Category Archives : Connor’s Journal


Just Keep Walking

I’m tired as all hell right now, because I’m resetting my schedule. At least I think I’m tired. My body’s not really sure, and my mind never really buys into the “sleep” concept. Sometimes I just don’t sleep. That’s just life. One of the few drawbacks of living with my girlfriend is that it makes it notably harder to reset, since someone else needs to be in my space, using it, at various times. And yet we adapt and overcome life’s minor inconveniences, right?

I mean, there are a few fringe benefits.

Walking out of the gym yesterday at 5AM, and the sky was gray-blue, a cold wind brought the smell of winter of rain rushing down. As I reached my car, the drops began to fall. There was something very affirming in the moment; I love the gray rainy days, and the gray rainy dawns even more. I’ve improved my performance on the stair climber by 50% over the course of a month–half again as far in the same half hour. I like the pace, now I’m headed for time. So there was something plain nice about walking out into a world a little more like what I like than Phoenix usually provides. Just keep walking, and you get closer. It was like the world was handing me a little reward for persistence.

There’s a lot of that going around just now.

That’s the simplest rule of travel, you know. Just keep walking. It’s not metaphorical, or, at least, the metaphor is a coincidental ancillary bit. It works for writing, too; keep writing. That’s how you write the books, finish the projects, overcome writer’s block, and all the rest. Just put one damned word after the other until you’re done. One foot, one word, life’s an awful lot of ones adding up to the bigger things.

I got slightly behind last week on Cities of the Mind, which I’ve been otherwise on top of since the new year . . . I had three videos ready to go, but I skipped Friday because I watched them and decided I could do them better. I’ll be redoing them shortly. I also missed my guest post day, not because I didn’t have one, but because I entered the post date into the wrong field. Whooooops! Anyway, if you want to read about the inspirational properties of adult diapers, please check out BC Brown’s guest post over there!

We’ve been gardening. She’s got pepper plants. I can’t believe how fast my peas are growing. The tomatoes are already flowering and producing little tiny tomatoes! The grape vine is still suspiciously devoid of growth, but I maintain hope.

I’m taking a day off from the gym. I did heavy leg day yesterday, and it has made my rear end rather sore.

I’ve been thinking a lot about where to go from here. I can feel my life getting back under control–things are good, and life is good, and life should be good, but it must always be full of challenges, or it is wasted. So many roads ahead, and, of course, the rule Don’t stop walking. Some of the potential paths are safe, some are dangerous, and, of course, I have to take the plans of my girlfriend and her growing forest of cacti into account.

Planning.

It’s not my strongest point. I react well. I react really well. But we all have weaknesses. I understand the value of planning, but I fundamentally lack an enthusiasm or desire for the process.

So much to do, and see, and be. Maybe that’s what I reject in planning. When you plan, you exclude options. A compact list is just an inverse list of all the things you won’t/can’t do.

This weekend, though, is the ostrich festival. So, that’s a plan, right?

I am, speaking of life’s “can’ts” too fat to ride an ostrich. And Moas, to our eternal sorrow, are extinct.

Would you guys like me to post fiction again? I used to post short stories up here, but I quit, for various reasons. I’ve been considering doing that again.

In any case, I have actual work-work to do right now, so the ramblin’s done for the nonce.

Regards,

Connor


Fruits and Veggies Incoming!

Fruits and Veggies And Site Details

I hope you like how this site is looking. I recently switched over to the Customizr theme, and I really like what can be done with it. Still, since this is my “fun site” I don’t have time to really do to much fancy stuff on here. Still, I think it looks sort of earthy and pretty.

I use the Moesia theme over on my professional site, and I like that one, too. I’m using different themes mostly for the sake of experience and such, and because I think I’ve created something both flashy and functional with Moesia. I’ve created a sort of “Blog Hub” circular navigation system on there, supplementing the linear branched menu design, so that it’s easier to find your way to specific interests.

I’ve also been looking for guest posters to help round out Cities of the Mind. I’ve been doing videos over there, too, and it’s going well enough that I’m seriously considering doing a few over here too!

