It’s sunny again today, but over on Spoutible, it’s starting to feel like a bunch of people have left the room, maybe because a bunch of people have left the room.
They are missed. Hi people!
I hope they return, all who are able, but I guess we’ll have to see which way this road twists.
It’s a week that has vanished into the mist as quickly as it arrived, filled with tasks that I couldn’t entirely recount if pressed to do so. You know, as so often happens.
“Quick! List all the things you did this week!”
Anyone else’s mind go blank?
But nonetheless, forward progress was made, and I think there’s a good chance I’ll be buying Scrivener, I’m in the free trial, which is 30 days of USE, not just 30 days. But where I thought it might make things more complicated, it actually simplified them. Seems like a worthwhile trade.
I don’t have much else to babble on about today, so I will just wish a wonderful Friday and a great weekend, however you may spend them.
It was rainy, and now beautifully sunny, and I just realized I hadn’t posted yet today. I met some friends for coffee, friends first from Twitter, now from Spoutible, and we just hadn’t made it into an in-person meeting yet, with all of life’s curveballs.
It was a blast.
But I had to run some errands while I was out and then had some lunch and next thing you know, here we are. It happens.
I just noticed that one of my favorites seems to have deleted her Spoutible account. I know she reads the blog, hopefully she will continue to do so, and I hope we can at least see each other here if not elsewhere. I hope you’ll come back, but I understand if not.
It’s kind of the way of social media, and the landscape right now, overall, isn’t terribly stable.
Anyway, just a quick hello so you didn’t think I’d forgotten all about you today, I hope you have a terrific Friday and a wonderful weekend.
It might be raining today, I really can’t tell, it’s one of those days where everything seems like an old-fashioned photo. Which is fine because today maybe my thoughts are old-fashioned.
The thing about life is it offers few neat, perfect resolutions. I think, these days, we are wrapped up in story arcs and characters who get redeemed and characters who get deserved retribution. We love the idea that bad comes for the bad, eventually.
That goodness is rewarded.
And those are all ideals I want to be true. Wholeheartedly.
But.
The world just doesn’t work that way, not overall, it seems. Life is a half-written novel, unedited, speckled with irrelevant chapters, full of blind alleys that never get tied back to the main plot. It appears steeped with people who never get what they deserve, good or bad, and people who always seem to get what they don’t deserve, good and bad.
The universe is vast and empty in a lot of places and here we are, trying to make our days make sense in the order in which they come.
Maybe some day we will. Maybe, inevitably, we will not.
Because maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction.
We all will, at some point, be an amalgamation of unanswered questions so faint we no longer can recall them, of situations dangling into nothing as they never have a final scene.
And maybe in that chaos and mess, that’s where we find the beauty of our existence. Maybe in that chaos and mess–not in the tidy parts, in the bits that come together like a puzzle, but the chaos and mess–maybe that is where our real selves are, ready to be, no matter how mismatched the parts.
Maybe we are not in spite of those things, but because of them.
And with that, I wish you a lovely Friday and an exceptional weekend.
It’s brightly sunny today, but chilly, chillier than it looks, apparently. I am still having some side effects from my vaccines, but nothing serious and much better than the illnesses, that’s for sure.
I watched Baby Reindeer and I have a lot of thoughts. It’s based on a true story, though details were changed, ironically to protect the identity of the stalker. And here’s the thing.
I’m sorry he went through so much, it sounded terrible and like a constant grind. But my issue with it all is women experience things like this, often from more than one man during the course of a life, and with a greater explicit threat of violence. Women are sexually assaulted and sexually extorted in pursuit of creative dreams, but rarely does that lead to huge opportunities like a show on Netflix.
None of this is to minimize anything, especially sexual abuse. But the show had this tone, at least to me, like this was the first time any of this had ever happened to someone and it was the worst example of it all.
Again, terrible. But when Donny (the main character) went to police, he used the example of a younger woman with an older man sending these messages and if the police would do something, and the officer sheepishly said they would.
