One Year Later

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I started this blog and meant to update it every day of the week and have off on Saturday and Sunday. I managed over the last year to do a little over half of the days. I think that’s pretty good.

I’m not going to give an excuse for why I haven’t posted more. Instead, I’m just going to explain where I was this last year and why I won’t have the same problems that I did this year.

When I started this blog, I had just started a new job. I was nervous the entire time. Because of my anxiety I was constantly on edge that I was going to be fired. I had just moved into my first solo apartment. It took me a minute to figure everything out on that. I’m still realizing that I’m lacking in certain things here and there but I just pick them up and move on.

In short, I spent the last year dancing as fast I can. But now, my feet are below me. I’m established. I have a schedule that I can keep to. It feels good to be in this position. The chaos that this last year was has left me now feeling strong and capable. I want to spend this coming year getting back into shape and really focusing on my writing. I think that I’m going to be able to do it and I have the drive to do so.

Stick it out here and we’ll go on this journey together. Happy New Year, my friends.

The Flying V and Avengers: Doomsday

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When I was younger, I used to love the Mighty Ducks movies. They were quirky and fun and made me wish I could rollerblade. I attempted several times but the fears of breaking bones, which I’ve never done, put me off from putting any serious effort into it. See also, why I don’t ride bikes.

So, for the uninitiated, the flying V is a move they pull in the Mighty Ducks where they skate towards the opposing team’s goal in a V formation. Passing the puck between them so the goalie doesn’t know who’s going to take the shot. They then score a goal because the goalie is just bad at his job. Here’s the video:

It takes the opposing teams three movies to realize they can just bum rush the ducks and beat their asses and the whole thing falls apart.

When it happens in the third movie, it means something. That the old tricks don’t work and they’re outclassed. Pretty simple.

But what I want is for that to happen in Avengers: Doomsday. In one of the biggest scenes in history in Avengers: Endgame, we saw every hero we got to know over a decade of movies join together for a charge against Thanos’ forces. It’s this enormous shot and they eventually win in the end. It truly is the epitome of the word, epic.

So, in Avengers: Doomsday, I think they should do it again. And the Avengers should fucking fail. That would show that this is a new threat that’s beyond anything they’ve seen before. Also, I think it would only be right that Doom is that big of a threat.

I still think it’s stupid that it’s Robert Downey Jr. It should be literally anyone else. Perhaps someone of Romani heritage like the character is supposed to be.

A Farewell

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I hadn’t updated this blog in quite a while. I just haven’t had the heart to do so. It’s because a friend of mine has passed away recently. I won’t get into the details. I won’t say his name because I want the family to have their privacy. I know I’m not popular enough for a bunch of people to try and find them but you never know.

The death was sudden. We didn’t see it coming. He was there one day. I was texting him about when the next time we were going to hang was and then I got a text message from his mother that he was in the hospital. I went to see him that night. I heard the news and said my goodbyes. He was gone by that Saturday.

As I said, I don’t want to talk about the details. But I will talk about who he was as a person. He was a man that had been put into an absolutely terrible situation. One that would cause any other person to feel rage or anger. Him on the other hand, he was always patient, always kind. He had lost his father when he was much younger, when we were teens. When my own passed, I told him I guess we’re in the same shitty club.

I’m reminded of a line from Cold Mountain, where Stobrod sees the grave of Pangle. “If God was to set out killing every man on earth in order of their demerits, that boy would bring up the hind end of the line.” It’s suitable for him. He was kind, always. He was gentle, always. He loved his nieces and nephews. He loved his family. He loved everyone.

He had a love of movies that I think was more of an extension of that love. I think that he was just interested in people and their stories. Because of that, I constantly think about the movies I’m going to see and how we won’t be able to talk about them. The shows we were watching that I have to finish on my own.

It hits me in bits and pieces. I think it’s going to start hitting me more as time goes on. When I come down to visit my mom and I know that I’m not going to go see him. It hasn’t happened yet because of holidays, which always screwed up our hang out schedule as well as it’s only been about two weeks.

I don’t have much else to say about this. Usually when I make posts that aren’t about the stupid nerd shit that I like, I offer some kind of way forward. Some little thing that you and I can do to make our lives a little bit better. I don’t have that.

