tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-251127172024-03-12T18:41:26.143-07:00Musings of a Lurking DreamerYet another pointless blog by another pointless blogger...Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-7820553681609320062022-07-03T21:44:00.003-07:002022-07-04T11:34:13.000-07:00RIP Independence Day<p>I don't post much here because there isn't really much to say.</p><p>Two years ago, I had some hints of hope that my sick-in-the-gut feelings of 2016, that my country (at least, the country as I had grown up understanding it to be, a land where progress was occurring and justice was achievable and we were actually moving forward to a better future) had suffered a fatal blow, might have been premature.</p><p>More recently, it's become more and more clear that those hints were more than likely just illusions. The damage, the cumulative results of decades of work, has apparently indeed been done.</p><p>Right now, as I type this, my rights as a human being are in doubt because of my gender, my travel between states possibly to be questioned in the near future, my power to make decisions over my own body reduced beyond those of a corpse, and far beneath those of a gun. Books are being banned in schools and challenged in libraries and private booksellers. Public education is essentially being eliminated in Arizona. Children in more than one state (and their parents) are under direct attack if they do not conform to conservative (and provably inaccurate) gender binaries... for no rational reason other than that the existence of anyone outside those binaries challenges the biases of a fanatical minority. The agencies that were meant to protect our ability to breathe air and drink water with fewer toxins have been hamstrung by a bought-and-paid for court majority that has tied anything resembling logic and reason in knots as it cherry picks and time travels to "justify" decisions that were made before they donned their robes. The forces behind the literal, actual, caught-on-camera-in-real-time attack on our national capital are, barring an absolute political miracle, going to walk away not only untouched, but emboldened and rewarded with even more power, because history teaches us that an unpunished coup is just a trial run. Walls between church and state that were explicitly called for at our nation's founding are being demolished. And with cases on the court docket that will all but ensure the end of free presidential elections...<br /></p><p>Yet, still, not enough people apparently care.</p><p>Still, the media plays its clickbait games and shrugs away any responsibilities with "both sides" cowardice. <br /></p><p>Still, we get lots of angry words and sound bites and not enough tangible actions or leadership at the national level to back up those fighting like Hell at local and state levels.</p><p>Still, we get butter knives brought to AR-15 gun fights, and the same political tactics that didn't work before used over and over again in a display of suicidal madness.<br /></p><p>Still, as we cannonball straight into theocracy and fascism, there appears to be no hand on the brakes, because even acknowledging brakes might be "divisive".</p><p>And nobody can even make the glib excuse that "the trains still run on time" because infrastructure has been gutted along with everything else. <br /></p><p>If I thought I had a snowball's chance in Hades of making a go of it in another country - if I could find one that wasn't on a similar trajectory, even - I'd be packing my bags right now, but I really don't see any viable options for a part-time light warehouse worker in her mid-40's without a degree.</p><p>I'm still voting. I'm still contributing what little I can where I can. I'm doing all I can do, even if it's simply not agreeing with this tyranny being forced upon me.</p><p>But I don't see how this ends well at all, for me or the majority of us. Not for at least a generation. If then.</p><p>So, no, I will not be celebrating my country's independence on July 4.</p><p>My independence died with the blow of a Supreme Court gavel. All that's left is for us to fall down.<br /></p>Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-41305795028132899192020-11-07T20:40:00.001-08:002020-11-07T20:47:41.946-08:00Mirrors<p>I came to the 2020 election cycle a much different person than I was in 2016.</p><p>Back then, I believed that America was progressing. This year, I knew progress was not a given, and could vanish in the stroke of a presidential pen.</p><p>Back then, I thought we were coming together. This year, I saw a nation falling apart.</p><p>Back then, I was certain that hatreds were dying, that truth would eventually wear down ignorance, that no sane person or country could possibly look in the mirror and aspire to be a monster. This year, I knew different.</p><p>For four years, I watched as worst-case scenarios repeatedly proved to be too optimistic for reality.</p><p>I watched as "alternative facts"- actual acknowledged lies, not simple ignorance or misunderstanding, but proven falsehoods brazenly manufactured and marketed as such - became the basis for national and international policy.</p><p>I watched a regime smear its excrement over every honor and every office within its reach, and do it with a smirk.</p><p>I watched a "president" and his family praise the worst among us as "very fine people," openly encouraging them to "have fun" and unleash tactics worthy of terrorists upon their fellow Americans.</p><p>I watched images straight out of an ISIS recruitment video - machine-gun toting "militias" taking over state capitals, caravans of pickups waving giant flags shutting down infrastructure - play out in American cities.</p><p>I watched law enforcement unleashed upon the very populace they nominally served and protected.</p><p>I watched civility crumble and laws shrugged off - outright laughed off.</p><p>I watched revelations and monstrosities that should've ended careers get brushed off as yesterday's news... sometimes before the actual next day.<br /></p><p>I watched the utter failure of our media and the majority of journalists to perform their jobs, or to even remember that journalism was supposed to be about more than advertising dollars and clickbait headlines and appeasing power. </p><p>And I felt like a fool for not realizing before that none of this was new. All of this had been here, in the America I grew up in, the America I pledged allegiance to every morning in school and sang praises to in countless songs, and I was just too blindered and privileged and ignorant to really see it. I'd known there were monsters, known there was a different justice for rich and poor (and to a certain degree black and white, not to mention male and female and other), but I'd figured these were small problems, workable problems, fixable problems if we aspired to the best of us... and America was supposed to be all about aspiring to the best of us, wasn't it? For four years, I was forced to look into a mirror and witness the worst of us. In the news and on the internet, in every foul word praised by the masses and every outright laugh at justice undermined and equality thwarted, the entire country was staring into a mirror and seeing the worst of us, who we were when we were encouraged toward our lowest, basest, most divisive and selfish and backwards and outright evil selves.<br /></p><p>Surely, I thought - even the newer, rather more jaded and cynical me - surely, after four years of this, no American could possibly look in that mirror another moment without being utterly revolted, without wanting a change. I knew that the cult - the 40-odd percent base that never significantly wavered - was likely beyond all reach at this point, American blood long replaced by orange kool-aid and synapses filled with convoluted conspiracies about Deep State operatives. But that still left about 60% of the population that should, by any reasonable measure of humanity, have been angered and terrified and disgusted by that reflection.<br /></p><p>Then came Election Day 2020.</p><p>Once again, hope appears to have won. The country, once more, turns toward tomorrow instead of burrowing back into a warped vision of the past.</p><p>And yet, for all the elation I feel tonight after finally watching President-Elect Biden speak... still, I cannot help but feel a deep and shamed sadness.</p><p>The popular vote was indeed won by over four million... out of nearly 150 million people.</p><p>Over seventy million people, after four years staring into that mirror, four years of seeing what happens when the worst of us is elevated to the highest halls of power... over seventy million people decided that they wanted more of that.</p><p>I honestly do not know which scares (or angers) me more: the ones who openly embrace the division and mockery and selfish impulse to hurt and destroy, or the ones who smile and shrug and decide that becoming monsters isn't so bad because of whatever rationalization they happen to use.</p><p>What I do know is that any elation I feel, any spark of optimism, cannot help but be tempered. We have all looked into the mirror now. We have seen the monsters revealed - the ones around us, and within ourselves. We cannot pretend they aren't there, that they aren't dangerous, that they are simply going to go away with time, or will vanish if we ignore them.<br /></p><p>And four years seems like much, much too short a time to even begin to address them...<br /></p>Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-12263250963764354202020-06-25T08:10:00.004-07:002020-06-28T21:46:52.116-07:00The Good OnesI thought you were one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