Not that I’ll stop writing. Not that I could stop writing. I never stop writing. At best, I can modify slightly what I’m writing for awhile. Actually, I’m better at that than sticking with it, but so far this current system of throwing lots of variety into my blogs has been helping me out. I don’t think I’ve missed a post date on my 5-days-a-week schedule yet in 2015.

I can’t remember off the top of my head when I decided to start it, but I’ve stuck with it that long.

Life is Good

I’m having a really good time, lately. I’m making enough money that I don’t feel like I’m drowning. I didn’t even really notice I was stressed, to be honest. It’s like there’s been a fat kid standing on my chest, and I’d just gotten used to it.

The training is going really well. There’s the minor aches and pains which I fear are just part of pushing a body on the downslope of its third decade, but nothing unendurable, and the results have been great so far. I’m almost back to 180, and it’s a good thing I’m making more money, because I cannot shove food into my face fast enough.

I still haven’t started training with the weighted pack, because I’m lazy, and all that, but it’s coming.

Planting Things

Spring is here: We had our first thundershower of the year this week, and we now have three buckets of rainwater for our plants. Lauren and I bought some minor veggies. I bought peas and tomato plants. The tomatoes are already in hanging buckets, and the peas will soon join them. The grape vine is planted where the rain water runs of the patio. I’m all kinds of excited about it all, truth told. Apparently, I have a soft spot for vines. Fresh fruits and veggies incoming! I’ll take pictures of the garden as it develops.

Have a great week,

Connor


Corporate Identity 3

The Corporate Identity

“Why don’t you have a Starbucks card?” she asks. The question has a layered quality in my mind, because it’s played simultaneously in my memory with about a dozen tracks other men and women asking the same question, with the same words, and even the same intonation. That I’m-not-being-pushy-I-just-want-to-nudge-you tone. It’s just a really small pledge of allegiance to a corporate identity.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” I answer, because people have trouble responding to question-non-questions–it breaks the script–and it’s always fun to see where it goes from there.

Why don’t I, though? I mean, financially, it would make sense. The inconvenience of another thin rectangle of plastic in my wallet would be negligible. There’s already credit cards in there with my name on them, business cards, supermarket discount cards, my ID (actually every ID I’ve ever had, except for my first one, which was snapped in half while opening a door). And so on.

I’ve made an effort, though, to make those cards useless. I never filled out the little application that goes with the supermarket cards, so there’s no name, phone number, or address associated with them. This has the added bonus of being slightly amusing in the places where the cashiers are obligated to thank you by name when you shop there. It must be pretty common, though, because everyone but the newbie cashiers transition very smoothly to, “Thank you . . . for shopping with us.” It’s just a quick glance to where the name is supposed to be, and then an instant recovery when it’s not there.

I’ve made an effort online, too. I’ve lied about my personal details on just about every field I’m not legally obligated not to from the very beginning. New Years for me means a sudden influx of emails with subjects like,  “Happy Birthday  Youdon Tneedtoknowthat!” and, “Happy New Year Nunya Bidnez!”

Tribal

Anyway, back to the cards; I guess I’ve never been able to shake the association of cards in my wallet with IDs. Yes, my name is Connor, but also, if I’m carrying that Starbucks card around, then I’m a little bit Starbucks, too. Somewhere in my brain. That’s what all those cards are about. They’re a club, and they want you to be a member, right? Humans are, at a very basic level, tribal. You only have to look at children to know that much.

Fry’s gives you a card because they want you to carry a badge that says you’re part of Tribe Fry’s. Basha’s gives you one for the same reason, and they do it for the same reason. You could make a pretty good case, I think, that corporate structure is the replacement for the feudal structures of eras past, but that’s an article for another day.

I’m not taking some hipster stance that, “Blah, blah blah, corporate, blahblahblah, less than human, blah, machine, blah, per se, blah, etc.” Even though I take a little joy in tossing the occasional apple of discord to a marketing firm, I don’t think it really matters at the end of the day.

The honest source of my reticence is . . .  I just have this horrible picture in my head of meeting some traveler from a distant space or time, and them going through my wallet and saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Costco Visa of Clan Starbucks.”

