10 Minute Rule

I am watching a movie called How it Ends. It’s a Netflix release in the vein of other Netflix direct movies that feature A or B list stars. This one has Forrest Whitaker and the dude who played Four in the Divergent series of films. It is terrifying in its portrayal of reality and our sheer lack of understanding of  the unknown and what is possible.

As I watch I consider my writing and what I am trying to explore/expose through words and I think about this film as a version of what I am trying to do here. My stories are questions. My stores are attempts to peer past what I know towards what I could imagine could be and could have been. I tend to isolate that to science fiction but lately I’ve been thinking that the Sci is a crutch I am using the way Shadowrun has long been. The key is to tell the story about the people and find some bit of soul and solace in building their world and their relationships.

I write to reflect on the things I am going through and the the things I see happen in the world around me. More and more it is becoming important to tell those stories and to look into the peculiar darkness gathering at my feet and share that vision with those who see the same but need the words and share that vision with those who would see differently.

The truest sign of a capitalist society is when you can create a holiday out of whole cloth designed solely for shopping, not put any trappings on the thing, and still watch it be successful. I’m not talking Black Friday where we are supposedly getting gifts for xmas. No, I’m talking about Amazon’s Prime Day. It is a real thing. It has news coverage and shopping so effusive that the website has slowed to a crawl. The only deal I’ve seen so far that isn’t a straight up Amazon tech product is the wii switch deal for 299 plus 64 gig card plus $20 worth of nintendo game credit. That right there sounds deal-tastic.

I might get it. I have 26 hrs to decide.

See, I bought in. I don’t actually need a switch. I’m better off getting a GoPro so I can record my kids playing sports. Yet here we are thinking about yet another gaming system addition to solve problems that do not actually exist. That being said, I would take a Ps4 deal. I am definitely about the ps4 life.

See, that is addict talk right there and reflective of the power that these things have over us. By these things I am absolutely referring to the concept of capitalism and the idea that happiness flows from what you have. I don’t desire to be a materialistic person, but I cannot deny that it is a part of my nature. That is why Prime Day raises my eyebrows if but a little. I should be focusing my finances on paying bills and paying down credit but dammit if I don’t want to buy new stuff.

I am finding a hint of joy in blogging on the phone. Maybe it represents a basic change — a helpful one— in understanding how to access the writersphere. It took me a while to give up the notebooks and now I rely on laptops for writing. I do my work through offline docs that are inherently tied to the computer as if it were my digital notebook. Today at writer’s group (every writer needs to get one of these together. Seriously) we talked about writing in the cloud so that the writing could be continued anywhere as opposed to confined to the laptop and the higher likelihood of losing my stuff there (as I worry I already have) vs. the cloud and its benefits.

Drawbacks exist to the cloud as with any platform, but what makes me interested is the idea of always being a click away from my active doc. I can talk into a doc as I am driving down the road vs. trying to send myself an email with notes to eventually possibly be transferred to a doc or text myself and forget the text in a sea of messages from every automated response known to billing, electric, and otherwise.

Its not really a solution. The solution is to think like a writer first. It’s a shortcut. I’m not mad about those.

My kids hate each other. This isn’t some bit of speculative fiction this is simply the summative results of a careful study. They  just don’t get along. I question whether or not they see the value in one another or instead just see each other as an obstacle for parental attention and material goods. As I say, they don’t like each other.  I for one find that completely unacceptable.