I first noticed you some time ago, when you were already Somebody to my Nobody. Maybe your books helped me through a hard time. Maybe your show was a light when I needed one. Maybe your humor kept me going when nothing else did. Maybe your art opened a window to the world I'd never seen.<br />
<br />
You seemed like one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
In interviews, you laughed and smiled. You spoke passionately about your causes. You spoke up for colleagues and co-workers, perhaps, or called out an injustice. You were engaging, charismatic, clever. Even though I know, as we all do somewhere inside, that what is seen is not all there is, that there are always masks for every face and shadows for every light, I believed enough of what I saw to think of you as one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
As others were outed, as the shark teeth behind the smiles were bared, I still thought you were one of the good ones.<br />
<br />
Then the voices, the quiet voices, grew louder. Voices speaking of stalking footsteps in cyberspace and growls in the night, of the monster unmasked in the hotel room. Voices speaking of the light of celebrity used as a firebrand to lure, to burn, to hurt, to blind. Voices speaking of starstruck laughter turned to tears and screams and shame. And though I know I am Nobody to your Somebody, just a forgettable face among the throngs, though I know I am owed nothing, I want to know the truth.<br />
<br />
I want to know if you are one of the bad ones.<br />
<br />
I know there are few clean, clear lines in life. There is very little that is universally good or bad. We all have our masks and our shadows. To me, you may have been the one who helped me through a hard time, the light when I needed one, the window to the world I'd never seen. In some ways, you always will be.<br />
<br />
But to someone else... were you the darkness? Were you the shark behind the smile, the light that burned?<br />
<br />
Whatever you gave to me, in that intangible osmosis through story or screen, cannot outweigh that. You cannot be one of the good ones to me if you were the bad one to them. Their personal pain outweighs my general joy.<br />
<br />
I'm still watching, still waiting. Not all stories are true, after all. Not all smiles hide shark teeth. But there are more voices. And your silence, while not damning, deafens...<br />
<br />
I still want to believe that there are good ones.<br />
<br />
Please, tell me that some of them are still good ones...
Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-31815583255567342232020-02-01T09:55:00.003-08:002020-02-01T09:55:47.629-08:00To Whom It May ConcernTo Whom It May Concern:<br />
<br />
Although I have been skeptical of your product ever since the significant downgrades in late 2016, I tried your newest version, 2020.<br />
<br />
After 31 days, I have come to the conclusion that it is even buggier and more terrifying than ever. My nation repeatedly crashes, and is infected with more malware and viruses than my scans could count. Tech support offered no real solutions, save a weak suggestion to wait for a November patch - a suggestion offered after it was clear that the distributors of said malware and viruses are wholly in charge of developing and implementing future patches and no longer care that the customers know it. Other programs, such as job and family, are also developing significant errors at alarming rates. Additionally, the entire World system appears to be overheating, and I suspect the hardware is already fatally damaged.<br />
<br />
I would therefore like to cancel my subscription to 2020.<br />
<br />
How do I uninstall, and to whom do I speak about obtaining a refund?<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
MeBrightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-22528440975671437532019-03-15T07:05:00.004-07:002019-03-15T07:21:17.525-07:00The WaitI wait. They tell me to wait. They tell me things will get better soon - next week, next month, next bombshell, next election.<br />
<br />
As I wait, I watch the hate rise and the truth die. I watch a flag fade into a negative parody of its own image, the man occupying the office formerly lauded as the leader of the free world held up as a paragon and inspiration to the worst elements of humanity. I watch as, under cover of numbing outrage, our justice system is stacked and perverted to ensure that the future will never rise above the prejudices and superstitions of the past.<br />
<br />
As I wait, I watch hope fade for the futures I read about, futures where our species learns from its worst mistakes and survives to make more, where we don't boil our only home alive. I watch as greed empowers ignorance, as disaster is shrugged off as imaginary, then exaggerated, then inevitable. I watch as the same species that cracked the genome code and has sent technology to the furthest reaches of our solar system fails to comprehend that we cannot survive without pollinators for food or without water to drink, treating both as acceptable losses in the name of nebulous Progress.<br />
<br />
As I wait, I watch the few sow chaos among the many. I watch the ignorant steamroll the educated. I watch the backward cripple the forward. I watch faiths weaponized as fanaticism. I watch patriotism corrupted into nationalism all around the world. I watch elected leaders spit directly in the eyes of the majority by failing to uphold both the letter and the spirit of the offices to which they were elevated, even as they actively cripple the means by which they could be held accountable.<br />
<br />
Every day, I see the damage mount, the toll rise, the path forward grow exponentially longer, steeper, dimmer. I see the numbing, the normalization. I see no refuge, no holdout, no way to get there even if there were one.<br />
<br />
I do what little I can, resist in the minor ways within my meager means. I try to tell myself it will matter.<br />
<br />
Mostly, I wait. They tell me to wait.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-74363633539844412472018-09-28T07:47:00.002-07:002018-09-29T09:31:56.685-07:00American ZombieI only have a short time before I leave for work, but there are thoughts, emotions that I have to get out and pin down.<br />
<br />
Back in 2016, as I stared in horror at an election result I was told could not happen, would not happen - as I watched state after state bleed red - I had a fear, or perhaps a vision. America died that day. It died when the majority no longer mattered. It died when decency no longer was a prerequisite to holding office. It died when party trumped country, anger trumped hope, a warped nostalgia for a nonexistent past trumped the possibility of a better future. It would keep shambling on for a few years, perhaps many years, but inside it would be dead, hollowed out by parasitic worms as it stumbles along, until one day it falls over, empty skin over picked-clean bones, upon the dust.<br />
<br />
I wanted to be wrong. Not only because I quite literally have nowhere else to go, lacking exportable job skills and money, but because I was raised to believe in America as an idea that would withstand its tests. I wanted to believe in checks and balances, in the power of the Constitution, in the supposed arc of history bending toward justice.<br />
<br />
But the checks have bounced.