But that’s just really hard to explain to the Starbucks girl in the time it takes to fill a cup with 16oz of coffee.

 


The Life Lottery

Note: This was written Tuesday. 

Field Trips

Well, I got lost this morning for awhile. I was on my way over to pick up my housemate from the mechanic, and I took a wrong turn, and went on adventure. I guess I still have a bit to learn about Phoenix. We’ve been sitting in a coffee shop for a few hours now, and it’s probably getting on towards done; I figured it might be time to throw together today’s blog.

Work Life

Work life is good right now. I’m the good kind of busy, and I’m loving it. I’m riding that particular high that comes from already having enough money to pay rent next month. A distinct and lovely lack of stress–it’s sort of like turning off a vacuum cleaner; the world is suddenly so quiet and peaceful. I hadn’t even realized someone had been standing on my chest the last couple months, but, hey, I  can breathe.

The first savings goal is to acquire enough to pay for a decent pair of boots.

Applying for Trail Permits

Matt and I applied for trail permits today.

It’s actually a really involved process. There’s a lottery for the Whitney Permit. We need to get that, and once we have that, we can apply for the wilderness sections of the trail. There’s an element of luck involved in just having a window to set the record.

The only choice, though, is full steam ahead, because I need to be ready to go long before I know whether or not I actually will.

Training for Record Attempt

This is going places. I’ve been working out steadily, I’ve found a place to write with a bar setup, so I can work standing. This is important. Feet need to get used to the idea of supporting your body for hours and hours at time.

I’ve not used them yet, but I’ve bought two fifty pound bags of gravel. They’re going to go in my backpack. I’m going to be going on regular walks, first with the fifty, then the hundred, while continuing to train at the gym. Eventually, the stair-climbing in the gym will be combined with the pack.

Right now, I’m doing sessions of half an hour on the stair climber, at a pace that takes me about 2.5 miles, then another couple on the treadmill, and a few bodyweight exercises three times a week. The other days are either rest or weight training days.

I’ve been doing research, and I see I need to do step-down exercises as well. The trick is to shake things up, as well. As the training ramps up, I’ll also be climbing actual mountains in the area more and more often, because that’s how you really get in shape for climbing mountains: climbing mountains.

Already Happy

I’m already really happy with the training. This regimen encompasses a lot more cardio than my usual workouts, and I’ve already noticed a lot more muscle definition, which is pretty cool, but this isn’t about looking fit–this is about endurance. Not even running endurance, but plodding endurance.

I will need to be able to carry 50-60 pounds at a fast walking pace for eighteen hours, several days in a row. That’s going to take some work.

The real key is sticking with it. I can walk fast enough, I can carry the weight, I just need to get to the point where I can manage both at the same time, and that’s just an incremental affair. Like most things in life, it’s not a training montage, it’s constant and continual work until the goal is reached.


The Colors We Couldn’t See 2

ColorCouldNotSee

There is No Darkness

Sometime just prior to my teen years, I got my hands on a book called There is no Darkness by Joe Haldeman, who you might recognize as author of The Forever War, and his brother Jack. If you don’t, you should read it. There is no Darkness is not quite the masterpiece Forever War was, but it’s a damned good book. It centers around a group of students in a sort of spaceship/school for the rich or gifted . . . and, of course, references Shakespeare’s line, “There is no darkness but ignorance.”

The story was fun, the line was something I internalized on an entirely different level. It may have been the most influential single sentence in my life (perhaps excepting, “Let’s get dangerous,” by one Drake Mallard). Few people could quip an earthshaking truth like the Bard.

 

Shadows I Couldn’t See

Once, in my first year of college, I was listening to KRST 92.3 country radio (92.3 is a rock station in Las Vegas, and I was too lazy to adjust the presets) crackling in and out of static as I wound my way through the mesas on the approach to Los Alamos, to visit my college girlfriend. It was getting late, and the whole world was defined by the range of a T100’s headlights and the radio. One moment, Vince Gill was warning his buddy to shape up, or he was going to steal his girl, then I went around a bend, and my radio was hissing like the little elves that power the circuitry (my understanding of electronics is hazy) had taken a fiver to fry up BLTs.

