“Just go up.”

Every once in a while I need to remind myself that this is part of the plan. That there is a bigger plan, a long term plan, with contingencies for various outcomes. And this outcome was factored in. I knew it was possible, because this is not my first brush with The Corporation. It’s just doing the thing it always does… hovers the carrot, and then hits you over the head with it. And then tells you how lucky you are that there are carrots at all. And that is ok, it is all factored in. We put up with it because there’s other things to worry about. Because they give me health insurance, they give me steady income. They give me a place to go for 40 hours a week so I don’t drive myself and my cat and my partner insane. The shock lies in that the carrot appears to be in the hands of people I had trusted. I was ok being bludgeoned by The Wizard Himself, or his faceless drones, but to realize that the carrots were both hovered and wielded by the very people who used to make this place tolerable? That was a surprise. I can’t really wrap my head around it. And was it just one Judas or a whole murder of crows?

Likewise, the divide grows wider and wider between those who we trust with our lives as opposed to those we trust with our realities. The people that I spend my time with, are they really the ones I want to be spending time with? Why am I making commitments to be around the ones that just make me feel like shit all the time? Why do I want to be around them at all, when all I feel is odd. Why don’t I surround myself with things and people that are easy to live with, and easy to exist around? Must I just pick the hard way because? Do I feel like sacrifice makes me a better person? Like suffering will make for a better outcome in the end? Am I tired and accustomed to dealing with what I’ve got? It’s true, I’m exhausted by the thought of change. But I’m so, so frustrated by the thought of staying the same. The eggshells, the acquiescing, the uncomfortable silence of just letting things go because I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. I don’t know why I think things will be fine.

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Don’t call it a comeback

I envied Mattie her ability to look into the past with laser precision, one date at a time, through 20 something years. So hello again world.

Changes since my last confession:

  • My goals
  • My purpose
  • My friends
  • My family
  • My work
  • My physical state
  • My priorities
  • My citizenship
  • The global climate
  • The existence of Bernie Sanders

I have made a megamissioncontrol to control all the other mission controls. Somehow I think this will bring order to the chaos, in the sense that it will lump all like chaoses together for even more infinite tiny and large scale sorting of chaos.

You know what I miss? So many things. I wish I could remember, and I wish I could be on time to catch things before I miss them. I need mission controls to manage all the little missions that will lead to the ongoing process of me being everywhere and everywhen at once.

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Teachers, man.

Until I was 14, I was terrified of having to use computers unsupervised because in 2nd grade, a teacher put me in time out when I made a mistake trying to access number munchers and she didn’t know how to fix it. I had to sit with the kid on legit time out, and I cried the whole time. This still haunts me.

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New Rules

Things have been shaken up a bit. Bubbleworld has burst. I’m going to write down some rules I have gathered and often forget, so that the next time I feel like a confused and helpless thing, I can find something to hang on to.

  • Recognize the difference between compromising and compromising yourself. Self-care is not the same thing as being selfish.
  • If something you don’t like is under your control, change it.
  • Don’t make somebody your priority if they see you as an option.
  • Dress pretty. Every day. Especially the days you’re planning to be a lard. Your skin will only get worse with age.
  • Scary things: get them over with.
  • Purchasing impulses: 24hr waiting period before purchasing anything below $20. Above $20, wait one week.
  • Meditate and work out feelings for 30 minutes, twice a day. “Meditation” being: making art, writing, reading, exercise, danceparties… (No phone/internet/TV allowed!) It is not a waste of time if it makes everything else more bearable.

These and other things are obvious. I just forget or pretend they’re not real.

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Colors and light

I think my memory is slipping, maybe it always has. The groups of people who remembered things with and for me have dissolved, geographically and socially. My likes and dislikes and the collection of images of events and statuses on my feelings are what is left of what I am to many whom I am no longer properly in touch.

