“Bozo the Clown. That’s who Bozo is.”

 

It’s dreary and raining, today.  Thank goodness for the Gettin’ Grown podcast with Jade and Keia.  While I listened, I played around with my first stop-motion video.  The sound is courtesy of a protest in NYC.  It was fun and surprisingly easy to create.  (The mini-figure of 45 is from minifigures.com.)  I recently finished reading a memoir titled, Educated, by Tara Whelan.  It’s about a woman who grew up in Idaho.

It details events she endured as a child of a mentally ill prepper.  It’s disturbing, engrossing, and brilliantly relayed.  I learned a lot about a lifestyle utterly foreign to me.  It’s rich with insight into human behavior and fear.  It gave me a glimpse into 45’s support base, as well.  I’m less baffled by their betrayal after reading it.  They don’t know 45 looks down on them like trash, yet.  Sad!

Spoiler alert. 

I survived the horrifically graphic episode of Game of Thrones, titled, The Mountain and the Viper.  Barely.  I had to fight off an urge to hurl, and I shook for a while afterward.  I witnessed my best friends corpse after her husband bashed her head in with a hammer when I was in my late teens.  It’s weird how the TV show evoked such a powerful reaction when the real event only caused me to withdraw emotionally while still managing to protect her little sister and infant son from seeing it.

There be giants

The Watchers on the Wall, at the end of season 4, was spectacular.  I’m going to watch it again on a bigger screen.  Probably several times.  I hope HBO won every possible award for it.  Blockbuster movie level CGI on a TV show blows my mind.  I also have to admit, watching Prince Oberyn fight was thrilling.  At least the parts before he lost his mind figuratively and literally.  (He died of arrogance and rage.)

The Children of the Forest looked just as I imagined while reading.  The three-eyed crow was visually disappointing, though.  I expected him to be more tree-like and less wizard-like.  I laughed when they zoomed in on mini Gandalf the Grey.  But the tiny woman throwing fireballs at the living dead popping out of the ground was fabulous, so I can’t complain.  I probably jumped a few feet when one grabbed Jojen Reed by the ankle.  He was a favorite, so I’m sad he’s gone.

Peter Dinklage

Watching the Hound get his ass kicked by Brienne of Tarth was satisfying.  She’s awesome.  I like Podrick Payne, too.  And Arya, of course.  She’s my favorite main character.  I’m so curious about what comes next.  I haven’t watched seasons 5-7 yet, and much of the content varies from the novels.  I’m gradually combining the storylines as I go.  The only spoilers I’ve encountered betrayed the fact all the Lannister kids survive to begin season 8.  (Yay, Tyrion.)  I have a crush on Peter Dinklage (assuming he shares Tyrion’s wit.)  🤫  I’m off to watch another episode.

“I don’t know. Last time, I got the tap.”

Humans, the game.

I’ve been speculating about a pre-life scenario in which we choose our families before we’re born.  Sometimes, I wonder if this is the case for me.  It seems to me my life was specifically designed to aid in rejecting hate.  I suck at hating people.  I literally can’t do it for very long.  It’s like having a bug in your nose.  You divert all energy to removing it as quickly as possible.  Nothing else matters until it’s gone.

Hating takes a lot of resources.  It also has a lot of unfortunate side effects.  Like premature aging.  (There’s a reason people associate oldness with intolerance.)  Also, hate makes people ugly.  Dogs and toddlers react to hateful people instinctively.  That’s a lot of detectors.  If your dog is wary around someone, you notice, right?  Same with small children.  It’s a survival mechanism.

I’m glad I suck at it.  I’m pretty sure I’m as bitter as it’s possible to be about racism, without becoming racist.  Everything I’ve experienced and witnessed so far reinforces the fact we’re all the same.  Skin color is no more significant than eye color.  Whether you exist on soil A or soil B matters not at all.  What matters is what you do with your avatar.

We have varied interests; our characteristics shaped by our ancestors.  What we experience, process, and reflect upon affect how we perceive the world.  But we’re all the same, too.  There are no differences that make one group more or less worthy of life than another.  The groups are only significant because we make them so.  We react to our subtle differences as if we’re pre-programmed to encounter aliens at some point in the future, (or as likely in the past.)

