“Because if he doesn’t ask you out, he doesn’t get rejected.”

Thanksgiving, huh?  I reject this holiday.  Thanksgiving is where I take out my inner angst at being lied to while calling it education.  Not too thankful for that, yo.  (I just finished practicing my drums to current hip-hop songs.)  I was also raised under the influence of Native American culture.  (That’s the academic spin for my ego.)  😃

My inner teenager is running the show, today.  She’s bent on making up for the fact I skipped being a moody little shit at the proper time.  Fauxlidays belong to her.  When I was a teenager, I had a car.  I bought it with money I earned babysitting, raking leaves, and modeling for a department store.  (The latter wasn’t terribly lucrative because they usually gave me the option of being paid in a gift certificate, and I often used it to buy video games.)

I drove a mustard yellow Datsun B-210 (or something.)  It had a manual transmission, and I was taught by a fellow student on the only hill in town (at night while it was snowing.)  For those of you who didn’t grow up in South Dakota or a similar rural city;  we could legally drive at age 12 so long as we were on our parents’ property.  (This was widely known among local 12-year-olds.)

Those of us who lived in the city proper had to wait until age 14.  I bought my first car at age 12.  (More like my then 13-year-old brother used my money to buy his first car when I was 12, then allowed me to name it Mine.)  We used it exclusively for joyriding in the K-mart parking lot.  My nephew usually joined us (because letting a 10-year-old drive is hilarious.)

Fantasy Canyon in the Utah desert, USA.

So anyway, when I got to high school I attended public school the first year, which back then was 10th grade.  I use the word attended amusingly.  I’m the reason the school district adopted a stricter attendance policy.  I missed 180 days in one school year, (or at least that’s the number I remember.)  I loathed going to school.  So I didn’t.  Much.

Instead, I drove to the nearest reservation to get the truth about American history.  It had a powerful influence on how I think.  I thought talking to the chief of a tribe was fabulous.  It never crossed my mind the poor guy was mostly exasperated by my constant questions.  (That was before I understood the continuous inquiries into why I wasn’t in school were a polite hint.)

I spent more afternoons there than in class.  He sent me on (what I told myself were) quests to find answers to some of my questions.  (I was hint proof back then.)  I visited the capitol building, a courtroom, and some university libraries.  I was polite and neatly groomed, which has always worked well for me.  I also spoke like someone who spent far more time reading than talking to others.  (It rarely works out well.  Sigh.)

In hindsight, I realize I probably didn’t have valid access to any of these places, let alone while I was supposed to be in school.  White privilege is so bizarre sometimes.  I know they didn’t question me because they very likely never spoke to a black person before, and were too distracted by the experience.  It resulted in my having a lot of freedom to basically go wherever I wanted as a teen.  (I paid heavily for this unfortunate habit in my initial years of service.  It almost cost me my life somewhere (too) close to Area 51.)

I was used to being the unicorn by default, but in the Army, everyone is a green unicorn.  (It’s so much better the Army way.)  Oofda.  A colossal guilt trip just landed on me.  I’ve used autism as an excuse to ask questions in classrooms when I knew it might not be appropriate, (but I wanted the answers more than I wanted to be honorable at the moment and ran with it.)  Ooh; that’s going to leave a scar.  😞😣

(I mentally bookmarked it to agonize over later, when my inner adult is back in charge.)  I’ve never been able to buy into the concept of land ownership.  It’s just too ridiculous, and I have trust issues.  Heh.  I’ve purchased property twice.  Both times, it messed with me until I got rid of it.  It felt like I was willingly stepping into a trap.  Like believing dollars are backed up by gold ridic.

I also grew up believing life is the most valuable thing there is.  (The Army failed to have any sort of adverse effect on this belief.) It’s like accepting reality is real, (to me.)  It’s not going to be shaken easily.  Also, that the only sin is to steal;  such as someone’s free will or life.  I believe whenever a death occurs, we become less as a whole.  Less incredible as a concept and force in nature.  I don’t think anyone has a right to take someone’s life or free will.

I don’t care much about theft of property.  I don’t think it matters in the big picture.  It’s why I don’t get upset if someone takes something that legally belongs to me.  I don’t encourage or invite it because it doesn’t mesh with the rules of my community.  But it’s not part of me, so I see no reason to feel bad.  My cat doesn’t count because Amelia Bedelia is alive.  You can’t own another’s life.

Welp.  My inner teenager is done sitting here sharing deep thoughts.  It’s her day, so I’m off to angst through music.  Below is the t-shirt I’m sporting today.  Kind of says it all, eh?  Hope your Thanksgiving was great (if that’s your thing.)  🙃

Thanksgiving bird by @Acraigl

“You know, Jerry, I think this changes the relationship.”

