tidbits

Ramblings…

So I have a new non-fiction book (well, fiction if you consider that the topic is about fake news and smear campaigns) that I seem to not shut up about. I love reading stuff that is a bit off the wall but grounded in analysis – maybe that’s the Sherlock Holmes wanna be in me that gets stoked. At any rate, The Smear, by Sharyl Attkinsson (sp?) is my latest reading binge. It’s taking me away from Turn: George Washington’s spys on Netflix.

I’m ranking it up there with Cows, Pigs, Wars and Witches by Marvin Harris. Mainly because I love perspectives that make me rethink how I look at things, as well as possibly gain an insight that I tend to miss being an anti-social hermit.

The main reason I’m devouring it has more to do with what I’ve been seeing on my FB feed and the various stories propigated by friends and acquainences. It also lends an interesting perspective to the fallout I’m seeing from the recent Gillette commercial addressing “toxic” masculinity and the debate that has been sparked. I followed the rabbit hole and read through the comments on the YouTube post, and if you can’t tell the majority of the comments are the same, or just slight modifications of the same post.

It half makes me wonder what would happen if all of us ceased posting, what would the bots and the humans paid to write the reviews come up with, if all of us just didn’t pay attention to it. It really reads like those article transcripts of people who set up a couple of AIs and let them talk to each other. The only difference is that AIs will debate, argue, and discuss their subjects. These things just regugitate a single talking point.

It half reads like a modernized theatrical production based off Huxley’s Brave New World with some Fahrenheit 451. The only difference is that we’re living it, instead of reading and discussing it in our Senior year lit class in HS.

On being a slacker…

Hallo dear readers,

I’ve been a slacker. Well, not really, but in regards to writing I have been. I’ve made putting out fires my priority over tending to my own monkeys. For that I apologize. I’m putting this out there as a way to give myself some accountability. Every Wednesday or Thursday I’m going to write out a brain dump that hopefully will turn into something a little more intentional and planned out.

I’m starting with my personal blog and hopefully that will morph over to my business blog (nope, not gonna connect it. If you’re that interested consider this a game of hide ‘n seek of the over-worked adult variety). I have no clue what will come out of my head but if you read through my former LJ, you’ll see that it ran the gamut. From overly deep and TMI introspection (my former partner and I had many an argument over my method of sharing) to rain glazed highway shallowness.

But I am at an age where a lot of what you’ll see there has somewhat been mastered in a way that it’s not a written process anymore. Sure, there are still interpersonal relationship issues that I deal with and will probably process here, but most of those deal with the fact that I am anti-social and highly introverted to the point where I should have a psychologist to talk to instead of blog. But hey, here we are and it’s functional. On top of that, I don’t have to worry about my usual issue of not being heard because I don’t look at my analytics. 😀

So, at any rate…welcome to my attic – where all the skeletons are hidden.

Art imitates life, which imitates art…

On a plane to Paris, and I manage to pull up 12 Years a Slave. Thanks to my parents, I’ve always been one to seek out the art that pulls some type of emotion out of me. Stirs my thoughts in ways that my environment might otherwise not let me explore.

There was a point, where Fassbender’s character has a conversation with Pitt’s character, about how there will come a day where there will be a reckoning. It echo’s me back to Lee’s White Man’s Burden, where the societal rolls are flipped in order to explore the human experience.

That brings me to our current events, in the States, where I do believe we are on the precipice of a reckoning. First Nations are no longer relegated to the “out of mind” position that the reservation system sought to contain. Voices are now being heard, that should be heard. They’ve been drowned out by the arrogance of those who think they know best. And now, those who have consistently been trampled upon and shouted down have the opportunity to rise.

But…and there’s a big one…we run the risk of just letting the pendulum swing back the other way instead of stopping it in its tracks. So the choice is ours, all of ours. Will we return the favour and punish all for the sins our predecessors committed, or will we – as T’Challa found – find a better way forward for all by recognizing the failures of those who came before us and recognizing that we are not them. We are better. We can be better. We can listen to each other, learn from each other, and grow into a better society.

The phoenix must be consumed by its fires before it can be reborn, renewed. All of our myths talk of this. And now, we must be part of it, without letting the chaos consume us and burn us with its hatred.