Then I turned another bend, and Vince was explaining that the girl was just tired of being Cinderella, and I realized with stunning clarity that I was driving through shadows I couldn’t see. The world around me was a riot of light, and I was awash in words written out on colors of light I couldn’t see in a language I didn’t speak. They’d been there all along, I’d used them my entire life, and just never thought to think about it.

And I thought to myself, “There is no darkness. . . “

It sort of changed my opinion of conspiracy theorists . . . I mean, what if I walked up to you right now on the street and told you the air was full of words we couldn’t hear without a metal tube and some transistors? That there were messages hidden in the colors we couldn’t see? Crazy, right?

 

Pale Blue Dots and Abyssal Gazes

Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot still gives me goosebumps. It made me mist up a little the first time I read it, and I’m not prone to that sort of thing.

 

 

Our one little world, alone in that endless abyss, it seemed so humbling and so impossible; it couldn’t be true. Since then, I’ve learn it wasn’t, except in a pale small way, for all its beauty.

Long after Pale Blue Dot I read about the Hubble Deep Field. Have you heard of it? It was a case of someone doing something that would, on the surface, seem pointless: They looked around until they found the darkest patch of sky. It a tiny slice of the sky, one-twenty-four-millionth of the visible sky, hidden in the heart of the Great Bear, and they aimed Hubble right into it.

They gazed into the abyss, you could say–a line I first encountered at the beginning of Baldur’s Gate (a video game) around the same time as I read Haldeman’s book as a preteen, and four years later when my Philosophy 101 class introduced me to Thus Spake Zarathustra. In full, it is, “When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you,” another line the sticks. It’s one of those things everyone knows subconsciously until they hear it spoken aloud, and then wishes it had stayed below. The Darkness gazes back, as we’ve all known since we were little children.

Them the Hubble gazed long, ten days long, more than three hundred images long, into the abyss.

The thing was, the abyss didn’t gaze back.

What they found hidden in the abyss was not nothing and more nothing, but, in fact, everything. Galaxies and galaxies, containing so many stars that if each of us picked our own small piece and started counting, all of us would be dead of old age before we’d tallied a fraction of them. The darkness held nothing but more worlds than we could ever dream of. Wonders we could never count, and none of which we’ll ever see.

 

I recommend you look at the full-size image. Try not to get lost.

 

 

For awhile, I thought nothing at all. There are moments we have that just wash over us, and this was for me, and many others I think, one of them. Then I thought, if we could do it again, pick the darkest twenty-four-millionth of this photo, and look into that, we’d see something just like this all over again.

Then I thought, There is no darkness. 

Whatever it is, it’s Not Nothing

Over the past few years we’ve been grappling with the concept of dark energy and dark matter. We know it’s there, because it’s doing things, it has gravity, which means it has mass, but we don’t know much else, because we can interact with it meaningfully. It’s either mass we understand behaving in a way we don’t, or mass we don’t understand behaving in a way we do. Either way, it’s puzzling. The stuff it’s made out of just doesn’t seem to want to mess with the stuff we’re made of. Observation and understanding require interaction, on some level.

So we don’t know what it is, we just know it’s not nothing. Where there should have been nothing we’ve only found a different sort of something.

There is no darkness, only ignorance, indeed. I wonder sometimes, how long it took Shakespeare to think of the phrase. Was it a flash of brilliance, a labor of intense thought, or just a quip ironically ignorant of its own scope?

It’s a very comforting thought, There is no darkness, until the second bit wiggles into you, except ignorance. The implication that there is no darkness demands the understanding that, no matter how it looks, it is never empty, no, just full of things you cannot see. The darkness is full, full to the bursting, layered and bound up in twisting knots of more things than we can experience, more things than we count, more things than we can perceive–and the possibility that just because we can’t see them, yet, doesn’t mean they can’t see us.

Perhaps Nietzsche knew what he was talking about after all.