I’m going to go ahead and share the link to my creativity blog.  It’s titled Alison Wonderland.  I’ll be adding more content as time passes.  Today is kicking my ass.  It’s nothing significant, just little changes that are adding up.  I’m overtired, so that’s probably the root of the issue.  I hope I sleep tonight.

I was delighted to discover the best affordable headphones for Synthesis by Evanescence is the Beyerdynamic DT 770 Pro 250 Ohm.  They’re less than $200, have all replaceable parts, and come with a two-year warranty.   I like the all black colorway.  My current Grado’s will do until they’re back in stock.  (They’re what I bought for The Open Door.)

I’m off to continue reading, Oathbringer, by Brandon Sanderson.  I’m enjoying it immensely.

 

“I mean, only a sick twisted mind could be that rude and ignorant.”

I’m having so much fun getting to know Evanescence all over again.  I geeked out about it on my new creativity blog.  It’s still too sparse for sharing, but it’s getting there.  I’ve discovered synthesizers are fascinating.  I’ve only played with one of the pocket operators so far:  Robot.

I only meant to fiddle with it for a few minutes.  It turned into over two hours, somehow.  It’s slightly larger than a deck of cards.  I got the cases, despite being offended by how they’re marketed.  Just charge more for the complete product.  Don’t compromise after creating such an excellent tool.

I’m kinda mad at Teenage Engineering for marketing this product like they have low self-esteem.  They’re an innovative company creating awesome stuff for creative people.  If I were in charge, they would come with a better case, and each would cost $99.

I wouldn’t give the customer the option of passing on a case that will very likely prevent them from breaking it within a week.  That’s just silly.  They would be installed before shipping.

I sure do love the product anyway, though.  So much.  Now I want a base station where I can position three connected Pocket Operators optimally for playing them live.  It needs to secure them, and angle them for access.  It should have some weight to it.

It should have some sort of LED lighting, and an OLED screen.  And provide power to all three Pocket Operators.  Rechargeable, with at least six hours of battery life.  And a nice case.  I’ll stop before I talk myself into building a fugly prototype.

I guess I assume the minds who can create such a fascinating tool could also recognize these things as a logical addition. Fortunately, there are 3D printers.  I’m going to go look for more footage of Stevie Nicks on her current tour.  She’s finishing up in New Zealand.

I watched one yesterday where some people in the audience at the concert were talking while Stevie Nicks was singing.  That’s really rude (on earth.)  I actually read the comments on YouTube, it was so disturbing.  There was one, and it said exactly that.  I clicked whatever icon signifies my support and approval.  Dammit.

“Jerry, Newman and I are engaged in a epic struggle for world domination.”

It’s been a fantastic week. I’m still listening to Synthesis by Evanescence several times a day. It will be a while before I’m ready to listen to anything else. (This always happens with unicorns.) M. is overtly studying my behavior.

I don’t mind, of course. I just thought of four ways to elaborate on that, and they all made me laugh out loud. M. asked me if I’m “over Stevie Nicks” now that Evanescence just rocked my world. (I walked away without saying a word. See Alison adult, then feel smug about it.)

I think he was just teasing me. Especially since I insisted he watch some Stevie Nicks interviews with me on YouTube yesterday, (to get a different perspective.) I’ll ask later because now it’s going to bother me. I’m still pretty timid about assuming what I interpret is in the same universe as that of others. (For good reason.)

I’m astonished how little anxiety I’ve experienced this week. My ears are a bit raw from wearing uncomfortable headphones for hours. I’ll be ecstatic when wireless headphones improve. At least enough to completely replace wired cans for music. They’re podcast ready at this point IMHO.

I’m researching a new pair of critical listening over-ear headphones. It’s probably a good thing Evanescence doesn’t release albums too often, as this happened last time. The mastering is superb in Synthesis. I haven’t watched the making of videos yet, but when I do, I’ll be hoping to see which headphones they used, (then praying I can afford them.)

I’ll never own a pair of Beats. That’s my precise level of an audiophile. Heh.

Dear Pharell Williams, please (all over) design some Audio Technica Limited Edition ATH-MX50’s with built-in Bluetooth 4.2, Amp/DAC, memory foam/breathable pads, and a dope hard case. Love, me. I’d pay $499 (with minimal whining.) Please. 🙃

I’m reading Oathbringer, presently. It’s an uber-epic novel in a series within the Cosmere (universe.) It’s going to take me a while to finish my first read, and I’ll re-read it several times. It’s part of my journey. Brandon Sanderson earned a lot of influence in my life. (Right up there with Stevie Nicks, and just as gently.)

I had a shower cry over Al Franken’s outing as a predator. He came from Hollywood, which made it less shocking. But it still hurts a lot.

Dear predators, predatory behavior makes loving you painful at best. Please grow forward. Love, Evolved humanity.