<br />
<br />
The balances are skewed, and skew harder every day, as it becomes increasingly clear that the voice and the will of the many holds no power compared to the money and interests of the few - particularly the foreign few.<br />
<br />
The courts were already being packed. With this Supreme Court judicial appointment that seems all but inevitable, the courts - our last bulwark against totalitarianism, our last shred of hope for justice - will fall into line. And in this confirmation, the majority party (majority in the halls of power only) turns to the American people and tells us, once and for all, what matters.<br />
<br />
Bipartisanship does not matter.<br />
<br />
The voices of women do not matter.<br />
<br />
The search for truth - a simple, standard investigation, that would've taken maybe a few weeks (and exonerated their man, if they were so certain he was not guilty) - does not matter.<br />
<br />
The American Bar Association - which, admittedly at the eleventh hour, called for further investigations before confirmation - does not matter.<br />
<br />
The voting majority does not matter.<br />
<br />
The ongoing investigations into Russian interference - the very existence of impartial federal investigative bodies that do not answer directly to the party - do not matter.<br />
<br />
Constitutional limits on power do not matter.<br />
<br />
Even the appearances of concern for any of the above, the optics, do not matter.<br />
<br />
They are beyond all that. Beyond all limitations and pretenses.<br />
<br />
All that matters is the agenda, and a longstanding vendetta against progress.<br />
<br />
And the worms - if nobody else - will crawl from America's corpse fat and happy.<br />
<br />
(As for the delay for the investigation, like the sudden shift in tone from the Oval Office I don't trust it as far as I could spit - and I'm a lousy spitter...)Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-45800515269907148172018-05-28T20:13:00.001-07:002018-05-28T20:19:01.852-07:00Fannish Hearts and FirehawksIt's been a while - over a year, apparently - since I had anything to say worth posting here. But I spent the long weekend hashing through some thoughts on recent events in my life, and thought it might help to post them for posterity. (It has nothing to do at all with procrastinating on other projects...)<br />
<br />
I was born with a fannish heart. I come by it honestly enough; both my parents are fans, and I was raised with a love of sci-fi and fantasy. Escaping into imagined worlds via books, television, or movies, falling in love with the unreal and the never-could-be… I've been doing that for as long as I can reliably remember. That sense of wonder when I find the good stuff is a joy like nothing else on Earth.<br />
<br />
But it does not come without risks.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, what was a source of joy becomes instead a source of pain. Series take nosedives, changing direction or simply disintegrating before my eyes. Promising new journeys are abruptly ended before they can find their audience. Re-imaginings or reboots strip out the old wonders and sometimes forget to put in new ones, or seem unclear on why the source material was interesting or popular enough to warrant a reboot in the first place. Network executives make decisions rendering the devotion of millions of viewers – not to mention the fictional universes and characters to which they are devoted – insignificant overnight. It's never personal, of course, but it still hurts. When dealing with a franchise, it's rare for a fannish love affair to come to a natural and painless conclusion.<br />
<br />
It's picked up bruises and scars, my fannish heart. Yet I keep coming back. The good stuff, when I find it, is too sweet to let the pain stop me for long.<br />
<br />
Recently, I was lured in again by one of SyFy's newer and most critically-acclaimed offerings: <i>The Expanse</i>, based upon the noir space opera novels by James S. A. Corey. The first two seasons, found and viewed via Amazon Prime, made me eager enough to overlook some old bruises and watch it as it aired on SyFy.<br />
<br />
Now, SyFy and I have a bit of a history. They were the ones that, once upon a time, introduced me to <i>Farscape</i>, to the living ship Moya and her crew… and then dropped the axe after the fourth season cliffhanger, there to leave the characters in limbo until massive, focused fan outrage gave them the finale and closure they deserved. But that was twenty years ago, and <i>The Expanse</i> had the backing of not only a best-selling book series, but numerous high profile genre publications, not to mention celebrities and scientists and even astronauts praising its depiction of interplanetary exploration. Watch any ten minutes, and it's clear this show's a cut above on all levels. It's the good stuff, the sense-of-wonder-inducing top shelf science fiction that so rarely graces the airwaves.<br />
<br />
So it was that, shortly after watching a new episode on May 10, I was poking about the internet when I found out that SyFy had done it again. The axe had fallen. Season Three would be the last aired on their network.<br />
<br />
Another starship-sized bruise on my poor fannish heart.<br />
<br />
This time, unlike my Scaper or X-Phile days, I was not part of any fanboards. I had no community with which to commiserate. I had the books, of course, but it wasn't the same. In desperation, I found my way to Twitter… where I found a veritable hornet's nest of angry, confused Expanse fans: Screaming Firehawks, they called themselves, after a line in the show. And screaming they were, and flaming mad. Among them, apparently as gobsmacked by the news as us lay viewers, were the cast and crew. But not all of them were willing to take it lying down.<br />
<br />
Over the coming days, the fans organized. Tweetstorms and hashtags targeted likely new markets and streaming services. Led in no small part by cast member Cas "Pilot Alex Kamal" Anvar, efforts to increase live viewing numbers – and thus market potential – spread. (He also tipped off viewers that DVR views only "count" within three days, a terribly outdated notion that ignores how many people consume their entertainment.) <br />
<br />
I added my voice, what little I have of it, to the storm, one more drop of water hoping for a flood. Deep down, I didn't hold a ton of hope. It was a numbers game, after all, and the numbers apparently just weren't good enough. But too much else has gone wrong in my world to simply let this one pass unchallenged. For the time, I was a screaming firehawk myself... or at least a whispering spark-sparrow.<br />
<br />
Within a week, what had looked like the full-stop end had bent around into a question mark. The firehawks blazed across the internet and around the globe, and one little spark-sparrow fluttered along with them. An airplane banner was quickly crowdfunded and flown over Amazon Studios. More and more prominent names – celebrities, publications, scientists – came on board. (SyFy could only dream of this kind of publicity...) When word came down that the striking of the sets had been put on hold, a hopeful sign, efforts redoubled. The hawks screamed louder, burned hotter. By the second week, another crowdfunded publicity stunt launched a model of the spaceship <i>Rocinante </i>to the edge of space aboard a weather balloon. It was shocking, almost terrifying, how quickly it all came together. (I think we may have spooked the crew; it seems several of them had had little experience with this unique force of nature, the rage of angered fannish hearts. Any veteran of the battle for <i>Farscape</i>'s finale could've warned them, though the Expanse Extinction Event was like that on steroids. Modern fandom moves much faster - and, it seems, screams much louder.)<br />
<br />
As for me, I did what I could. I posted on my Facebook page that nobody visits. I made appeals on the writing board that's as close to a social circle as I have. Moreover, I kept watching. I kept trying. I never did get the hang of tweeting simply to tweet, but I did what I could, for what little good it made. (I've gotten used to that feeling, especially since November 2016; sometimes the only victory you can hope for is simply refusing to give in.)<br />
<br />
On the evening of May 25, after rising viewership numbers and a clamor that was only increasing with every passing day, Jeff Bezos himself made the announcement. Season Four of <i>The Expanse</i> had been picked up by Amazon Prime. The good stuff had prevailed. For now, at least, the <i>Rocinante </i>is safe. <br />
<br />
Yes, having a fannish heart is not without its risks. Sooner or later, pain is a given. There are no guarantees <i>The Expanse</i> won't eventually leave another spaceship-sized bruise, or even an outright scar. Still, I wouldn't trade my fannish heart for anything in the world, especially at times like this.
Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-36347574365097675502017-01-19T20:00:00.001-08:002017-01-19T20:00:26.777-08:00Finding HopeToday, I was at work, trying not to think about what's coming for my country. Trying not to think about the damage an out-of-control GOP stranglehold on our nation has already done, about what a cabinet of unqualified billionaire backscratch-picks nominally led by a mentally unbalanced narcissist who very likely is compromised by foreign powers (if not voluntarily corrupted by them) will do over the next four years. Trying not to think about how our rights to speak out and protest, guaranteed by our Constitution, are already being compromised and curbed.<br />
<br />
As you can guess, I didn't have much luck in that endeavor. One good thing about my job is that I can think while working. It's also a bad thing, in times like these. It's even worse when, with every item that passes through my hands, I find myself wondering what its fate will be if the authoritarian playbook continues to be followed. The free exchange of ideas is a hallmark of freedom, after all. Ideas balance, opinions weigh against each other, viewpoints and stories are recorded for all readers. Knowledge can flow, if one chooses to seek it out. But this free exchange is not what those in power want… particularly when so many have ties to extreme theologies that discredit science and critical thinking in their own flock and abhor such traits in others.<br />
<br />
A picture book on racial equality? It'll go.<br />
<br />
The story of a woman scientist? In the burn pile.<br />
<br />
A book on finding spirituality without religion? Firestarter.<br />
<br />
Anything in a foreign language? Not in Red America.<br />
<br />
A book about Christianity… oh, wait, the author's name looks foreign. Burn to be safe.<br />
<br />
And then I saw a familiar face: Barack Obama's <i>The Audacity of Hope</i>.<br />
<br />
Many said he couldn't do what he did. Many still say he only got to his office on a fluke, or a fix, or whatever other theory they choose to believe. A perfect man, or a perfect presidency? No – there is no such thing. But I never felt this scared under his regime. I never honestly wondered if that man knew what he was saying or doing from one minute to the next. I never feared he was trying to play mind games with me, or the rest of the country, or the rest of the world. I never thought he'd literally sell the land out from under our feet for a quick buck, as changes already passed through Congress make much easier to do.<br />
<br />
I never would've thought we'd be where we are today, facing the threats we are, in a world where truth no longer matters if a lie plays to our innermost demons. I would've called it impossible, even after Bush's regime showed me where the Republican party was headed... and after Brexit and other world events demonstrated how Western civilization seemed to be tilting toward backward-looking xenophobic populism. But sometimes impossible good things can happen too. In his last addresses to the nation, President Obama reminded us of what we'd done, and what we can still do - if we don't give up hope.<br />
<br />
The book was toward the bottom of the tote, and as it filled – with more books I mentally assigned to Burn or Safe piles tumbling down from the ever-moving conveyor line – I kept lifting it up whenever I passed by. I didn't want hope buried. I didn't want what he'd done, what America had been and should be again, to be forgotten and lost. Until at last the tote was full, and I finally had to send it on its way, to whatever fate might eventually await its contents… with <i>The Audacity of Hope</i> resting squarely on top. When that tote reaches its destination, it will be the first thing to see the light.<br />
<br />
As gestures go, I suppose it meant less than nothing in the grand scheme. It didn't change anything. It didn't stop the power-mad rush over the cliff. If and when the book-burners come, I doubt I'll be able to stop them.<br />
<br />
But it was what I could do, where I was, to keep hope from being buried... if only for a little while.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-54696791732778950532016-11-09T05:45:00.002-08:002016-11-09T05:45:41.829-08:00Bluer than Blue, Madder than MadForgive me if this rambles - I haven't slept. I couldn't. The knot in my gut over what just happened to my country, to my belief in what I always thought of as my country, wouldn't go away. So I figured I'd try writing them out.<br />
<br />
Eleven years ago, when what I thought was a routine gut bug suddenly turned into a (mis)diagnosis of malignancy and I was staring down major emergency surgery without a job or insurance, I was told by everyone from the surgeon down to the desk assistant that I'd qualify for assistance. The government had safety nets for just this reason. I'd never been on welfare, never asked for a handout, never asked for anything from them before, but boy did I need them then. I went over the forms as carefully as possible. I even called them up to be sure I was doing it right - I wasn't asking for perpetual disability, just a little help to get me through this alive so I could become a tax-generating employable citizen again.<br />
<br />
And I was denied.<br />
<br />
Now, of course, I didn't die. (I did realize that I never wanted to work around medicine again, and I never returned to that lousy walk-in clinic, but that's beside the point.) By what I still regard as sheer luck of the draw, I'd managed to be in the hospital's charity program, so neither I nor my family wound up homeless due to expenses. But I've never forgotten that feeling. Sick, scared, helpless, and - despite numerous assurances - being told essentially that I was worthless, I was expendable, I wasn't worth the temporary investment it would take for me to recover. My government would just have happily seen me die. I didn't matter. I wasn't worthwhile.<br />
<br />
I haven't felt that way again until last night, when the country ran red.<br />
<br />
I suppose it's my fault for being so naive. Oh, I knew there was injustice and prejudice and hate and corruption, but it wasn't the majority. All my life, I've thought America was the land of the free and the home of the brave, a place where justice eventually came through, a place where lies couldn't last forever, a place moving forward, a place to be proud of.<br />
<br />
Now I'm facing an America that is none of those things.<br />
<br />
More than half of the states watched a major political party carry out unprecedented, likely even illegal obstruction of a legally-elected president. They watched as hypocrite after hypocrite abandoned their purported beliefs and consciences and convictions to fall into line behind the single worst candidate ever to run for major office, a man who couldn't even make money in the casino industry. They watched unprecedented, 24/7 coverage of that man as he openly mocked the disabled, encouraged racism, endorsed sexism, expressed incestuous fantasies, contradicted himself on innumerable occasions, blustered and bellowed and leered and otherwise unquestionably demonstrated a personality and grasp of issues (or lack thereof) that made the thought of that man as the head of a donut cart, let alone the nation, utterly abhorrent. They saw that the next president would be in a position of tremendous power to influence the Supreme Court. They saw (or should have seen) a world in which a third world war was becoming ever more possible, if not yet (I naively hope) inevitable, where a strong and intelligent commander in chief would be absolutely vital to national survival.<br />
<br />
And they still voted for not just him, but for his party. They saw all that... and wanted more. <br />
<br />This is the America they want. An America where faith trumps facts, where science is meaningless, where the environment is expendable, where basic human rights depend on one's origins, accent, skin color, and gender, where tolerance is passe, where money rules, where rape culture is openly endorsed, where we accept constant fear in lieu of freedom, where the clock rolls back fifty-odd years to a Golden Age that never existed save in a television script, where "alt-right" policies stand a terrifyingly real chance of becoming the law of the land, where the Statue of Liberty and her promise to the tired and poor and huddled masses might as well be sold for scrap metal for all the people of this country care. A land of the fearful, home of the cowards.<br />
