lately though, i feel like there's this whole separate universe being played out around me and i'm utterly not a part of it. as though there's a club with a secret entrance code, a code which everyone knows except me, and i'm standing at the entrance struggling to understand why no one let me in on the secret.

tonight, as chelsey and i were discussing how to divvy up amongst my coworkers the cookies she had made, we discovered that there were not enough gift bags to hold all the groups of cookies we wanted to distribute. no big deal, right? we'll just put some of the cookies in nice simple plastic bags and hand them out that way, because it's christmas, and they're cookies, dig?

no. dear me, no. such a thing is not conscionably done.

you see, it's the small things that matter. the cookies need the gift bags. worthless without them. it's not the making of the cookies that matters, not the time it spent with mixing bowl or oven, it's the wrapping of the cookies that matters. it's not the words that you say, it's the tone of voice in which you say them. it's not the thing itself, it's the framing and the context and the gist of the thing. it's this parallel world of undercurrents and subterfuge and small all-important para-things that completely fails to resonate with me, to which i have absolutely no sensitivity.

this is why i fucking hate christmas. do you hear me? hate it hate it, with swear words for emphasis. it's not enough that i think well of you, or that i want nice things for you. it is expected that i spend time in thinking about something you secretly want, that i go out and get it for you, and that i wrap it up and put a bow on it, and turn what would be (at any other time of the year) a gesture of goodwill and potentially unexpected awesomeness into just another thing that is done for its own sake. we've turned what might have once been called the spirit of christmas into a fat lot of empty, expected gestures.

a bit unexpected, admittedly, coming from a guy who prides himself on being mindful of the little things.

1. the car thing that's supposed to save the world. you see, those awesome batteries occasionally die. and apparently they're awesomely expensive. but i have some good news! i just paid a bunch of money to someone to basically let me keep using what i had already paid for.
2. the iphone. though at&t doesn't know it's an iphone, and that's kind of at the root of the problem. in order to avoid allowing them to ream you on the data plan you have to perform some digital magic, among other steps. but this magic has certain side effects, including people can't call you. ask your doctor if ultrasn0w is right for you—i should have.
3. the roof. it has holes. in it.
4. the stereo of my other vehicle. a long time ago i turned the ignition in my truck a certain number of clicks so i could listen to the radio or whatever, but went one click too far, and then back a click, all in rapid succession, and this let the magic smoke out of the shiny lights of the faceplate. and magic smoke, as any scientist will tell you, is hard to put back in a device after it has escaped.
5. the nail of my left index finger. and now every time i use it it's like the terrorists won their war against the kittens.
6. the dog. i've made clear my thoughts on the matter of sub-sentient life forms. they exude smelly substances and totally ignorant of this fact. they whine for attention. and not one of them has a job.
7. the internet. conservapedia.com will eventually become skynet.
8. my liver. and i have the other items in this list to blame.

[aside:
r.i.p.
beardface mk. ii
may 2009 - june 2009
we barely knew ye
]

(it's all academic, dear reader. you weren't even aware of it. save us both some time and admit the fact.)

in my future i see data mining and analyses and reports, a dancelike feedback loop of things happening, to data, to knowledge, to other things happening. and i'm good at it, dig? so obviously it's what i want to do forever, right?

we come to the point. i tend to do this thing when i encounter something i like: i binge on it, totally saturate myself with it, eventually get turned off, stop liking it. it's an extremely male-brained thing to do. i do it all the time in many and varied parts of my life, but so far, not in any of the really important parts. my fear is that i'll inexorably work my way through all my dream jobs, all those things i'd do for free if i had nothing else to do, in exactly this manner—loved intensely, but shortly, and discarded.

i like my job. i really do. it gives me little fixes of certain things i like (including, not least of which, money). i want to continue liking my job. but the first six weeks of the year are my hell weeks, and i'm definitely smelling the brimstone; i hope this is not the year i discover i forgot to pack my asbestos armor. or my boots of +5 fire resist.

i wonder how long i could string this metaphor along. if i really tried.

i can roll with the punches, you see, but not if they keep coming, and coming, and[..]



things not working thought working:
ignoring the problem. information. heart.

things working thought not working:
null joins. treadmill. taillight. mind.^W

damn cats.

in the house of representatives, centrists. communists and fascists strictly verboten.

in the senate, leftists. i'll stop short of saying downright baby-eating marxists but part of me wants to.

in the courts (especially the supreme court), conservatives all the way. i hate the phrase 'strict constructionist' but the shoe fits.

for president, someone who is simultaneously 1. not affiliated with either party of the current two-party system, 2. ideologically libertarian, 3. economically paleoconservative, 4. socially progressive, 5. an actual scientist, and 6. neutral good in the i-roll-twenties etymology (which naturally eliminates any sith lords—huzzah!).

an independent and unmolested media armed with the much-hyped shield law.

and finally, for every single state and local office in the entire nation, from governor to county comptroller, this guy. (though as a condition of his holding office, he must uphold his election-season promise to frickin' blog more, yo.)

elections are instant runoff and are fewer and farther between, with single-term limits at every level.

there is, of course, always more, but this is the gist. in my head this guarantees that the government itself finds the balance between current and stable. pipe dream? oh yes, but a healthy one.

but don't cry, because you didn't really need it. it was only a goddamned piece of paper! that ridiculous bit of nonsense was just tying the hands of the judicial process and playing into the hands of the terrorists, the only ones it was protecting. endangering you, protecting them, don't you see?


…normally it's all fun and games until someone yells 'gestapo', but ask yourself: what happens when you become the next "them"?

(via, via²)