Grief is like nothing else. There is no path but forward. No way but through. It’s a vast ocean that you float in and have to keep your head over water. The waves will hit you and you will feel yourself get overwhelmed. But if you kick your legs and fight to live and honor the people you loved. You’ll get to shore.

Poker Replacement

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I made a joke over the weekend that when I come to power, I’m going to force people to go through every western and digitally replace every poker or blackjack scene with Magic the Gathering. It was supposed to be a funny joke about the juxtaposition of a nerdy game vs the toughness and manliness of the wild west. But then I thought that there must be other replacements for poker.

Board games were a definitive out. It’s hard enough to keep track of all of the pieces while you’re living in a house. Imagine trying to find the top hat for your Monopoly game while you’re on the dusty trail fighting outlaws and trying to maintain law.

Thus we must consider portability. It has to fit in the saddlebag and be able to be kept together easily enough. So, Dungeons and Dragons is straight out. All those clanking miniatures, books, maps, the thousands of dice and such. No way that a cowboy can herd cattle with that. This also ties into knowing how to play. Everyone knows how to play poker but what if you have someone that plays pathfinder instead of DND? What then?

Finally, we have to think about what could cause the most tension when playing it. How many people have died over particularly vexing hands of poker. We know that Bill Hickok was killed holding a hand of black aces and eights. So, that means that you need to have some tension. That leads me to figuring out what the ultimate replacer to poker would be for the cowboys and cowgirls.

Thats right, it’s Jenga. Portable? Yes, sir. Instead of carrying 52 cards, you’re carrying 54 little pieces of wood. It can easily be made again, what carpenter can’t make 54 tiny little rectangles? Plus, if you’re truly desperate, you can use them as fire starters. Tension?

“Son, you topple that tower, you’ll be eating a bullet.”

Boom. Both me proving my point with an onomatopoeia and what’s going to happen to the kid when he topples that tower. Then we got Jenga, where the rules are so simple. Remove block put on top. Done. Plus, you can’t cheat as well at Jenga as when you’re playing poker.

There, I think I’ve proven that card games should be replaced by Jenga in westerns. No one asked for this but there it is.

The Dog Catcher

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The door slammed and her words rang. He sat there on his couch, staring at the cooling, dimming TV. He saw his reflection there. The bulge of his stomach. The stains on his t-shirt. The five day stubble that hurt to shave.

She had left, calling him a loser. Telling him that she had fallen out of love with him. That he had no direction. Nowhere to go. His heart ached. Maybe that was his high choleric diet or maybe it was the heartbreak. Who could say. He hadn’t been to a doctor in years.

He sat there for a long time. He took a deep breath. He thought about getting up and going to his fridge and getting a beer. He thought about ordering a pizza and drowning his sorrows in a night of video games. But the shock to his system was rippling through him. He had lost her because of nights like that. Maybe it was time to change.

He thought about doing some situps or pushups. But his floor was covered in garbage and clothing. He reached an impasse in his life. He could sit and become a fungus on his own catch or he could get up and make a change. He thought about the love that had left his life.

He stood up.

*Years Later*

He sat patiently. He was reading. The day was getting colder. The bowl of dog food was sitting next to him. He had been brining it closer to him every day. Today was the day.

The nose emerged first. The rest of the dog followed. It was a golden retriever and he was in a bad way. His coat was dirty and clogged with barbs and other things. He had been through it. He was someone’s pet, not a wild animal. Above all, he was scared.

The dog came to his side and started eating. When the dog was finished, he licked his chops and looked at him. He held out his hand to the dog and the dog sniffed it. He whined. He went slowly. He put his hand on the dog’s head. He petted him slowly. The dog let out another whine.

“You’ve been through it, haven’t you, girl?” he said. “Think you would like to come home with me?”

The dog let out another long whine.

“Come on,” he said. “My name’s Keith. I think I’ll call you Stella for now. Let’s go.”

He put a harness and leash on Stella. It seemed she wanted to be found by someone. He had developed this kind, slow energy over years of doing his job. He brought the dog to his car and opened the door for her to climb in. He drove a familiar route. He got to the office and helped Stella out. He brought her into the clinic and she was once more fearful. The sounds and smells hitting her all at once. He scratched her behind the ears.

“You’re going to have to be brave,” he said calmly. “C’mon.”

Stella followed him but she was walking quickly. She wanted to be away from this place. He did as she wanted and brought her to a large shower. He leashed her inside and started spraying her with the hose. She started whining once more. He worked the barbs and everything out of her fur. He shampooed and did what he could. He gave her a treat as he dried her off.