My inner 5-year-old just called me a hippie and suggested I move to California, so I’m off to beat my drums.

“It’s an amazing thing.”

It’s an incredible week.  Evanescence released a new album, and I’m already in love.  I purchased the CD, but until it arrives, I’ve been listening non-stop on Spotify.  It’s titled Synthesis.  It has some tracks fans are familiar with, but they’re different.  Better.  Damn.  My hands are shaking because it’s so fabulous and I’m listening while blogging, which is super hard for me to pull off.  It feels like having a tug of war with myself.  This is going to be a short post.

Tomorrow, Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson is released.  Finally!  I’m overwhelmed with joy.  As if that isn’t enough for me to disappear for a while, I also acquired a used generic electric bass and three Pocket Operators by Teenage Engineering.  They’re little handheld synthesizers.  I got Arcade, Office, and Robot.  (The other four are on my wishlist for now.)

Until I finish reading Oathbringer and calm down a bit over Synthesis, I’ll be too distracted to obey clocks.  I can’t believe how happy I am right now.  I can’t focus enough to say more, so I’m off to listen with my Grado’s.  In the dark.  Where I can cry without feeling obligated to explain why.  Peace.

“You know, between you and me, I always thought Kramer was a bit of a doofus, but he believed in me.”

I’ve been working on identifying my expectations of those I admire.  Training artificial intelligence most of my life has taught me a lot about humans.  The more progress I make, the more I recognize how amazing we are as a species.  I’ve learned humans are individuals in every sense of the word.  We all make mistakes.  How we recover matters.

I ignored famous people while growing up.  I had favorite authors but knew minimal if anything about them unless they were dead.  I started noticing influential people who didn’t live in my world as an adult.  I’m pretty sure Lisa Bloom is the first famous person I gave my attention.  She worked for Court TV when I discovered her.  She would share her thoughts and weigh in on high profile trials.

She’s since taught me a lot about ethics and behavior.  It’s easy to draw tenuous conclusions about famous people based solely on what they choose to share with the public.  I think the arrangement is suitable.  Boundaries exist, and it’s super easy to adhere.  I tend to admire leaders and artists; (performers, poets, writers, musicians, comedians, etc.)

I’m disappointed when people I respect mess up.  It hurts in a manner I don’t know how to describe.  (I think a parent might know.)  This year has been trying so far in this regard.  People seem to enjoy telling me which celebrities I appreciate voted for 45.  I don’t understand the motivation, (mostly because I’m so annoyed by the behavior.)  It feels like their saying, “Your ability to judge the character of people you’ve never met is lacking.”

Louis C.K.’s crimes made me cry.  I honestly believed he was above that shit.  The main reason I admire him in the first place is his excellent ability to use laughter to make me think.   His recently revealed actions still have this result, but it’s not funny in this case.  It’s pathetic.  I haven’t read his apology because the gist was all I needed.  He’s adult enough to admit his crimes.

Now what?  This is where we all decide for ourselves how we want to move forward.  I say this because I’m pretty sure there isn’t a right or wrong way to cope.  Perhaps just right or wrong for each individual.  I forgive Louis C.K. for being a predator in the past, on the condition he doesn’t do it again.  If he lives the rest of his life without stealing another’s free will, I’ll be pleased.

I don’t expect perfection.  I’m not perfect.  Duh.  Nobody’s perfect.  (If someone ever was, we killed them.)  The people who survived his disgusting behavior will decide for themselves where to go from here.  It’s not my business and feelings are never wrong.  I’m so proud of them for having the courage to come forward (in the second worst behaved (misogyny on steroids) industry on earth.   The military holds first place.)

This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last time.  Famous or not, we’re all people.  I just had to ask myself why I care in the first place.  Then I realize they’re still the same person;  my perception was off.   Mistakes aren’t the end.  They’re a new beginning during which time the flaw is faced down and corrected.  Or not.  It’s up to the individual at fault.  What one does after enduring the consequences of their errors matters.

Every single person I admire makes mistakes.  Stevie Nicks makes mistakes.  Lisa Bloom, Michelle Obama, and J.K. Rowling have all made mistakes.  Hillary Clinton made mistakes, identified them, adjusted, and grew publicly.  She wrote a book about it.  She could have blamed her mistakes on so many people and things, but she was interested in where she messed up because that’s what she can fix.

I want everyone to be as awesome as possible.  I want you to be the best you ever.  I want everyone to learn and grow into someone even more remarkable after recovering from a mistake.  It can be an opportunity to improve, or an excuse to fail.  Nobody can decide but the person who messed up, (which is everyone at some point.)  I love Louis C.K.  I recognized this before I knew he was a predator.