And that really sticks in the craw because would they? Or would the woman be interrogated about how she encouraged him and what she did and how she should just ignore him? Why she saved his messages? Why she spoke to him? What did she do to lead him on?
Listen, law enforcement is generally terrible about dealing with any of this. And I don’t know the laws in the UK versus the laws here. But it seems to me as though all the millions of women who have had to change their lives completely to try to rid themselves of a stalker and all the ones who didn’t survive it because the stalker killed them are seen as less important.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe that’s not true, maybe it’s just a different story of stalking. Maybe given the opportunity Netflix would tell a similar story about a woman.
But I can’t let go of the fact the story it’s chosen to tell in the past is that from the perspective of a woman’s stalker, in You, which I couldn’t stomach.
Again, Richard Gadd’s story of that period of his life is awful, and I do not deny that or lessen that. But I wish women who have gone through similar experiences were treated as though it was equally important.
I think that’s my issue. Not minimizing his experience but acknowledgement it’s just as awful when a woman is the target. That it’s common doesn’t make it less awful.
And with that, I wish you a wonderful Friday and a great weekend.
It’s a sunny Friday in April and finally I think it might really be Spring. How about that.
It’s tax time, in case you’ve forgotten, you have through Monday to file on time. Yay.
One of the many fun things of being an adult American. And by fun, it’s as though the government teamed with a supervillain’s lab to create the world’s largest psychological experiment.
Besides that, my head has finally settled down, along with the weather. When it’s off, it’s always hard to know the source, whether it’s food or weather-related. Foods get the suspicious once-over. But this time, maybe it was weather.
Hard to say for sure.
Anyway, I don’t have anything particularly deep or insightful for you today, I’m essentially coasting along in that Friday feeling, but I hope you have a fantastic day and a truly restful weekend.
It’s Friday and the sky is this funny blue color I’d forgotten skies come in. It was cloudy this morning, so their vanishing comes as a bit of a surprise, so at least it’s a nice one.
Today I am thinking about the complexities of being a human in a vast universe full of so much of the unknown, and a single, simple idea resonates: surround yourself with people who wish you well.
This is far more complicated than a series of words on a virtual page, as you likely know. In fact it may have struck you as more of a platitude than a suggestion and that wouldn’t be an unfair assessment.
But.
One of the problems of being a human in a vast universe full of so much of the unknown is there are people who wish us well, there are people we wish wished us well, and there are people we cannot even pretend wish us well.
Those last ones are somewhat easier to avoid, though they don’t always make it obvious. Sometimes they root against us through fake smiles and words that sound genuine. When you find one of those, it can be uniquely awful, because you then reevaluate everything through that lens.
It’s the ones who we wish wished us well, though, who cause us the most frustration, the biggest upswell of insecure and hurt feelings, the biggest wave of self doubt. Because you always have that underlying, nagging question.
Why don’t they?
Sometimes it’s true indifference, and that’s a life thing, some people will be indifferent to us, including some of the people you would think would be contractually obligated not to be. And sometimes it’s maliciousness, which can be borne of so many things, but I’ll tell you now, unless you’re a bad person, that maliciousness is about them, not you.
But you cannot force interest or compassion or connection where there is none.
It can make some people angry; it can make some people sad, but focusing on these people is putting energy into a black hole. You will get nothing in return.
Focus on the people who clearly wish you well. Focus on the people who cheer you on, who stand by you, who will tell you the truth and love you anyway.
And it’s not a numbers game either. It’s fine if there is only one person you can truly count as someone who will cheer you on; some people have hundreds, they are imbued with some kind of light that draws others.
They also draw the other two types, though, in greater numbers, so there’s that.
How about you? Do you wish others well? Are you a secret well of anger or of jealousy? Do you pretend to be supportive or are you really? Because that simple change could alter everything, for you and for others.
And if you are struggling to think of someone right now in the moment, don’t worry about that either. You be your own first cheerleader, and I’ll be your second.
