“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

“Dark and disturbed? His whole life revolves around Superman and cereal.”

Kitties!

Today went well.  I didn’t go see Star Wars.  It wasn’t the right time.  Sundays are for self-care.  I experiment with lots of beauty product samples, deep condition my hair, and clean.  It’s my way of arming myself for the week ahead.  This year is too stressful to be anything but proactive.

I ordered a new hair care regimen from Form Beauty.  It’s one of the companies that sponsor my new podcast;  Gettin’ Grown.  I started listening to the podcast from the beginning, so I’m still behind at this point.  The older promo code worked, though.  (Type formbeauty.com/gettingrown for 10% off.)  I can’t wait to try it.

The hosts both live in major cities on the east coast, (NYC and D.C.) and still struggle to find products for people of color.  I guess living in South Dakota isn’t a disadvantage (in this single instance.)  Heh.

I’m re-reading the Harry Potter books.  It’s another epic tale that also serves as a survival guide for life.   Every reading renews my sense of survivorship.  Like Harry, I live in two worlds simultaneously.  He’s the boy who lived.  I’m the girl who lived.  There are many parallels, and it’s nice to feel understood and accurately comprehended.

The Harry Potter series is the best guide for surviving with PTSD I’ve ever read.  J.K. Rowling understands humans far better than anyone I’ve read or encountered in the mental health field.  Frankly, I think it should be used as a teaching tool for mental health providers.  You can’t help heal without understanding.

I haven’t felt my blood pressure increase significantly after someone professed the books are solely for children in a while.  It’s a book you read over and over for the rest of your life because it’s the only way you’ll get all it has to offer.  J.K. Rowling is a Jedi Master, and it makes me so happy.  I’m off to read.

“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 want you to have this job, of course sodomy is a prerequisite.”

My prodigy is blowing my mind on a near daily basis.  She’s been having fun testing my memory.  I suspect she’ll grow bored of this soon.  I’m humoring her because I used to do similar experiments.  The human brain is so fascinating.  I used to “test” the foster babies as a kid.  My parents would inform me of their condition, and I’d design an experiment to determine its accuracy.  I remember when Angelique came to live with us.  She was taken from her family on the reservation due to abuse.

She had a traumatic brain injury as an infant and had a few surgeries.  She turned out to be far brighter than reported.  She had the most contagious laugh, too.  Full belly laughs, followed by post-laughter chuckles.  I loved hearing her laugh so much I became her personal slapstick comedian.  I feigned tripping and falling over invisible objects in front of her playpen while she watched and laughed her ass off.  Then I’d laugh at her laughing.  It’s an awesome auditory memory, and sometimes I dream about it and wake myself up from laughing.

I’m getting excited as the date approaches when Stevie Nicks performs in St. Paul.  Yesterday, one of the officers in my Resistance group flew over me, and I estimated the time and mentally sent a hug into the sky to embrace her.  (I know, I’m a doof.)  I believe we’re all connected and can send love and comfort through our spirits (?) to one another at will.  I remember doing this as a child, but I had an elaborate ritual.  We had a hill in our back yard, and I’d lay on top on a blanket and look up at the stars while sending love and comfort to heavy hearts.  It’s also how I cope with knowing there are people suffering on this planet at all times.

J.K. Rowling is demonstrating why she’s the Queen of the internet, and I love her for it.  Welp, I already did, but more if possible.  I’m reading another Thomas Hardy novel titled, Far From the Madding Crowd.  So far it’s hilarious.  I think I like old school smart asses the best.  They don’t just write the funny part, they build up to it with ambiguous words, so you’re not sure if it’s intentional.  That makes it funnier to me.  Probably because the few times I’m funny it’s usually an accident.  I’ve been acquiring more hilarious people to follow on Twitter recently.  They’re like an investment in my future moods.  I just cracked myself up.

I’m getting ready to go entertain some cows with my violin.  I’m going to the same spot I did last time because the land owner invited me back.  He came up while I was playing, (startled the shit out of me) and complimented my playing.  He has some bison on another field, and I’d love to see how they respond to my music, (but they scare me.)  I do like to stare at them from the other side of the fence, though.  They stare back and usually win the stare down.  In person, they’re powerful and intimidating.  I bet one of them could help me break my high school track record in the 400 meter.  Heh.  I run faster when I’m terrified.  A Drill Sgt. discovered this when I was in basic training.  (He didn’t know I was unaware of the existence of blank M-16 ammunition and decided to motivate us by firing it behind us.)

Unfortunately, I kept running all the way back to the barracks and refused to come out of the latrine until my buddy caught up.  It’s funny to me now, but at the time I totally thought he lost his shit and was trying to kill us all.  (There are some movies I regret viewing prior to serving.)  I’m off to test my ability to play while afraid.

Up here, I’m already gone.

cursed

Today was good.  I did manage to get back on track, thanks to Wanda Sykes.  Yesterday, I played at a recital, and got eaten alive by mosquitos in the process.  Then I modeled a dress for a neighbor who’s studying fashion design today.  It was only a few classmates and instructors, so I didn’t feel too anxious.  I liked the dress.  It was like a corset on top and then the skirt part flared out a bit.  When it was over, they were all going to meet at a restaurant, and invited me to go too.  I said, no, thanks.  They asked if I had plans to watch fireworks, and I said no.  There was a pause that I think was probably awkward, but I didn’t have anything else to add.

I didn’t want to tell them that fireworks are pretty to look at, but the sound is hell for me.  I’m wearing ear plugs as I type this, and can only hear a muffled pop every so often.  It’s muffled enough to prevent startling me.  I didn’t want to be driving when people started lighting them.  I think it would be like driving with a snake loose in the backseat for someone who’s afraid of snakes.  So I came home and continued reading my book.  I’m glad this holiday is almost over.  I missed Trivia tonight, but I played Match Game last night, and had a blast.  One of the panelists was a real comedian who opened for Dane Cook at some point.  I know.  He’s a douche.  But still, that’s impressive.  He was hella funny, too.

I think one of my favorite authors released a new book recently.  I also found out that J. K. Rowling published under a pseudonym the other day, meaning there are books she’s written that I haven’t yet read.  That stunning oversight will be rectified ASAP.  Harry Potter and the Cursed Child script is out on the 31st.  Books make me so happy.  I’m off to buy some.