This all started pre-divorce. It started back when we had our third child and that child broke what I suspect was the careful balance between the two children. Suddenly there was a third child and this opportunity for one on one attention at all times vanished. Now this is the part I could be purely speculative. I don’t know for certain that  not having one on one attention is what caused my kids to start to evolve into the current madness. I do know that the madness exists and that bugs me beyond all belief. I really don’t even know what to do about it. I’ve tried figuring out how it started in order to walk the back and maybe figure out a way to stop it, as though I am some virologist who is looking for patient zero in hopes of finding  vaccine. I don’t know if there is a vaccine for this. I don’t know that I have any real say and how they continue to cheat and treat each other as they move forward in their lives. I wish I had some say I wish I could say something. It appears that all I do is stalled them for just another moment before they go back to isolating  One brother in particular and making  left difficult for everyone around. I suppose this is what parenting looks like when you tear away the veneer and see the termites chipping away at your soul underneath. I also suppose that I exaggerate quite a bit. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I’m suggesting here maybe they are just kids being kids and this is in heat but instead just the rituals of childhood. I wouldn’t know. I never had a brother or sister or anyone that I can’t really claim was close to me in that special way that way that I dreamed of and so now as I see them I wonder if this is how it is supposed to be or this is how it’s been made to be. I wonder and I feel a sense of responsibility and that makes me sad.

I often imagine what it would be like to not want to play video games. I’ve felt that way, though very briefly. I’ve gone a day or a few deriding games altogether only to wake up one morning, log into Minecraft and start digging a hole or jumping back into Madden with hopes of turning the entire thing into a story inside my head where the players live wonderful lives off the field fueled by the work they do on it.

I play because I want to and perhaps because I no longer know any other way of being. If something else came along to derail my play for a significant period of time, maybe that would be what I turn to first instead of gaming. It ought to be writing, where I do have absolute control of the narrative and the only challenge is getting it done.

It isn’t. Not so far at least. Instead I fall into the familiar cadence of gaming and listening to audiobooks to while away the day. All things in moderation and balance, I suppose, though as I stated recently such things are my personal kryptonite.

That and finances.

Some Thoughts:

1. I am officially dissatisfied with my life and physical condition, which means it is time to do something about it.

2. Just saw Skyscraper and it was quite good. It isn’t Shakespeare, but it is everything you want to get out of an easy summer action flick. The heavy reliance on trope and convenience allowed me to turn my brain off for a while and let the lizard-lobe do all the heavy lifting.

3. I continue to suspect that the so-called ‘lizard-lobe’ is the basic operating system for most humans walking around in America.

4. That percentage seems significantly higher in faux-urban areas.

5. Yes, I made up lizard-lobe and it sounds damn good.

6.

 

 

I am blogging on my phone, which is to say I haven’t solved the computer problem. Perhaps this is the return of the gremlins problem—the universe’s way of saying, ‘you still haven’t quite made it.’

trust me, universe, I know.

Still i have made a lot of progress and I feel like I am slowly drifting away from self-deprication and destruction towards what looks to be a more positive state of being. It is as slow and painful of a journey as can be but it is progress.

Today I watched my mid-kid practice football, proud of how far he has come with my eyes ultimately on the goal of seeing his college paid for by sports and academics both and him enjoying that ride. He has the chops to do it. Not right now. Right now he’s a dehydrated mess of a fortnite addicted kid and that’s squarely on bad parenting. I need to set limits for him and the others and remember they are kids who clearly have no sense of their limitations in the face of fun and desire.

A lot of life boils down to moderation and limit setting. Sadly these remain the weakest facets of my personality. It shows.

The death of my mac has certainly messed up my mood. You could say that it brought me to my own personal black screen of death. I don’t blame the mac entirely. My mood has been in rough territory for some time. I am trying to strike a balance–find a way that everyone in my life gets attention and is happy. I fear that in that someone is always being ignored or not cared for, etc. I also think that the laptop represented a type of crutch. It was opportunity and connectivity. So long as I had it I could work, which made me feel like I would work even if I didn’t. Removed from the opportunity for even that, I find that there is little to keep my heart and soul from plummeting into the depths of disappointment and to no small extent,  negative self-actualization.

In short, I do actually suck now and I am lazy, and I no longer have agency in any of it. That is my worst fear–the loss of the opportunity to get this thing right and turn myself around. Maybe deep down I know that it is already too late for that and this small moment (brought to you by Apple) is just a taste of the future the way I see the future sometimes when I put on a shirt and look like all of those beer belly guys.

So, this too is an opportunity for me to show that this possible future is only still one of many and that I do have agency in my life. If I actually believe that I do.