“There you go, much better,” he said.

He brought her into a small office and there was a woman there in scrubs and a lab coat. The dog started whining.

“I know, I know,” the woman said. “I’m your nightmare. But I’m here to help. You brought in a beauty, Keith.”

“Yea, this was a pet project I had working on. She was hiding near my house,” he replied.

“Well, let me do my exam and I’ll let you know when she’s done.”

“Thanks, Leslie.”

He went back to his office and did some paperwork. When she messaged him on slack, he got up and walked back to the examination room.

“So, there’s something interesting,” she said.

“What’s that?” Keith asked.

“Look who the owner is.”

A familiar name flashed up on the screen.

“Hunh, that’s funny,” Keith said.

“Turns out her name is Muffins. Do you want to drop her off?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah, I owe her a favor.”

“Really? What?”

“She broke up with me.”

Leslie’s eyes shot up.

“Are you planning to kill her?” Leslie asked.

“What?! No!” Keith replied honestly taken aback.

“Then explain.”

Keith rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone. He scrolled through an app and while he did so, he absentmindedly pet Muffins. He pulled up a picture and showed it to her.

“That’s what I looked like three years ago when she broke up with me,” Keith said. “The day she did I did the first situp I had done since I got out of high school. I was a fucking loser. Now, I’m in the best shape of my life. I’m happy, I’m healthy and all it took was her stomping my heart. And no, I don’t think we’re going to get back together because I can see that the primary owner is the dude she left me for. So, I want to show my thanks.”

“And possibly find out if the guy she’s dating is a scumbag?” Leslie said.

“Yes… but I’m not hoping for that.”

“I believe you.”

He put a collar and leash on Muffins.

“You should call first,” Leslie said.

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” Keith said. “C’mon girl, let’s go home.”

The drive was long and much happier than the one before. Muffins seemed much happier to be clean and unburdened by dirt. As he followed his GPS, Keith wondered when Muffins would realize she was getting close to home. They passed by a coffee shop and Muffins started whining and barking. He smiled to himself. They turned onto her street and he could see her tail whipping back and forth.

He pulled up in front of a nice little ranch house and she was going nuts. She was trying to get out through the window. He opened the door and came around to where he let her out. She was pulling hard on the leash. He could see how she had gotten away from her owner.

Maybe it was some off hand glance through the window. Some happenstance but the owner had seen his dog coming up the walk being pulled by a handsome animal control worker. He threw the door open and Keith let the leash go. Muffins ran to her father. The man hugged his dog who was licking at his face. He was crying hard enough to shake his body. Keith watched with his back against the door to his car.

There was paperwork to fill out but that could wait. Sometimes the job was heartbreaking when he had to witness the cruelty and sadness for creatures that didn’t understand. Today though, today it felt good.

“Keith?” a voice behind him said.

He turned around and he saw Viv, his ex coming up the street. She had been coming home from a run seemingly. He smiled at her.

“Hey,” he said raising his hand to her.

She was confused looking at him. She looked from him to her front door and saw her dog and boyfriend reunited. She let out a cry, having immediately forgotten about her ex and happy to see her baby. The dog jumped at her. Happy to see her.

Keith watched them for a while before getting his paperwork and clipboard and approaching them. The man stood up and reached out his hand to Keith.

“Thank you, god bless you,” the man said. “Who found her?”

“I did,” Keith said. “She was hiding in a bush near my house. I saw her going through the garbage and followed her to her hiding place. I’ve been trying to get her to trust me for the last week.”

“She ran off on me while we were on a walk,” Viv said.

“She’s very strong.”

“Yeah, is that paperwork to fill out?” the man asked.

“Yeah, I figured you’re her owner, Bruce, based on what we got but I just need to make it official. Can I see your ID?”

“Yea, let me just run in and get it.”

He left the two alone and Muffins ran into the house with him. Keith smiled into the awkward silence between them.

“You look good,” Viv said.

“Thanks,” Keith said. “So do you.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, you broke up with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the wrong way the apology should go. I made you miserable for years. You were so patient with me. I was blind and such an asshole.”

“You were.”

“So, yeah, I’m sorry. You deserved better and looks like you found it.”

“He’s great.”

“His dog loves him. That’s enough to tell me what kind of person he is. Are you happy?”