I walked alone along a star lit path.
Frozen air kissing my face.
The lonely call of an owl echoing across the trees.

“Give in,” it says.
“There is nothing here for you.”
A rustle of the leaves.

The chittering of night squirrels.
“But there is…”
“Just listen.”

My eyes close.
Breath smoking away from my lips.
Snow begins to tickle my forehead.

Everything must die at some point.

Hrm…

So, with my world in absolute chaos due to tricksters making evolution happen, it dawned on me that I’m having a creativity drought. It was thrown at me yesterday as one of my gymnasts let out a huge groan followed by a very loud “Oh MY god!!!” as I tried to wrangle her teammates into setting up our stations. Granted, my usual passion in what I do has been tempered by the adult realities of life and I find myself regressing back into a few points in my life where I felt my fires either being snuffed out or just quelled to smoke by a dump of cold water.

But in my time off, my creativity has been seriously stifled. I remember days where I could churn out poems, most of which made no sense, doodled new animals to life, or imagined symphonies that would make the masters weep. But here I am, grasping at what others have created, in hopes that it will kick my muse back to life. Be the lightening that rekindles the flames. But always, I come back to the person(s) that would rather let someone suffocate, just to see those lips turn black. Those who I ultimately don’t know whether I should pity or ignore. The killjoys.

She is right. And that’s what those people do, they make you question everything. Feel worthless in your talents. All so that you eventually wither away and die. The Echo to Narcissus.

Sinking in…

Today I’ve been the social butterfly, meeting in the morning to decompress, get to know a new friend and mentor, and brainstorm the impending creation of my own coaching style and philosophy. Lots of words and thoughts throwing around in my brain. Emails sent trying to outline more and get support to make it all happen. Anxiety about the excitement and space it opens up for me to grow and learn as a person. Then finding the comfort of the full length sweater that I wanted to get months ago on clearance – in my size.

It’s amazing how simple that kind of comfort can be. Allowing me the space to gather some of my thoughts, articulate them and send more of them out. In putting together my application for summer camp, I find that I actually have to tell someone why they should pick me over people I don’t know and possibly have never met. I always hated these essays, not because they make me talk myself up, but because they make me try to convince others that I am more deserving and special than others who are writing them. I consider that a recipe for disaster, because it creates this expectation. Not that I can’t live up to one, but that I prefer to let my actions speak louder than my words. I’m human, I screw up occasionally (and sometimes more than that), and I waltz through other challenges like champion.

I still need to sit down and do my taxes. The city where my business resides has the most asinine rules for renewing licensure. It’s like the folks in charge failed to read the US Constitution to find that natural born citizens have to relinquish their citizenship. But again, I have to prove I’m a citizen. Despite everything being digitized, they can’t maintain records to know that I’ve already proven I am. Not only that, I need to find where I hid my login and password. Headaches. At least my actual taxes will be easier, just a matter of sitting down and organizing them.

Things, things, things.

2016…

3 Hawks circled our house this morning. With the rain subsiding, all the smaller birds returned, including a previously unseen red-mohawked woodpecker (no, he work a speckled suit, not a blue one). I also smudged the house, and am still smudging it. We had hoped to spend today finishing up the things we started yesterday, unfortunately Pastry is sick. Possibly from inhaling some of the drywall from yesterday’s demolition.

I feel confident on this next year, not necessarily that it will be stagnant, but that it will be busy – good busy. I think that most of last year was pretty much dedicated to wiping out a lot of old stuff. Old relationships that were unserving, job situations that weren’t beneficial, and some other stuff. There is stuff that I wish wasn’t ending, but such is the way of nature. I’m hoping that this is moving towards my “moment” where life finally smacks me upside the head and I finally listen to it and suddenly the river starts to flow.

We also need to start taking time out to be social. Whether old friends or new ones, though I’m leaning towards new friends. I’ve never really had a social circle, just a few friends that I’d go do stuff with. It’s easier in HS and college when you’re all kinda in the same place. Adulting is a bit different, with schedules and distance and all that stuff. Makes that whole being social thing kinda hard. But I do like the idea of meeting new people, even if it’s the result of people I already know.

I’m also contemplating re-starting a pagan discussion group. There’s not a Borders to host it at, but I’m sure something can be figured out if the interest is there. Just ideas that I’ve been tossing around.