Friday

According to Them, Nonlinear Time-Travelers ought not be Linear-Time Keepers

&According to them, "You can't get the capital-tee Truth out of her! She lives in a fantasyland!"

According to her ...

What looks like fantasy to some is reality to others and vice versa,

and it's never a surprise to find out that the mediocre lack imagination. 

Of course the fantastic is where she exists.

&Of course, the unimaginative cannot Travel there with her.

"I have been informed to neither confirm nor deny you," Jei states flatly. "So," Salai smirks, "she lives." And rules rides a whisper. "Fascinating," Salai admits as she makes her way through the back-exit of the Post where she can look upon the various fields of various edibles at the end of which stand two identical houses. Jei looks nervous. Salai smirks again, "Is Dei good at the job?" Dei perks up from her glacial slouch. "She's okay," Jei admits, not-looking in Dei's direction. Salai looks directly at Dei, "The Chosen One, can't stomach it?" And can't believe it rides on the air of Salai's words. "The oddball born of normies," Salai continues. Jei looks like he's trying to control himself. Dei has a blank-looking expression on her face. "You two are quite a pair," Salai chuckles, closing the door through which she was looking out at the space beyond the Post, sighs, "If you do not tell me when we are, Jei, you know that I will have no other option than to figure it out myself, and neither, sorry, none of us want that, isn't that right?" Salai reminds as she turns her attention to Dei; "She may be special, sure, but she's soft, of mind." Jei hangs his head in knowingness.

"Salai," Jei starts, "Dei is not your enemy." Salai releases Dei from her sight and whips her head around to face Jei. "The two of you are complicit in the actions that are being taken in order to keep me captive here," Salai informs. "You're not being held captive," Jei explains. "So, I can just walk out this door and exit the 'Big Red Barn'?" Salai mocks. "Yea, sure," Jei admits; "You're free to leave. We were simply meant to accompany you if accompaniment is what you desire. At least, that's how Ladybug put it." Salai eyes Dei; Dei's cluelessness is confirmed. 

"I don't believe your lies, Jei, but since I'm here, and, generally speaking, this all seems relatively harmless, I'll stay, for the time being, so that I can watch her," Salai points, intimidatingly, at Dei,"do the job." Jei sighs an inaudible sigh. "Relieved?" Salai goads. "Of course. Why would I want harm to befall you? Either of you," Jei states, eyeing Dei, ineffectively hiding his fear.

some things have not changed, &so some old thoughts on the same stuff, cause, despite the fact that i want to write something new about all of this, i have nothing new or more to say *shrug*

[begin quote]

 

re America, the Land of the Woefully Ignorant

If you are a rational (not even logical, merely rational) human being, you innately understand that one cannot be both anti-abortion—"The Churchstate makes it very clear how one does and does not enter 'Heaven'"—and anti-vaxx—"Tell the Churchstate that it's My Body, My Choice!"

You either believe or you do not believe, and under those conditions one does or does not enter the "Kingdom of Heaven," according to all of you, White-Jesus Subscribers. 

(these are not my words! they're yours, if you subscribe to White Jesus!)

All of this wishy-washy religiousness of White Jesus is so ... what's the word ... hypocritical. And I think that hypocrisy is frowned upon by the Church, but so are a lot of things that I see White-Jesus Subscribers routinely do. Nevertheless,   

The overwhelming majority of Americans are overwhelmingly un[der]educated. This makes this country particularly susceptible—an Achilles Heel of the mind—to any number of threats. The everyday American citizen equates the largely successful Elitist Capitalism-As-Usual Rulers who built this country into the greatest monument to Capitalism, in all it's glorious dependence upon the exploitation of the masses, as a reflection of their own competence/awesomeness. For all it's worshipful praise of the Individual, the individual is largely irrelevant here in These United States. They are, after all, a mass of people who are intentionally stripped of any meaningful education, equipped with zero capacity to rise out of their wage-labor, hourly-worker status, and then they are told that they deserve more all while the Elitist Capitalism-As-Usual Rulers enslave more and more consumers to credit/mortgage/car payments until they die, in the name of Growth, the bottom line, in essence, Greed as God.  