We’re little creators.  We create our world and everything it holds, then create stories about ourselves and our lives and exchange them.  I’m hoping for aliens in the very near future (because I’m exasperated by racism, and I think it would put things in a more realistic perspective.) Hating brown skin will seem silly when the green guys with three heads show up, don’t you know.  It might be the only thing that makes all of humanity cherish all of humanity.

I wonder if I chose my family because I knew living on a planet with 7 billion or so others would at least require tolerance of others.  Tribalism doesn’t work with billions of people on one earth.  It’s a straight path to species annihilation, which I hope isn’t the goal.  I hope whoever programmed this game we call life included numerous scenarios in which humans exist in future expansion packs.  I’d like to think the next update will be Humans: Post-physical Shenanigans.  It’ll be like the internet on steroids.  😂

“Touch this, feel that. Seventy-five bucks.”

We had a thunderstorm last night, and are expected to have another today.  I’ve been wearing noise-canceling headphones to compensate.  Fortunately, the new episode of Gettin’ Grown with Jade and Keia podcast is out.  It’s something I look forward to each week.  My Amazon Prime membership expires in a few days.  Buh-bye to my former impulse shopping addiction.

In celebration of this wise decision, I ordered one last thing.  I purchase fidgets and sensory toys every so often.  I can’t recall a time when I didn’t.  I’m pleased with the recent popularity of fidget toys because now they’re conversation starters, too.  I ordered Super Cool Unicorn Poop.  (It’s purple and blue, glittery slime in a cute little bottle.)  It’s odorless.

unicorn poop

It feels like jello that wasn’t allowed to set long enough, without the sticky mess.  (It’s non-toxic.)  My skin feels wet after touching it, but it leaves no residue.  It’s right at the limit of my grossness tolerance.  I won’t play with it often, but it’s ridiculously fabulous when I do.  (I was even more amused by the fact someone is selling a single used bottle, last I checked.)

I got the 3-pack because slime shrinks over time.  There’s a negative review by someone who was irate over receiving partially full bottles.  They may have overlooked the limited shelf-life.  Or perhaps they bought a used version.  Heh.  I don’t think of myself as stuck-up, but when it comes to slime, I prefer new.  In fact, I insist.  😂  Also, I want to see this on How It’s Made.  So much.

My body seems to have recovered from my recent dietary fiasco.  The only lingering effect is my broken off-switch.  Unfortunately, it’s broken all the time, so I’m probably just hyper-aware of it lately.  I’m trying to be careful about what I begin because I’m likely to continue for quite some time.  I usually track this by how often I complete 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles.  Ideally, it should take at least two sessions.

I do them daily as part of my winding down routine before sleeping.  I love puzzles.  If I start completing one a day, I know my broken off-switch is operating unacceptably.  I use this method because I notice, even when in rote mode.  Eventually.  I have a love-hate relationship with my broken off-switch.  Part of me loves how I’m able to complete time-consuming tasks more quickly than others.  Another part of me recognizes the need to sleep sometimes and resents it.

Rock 'n Roll jigsaw puzzle

I don’t like it when I can’t stop, though.  It doesn’t often happen, and usually results in pacing until exhaustion.  Coding marathons used to trigger it as well.  I’ve always been this way.  It used to frustrate my mom when I was a teenager.  My days and nights were backward until basic training.  I was glued to my computer every night.  The rest of the time, I was on autopilot.  I guess it’s all that interested me at the time.

I also missed school more often than I missed a run as a teenager.  It’s always been my favorite stim.  I was training for the Army, so my mom never interfered.  The funny thing is, when I was on active duty, I ran PT in the mornings with my unit, then ran again at night on my own time.  I started doing this in El Paso because of the heat.  Then it just stuck.  It only backfired once when I had a surprise PT test after running seven hours prior.  I still managed to pass, but my legs were sore after.  I’m off to read.

p.s.  Stevie Nicks is on the above puzzle twice!  (And Michael Jackson looks like someone just told him Tito killed his rat, eh?)

 

“Why, because you picked out the poison envelopes? That’s silly.”

 

Software synthesizer

I knew synthesizers were going to take over my life.  I’m so obsessed with everything about them.  I’m close to printing a PCB board and designing an ultimate portable unit that plays sounds I programmed explicitly to my taste in music.  And that’s just one small branch of my synth obsession.  Software and hardware synths seemingly provide infinite sound creation possibilities.