A Valentine: Lauren & Connor take a couples’ selfie

The All-Important Couple Selfie

All relationships face challenges, even the good ones–maybe especially the good ones–and some of those challenges are big, important, things. Others are . . . less so, but they still exist. Lauren and I, when we do things together, often forget the all-important couples ritual of taking a selfie together to prove we do things together, so the internet can tell we love each other.

The Challenge

Here’s the thing, though, I’m 8-10 inches taller than her, depending on footwear. This, coupled with our lack of practice, can make things, well, difficult. I have to look like I’m comfortable and relaxed while standing like I’m doing a squat, or she has to be on tip toes, or the camera has to be at some ridiculous angle. . . . and on, and on. It doesn’t help that we both reflexively make funny faces at cameras. We did remember take a couples’ photo on the last hike, but it wasn’t easy. I got a good laugh while I was putting together the hike post last week, so I thought I’d share the reject piles (we each had a camera) today.

My Camera

Another Note

Not a big country fan, but I’m enjoying the hell out of this song. Every song’s always, “Our love is perfect, it’s all so easy,” or “I’m sexually liberated, excuse me while I screw him, and her, and this lamp, and that poptart, if you’re done with it,” or, “Well, yeah, I cheated, sup dude? Blame it on the {something that isn’t me}.”

It was a really cool surprise to hear one on the radio that’s like, “Yeah, I have a life, I meet attractive people and enjoy their company, I could totally be out sleeping with strangers, and I’m human so sometimes that idea has some allure, but, hey, I walk the line because I’ve got somebody I come home to.”

 


The John Muir Record Attempt 1

The Overview

So I have a good friend who wants to set a record. The record he wants to set is actually the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), but we’ve decided to start with the John Muir Trail. We’ve done the math, done the research, and we think we can do it. We’d be making the attempt (if we win the lottery for it) this summer.

The John Muir Trail (which I’ve already hiked part of) runs from Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the Lower 48, through the Sierras, including King’s Canyon and Sequoia, and into Yosemite. It’s actual part of the PCT, so it will be a good test run, no matter what happens.

 

 

You can find out more about both trails here.

 

The Hike

This isn’t an easy hike. It’s 211-ish miles through altitudes as high as 14,505′. And we need to do it in less than 78 hours. This is back country, wilderness .  .  . the trail is clearly marked, but you share it with deer and bears. That sort of place.

It’s also a hike through the parts of the country that inspired the national park system. Some of the most beautiful country on the planet. It’s a place out of dreams.

 

The Campaign

We are planning to go all the way with this record attempt. We’ll be filming it; Matt’s even got a camera drone. We’re going on an adventure, and we want you to come along for the ride. We’re also planning on grabbing as wide an audience as we can. We’re planning on a social media campaign, maybe some crowdfunding, definitely sponsors if we can get some.

 

The Training

Here’s the truth: We should have been training for this all year. Instead we’ve go six months. I think we can do it, but that means we’re going to be training hard. I’ve been hitting the gym almost daily since the end of January. I’m even doing cardio.

I hate cardio.

But I’m doing cardio, because in six months I’ll need pistons for legs and gas tanks where my guts go. I can already keep up the pace we need to keep up easily, I just need to be able to do it with a 50-100 pound pack above the treeline for 70-something hours.

We’re also, starting a month before our hike, going to switch to the Uberman sleep schedule.

 

What You Can Expect

Well, the journey starts here and now, not six months from. We don’t know for sure if we’ll be able to go, or when, yet, because there’s a lottery system for selecting backcountry permits. Still, we need to start training last year, so that’s going to be happening. We’ll be logging progress, looking at the things we need to do, and so on.

I’ll be saving up for a decent pair of boots.

Our thinking is that, worst case, we have to settle for being in awesome shape and walking through one of the most beautiful places on the planet. I think we’ll do a bit more than that, though.

 

More to come,

Connor Rickett

 


Now and Then Goals 2

Oh man, I have so little time today, but I need to keep up the blogging schedule. No more slip ups!

What should I talk about?

How about goals?