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David Bowie, Prince, now Lady Liberty... what else will 2016 steal?Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-3958976645185469482015-11-21T12:18:00.002-08:002015-11-21T12:18:43.188-08:00Restless Reader SyndromeThe other day, in the break room at work, I deleted a book from my Kindle... the fourth in a row. What had been billed as a romance quickly became two characters who, though in a state of mutual loathing at first sight, could not stop fantasizing about each others' stereotypical hot bodies. These are utterly incompatible sentiments... often jammed into the same sentence. People may do this, lust over someone they despise, but simultaneously? While dealing with other, immediate emotional issues unrelated to chemistry or rampant hormones? No.<br />
<br />
Before that, I killed a story in which every single person was an idiot to some degree, one of them (the main male lead) possibly even sociopathic in his inability to deal with emotions or consider the long-term ramifications of his actions. The only way the plot could possibly play out was for them to continually do the dumbest, most short-sighted thing possible in a given situation - and they'd have to have grown even less intelligent to facilitate the romance promised by the blurb.<br />
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Before that, I tried reading a middle-grade fantasy. The concept was interesting, and the world had intriguing points, but I felt like I was reading a checklist rather than a story. Lone, picked-on protagonist boy: check. Meets a friend on the way to Hogw- er, their new boarding school: check. An eccentric adult turning up in a way designed to let me know this man will figure in heavily with future adventures: check. Drawing out what's "different" about the main character until intrigue became annoyance: check.<br />
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And before that was a by-the-numbers light fantasy romance which not only failed to explore anything truly original or amusing about the potentially great set-up, but had an added touch of objectifying/belittling women that set my teeth on edge.<br />
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There was also a Western with an idiotic heroine and over-the-top antagonist, a fantasy starting with a wall of description like a wrought-iron fence, so ornate and solid I couldn't make it past the first page of the prologue, a young adult fantasy with such a tired opening and unremarkable main character I just walked away and didn't bother looking back, and that string I hit a while back of three titles in a row with the same exact opening: a picked-on boy sneaking down an alley/back path to avoid bullies, being caught by the bully henchman who demands the in-world equivalent of lunch money, the boy dropping the money on the ground (to demonstrate cleverness) and getting away when the henchman lets him go to grab said money - only to run head-first into the main bully during his escape. (I swear, somewhere there must be a writing course handing that opening out as a freebie...)<br />
<br />
I didn't used to do this. I used to make myself finish every story I started. I may have ground my teeth and clawed my eyes, but if it was intriguing enough to start, I figured I should try finishing it. I still remember the first time I failed to finish a Kindle title: in the work break room, where I do much of my reading on the device. I won't name names - I still have a policy of not reviewing anything I haven't read cover to cover, so deleted books get the dignity of anonymity - but I remember that feeling: I was staring at the screen, trying to pick my way through another sentence, and it struck me that I did not care. This was not a world coming to life, characters becoming more than mere contrivances of a plot, questions I needed to know the answers to before I could walk away. It was a wall of words to which I could not, for all my efforts, form an attachment. It must have held meaning and feeling to someone, as it had gotten some excellent reviews, but for me it was empty. When I finally gave up and it vanished into Kindle oblivion, it was a tangible relief. Now, I only push myself to finish if it makes it far enough to rate mention on my book review blog's Currently Reading section - generally, 10% in, though I've been known to pull the plug a little later.<br />
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Am I getting too picky? Sometimes, when I go through cold streaks, I wonder if I'm losing it: the sense of wonder, the ability to immerse in a story, to go along for the ride. I wonder if I've become too critical, too mindful of nitpicks and flaws - the problems I try my best to avoid in my own writing efforts - to see the forest for the trees, or the book for the words. I feel restless, looking for something and wondering if I'll ever find it. I don't honestly consider myself that difficult to please; a quick look at my reviews should be ample evidence that I am hardly a literary elitist... but, then, why does it sometimes seem impossible to find something that satisfies? Does it stem with my own ongoing dissatisfaction with my writing efforts? Am I judging others more harshly because I can't seem to get the words right myself, can't seem to grow my own story-forests into anything more than a scraggly copse - if that? Am I doomed to keep deleting titles, even possibly good ones, until I manage to satisfy my own creative urges... maybe never?<br />
<br />
Then I find a story that draws me in, words that reach that elusive, ever-shifting itch - at least, for a time. And I decide that, like so many things, I'm likely just overthinking it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a book to read...Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-10293193564842982602015-10-04T21:18:00.002-07:002015-10-04T21:30:23.053-07:00Time Flies, Regardless of Fun Level<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And so it's been a few months... time for a little cathartic whine.<br />
<br />
I'd wanted to have at least one story finished and making the rounds by now... but I can barely open a Word document without cringing anymore, and my freewriting exercises turn into me yelling at myself to write something. And I know I need to stop doing that, but there's nothing else in my head right now but the yelling. That, and the escapist daydreaming I use to escape the yelling.<br />
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I'd wanted to get my website overhauled... but the inspiration well ran dry while I was trying to figure out HTML 5. I need to give the thing a nice facelift, or at least cut the deadweight I'm not maintaining.<br />
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I'd wanted to get some art projects finished... but between them fighting me and various demands on my time, I don't expect it'll ever happen. And I have projects coming up I need time and space for.<br />
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I'd wanted to make some manner of plan or headway for a future beyond slinging books, but education options are still prohibitively expensive, and my only other employment option is the retail trap. <br />
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I'd at least wanted to get away from the family for a little vacation... but then most of the state became a fire zone, the rest got damaged in a windstorm, and it turns out I couldn't have gone anyway because of car issues in the household. Even though I really, really need a break from my family, and they need a break from me.<br />
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Guess you really can't get what you want. Or even what you need...<br />
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Logically, I know I've done a few things.<br />
<br />
I did the usual camp logos this year, which always makes me feel like I've accomplished something even though I really haven't.<br />
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For a while, I had a beta reader buddy, which counts as a bravery test.<br />
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I've taken several small day trips.<br />
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I've read many, many books... some of them even good ones. <br />
