- she was sick, and busy
- the car sounds funny
- Penguicon (a sci-fi/open source convention in Michigan) was this weekend
- employees invited me to go to the Dominion House for drinks and Ingress
- I wanted to save money (gas/food)
- I started trying to run again and it would throw off my initial interest
I didn't visit my wife. I also:
- Didn't go to Penguicon
- I bought food from a restaurant, both days
- Didn't run
Why didn't I go to the con?
- bad hair day
- fat day
- I haven't gone to the US since Trump was elected
- my car sounds funny
- I have nothing to contribute
- I'd make anyone I know feel awkward
- everyone hates me
That last bit isn't true. Anyone who kinda knows me likes me, as I'm pretty harmless. Everyone else hates me.
I don't fit in, anywhere. I'm tedious to my wife. My family loves me but really know how to bring out the anxieties. My friends, after whining how I was never available when I had a wife and kids, promptly vanished after getting wives and kids. My employees put up with me. They'd rather eat an arm than have a boss around. They probably invited me to get the 8th P8. But I said I was visiting my wife.
I was fielding Saturday at a park with 30 portals. It was a chilly day, which was probably why nobody had claimed them. I spent as long as I could before it got cold/tedious. At one point, I was hacking a portal and there was a little boy standing frozen in the entrance about 50 ft in front of me. He stood, frozen as I was holding my phone right at him. He then ran away. And I opted to go out the gate and to my car and leave before someone calls the police on the bed-headed creep photographing her kid.
You laugh, but later that night, one of my local FB friends actually had the police called on him while he was waiting for his daughter at gymnastics. He was chatting on his phone and looked like he was taking photos of the girls on the floor. He laughed it off, as he wasn't the regular parent. But still. It sounds like a nightmare. What if someone mistook my presence and I didn't have anyone around? 50 year old man playing a GPS game?
I really should go back to my therapist, but I'd have to wait to see him and I wouldn't be in the same mindset. Or I'd forget the appointment. And it costs money. Or will, after I use all my insurance, so maybe I shouldn't use it until I need to. Sigh. I'm a mess.
My piano teacher (yes, I'm trying to learn the piano) was flipping though my notebook and hit a couple pages of equations my wife sent me to crunch for her. Sometimes I need to write something down, and my music book is right there. Anyway, J always balks and gets math-panic when she sees my cyphering.
"What did you go to school for, anyway?"
Me, pausing "... Electrical Engineering"
Her, pausing "But you don't work as one."
Her, "But that's unusual that someone so to school for something so specific and doesn't get into it"
Me, "Yeah well, you'll find I'm not a typical engineer. In fact, you probably won't see too many engineers trying to learn the piano at 47."
"FORTY SEVEN??? Wow. You're going to be FIFTY in ... 3 years!"
"Yeah... thanks for pointing that out."
"But OMG, 50! 50 seems so old. I'd think you were in your late 30's, maybe 40. But not as old as 50."
"OK, you're not making me feel better."
"OK, now you're laughing at me"
"No. I'm laughing with you"
"I'm not laughing"
"I can tell, you're laughing on the inside."
"Let's just do this before I say something mean."
"No, you can come at me."
"Let's just do the lesson."
Fuck. I'm pretty sure she's just teasing. But lady's gotta learn to not be a butthead. So, I have three options:
1) bite back -- which would only make her cry
2) make a fuss or fire her
3) trust she's just teasing and not be so defensive
So now I'm just stewing...
I'm finding lately that when I attempt to contact others, I get ignored, or disdain. I'm not sure which is worse. I suppose I need to remind myself nothing is about me. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong other than being present. Hey, you're having a bad day? I'll acknowledge it. Eye-roll, or lash back at me? I gone -- I'm not your puppy to kick. Problem is when I cut contact, I find I'm the one without any friends. And then I kick myself.
I don't know what I'm getting at. Everyone is a capricious and I'm not getting enough positive strokes to assuage my insecurities.
Two psychologists say "hi" to each other as they pass on the sidewalk. They both walk away thinking "what did he mean by that?"
Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his stirring, cold cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!
"What's to-day?'' cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
"Eh? '' returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.
"What's to-day, my fine fellow?'' said Scrooge.
"To-day?'' replied the boy. "Why, Bowiemas Day.''
"It's Bowiemas Day!'' said Scrooge to himself. "I haven 't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can.''
As Tiny Tin Machine wishes: Merry Bowiemas to every one!
I've become reluctant to share what shows I'm watching, because I find some people enjoy spoiling the fun.
That being said, I finished Man in the High Castle and the second season was excellent.
Tagomi is a party animal.
What are you guys watching?
I'll tell you one thing that will happen: I'll win $2 from my employee.
"OMG, you bet to support Trump?" My wife asked. No, of course I do not support Trump. But for 2 years I'd had to hear guy talk about how it's mathematically impossible for Trump to win because there are too many women and PoC voters. So, during the Summer I asked him if he wanted to wager on it. I think guy is ignoring the crazy electoral vote system and underestimating 30 years of hatred toward Hillary Clinton. The fact H isn't overwhelmingly in the lead is a bad sign. He thinks I give too much credence to polls, which ultimately serve to keep people interested in polls until the election.
And that's $2 if he gets elected. Trump wouldn't have to get sworn in.