I don’t know how to unlove someone, and I’m not convinced it’s possible.  I know Louis C.K. is capable of outgrowing his primitive mindset.  He’s brilliant and thoughtful in some respects, despite everything.  It’s up to him, now.  I’m hoping he follows up his apology with fervent action to correct how he thinks and behaves.  I hope he grows forward.  It’s up to him.  I’m rooting for him to evolve.

“I don’t care for your demeanor.”

So I read the news earlier.  Noticed Louis C.K. fell off the pedestal I built him and landed on his ass.  I didn’t bother reading beyond the fact three people have come forward because one is enough.  Welp.  Dear geniuses, this is where Alison loses her shit.

Dear people of earth:

You’re not entitled to mistreat anyone.  This is a universal rule from birth to death for all sentient beings.  No amount of money or delusions of power can ever grant you the right to step on the free will of another.  If you take away a persons ability to exercise their free will, you’re a predator.

Predators aren’t civilized or evolved, regardless of how well they can fake it.  They’re still living with a primitive mind.  Predators don’t develop beyond the mindset of a toddler.  They focus on only one thing:  Personal pleasure.  Whatever they get off on is what their entire lives focus on.  It’s all just the constant pursuit.  We all know predators.

When you step on someone’s free will, you’re doing it for one reason:  Your own gain.  It’s taking what you want.  It’s a severe problem of our species.  It has an excellent chance of being our species extinction catalyst.  It’s so pathetic.  Vladimir took until they all died off.  This is the likely story of homo sapiens.

And I know you’re thinking, geez, Alison, this is a stretch from groping someone.  No.  It’s not a stretch, it’s precisely the same thing.  It’s taking what isn’t given.   It’s stepping on someone else to get what you want.  Men have a horrible reputation in this regard.  It’s unbelievable how many men step on others for sexual gratification alone.   Mind-boggling.

We’re quite literally beyond the point where we even need to wonder if the accusations of sexual misconduct are legit or not.  Yes, I said it.  We’re past that point.  We’re past that point because so many men are predators.  If there weren’t so many men doing this shit day after day, age after age, we wouldn’t waste so much time trying to bring a handful of them to whatever justice is possible on a male-dominated planet.  Prove you’re innocent, eh?

Shit!  We have to fight just so every human is treated as if they’re sentient!  Collectively, we can’t even meet the minimum requirement to qualify as humane!  Please, aliens.  Please come and get me and take me somewhere civilized.  I just want to create and experience joy without stepping on others.  I’m happy to pitch in however I’m able.  I’m ready to go.  Just don’t eat my cat.

 

“She’s like an expensive car with one of those motion-sensor force field alarms.”

I’m still struggling to entirely free myself from the grip of the Depression Monster.  I’m doing better, thanks to our Stevie Nicks party.  When I think about what she’s taught me, it helps free me from my inner asshole.  I quit beating myself up for having depression and focus on forcing it back into remission.

I watched an interview on YouTube in which Stevie Nicks was royally pissed off.  I had to view it a few times to recognize she was angry, (this is one of my known bugs.)  When it clicked, I realized she gets pissed precisely the way I do.  We both talk a whole lot of shit to cover up how powerless and hurt we’re feeling.

I’m kinda glad there’s someone else on this planet who reacts this way besides me.  When I reach that point, I’m incredibly compelled to throw out unbelievable threats against whoever has me riled.  I know as it’s coming out of my mouth how ridiculous it sounds.  I just need to say it anyway.

As I age, I’ve improved slightly.  It’s been decades since I’ve threatened to hit someone with the Empire State Building.  It’s symbolic of my rage, not literal, (although, if I could, I might need a timeout to prevent it.)  To me, I’m merely stating exactly how pissed off I am.  Others usually choose to find it amusing, (which only makes me want to replace the Empire State Building with the moon.)

Before I acquired this um… Skill…  My only way of expressing rage was crying.  This is better.  Just so you know, the best way to react to someone losing it like this is to remain silent and avoid eye contact.  Perhaps no sudden movements, too.  Please, don’t laugh, it just makes it worse.

 

NVIDIA Titan Xp Star Wars Collector’s Edition

Tomorrow morning at 7AM PST, the pre-ordering begins.  Of course, there’s a dark side version as well.  It’s red instead of green.  I was in the process of researching my new gaming build, when this popped up and said, “Strong with the force, I am.”  Gamer’s who also prefer their machine to look like a brilliant, (damn near garish) alien artifact:  May the force be with you.  Always. 💜

I’m getting ready to watch comedians on Netflix.  Laughing until my face hurts is my way of going nuclear against the Depression Monster.  I keep it in reserve for this use.  I’m not pulling out my secret weapon just yet:  Wanda Sykes.  I do need to start watching Conan again, though.  He’s like America’s Prozac.  I love him.  Okay, I’m off to laugh like there’s a prize.