This has been a particularly difficult day. For starters I am blogging in the shadow of my broken laptop. This is a problem in general but specifically because the projects I’ve been working on–including a novel–sit open on the desktop of the broken computer. This means the files will be corrupted and I cannot say for certain how much, if any, data can be recovered by my tech guys. I’m sad for a number of reasons and this is foremost among them.

The rest is minor league. I did have a moment today where I could not properly hold a joystick or remember the controls for a game. I was summarily slaughtered by my children one after the other. I am okay with losing but less okay with feeling crippled and discombobulated. I am starting to suspect that there is something actually wrong with me. I don’t know what to point to save for these minor things that medical people are likely to misdiagnose or overlook. I know only that I feel off.

Some Thoughts:

1. I added the second header on free will because it seemed relevant, but as I am typing I have no idea why it was relevant.
2. I also recognize that my memory is wildly off kilter.
3. I’m listening to that same Scalzi piece and he’s talking about writer’s block in a way that seems more like a meditation for himself than anything.
4. 10×4: New idea to spend ten minutes out of an hour four hours a day working on a critical writing project. A solid ten of words produces volume. Of course, I just need to stop being a lazy piece of shit and recognize that the writing matters or it doesnt.

I’m listening to Redshirts by John Scalzi. I like the man–as a human. I had the opportunity to chat briefly with him following a presentation he did with Cory Doctorow. Both men are engaging experts in the field in which they write. It reminded me of being at the ASU conference recently and recognizing the difference between a touring writer and a guy who writes in the time between teaching, coaching, and watching a crap ton of TV. You’ll note that I didn’t even mention games. I’ve been playing more in the last few days but far far less overall. You’ll also note that I am not including phone-based games, which consume at least an hour of my allotted 24.

I am a pretty good reader/listener/watcher. I consume fiction daily and make it probably the largest part of my day. I’ve written in the past about the ‘garbage in, garbage out’ philosophy, which holds true but you gotta eat something, right? I consume a ton of fiction and I believe it to be part of being a good writer. The other half–butt in chair–remains a huge short coming. Finally I’ve been able to align that mentally with the exercise as part of a regimen that is necessary towards continued healthy living.

I think it has something to do with yesterday’s blog.

I still believe the other part of why I often feel so paralyzed is a mixture of the inability to really get started on anything, the lack of sustainable drive to continue, and the failure to create a self-regulating schedule to enable any of it.

Big words too. Big words haunt me.

But back to the schedule issue: I need one. I need to be able to visualize a goal and see the path from end back to beginning, recognizing the small victories along the way. I need to incentivize–really incentivize and not just give myself the incentives for free–the small steps in order to encourage completion of the goal. In essence, I need to grow the hell up. I’m past 40 and I feel like a kid a lot of the times. Not physically, of course. I am old and broken down, but mentally I feel infantile at times as though I don’t need to be responsible for myself at all.

But I do.

No internet in the house, so here is yesterday’s entry into the blogosphere:

As I type stories are being written about a team of Thai soccer kids being rescued from a cave deep below the earth. In the room near me my family watches Sherlock Holmes. On my email a Quora debate rages as to the strongest Marvel characters. I sit here reflecting on my life and my limits, wondering why I never became the superhero my youth suggested.

I used to have this quote that went something like, “If I dropped out of society for twenty years, trained every day, I could become the ultimate badass.” I didn’t do any of that. In truth I allowed myself to continue to believe that a lack of specialization and, ultimately, dedication allowed me to still have the option to do anything. Reality suggests that I was very very wrong about this. In truth, I stopped learning and stopped improving. Instead my skillset hardened and atrophied around a very limited range of inputs and abilities. I didn’t get great at anything. My ability to get good at anything new rusted in place.

 

I’m knocking off much of that rust as we speak. See, the secret isn’t to drop everything to learn one thing or give up on specialization in order to wait for that perfect storm of knowing. Instead the key is to actually learn. The key is to do as Holmes does and observe and absorb it all. Learn everything around you and you will be learned.

 

Forty plus years to figure out the stuff I knew best as a baby.