Looking back on old conversations (archived and saved and accidentally not deleted) I loved people greatly, intensely, and then when situations and schedules changed and spending time together became inconvenient or difficult to casually orchestrate… well, I have 397 facebook friends. Guess how many of them I actually feel comfortable contacting.

It’s nice to some degree though. I’m tired of being who I was. Currently kind of tired of who I am, but that will change too.

 

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Procrastination is how people get killed.

And by people, I mean slugs. 😦 I had to go nightmurder some of them tonight after going to see Gogol Bordello and then watching a bunch of Ender’s Game trailers. Ughhhhh diatomaceous earth, please work so that I don’t have to commit horrible atrocities….

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Tucked away like a Robin’s egg.

The sun sunk behind the mountains with the last of its warmth, revealing the infinite in lapis abstraction. We watched the moon rise, surprisingly bright, surprisingly fast. We studied the stars and wondered if we really exist. We are creatures full of sensors, developing ideas and realities based on our limited observational techniques. Marking time and using the rudimentary tools we have to affect our world and our experience in ways we can fathom, ways that we can observe. Maybe we’re the laughingstock of the cosmos, or more likely an unnoticed tragedy. All our art and science and imagination – grand epics and simple gestures – internalized in one lonely speck, a grain of sand resting on a wildflower. The next morning we woke up, ate breakfast with some sharp-looking goats, jumped into rather icy water, and almost died a few times for reasons, all better than the alternatives. Triumphantly returning scratched, bruised, and covered in a plethora of insect bites and insects. But Cody punched a bee so hard it turned inside out, so I think we won that one.
All in all, an excellent weekend.

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Diary of a Mass Murderer

I should at least be a Swanson and look in the face of those I kill in the name of those I love. I just nuked the local slug population for eating my plants. I feel terrible, as if millions of tiny, moist voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. Actually, it’s more like I feel like a horrible monster because they like the slug bait and they’re eating it but it’s poison and will shut down their digestive systems and they will starve to death over the next few days… Little, sloppy, hungry mollusc-y death.There is no “clear history” button for genocide! 😦

This Sluggo thing is for cowards. No more of this underhanded trickery, poisoning the unsuspecting, beguiling them with treats then making them suffer unrelentingly for days, with no hope of an antidote. From now on, only deterrents like eggshells and diatoms, and one-on-one Twy vs. Slug nightstalking with a pointy spear and a bucket of soapy water. I shall execute only those who cross me, who defy my warnings and slime disrespectfully on the boundaries I have clearly defined. Hopefully this isn’t one of those things where you level up and the slugs get bigger and greater in number, and then one night, there’s like a 32.17 lb. slug waiting in the garden with a pointy spear. If so, I am fortifying the base with salt cannons right now. Does anyone know if the czochralski process can be used to create enormous boules of sodium chloride?

And in totally related news, Jordon got me a juicer for my birthday and now we are waging war against the produce aisle. WE DRINK THE BLOOD OF OUR CONQUERED ENEMIES. The produce enemies. The slugs can keep their blood.

 

 

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You’ll find that life is still worthwhile

I know that there is so much I don’t and maybe will never know. I know that I could be wrong about everything. I know that it’s possible for life to change unexpectedly and suddenly, without hope of going back to the way things were. I know that there are things to fear that I don’t know exist. I can never “get better”. Nobody does forever. The normality I seek is not a normality I’ve actually ever had or actually ever seen anyone else have, upon closer inspection. So I won’t get better, things won’t go back to normal. I’ll just learn to cope better, move forward, and enjoy the good things while they last. I accept that life has no meaning, no one has a destiny. You just have time to do what you think is best, with the people you think are best. Riding triumphantly off into the sunset doesn’t guarantee happily ever after. Happily ever after comes one day at a time, and every day you have a choice to make. And today, I guess I will choose to smile. Jury’s still out on tomorrow though.

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We were young and stupid and raised by wolves.

Songs just find me like this whenever I need them to tell me what happened, I guess.

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