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That health issue - some tingling and weirdness in the feet and lower legs - seems to be mostly gone; the rest I'm pretty sure comes down to poor posture and standing for so long at work.<br />
<br />
I got some nice new toys to play with.<br />
<br />
And I shouldn't be complaining anyway because I have a job and a roof over my head and family and all that other stuff I know I'm taking for granted as a sheltered, spoiled rotten citizen of a First World country.<br />
<br />
Still... is it so wrong to wish just one thing I wanted would go right? Or is the best I can ever hope for simply "I suppose it could be worse - and probably will be, soon enough"?<br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-12286361352879862992015-03-03T18:51:00.004-08:002015-03-03T18:53:18.232-08:00And Suddenly It's March...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just a quick I'm-not-dead-I'm-busy post for the much-neglected blog. (I've been slightly more active on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn">Facebook</a> page, which is still terminally dull.)<br />
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For once, though, I actually have been busy - comparatively, at least.<br />
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I've taken more day trips this year than I think I took most of last year, and 2015's only two months old, give or take a few days. Losing Grandpa made us all a little more aware of how fast time slips past when you keep scheduling everything for Somedays. So, I've been to several parks, a small fantasy convention (which was less impressive than we'd hoped, but at least got us out of the house), a couple beaches, and a special exhibit on Pompeii, all of which have been more or less worthwhile. (The Pompeii one especially - quite fascinating, with some amazing stuff on display. I'm even glad I sprung for the audio tour.) My camera's been getting quite the workout.<br />
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I'm also making more of an effort to get Something Done on a creative front. Aside from cutting into my reading time, so far I have made little tangible progress, but I'm under the delusion that I'm slowly climbing out of the creative ditch I've been slumped in. Hopefully I'll get to the point where I can not only finish stories reliably, but start filling sketchbooks again... or maybe make more things to sell. (In my wildest dreams, I find the ambition to overhaul my websites - not just the book reviews, but the stagnant stuff. If nothing else, I ought to pull it if I'm not maintaining it.)<br />
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About the only real downside thus far has been a carryover from late last year - a minor health issue that has defied definitive diagnosis, yet which seems to slowly be resolving on its own. Fingers crossed that it continues to do so...<br />
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I suppose I've wasted enough time tonight. Best get back to doing something Useful.<br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-88087164844037640132014-12-31T16:16:00.000-08:002014-12-31T16:23:33.455-08:00So long, 2014...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Don't let the door hit you on the way out...<br />
<br />
Well, another year's on its way into history. It was a year where most everyone seemed to get rainbows, while I just got rain. (Seriously. I saw the pictures all over the news sites. I only saw maybe three rainbows all year long, and one tried to wreck my car.) Yes, I acknowledge there were good spots now and again, but the bad, irritating, and downright frustrating ones tip the scales in review. In the end, I'm pretty much where I started, I suppose, and given the rate of inflation change remains too expensive for my budget.<br />
<br />
But at least I'm not on fire, I suppose. (Positive thinking sometimes requires lowering one's standards of happiness... and even then there's plenty for the universe to gnaw off.)<br />
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<i>(Pictures: Eagle nest from Wildlights at Woodland Park Zoo and Xmas ornaments honoring my grandfather, alongside an instrument he made me many years ago.) </i><br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-7271362171511150572014-10-10T20:12:00.000-07:002014-10-12T19:28:48.622-07:00Time Slips Away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As expected, September kinda sucked - mostly due to my grandfather falling ill and winding up in the hospital again.<br />
<br />
But October decided to top it.<br />
<br />
Today was the burial.<br />
<br />
What can I really say about him? Words seem inadequate. This was a man who never saw a problem he couldn't invent a way to fix. This was a man who raised four kids after losing his wife, and never gave up or walked away or hid in a bottle or a job. This was a man who served his country proudly. This was a man who taught himself how to make jewelry and build musical instruments in his retirement. This was a man who, when told he couldn't make a particular instrument a particular way, deliberately set out to do it - and succeeded. This was a man who danced well into his 80's. This was a man who had had numerous brushes with death before, when the doctors wrote him off... and came back. This was a man who endured congestive heart failure, dementia, and numerous other ailments - and still managed to hold on long enough to die on his own terms, in his own bed and not in the hospital.<br />
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Rest in peace at last, Grandpa. <br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-58128567030078855062014-08-31T14:52:00.004-07:002014-08-31T14:55:12.893-07:00Last Gasp of Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today's the last day of August, widely - if not officially - considered the end of summer. I can feel fall in the shadows outside, yet another reminder that time is slipping past and the end of the year will soon be staring me in the face, demanding to know what I'd done with it. <br />
<br />
After a fairly lazy start, it seems that August also decided to be The Month In Which Everything Happens. Two shirt logo runs, a trip to the dentist to replace a "temporary" tooth filler that had lasted since third grade, a new roof (just before the rains started), not to mention multiple outings to the nearby lake, drives to view the "super moon," a jaunt to the zoo, and a day trip to Mount Rainier National Park to visit a thousand-odd-year-old tree in the Grove of the Patriarchs.<br />
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The cars also decided to make this an exciting month. My sister's car has an issue with the radiator tank, and the Taurus's turn signal lever needs replacing (it still works, but it won't auto-cancel, and once in a while it'll jam on me.)<br />
<br />
It's been rather exhausting, really, but today August is finally over. Things are bound to slow down in September, right?<br />
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Right?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Photos: Old lion statue at Woodland Park Zoo; Tree at Mount Rainier National Park; Rufous hummingbird from the back yard)</i></span>
Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-175645378794565042014-07-21T12:17:00.002-07:002014-07-21T12:17:40.588-07:00Let's Get (a) Physical!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just another quick I'm-not-dead post...<br />
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The summer's been reasonably uneventful, except I finally went in for an actual physical today. Between that and new glasses, I can almost pretend I'm a responsible adult.<br />
<br />
I also finally figured out (more or less) that tripod of mine; turns out it's a bit directional. But it cooperated enough for a decent shot of the supermoon. Well, decent by my standards, anyway...<br />
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Guess that about does it. I'll leave with one of my better moon shots. (Yes, that does mean I'm technically mooning you. I may pretend I'm a responsible adult, but that doesn't mean I am one...)<br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-82478832086548125492014-06-16T10:46:00.004-07:002014-06-21T23:13:44.327-07:00Interlude with Butterfly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Because it's halfway through June, and I'm killing time.<br />
<br />