In any case, my guy has been annoyingly cocksure and it's worth risking $2 to be able to hold over him, at least until the bombs start dropping.
Did you hear there is an avocado crime-wave in New Zealand?
It makes me think of this very NSFW Oglaf comic.
I mean, what's more strangely adorable than an avocado begging for sex? "Sex with Avocado! Sex with Avocado!"
For instance, Harper's Ministers of the Environment, who got progressively worse. There's Baird and Prentice. I didn't think I could disrespect someone more than that complete boob, Peter Kent, until Leona Aglukkaq. It's not going to be Elizabeth May, people... she can't even figure out how to show up to vote.
As for the US, it's Speaker of the House. Nobody wants to be in that vise between Obama and the House Freedom Caucus. Let's see if Paul Ryan can do something.
Are there any other revolving-door/impossible-to-fill jobs I haven't considered?
Milton was an Engineer
Sing, Cinema! - Muse of motion picture -
Of execreble prequels. How pretentious
Is this colourless tripe shown in three-dee?
Devoid of narration. Devoid of wit.
How wasted is talent on vapid plot,
Confounded with grisly happenstance?
Tell us o Muse, with whose authority
May Ridley Scott dare disturb Milton's grave,
Whose chthonic voice deserves greater respect?
Nuppence more shall be wasted on this effort
Someone posted a FB post saying that though the Cecil the Lion story is sad, so are the stories of those murdered by the police (namely, Eric Garner and Sandra Bland). What would help is if we all foster understanding and compassion.
- People take issue over the choice of the word "murder". They then argue over the Sandra Bland video and whether she deserved arrest and "mysterious death"
- two chime in about the evils of Planned Parenthood -- that (gasp!) some use abortion as birth control. Someone literally says "who will speak for those with no voices?"
And then there is this nugget:
- "I haven't been stopped by the police in over 20 years and have no fear of them.. Why? My vehicles are maintained properly and I obey the traffic laws. Hmm... Am I depressed that I don't have a job as a college educated 50 year old you no what male? Yes. - I love cats and Cecil was murdered, however, we have more pressing issues right here at home. i.e. Immigration, economy, homelessness(soon for me), etc. Can we not focus more of our energy there?"
Pro-life people will always grind that axe. It's to be expected. They won't go away unless you ignore them.
I'm more angry about the unemployed guy. The thread became a job hunt for this bozo. It takes the blindness of privilege to say "I never get in trouble with the law because I do all the right things" and then ask people to feel bad for him because some misfortune befell him. If he had a job, he'd be talking about the jobless with "I have a job because I'm college educated and do all the right things so why should I care. I got where I am because I work had, not because I'm a 'you know what' male"
I'm more angry than I thought I was. But I do care. I care for him. I care for the police. I care for their "victims". It's just exhausting.
Sharon lived in the blue trailer across the street from me. She had a younger brother named, Barry. Her mother had such a thick Scottish brogue I was afraid to talk to her. Her father, I didn't even know she had until he was at her birthday. Weird. Who didn't have their dad live with them?
The trailer park we lived in, the Viscount Estates, had faux gated entrance. We were allowed to play anywhere, so long as we did not leave. Back then, you didn't have adults supervising anything. They just kicked us out. If we got too much sun, there was the hell of Solarcaine.
We spent the summer playing in the ditch behind her lot or sitting on the transformer box. When we stayed in, we watched The Gong Show. All summer, we hid in the long grass in the field, and under the picnic tables. I was with her under a picnic table when I lifted my hand and there was a bee impaled on my left middle finger, flailing to escape. I had been stung many times before, but this time I freaked out. My grandmother put my hand in water and corn starch to get the stinger out. Alas, she didn't and I needed to get it removed by a doctor with what looked like my mom's seam ripper. It hurt, and left a white dot on my left hand well into adulthood. It has faded, now.
One Easter, between Mass and visiting my grandparents, I begged to go out. My mother was annoyed, as I was all nicely dressed (probably polyester slacks) and made me promise to not get dirty. Sharon was in white. We hung out in the trees next to the field. There was a huge family of kids we weren't supposed to play with. The Pickles? The Pickels? Both names are in Essex. Whatever, there were a million of them, and Trouble. So, of course we hung around them. Because we were dressed nice, the oldest pretended to marry us. We stood in the trees, while Gordy Pickle did the wedding rites.
One day I discovered one of the plating chemicals in my sister's microscope kit could immediately dissolve Styrofoam -- the very Styrofoam holding her microscope kit in place. Next thing you know, there's this gaping hole. My sister was furious. My grandmother and aunt? Oh the yelling. So I did the only thing a 6 year kid would do -- I blamed Sharon. I am not proud, dear friends. Then when the truth came out, I got yelled at for lying. We had that microscope for years, and seeing that friggin' hole just made me feel guilty guilty guilty.
I honestly don't recall if we played after then. Summer probably finished and she didn't go to Holy Name.
What I *DO* remember is S vanished and reappeared with two black eyes. I remember her riding by and not wanting to talk to me. I was probably just as shy of her as she was of me. Word on the street was she fell while trying to ride her bike with no-hands. My sister said her father did it. That made no sense to me. Did he punish her for riding with no-hands?
People regularly came and left the trailer park. She might have been there a year, or just a few months. They moved away and I never saw or heard of S again.
Was there a point to this story? A lesson? Who the fuck am I, Caillou?