MNiC Feature Now and Then Goals

Why Goals Matter

Well, they don’t, intrinsically, really. In the same way a thing is worth what someone will pay for it, goals are exactly as important as they are. The goal of posting every Tuesday and Thursday on this blog is important to me. It forces me to blog about non-work stuff (because I save that for the other blog) and it’s a place to talk get more personal, which I sort of like, and sort of hate.

Mostly it’s a spot for random thoughts, which is why I tend to leave it until the last moment, rather than queuing posts up. I am going to queue up the Super Bowl hike for Tuesday, sometime this weekend, with lots and lots of lovely pictures, and I know what I’m going to talk about Thursday, too.

Goals matter, though, because without them, we don’t have goals. And how do you keep score of your life and its progress without goals? You don’t. You’re just an object in motion, like some sort of Brownian phenomenon. And that’s lame.

So, yeah, goals matter because the lack of goals is bad. So sue me, I’ve got like fifteen free minutes to write all this into a coherent post.

Now and Then Goals

The Now Goals

You have to have “Now Goals”. I’m actually awash in goals today. I have to finish two guest posts (at minimum the final of one and a draft of the other), I have to wrap up another paid project, and edit a web page for another client. These are small, immediate, goals, but they’re not bad ones. This is a good day, because my career and my bank account will both better facing a brighter outlook shortly.

I’ve started making lists of To-Dos, mostly because they seem to work for my girlfriend. So far, when I remember to consult them, they’re doing alright.

The Then Goals

Small goals only exist to serve the “Then Goals”, and to balance them. Without the “Now Goals” the “Then Goals” would be entirely impossible, and that would be sad.

They feed each other, though. Then inspires now, now becomes then, and when then is now, there’s a then, right there and waiting. I want to be more successful. That means making money, keeping clients happy, getting things done, and expanding my presence in the writing world. Sure.

But that’s not my whole life, either. I need adventure goals. That’s why going to the gym is on the list today, too. I’ve got a good friend who wants to set a record, and I’ll talk about this a lot more in the near future. For now, let’s just say it involves me getting in shape to walk a very long way with heavy weights, very quickly.

I should probably have had a year to train for it, but I don’t. That’s okay, because I need to be better, anyway. The worst case here is that I’m in really good shape, but not quite good enough, by this summer.

So that’s part of what this blog will be about. Becoming stronger, faster, better. As a writer, as a person, as a body, and so on.

I do what I do now so I can be what I want to be then. 

That’s what goals are for, really; they’re just something to aim for. I may not succeed in all my goals, but I’ll certainly be better for trying.

Ten minutes are up, so . . .

Take care, and be awesome,

Connor

 


Old Folks in Bookstores

Workspaceless

The coffee shop I normally work at it is moving to a new building, so I’ve been moving about while it’s closed. Depending on how the new building looks, I may need a new workspace. In any case, I was going to put something up from the hike I went on instead of watching the Super Bowl (we could technically see the stadium though), but the internet in here is too slow to make uploading the photos worth it.

I’ve been wandering about, checking out new places, which is always fun, but would be more fun if there was anything except Starbucks around here. At this rate I may need to start a coffee shop.

Is anyone looking to start a coffee shop in the Phoenix area in of a Writer in Residence? I can sit there typing away, adding to the atmosphere of the place, and I will work for coffee.

Right now, I am sitting in a Barnes & Noble. One of the old-school smaller ones in a standalone building. Sort of grungy. That might be a sign of the Amazon Apocalypse . . . or it might just be for camouflage purposes here in Metro Center.

Either way, it has its perks in the people wandering about the place.

 

Old People in Bookstores

There’s this old lady here, not old-old, but middle-old. Seventy.

She’s bent over a walk and still my height. She was well over six feet in her youth. She has all those little things that say, “I grew up and lived in a ranch house on the edge of town.”

What she actually says, to the girl behind the counter is, “Make sure it’s nonfat, I’ve lost count of how many stents I’ve got.”

The girl smiles, and clearly has no damned clue how to respond to that.

There are a lot of old people here. I like snooping on people, and bookstores are a wonderful place, because everyone carries their current thoughts around, bound and labeled. There’s a Vietnam vet learning how to use a Nook at one table. The sales lady has been at it for an hour. She relieved someone else so they could go on their lunch break.