The Taurus eventually came home after a two-week stay in the shop. Technically, I should've been entitled to a federal rebate for having a catalytic converter failure before 80K miles, but they weaseled out of it on a technicality (which apparently hinged on me not knowing it was the catalytic converter failing when I took it in to the shop, and therefore not following the preferred repair chain of command.)<br />
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I also completed my annual run at Copyright Infringement Hell with a camp logo, despite them being late to contact me. (I did a logo for a second camp, too, but haven't heard back from them yet.)<br />
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The rest of my life is more or less the same as it has been for far too long. Unfortunately, change is expensive... at least, the kind of change one wants, as opposed to the kind Life likes to throw at you when it's bored and wants a few laughs.<br />
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At least the butterflies have been pretty this year.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-31814551484341510082014-05-29T16:23:00.000-07:002014-05-29T16:23:08.728-07:00At Least It's Not The Transmission...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week, my car started making a Noise. Not just the average noise, as one might expect from a seven-year-old vehicle. This was a Noise: loud, disturbing, and impossible to rationalize away. It's over 60,000 miles, so it was probably due for something bad... even though I just had it in for another Noise not so long ago. Given the mileage and that the Noise came with a drop in overall power, I figured maybe the transmission had decided to give up the ghost.<br />
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The shop called. Turns out it isn't the transmission. It's the catalytic converter.<br />
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At least they found the problem.<br />
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Every time I get a little extra money stored up, I swear...Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-84272175308743960002014-05-09T16:46:00.000-07:002014-05-09T16:46:58.528-07:00Enough With The Rain, Already!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/PoppyRain01jW_zps830af859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/PoppyRain01jW_zps830af859.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
I am well aware of the fact that I live in the Pacific Northwest, not one of the drier regions of the nation. I am also well aware that it is spring - a traditionally wet season in a wet area.<br />
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But, seriously, enough with the freakin' rain, already!<br />
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We haven't even gotten any decent rainbows out of the thing... or decent storms. All around us are rainbows galore - I see the pictures on the news sites. But we just get the gray and the wet... especially when I'm off work. Or trying to drive. I'm honestly surprised there wasn't an accident on the freeway today when a hail squall hit. It was just like driving through a car wash - wave after wave of solid water battering every inch of the car. Then a couple miles later it was blue skies. And, no, no danged rainbow to make up it, either. At least, not one I was allowed to witness.<br />
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There's a theme emerging in 2014 that I don't much care for.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-68931017592208165352014-04-22T10:40:00.000-07:002014-04-22T10:49:45.518-07:00Interlude with Raindrops<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/RhodyWater01crjW_zps85de331a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/RhodyWater01crjW_zps85de331a.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div>
It's been a soggy spring so far. Soggy and unproductive. But I figured I'd stop by just to prove I still exist, to myself if nobody else.<br />
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I've been falling behind on everything lately - reading, writing, workshed projects, and more. And I still need to figure out Facebook, which seems every bit as confusing and elusive as real-life socializing to my feeble little brain. I choose to blame the weather for my lack of progress, on the theory that if I rely on something it'll fail me; if I keep using rainfall as my excuse, sooner or later we'll get nice weather so I have to do something. (Hey, it's worth a shot...)<br />
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In the meantime, at least the rain can be good for photo ops now and again. Even if it's too soggy to do anything else.<br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-24770046191290183262014-03-28T16:30:00.005-07:002014-03-30T15:24:25.905-07:00Duck Weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/DuckWater02jW_zpsfab3e2f9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/DuckWater02jW_zpsfab3e2f9.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
This week was my take-time-off-so-HR-doesn't-yell-at-me vacation. So, naturally, the weather's been scuzzy. The ducks are happy, but us bipeds without waterproof feathers are less enthused.<br />
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I managed to get out to a couple of parks, at least. And a rainbow tried to wreck my car. But that's another story...<br />
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Speaking of the car, I got it down to the shop for its tune-up, hoping against hope that they could track down that odd noise. I really should be more careful what I hope for; the noise is going to cost me a fair chunk of change to fix. Though at least the problem was found in the shop, and not on the side of the freeway while my car smolders in ruins.<br />
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At this rate, I'm wondering if I'd be better off skipping my every-three-year eye exam.<br />
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In other non-noteworthy news, I finally wound up with a Facebook page. It's a longish story connected to a Nook game and a purchase that has been neither refunded nor implemented after a week of tech support tag. Frankly, I don't know what to do with the thing, as I really don't have much to say (as this blog amply proves), but I suppose it's something I should figure out if/when I ever have stories to promote.<br />
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I suppose I ought to find something more productive to do. Until next post, here's another duck picture, in direct contradiction to the oft-repeated adage that water simply rolls off their backs.<br />
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<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/DuckWater01jW_zpsaf5a5f23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/DuckWater01jW_zpsaf5a5f23.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(In the interest of full disclosure, just after I snapped this, a quack - er, quick - shake dislodged it. But the camera doesn't lie - it was there!)</span>Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-7613483115223804622014-03-18T16:55:00.000-07:002014-03-18T16:58:05.384-07:00Interlude with Crow and Coot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Crow01jW_zps7d25a8ef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Crow01jW_zps7d25a8ef.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The second round of medication apparently did the trick. I have some lingering ear and sinus stuff going on, but it's the kind of stuff I'm used to, not whatever the heck that bug was.<br />
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And I bit the bullet and made an appointment for a doctor visit in May, in the hopes that, by getting in to see a primary care physician, I won't have need of her services.<br />
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Now I just need to get my car tuned up and my eye appointment for new glasses, and I'll be good to go for a while.<br />
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(Oh, despite the ongoing soggy weather, I finally got a chance to try out my Xmas camera today, down at the nearby state park. I'm still learning the thing, but so far I'm happy with it.)<br />
