I thought I’d take a break from posting revamped older pieces for a week and instead fill you in on the sorts of thoughts that traverse my brain on an average day. As an introvert, and an intuitive, my brain has a tendency to wander. Does it wander into groves of awesome ideas for paid client pieces? Nope. It tends more toward the abstract, as you’ll see in a moment.
How do you quantify fuckery?
Is it like a volumetric thing? A liter of fuckery? Or more of a theoretical-type measure, like a quantum of fuckery?
What is the collective noun for fuckwits?
Again, should it lean toward the practical: a gaggle of fuckwits or a flock of fuckwits? Or more toward the metaphysical: a theorem of fuckwits?
Ideas for how to make stupid hurt
For the last week or so I’ve been flashing to the scene from the last attempt at bringing Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy to the big screen where flyswatters appear out of the ground to smack anyone who thinks in the face. Except, what I’m seeing is more like a flaming waffle to the temple every time someone says something abjectly stupid.
Are you sensing a theme to my mental wanderings this week?
Book idea: Mindfulness For The Marginally Employed Creative
Tagline: When you’re a marginally employed, introverted writer with too much time on your hands, mindfulness can present…issues.
I have issues keeping my mind on task at the best of times. And right now is not, shall we say, the best of times. I started meditating sometime in the late aughts (2007, maybe?) and carried on with my practice well into the teens. Then, I just stopped.
And I don’t know why.
But I’m trying to pick it up again, after all, we could all use a little centering right now, right?
How do you sit when you can’t, you know, sit?
I’m still recovering from a broken shoulder, yes, I actually managed to break my scapula thank you very much, so sitting still in any position is touch and go. Literally, I generally have to get up within 10-15 minutes to walk around, shake it off, then I can try a different position for a time.
This is partially why I’m having such a hard time reestablishing that meditation practice mentioned above. In order to focus on the breath, it helps if your back isn’t spasming.
My last neighborhood was more…neighborhoody
I recently moved from Ballard to Greenwood.
I realize the names won’t mean anything to any non-Seattlites, so here’s a brief introduction. Ballard was formerly it’s own independent town on the shore of Salmon Bay that was swallowed up by Seattle in the early 20th century. What it lacks in actual independence it more than makes up for in character, with its historic downtown still paved with bricks and interesting little storefronts to explore on foot. I lived just across a main road from that downtown and had everything I needed within easy walk: library, convenience store, food co-op, coffee shops galore, etc. Of course, a crazy guy attacked someone with a pitchfork across the street from my building and there was an encampment known for cooking meth down the street.
Greenwood, on the other hand, is more of a leafy suburban-style urban area. big lots, small houses, and no sidewalks. It’s a minimum of a mile to any useful…anythings. On the flip side, I have a silent, shady patio on which to sit and contemplate (or work from, or hang my hammock on, or whatever), and the neighbors are proving to be quite awesome.
So I guess that’s the trade-off?
Why are comfortable pants so hard to find?
I’ve got sensitivities. Like at the nervous system level. And one that has recently become more…well touchy, is an aversion to any sort of tight clothing. I’m not talking skinny jeans here. I’m talking anything with a non-elastic waistband or even socks that are slightly too tight can lead to a rash or what looks like a burn.
The funest part? I don’t know when I’m going to have a reaction like this until it’s too late and I’m already wearing the offender and away from home so I can’t change.
As a big dude, this can cause headaches when it’s time to find interview pants.
Or more on point for the present, pants I can sit around in all day without having to get up and change.
For all that shit, I’ve got a lot to be grateful for.
I’ve got a home.
I have food.
I have a family I love and who love me.
And I’ve got work (not full time at present, but still) that I love.
maybe this dump will be the impetus I need as a reminder to say that out loud more often so those around me know how truly grateful I am.