Sunday
I was thinking about how I don’t like writing. Or at least how I feel like I won’t like it. Certainly there are many kinds of writing I hate. I’m super glad I tested out of composition classes in undergrad, both now and at the time. And writing formal research papers can make me hate life. But I wrote at total of 1600 words yesterday to 3 different people* and was reasonably happy with all of it, and glad to spend part of my day doing it. So clearly I’m wrong. I’ll have to imagine it differently.
Watched Dr. Strange (2016). Not bad for a tired superhero film. It suffers from MCU, but at least it looks cool and isn’t just the same exact thing as all the others. But these magic guardians are just dicks. Infinitie free power, access to instant travel – they literally hand out those teleporter rings like candy – and they let the world suffer around them. But then again they imagine it as a hierarchy arranged by age, so I don’t know what else I hoped for.
I like having the whole bed. Not for sleeping; when I sleep I consume a very regulated amount of space. But diagonal lounging is my game. And always having a cold set of pillows.
LS is coming today, which means like 4 hours of driving for Shanda. I’m so annoyed with the way we deny young people (and many others) access to transportation. They’re making fudge to go on top of puffed rice marshmallow treats, which should be real good**. Not that I need another way to concentrate sugar, but fudge is one of the few sweet things I was ever allowed to like without punishment. Well, mostly without punishment.
I worry a bit about M. I fear they hasn’t found enough time for themselves. I only have a narrow window so maybe it’s just my point of view. Maybe they’ve found a routine that makes their life easy and low stress, and that routine merely obscures my vision. But I fear that their life is full of stress and that they hardly have time to acknowledge it let alone recover from it. I guess either way my only trick is the Care Bear Stare.
Someday dog is gonna have to learn not to cry every time Shanda leaves. At least he does it upstairs now, to get my attention, instead of just standing and staring and whining and barking at the garage door for and hour. He finally wants my comfort about his anxiety, instead of merely to yell about it.
Finally speced and bought parts for Ben’s staff light rig. I decided it’s not worth buying the final pieces for battery power conversion and computer control until he tries a PoC with a stone or whatever end piece he’s hoping to use. But I can get him setup with a low-end 100W COB and some amalgamation of cheap power converters to at least see what it looks like.
ZiB
*Plus chat with @Zac and other Thumpers.
**And they super are. See [fig 1, 2]. Glossy rice bits enlarged to show delicious texture.
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Sent from a phone.