“I’m so happy.”

“Good.”

He smiled contentedly. Bruce came walking up and handed off his license to Keith. Keith took down the information.

“There we go,” Keith said. “Glad to help.”

“Am I allowed to give you like a tip or anything like that?” Bruce asked.

“It’s frowned upon.”

“By the way, you two seem to know each other.”

“We’re just old friends, my name’s Keith.”

“Oh… wait, that Keith?”

Keith let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m the ex,” Keith said.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Bruce said.

“I’m sure every story you heard about me was true. I spent the last three years trying to be less of a waste of space. That’s how I got this job!”

“Are you happy?” Viv asked.

“Very much so,” Keith replied with a warm smile.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Bruce asked.

“Think I’m trying to steal her back?”

“Nah, I have a friend whose single. Maybe I could give her your number?”

“Which friend?” Viv said.

“Tanya,” Bruce replied.

“You are not inflicting Tanya on him.”

“I’m just saying…”

Keith held up his hand.

“I’m good,” Keith said. “I’m happy.”

He took the two in for a moment.

“And I’m happy that you two are happy as well,” Keith said. “I have to get back to it. You two have a good one.”

He gave them a brief nod and when he saw Muffins wagging through the glass door, he gave her a two fingered salute. He climbed back into his car and drove off.

Leslie noticed him humming throughout the rest of the day. She didn’t ask. Didn’t want to make him question his happiness.

A week or so later, he got a text from Viv. It was asking if he would want to go out with them for a drink. He smiled at his phone. He started texting back.

Weird Fear of Failure

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I had a conversation with my therapist about why I continually consume the same media, which is stuff I’ve seen before and police bodycam videos like those put out by Boze vs. the World. I don’t watch normal TV shows or movies all that often except when I see something that really interests me. Admittedly, I know this seems a little strange because I watch new things every week for Teen Girl Talk but those feel more like a job than something I do for pleasure. Despite the fact that I love doing Teen Girl Talk? It’s the obligation that pushes me to do it.

Now, as my career in attending therapy has reached the American voting age, I’ve learned to constantly think about things and the reason I think the things I think. So, I had been chewing on why I didn’t encounter the new that often. And it came down I’m afraid of failing. At watching TV. That makes sense.

Of course it doesn’t, that’s the problem with depression and anxiety. They hardly make sense. So, we have to figure out the stupid logic behind it.

For this particular thing I was able to think back to when I was a young concert attending kid. I would discover a new band, fall in love and do whatever I could to discover everything about them. I had to hear every song. Every demo. Everything. If I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t get into the band. Thus, for bands with big discographies, I’ve kept myself away knowing that I could never quite “finish” with the band.

It follows the same thing about movies and TV shows. Movies less so because so many of them are solo projects unless it’s the Jason movies. But with TV shows, I keep thinking that I have to watch everything. If I start something, I have to finish it. For some Netflix shows that’s easy because Netflix just gave up. But for others like Star Trek, those feel like behemoths. I’ll never be able to finish all of it.

My therapist challenged me on this, why do I have to? If I like something, I can watch it as I want. If I don’t like it, I can just stop. She wants me to start watching something and stop after ten minutes. That doesn’t feel quite the solution but it does lead me to do something else. To get out and try. Even if I don’t hear every scary story in a horror podcast that’s been running for years, I can at least try something new.

That was kind of the whole point of doing the one hundred albums in a year was to break me out of this mindset. To push me to keep doing something new and discovering other things. The fact of the matter is when I find something new, I feel good. I can’t let the fear keep me from that feeling because it, like the anxiety and depression that spawn it, only survive when I feed them. Time to make them starve.

Update on the little man

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It’s been hard to not make this blog solely about this little man. I’m obsessed with him and he’s just kind of middling on me. There are updates.

The main thing that I knew about former feral cats is that you have to take your time with them. I’ve been doing so, every morning, I spend an hour just quietly being in his presence while he sits in his cat tree. I got some churus and put them on a plate to draw him closer to me. I don’t reach out yet because I’m sure that would freak him out. But he is now willing to eat the churu in front of me within inches of me.

I took him to the vet on Monday and I can’t be sure if I told them that he was a feral but I do remember asking for Gabapentin. I had prepared myself for getting him into the carrier by putting on safety goggles, gloves, a hooded sweatshirt and a scarf over my mouth. Turns out I didn’t need all of that as after not feeding him for an extra three hours, he was desperate to get at his food, which was in the carrier. I snuck up on him and closed the door.