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<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Coot01jW_zpsd8359dee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Coot01jW_zpsd8359dee.jpg" height="234" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-16999754437886757482014-03-04T17:05:00.000-08:002014-03-04T17:05:25.768-08:00Health Care vs Head Crud, Round 2So, I finished up the antibiotics this morning, but all was not well.<br />
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My throat and tonsils were no longer sore, so that much was accomplished, but I still had chills and occasional night sweats. I also had sinus and ear pressure and intermittent headaches, and I just plain didn't feel right. Overall, I still felt better than I did 10 days ago, but the bug wasn't gone yet. I want it to be gone.<br />
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On the theory that, if I needed more antibiotics, I shouldn't wait too long, I called my primary care provider to see if I could arrange an appointment. However, since I hadn't had a chance to visit yet for an initial visit, I was told I couldn't see her - or anyone in the clinic. When was the earliest new-patient-visit appointment available? Some time in May.<br />
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I was transferred to a nurse practitioner, who informed me that I might be able to get in on Friday. This is Tuesday. I need to be able to sleep between now and then, which isn't easy when I wake up with headaches and night sweats as often as not.<br />
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Thus thwarted, I headed back down to the walk-in clinic - the one that said it accepted my Medicaid. This time, I was informed that they may not accept it, and I might be billed for anything that happened.<br />
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What changed in ten days?<br />
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In any event, I was kind of stuck. I didn't want to drive miles out of my way, and I'd already been seen here for this problem. Hoping that my tax refund would cover it, I stayed.<br />
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On the plus side, it doesn't seem to be an infection, at least not a sinus infection, anymore. On the minus side... he really didn't quite know what it could be, though he suggested a possible allergy issue or tension headaches from stress or eyestrain. (Which is possible, I suppose, but doesn't quite explain the chills and sweats.)<br />
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I left with two new medicines to try and a referral to an ENT if this doesn't work.<br />
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Fingers crossed, second time's the charm here. If not, I'll have to call ahead to make sure my health care plan is accepted.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-25124690930036055552014-02-22T14:01:00.001-08:002014-02-22T14:01:13.047-08:00The Germ That Wouldn't Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Tulip01jW_zps6fcc10c7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Tulip01jW_zps6fcc10c7.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
In January, shortly after my last blog post, I woke up with a nasty bug. Sore throat, headache, chills, sweats, no energy... A flu of some sort had been circulating at work, so I guess it followed me home.<br />
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About a week later, I was feeling somewhat better, but still had throat and sinus issues, and I'd wake up with a headache far more often than not.<br />
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Two weeks later, and improvement was marginal.<br />
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Three weeks, and I still felt off.<br />
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Finally, I decided I'd had enough. Time to try out this newfangled health care system. This morning, I called the hotline on the card, to find out if I'd be covered for going to a walk-in clinic. (I did successfully transfer to a closer primary care physician, but apparently they aren't open weekends.) I wound up talking to a nurse, who agreed that I ought to go in to get looked at after this long... but apparently the closest "approved" walk-in clinic on the plan was many miles away.<br />
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There was a clinic right in town that I knew was open on weekends. Just for the heck of it, I gave them a call and asked if they took my plan. No problem, they said, come on down.<br />
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So much for the all-knowing hotline...<br />
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Anyway, long story short, I have some shiny new antibiotics to throw at the lingering bug, and the doctor suggested a few other things to try as well. And so far, my magic little coverage card has worked precisely as advertized, even where I wasn't sure it would be accepted.<br />
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I can't speak for everyone, but by and large the system seems to be working for me. (And somewhere, I'm sure, a Republican is likely weeping.)<br />
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Oh, incidentally, I did get a chance to play with my new 50x-zoom camera a couple weeks back. I also got to play with my new tripod... which I still need to get used to. The following photo is the result. (Probably would've been clearer if I hadn't been trying to wrestle a tripod into submission in the dark on a frosty porch.)<br />
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Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25112717.post-81925923367771754732014-01-21T16:16:00.000-08:002014-01-21T16:34:03.911-08:00Interlude with Sunrise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Sunrise01jW_zps07433265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v147/dreamlurker/Sunrise01jW_zps07433265.jpg" height="186" width="320" /></a></div>
Just checkin' in to kill time before I have to start dinner.<br />
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A quick run-down of the first month of 2014 (so far):<br />
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- My car is probably headed for another breakdown. There's an intermittent warbly-whistly noise, not unlike those old-fashioned bird whistles (the ones you put water in and blow through), but thus far I cannot predict or replicate it reliably enough to convince the shop that it exists. No, I don't know that this is a harbinger of trouble, but I've driven junkers too long to write off a strange new noise as "just" a strange new noise.<br />
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- On a related note, I discovered that whoever designed Tauruses must have been a contortionist; there is no way a human being can replace a tail light on that thing without physically climbing into the trunk to reach the necessary bolts. Three or four arms also seem to be a requirement.<br />
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- I got all my info for the new health care plan, but I'm going to have to change my assigned provider to someone closer to home; I don't consider 15 miles in our traffic to be "local." (I'm still hoping to avoid actually using it for anything but avoiding a tax penalty; even with coverage, I can't afford to be ill.)<br />
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- I'm taking a break from my longer writing projects to work on short stories, on the likely-flawed assumption that, being shorter, I can write more of them faster and thus learn what the heck I'm doing more quickly; with luck, I'll have something to show for it by the end of the month.<br />
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- Absolutely nothing else worth noting has occurred, which I suppose is a good thing given how 2013 went. I am slightly miffed by the weather, though, which insists on being foggy and cruddy whenever I have days off and beautiful when I have to work. The above sunrise, for instance, was photographed in the parking lot of a post office this morning as I was driving in for overtime. (I'm especially ticked because I got a nice new camera for Xmas - a Sony with a 50X zoom that, amazingly, also seems to take pretty good macros - and I want to try the thing out on something other than the back yard.)<br />
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I suppose that's enough procrastination for now.Brightdreamerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11865613230041222153noreply@blogger.com2