I’m finding it hard to rationalize sleeping.  My vague memories of being overtired and spacey aren’t powerful enough to dissuade my ongoing sabotage.  (Yet.)  The world is on fire and burning around me, but I’m happy because I have access to synthesizers.  I’m a shoe-in for dying happy, (and probably prematurely.)  It seems fair from a right now perspective.  Heh.

I don’t have enough spoons to care about the precarious state of law and order brought on by blatant corruption and Putin’s giggling denials of meddling in world politics.  Jeffery Dahmer was too literal when he took too much, eh?  I can only shake my head at the irony of our present political Mexican Standoff.  My only strategy is to seek and cherish joy (that doesn’t harm others) until the end.

I’ve also been playing a lot of PlayStation 4 games.  Mostly VR that involves flying and sea exploration.  I’ve reinforced my complete lack of desire to ever get in the ocean.  While I love swimming with whales, the few times I’ve explored in a shark tank were terrifying.  Being stalked by a massive great white shark is creepy as hell.  You don’t see it until it’s about to attack teeth first.  Just shadows you’re not sure you saw from below, then boom.

virtual reality

In VR you’re acutely aware of the size, too.  All that time watching Shark Week didn’t give me an accurate awareness of their hugeness.  Or how fast they can come out of nowhere.  It made me scream (while also aware I was sitting in a chair in my playroom home office.)  I had to regroup and catch my breath.  Then I did it again (because I’m a doof.)  Both activities are triggering my desire to begin a coding project.

Gaming usually fills me with ideas of games I’d rather play, then to designing them, etc.  I’ve been thinking about creating a game that utilizes cryptocurrency mining in a useful way (in addition to generating currency.)  A collective AI of sorts that relies as heavily on human creativity as computing horsepower.  It’s hard to extract myself from that thought path, though.  Disturbingly difficult.  I don’t think I could pull it off without an extremely tolerant babysitter.

That kind of ruins it for me.  I guess I’d settle for a version of The Oasis(Ontologically Anthropocentric Sensory Immersive Simulation).  We have the hardware, right?  Perhaps we should crowdsource/opensource it with an always freeware, no sellout caveat.  I’m in.  We could also elect an ethical leader to negotiate on its behalf.  I nominate J. K. Rowling.  It’s all just a simulation, anyway.  We may as well have fun.

Teens with VR

“It’s not like you’re launching missiles from a submarine and you both have to turn your keys.”

I had a good weekend.  I’m in a band, now.  I accepted without asking any of the obvious questions.  Such as, what’s the name of the group?  I’ve made a note to find out this weekend.  (Among other things.  Heh.)  I was just so happy to be invited, it didn’t cross my mind.

Today has been slippery.  Most of the day got away from me.  I had a meeting this morning and a violin lesson after lunch.  I didn’t have any further demands for the rest of the day.  At first, I felt anxious about it.  It feels like driving without a seatbelt when I don’t have anything to do.  It’s too loose and uncomfortable.

I got dangerously close to panicking.  When I saw my window of escape was quickly shrinking, I jumped through in the nick of time.  I sat down and thought about Stevie Nicks.  It totally worked.  I ended up watching the first three episodes of Grace and Frankie.  (Stevie Nicks likes watching TV.)

gracefrankie

I know Stevie Nicks is a big fan of Game of Thrones, but I can’t handle the TV show.  So I wondered what she’d watch on Netflix.  Heh.  (I’m such a doof.)  Grace and Frankie looked promising.  One of my oldest TV memories is of Lily Tomlin in a rocking chair that made her look like a little girl.   (I’ve loved her ever since.)

Grace and Frankie is fabulous.  I kept telling myself to keep my expectations in check, it’s just TV, and they keep blowing my freaking mind.  No wonder Netflix and Amazon Prime Video are raising their rates.  (They’re showing network TV why so many of us abandoned them altogether in favor of amateur podcasts and access to all the music.)

I was so engrossed in the show when I looked up again, it was dinner time.  We had a blizzard today, and it’s still windy.  The sound of howling wind reminds me of Patrick Rothfuss.  I’m off to start rereading his novel; The Name of the Wind.  Peace.