Ugh. That is about all I have to say on this cold and sunny day at the tail-end of March. Not deep, not insightful.
Just…ugh.
Some days are like this, and some weeks are like this, and sometimes more, though I don’t know if it’s me or the little things. It could be a combination of both.
It’s hard to believe March is just about over, in a year that seems to constantly move at two separate, contradicting speeds simultaneously. Or maybe that’s how time always is, it’s impossible to know, really.
We notice what we notice.
And isn’t that the way of life? In some moods, the small annoying things roll right off of us, we hardly notice them at all, blips here and then gone.
In others, they grow and magnify until that’s all we see, and we expect more problems, more irritations, and usually if we look for them, we find them.
Maybe all of life comes down to not psyching yourself out.
What if it’s really that simple? The expected will happen and the unexpected will happen, there is so much beyond our control.
Sometimes I love how sage I sound in theory when in practice I’m often anything but, as apt to lose my balance as anyone else.
Anyway, that’s it for me this Friday, and if you celebrate Easter, I wish you a lovely one.
It’s snowy today, though I’m not sure if the actual snow part is finished or if there’s more to come. Could go either way.
I was wondering to myself which is better, the idea of a universe completely indifferent to us; or one that is interested in us enough to even get petty upon occasion. These are the things I think about in the hours when sleep has decided it’s not for me. Well these things and articles that are lists of Kdramas to watch.
But back to the universe, it could go either way.
Perhaps there’s a kind of freedom in the indifference, because with no oversight, no mindful eye, we can be as we are with no one to appease. But then there’s also no one to appease, so the bad is the bad, and there are no tricks, shortcuts or bribes out of it.
With the idea of an interested universe, there is room for little miracles, favors, like my cup being somewhat askew on the stand in the coffeemaker and yet the cup didn’t tip over and none of the coffee spilled. Almost as through greater forces than the person who put it on wrong (who oh who could that be) offered an assist.
The truth is we have no idea how the universe works, not really, and we probably never will until we enter the behind-the-scenes footage and maybe not even then either. There are infinite possibilities.
Well, probably not infinite.
It could go either way.
And with that, have a quick, easy Friday and an awesome weekend. And if the universe steps in, I hope for you it steps in only for the good.
It’s cloudy again, though the weather assures me it’s sunny. I don’t think it’s right.
It even looks like it could rain, so there’s that. We’ll see though.
We’ve come around again to Friday on a week with a lot of things, news-wise, admin-wise. And now a “decision” on whether DA Fani Willis has to recuse which has me fuming. Obviously she doesn’t but this judge is ridiculous.
Whether I want to fume here, to write about it, well, we’ll see. Not here I guess but who knows.
You know about me and my insistent brain. Not sure who is going to win at this point.
Besides that, not much to say in this bit of a bit, so I will wish you a wonderful Friday and a fabulous weekend!
Rainbowed dragon with spikes on her head and back, scales and orange-brown eyes. Credit: @dcroucher
I said I was feeling draggy today (I am) and @dcroucher made me this gorgeous image for, and I quote, “when you’re dragon.”
And I’ve participated in the @spoutstories writing prompt semi-regularly over on Spoutible, so I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a while. I’m going to write a short story for today’s post, inspired by this dragon.
Or maybe I won’t, we’ll see how it goes, but if I don’t, you won’t know anyway, unless I tell you which I probably would, so there’s that. And here it is:
A Dragon Named Ruby
Her name was Ruby, ironically the only color she didn’t contain in her bright rainbow of scales, but when she was born, most of the Elders–all but Mother Mist–thought eventually it would all even out, that as she grew, the peacock blues and teals and fuchsias and sunrise oranges would fade and mute to a sensible red.
They did not.
Instead she was a symphony of color among her dragon peers who were single-shaded, or, at the most two subtly complimentary colors seamlessly blending. Not Ruby, who stood out in fire target practice, who could be spotted as her class flew sky laps above a tired, waning earth.
