherwise known as unquestioning loyalty. I will admit to being inspired to write this post by the series of grumps I’ve seen across social media CAPS-LOCKing at people about being disrespectful.
Thanks to this holiday, though, they’re free to do as they wish and I’m not going to do more about it than make a rambling, critical blog post. That’s what today is about, you know. Independence. Freedom. Eagles, fireworks, and charred meats. Oily pasta salad and potato salad with enough mayonnaise and eggs in it to clog all the arteries of the original signers of the declaration of independence. Public intoxication and drunk driving. What a day.
As always, the biggest consolation is I can log off and go about my day without thinking about them or carrying their negativity with me. They, however, are stuck with their insipid self constantly.
One final thought before I go scare some pets and consume processed meat tubes: If you’re a member of the political tea party, can I call you a Tea Bag? I’d call you a wet blanket, but… Well, it’s not as funny.