I brought him to the vet, he got taken back and I was brought to see him after five minutes. Turns out he was buck wild in the room, running around, hissing and being scared. The vet though was a champ and offered me a later appointment that day where they would sedate him so they could examine him. Turns out he’s in perfect health with good teeth, clean ears, good weight, clean coat, no flea dirt, clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.

That brings me to the other thing that’s happened, in which on Thanksgiving, I came home to find out that he had vomited worms on the carpet. It was gross but beneficial that I was able to tell something was wrong. He has to take a powder in his food for the next few days to clear them. This is the benefit of having a cat that lived in the trash. He will eat anything that I put in front of him. He’s two doses down and hopefully he’ll start shitting worms.

I’ve also bought him a pheromone diffuser and that’s calmed him some, so that feels good.

In conclusion, I think that he has the makings of being a snuggle bunny. I think that the main thing is to have patience and give him time. I revel in the little victories like yesterday where unprompted he hopped on the couch with me. He didn’t stay long but it was still more than he had done in the last thirty days. I love him so much and even if we end up being roommates and not best buds, I’ll love him anyway. He’s my little man and nothing will change that.

The Duality of Maturity

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That comic is from xkcd.com and it has been my guiding star for a long time now. It has always been a difficult thing for me to consider whether or not I’m an adult. In all truthfulness, I nearly wrote grownup instead of adult.

This has worked for me for the longest time. It makes sense. I’m not my parents nor is anyone I know. Older generations are against therapy, I’ve been in therapy since I was twenty-one and I will be probably for the rest of my life(that’s not a bad thing. I think that therapy isn’t a punishment it’s a release valve). So, I can do things that are silly and that other people consider stupid but it’s my life so who cares.

When I think about the milestones, I haven’t hit, house, wife, kids and the whole nine yards. I find myself not caring. I don’t need a house to maintain. I don’t need kids to continue my legacy. A wife, a partner, a friend might be nice but I’m happy alone.

But still when I was younger, I was told that that this was what was expected of me. This is what we do. My parents didn’t force me into it and my mom has never asked me when are you going to give me grandkids but you still can feel the pressure from other people. They say things like “when you’re married someday” or “you’ll understand when you have kids”. I just don’t care.

I’m getting off track. The concept I came up with was: immature in thoughts, mature in actions. Let me give you an example of my thoughts throughout the day:

I wonder if the convertible Kennedy died in was a transformer. How would he react to Kennedy getting shot? What if it was the same car as the one that Jack and Rose boinked in during the Titanic movie.

I need to eat better for my blood pressure. Should I look up soups?

Brian from Hatchet would be a good Animorph. I should write that fanfiction.

Gotta look up CD rates for my bonus. I should put some money away.

Gotta think of what to get for the kids that I’m doing secret Santa for, for my friend’s school.

I’d be a great sixth ranger but I’d be bad at being Tuxedo Mask.

I’ve never missed a rent or utilities payment. I clean my apartment every weekend. Even as a child, I remember seeing a child throwing a tantrum and thought to myself in much more childish terms: “that is unseemly and I shan’t be doing that”.

What I’m getting at is that interests can be childish and immature but as long as I keep up everything else it’s fine. I do the duties of an adult while indulging the child that I once was. Part of that means watching non-childish shows and what not, which is why I’m getting into Star Trek but also watch other movies. I also make sure I don’t buy everything I want to indulge that child either.

I’m not ashamed of the person I am. I like being me, I like the well of knowledge I dive into when I need a reference is deep not just for old Power Ranger episodes but for songs that have broken my heart since I was a teen. I also have emotional maturity to understand the feelings I have and what to do with them(thanks, therapy). Since my father died, I’ve become the “I don’t know how to deal with the fear of my parents dying let me talk to Frank” guy. To that end, my sister and I have made a pledge that we wouldn’t raise our voices to have a discussion.

If I wasn’t any of those things, I feel it would be a reason for introspection. Even being one all of those things I know I still need to look inward continuously to make sure that I’m on the right path(thanks again, therapy). For right now, I’m going to enjoy my hard fought for contentment and make myself a salad for dinner.

Then I’m going to watch Card Captor Sakura and pay my bills. Because…