The lady with the walker is awkwardly carrying her own stack of hopes and fears on diet, or spirituality, or both . . . there seems to be a weird confluence between the two, as if you need to get in touch with your chakras to lose weight. I think it does make sense, though, right? Either way, it’s about taking control of a body intent on going its own way, and then, eventually away. All these little things meant to stay relevant, or stave off mortality.

And yet this surprises me.

You would expect–or I would expect–the reaction to the shadows of life growing longer to be a retreat into fantasy (I mean, that’s what diet and spirituality books are, but they’re not presented as such) but instead it moves the other way. The younger people are loaded down with outdoor magazines, science fiction books, and so on. The entire Young Adult featured section is about teenagers fighting violent shadow wars against the totalitarian whosits of whatever.

It’s the older folks who weigh themselves down with all this other stuff. How to eat yourself younger, will yourself healthier.

For the life of me, I don’t know whether it counts as prudence or desperation. Is it rooted in the fear of death or the desire to keep fighting. The sheer stubborn depth of humanity’s obstinance is beyond mapping. We fight and live and, yes, kill because to hell with everything that says otherwise. But maybe this is just another version of the drowning man grabbing at every floating splinter and bit of seaweed, though none will support him against the pull of the deep.

The real hell of it is that, though death has yet to lose a single game, we are getting better with every passing day at pushing him back. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light . . . 

It’s like any other window worth looking though; more to see than there is time to understand it all.

I’ve rambled sufficiently for one day, I think. Back to work!

Thanks for stopping by,

Connor


The “Look at me!” Game

The “Look at Me!” Game

I try to make sense of things, and sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don’t. That’s half the fun of it all, I suppose. I’m not sure exactly why it all gets so complicated all the time, but damned if it doesn’t.

I’ve been discussing with another blogger the general ins and the outs of social media. She feels that it’s all a bit tacky, running around and promoting yourself everywhere. I agree. I don’t like it. I just stop from time to time. Everyone who knows me in the real world knows that I’m always half an hour of packing away from wandering off into the wilderness indefinitely.

Yet, here I remain, playing the silly self-promotion game. . .

LOOK AT HOW AWESOME I AM!

On the other hand, every time–

OVER HERE LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME!

–I stop, I have to start back over, and go through the same–

VISIT MY SITE AND MY OTHER SITE AND COMMENT AND LIKE AND SHARE AND–

–useless boring social crap except sans the followers I’ve built up, so you know, without the gratification of people actually acknowledging how AWESOME I AM AND MY WRITING AND STUFF!

Right? It’s frustrating.

On the other hand I would never go down the click-bait route because that’s just too low. I’ll fail, maybe but at I’ve got integr–

 

–ating into my blog down effectively.

Actually, do look at that thing. I love it. It’s the best clickbait I have ever seen. It’s the rare and beautiful Double Troll. Stupid people solve it and proudly share it, right? There is no way not to solve it. Every single path that doesn’t cross itself eventually arrives at the other entrance! Also, it’s just nested Swastikas. So, not only are compulsive sharers revealed to be a bit dumb, they’re also doing something amazingly insulting. It’s just a really great prank. I love it.

You could even say that, deep down, it shows how people who get too caught up in sharing how smart and wonderful they are to actually think about things inadvertently spread messages of hate. This is practically allegory for how the Nazis actually did come to power.

The Main Thing

It is hard to sell yourself. I mean, I don’t run a garage door business. I don’t sell chickens. I can’t say, “My chickens are the fowlest!” or, “Until you buy this door, it’s technically just a car port,” or anything like that. My product is my ability to put words together well. There’s just me. It’s . . . weird, at times.

Anyway, an amazing number of you have stuck around, or at least sporadically read, these ramblings for years now, and I appreciate you all. I wouldn’t still be doing this if not for the occasional like/comment from a friend I didn’t know was still reading, or the occasional, “Hey, I read some of your stuff, and it’s pretty good!” at a party, or whatever. It makes putting up with the Twits/Shares/Likes/SEO grandstanding soooooo much less difficult.

 

Cheers!

Connor