The Elders–all but Mother Mist–bickered over what to do about Ruby, not one of them with any color variation beyond the whitened and grayed tips of their scales. They tried dyeing her, but to no avail; her iridescence shone though and the red washed off at the first drizzle.
They–all but Mother Mist–told her the source of the colors must all be in her head, and tried talking her out of them, but still they remained, a softly-changing landscape that would not be tamed.
They–all but Mother Mist–told her she could be a productive citizen in spite of her colors, as long as she didn’t show off about them and let others pretend they couldn’t see them. But Ruby didn’t know how.
One day, Ruby found herself curled up in a corner of the Dragon Cave Complex, deep inside near the storage chambers, where it was dark and at least there, she was no more than an acceptable shade of gray. She didn’t turn her head as she heard the familiar sound of claws on rock.
“Ruby,” said Mother Mist, “why are you here in the dark?”
Ruby said nothing. A warm tail encircled her.
“Once upon a time, Ruby, we were all rainbowed.”
She turned to look into Mother Mist’s steady red eyes. “We were?”
Mother Mist nodded. “Oh yes, we were. Every single one of us, but they’ve all forgotten. Or pretended to. Imagine the skies filled with us all, shining like the the world after a rain.”
Ruby lifted her chin just a bit more off of her front legs.
“What happened?”
“Those awful creatures with the bows and arrows happened, we were far too easy to see, and soon only those of us who didn’t stand out, who could blend in with the earth and the water, were left. But you are a memory of how beautiful we can be.”
“The creatures with the bows and arrows?”
Mother Mist laughed, a deep sound that made the stone of the chamber vibrate. “Oh I’d forgotten how very young you are, Ruby, not yet even fifty millennia, and they’ve been gone so long now. Terrible animals, those, with weapons and cruelty that only got worse and worse until they’d done themselves in entirely. And the damage they did to our beautiful world.” She shook her almost-white head. “Not a being remaining misses them.”
“I’d guess not,” Ruby said. “So does that mean now it’s safe to rainbowed?”
“You,” said Mother Mist, her tone firm, “You be the brightest dragon in the sky, Ruby, that is who you were born to be, and you cannot be anyone else.”
“What about the other Elders?”
“Don’t you worry about them, you leave them to me. Did you know Father Stone has a red circle on his belly? He covers it up every single day. And Parent Light mutes their iridescence with scale spray. You are who we’ve always been heading toward and back to, Ruby, and don’t you forget it.”
Buoyed, Ruby followed Mother Mist from the chamber, up and out of the Dragon Cave Complex, and let the sun radiate off her scales in their full glory. And as the light reflected off her in streams, it fell upon bare patches of mud and cracked dirt.
But soon they weren’t bare at all. Tiny shoots became leaves became plants, and every spot Ruby’s light fell blossomed with flowers not seen for centuries. Even the Elders who had tried to remake her stood rapt, their wings slack with wonder.
After considering for a moment, Parent Light leapt into the air and took a steep dive into the nearby ocean, emerging, instead of its usual steady light brown, a shimmering gold. Everywhere their gold met Ruby’s light, vines appeared and crisscrossed, twisting and twisting upon themselves until they formed the tiniest of houses with the tiniest of peaked roofs.
From nowhere, then, came a soft drone, almost too quiet to hear, and suddenly the air filled with delicate little creatures with sweet faces and gossamer wings, who neatly chose the houses, one by one by one, waving tiny wands to add the finishing touch of a door.
With a groan and a lumber, Father Stone waded in the stream until the perfect circle of red shone true, and then he stiffly took to the air, circling over the water. Where that soft red glow landed on the color, bright fish teemed, and the mermaids who thought they would never again surface to a hostile, ruined world rose to check out the commotion.
And Mother Mist unfurled her huge, translucent wings, flying higher than most dragons could, warming herself against the sun. There she hovered, and through those wings she cast the biggest rainbow ever seen over a world reborn thanks to a dragon named Ruby.
A Bit to Read 