Be not fooled. I am no Democrat. I believe in a form of democracy, but I am no supporter of Mob Rule. I am, however, hugely supportive of an educated population, ruled by Meritocracy with a sprinkling of Central Planning. A country needs to have long-term goals—a Future. When I look at this Land of the Ignorant I do not see a future, and I only see economic slaves, everywhere. Everyone here is economically enslaved, but the particularly insidious nature of American Economic Slavery is that Americans, as a whole, believe that they are not only free, but also, they believe that they are entitled to wealth.

It is this duality that fuels their (seemingly) willing enslavement. Credit provides the means by which they may fulfill their entitlement of "owning" a house, car, and large-screen TV, while the "job" provides the means by which they can payback their debtors, one month at a time, until they die. This is also what pumps the breaks on any Government Assistance. Everything must be privatized in order for the Elitist Capitalism-As-Usual Rulers to gain total control. Don't get it twisted. These United States is no Democracy, for we are, undoubtedly, living under Totalitarian Rule, or more politely, Tyranny. These United States are, first and foremost, Ruled By Money, and we love it. 

Even those directly suffering from Rule By Money continue to subscribe to the Dream, because in America, anyone, anyone at all, can "make it big," may "HOPE," must "Pay to Play." We all want to Play, and we know that in America the cards are stacked against us. We all know this. But we also all know that some of us get lucky. Some of us rise up and out. But there must exist this lowest tier, the lowest class from which to rise, or the Dream dies; we all wake up and realize that this is no Dream at all. 

And so, waking up through rational thought is, quite literally, the Enemy of the Churchstate. Your mind, our minds, our collective intelligence, is the Enemy of those in Power. 

Come as you are, unless you are uneducated. The uneducated citizens of this Land of the Ignorant are eaten up every day by the System. What makes you think that you can survive here? These United States lure YOU with a roll of the dice, but do not support your survival. Arrive to Play, cause those who were born here do not even understand that a Game is being played, that they are an integral part of making this whole Dream come alive. 

Play the Game and Live Free or Die someone else's pawn. Either way, you're going to die. There are other great places to Play the Game of Capitalism, but America truly is Number One, at least, for the moment.

[end quote] 

Originally published 12Jul22 within the post entitled

"In Good Company with White Yoga Murderers, I mean Instructors;

the overwhelmingly ignorant (slash) idiotic American Polity;" etc.

'There once lived a [B]romide named Salai'

We all know that Salai cannot die and that that's a lie.

&as she strikes a match against the rough strip, the first photon speeds across the room where, for the lucky few, a ladybug catches the thing and flings it through time&space where it can land in a recognizable reality wherein she has a purpose.

Awoken, another match is struck, a single photon hits her consciousness, and she feels a breeze on her brow. She blinks in an attempt to wet her dry-feeling eyes. She lifts an arm to shield her eyes from something bright. What feels like the sun, shines down hard upon her face. Her eyes hurt. A crowd cheers in the distance. The ripping zip-pull of a lamp light's chain. A click. 

Perhaps Salai can lie, and that's why she'll die. 

She feels the familiar pull of the gelly, and after a while, she feels a hand touch hers, and as the hand reaches her wrist, she's grabbed tight and pulled inelegantly into the Post. A despondent heap on the floor, she knows exactly where she is before she even sees the familiar face of Jei and the unfamiliar face of someone she does not know. "This is Dei," Jei gestures toward Dei, and gesturing toward her, Jei looks at Dei, "And this is Salai." 

Time oozes like dry-ice fog.

"She's a Bromide," Dei states. "Yes," Jei answers. "How can a Bromide do the job of a Monitor?" Dei wonders. "Exactly," Jei answers. Salai sits comfortably in the all-too-familiar high-wing-backed chair in the middle of the Post wherein she can face her face upwards to take in all of the knowledge stored within the books that sit upon the shelves that line the Post's interior wallspace upward, upward, upward until nothing can be gleaned. Salai sighs. 

Aghast, Jei finds the task of controlling his anger a challenge, but wait they do, cause wait they must. "Who are we waiting for?" Dei asks, wide-eyed, curious. Salai scoffs. "Ladybug," Jei answers. "Ladybug?" Dei starts, "What does Ladybug have to do with any of this?" "Ladybug brought her here," Jei answers. "How?" Dei wonders. "How?"Jei challenges, "How? You want to know how?" Jei shakes his head in utter disbelief/disappointment. Dei slinks deeply into the couch upon which she sat only moments ago. 

If Salai can die, what's with the lie? 

"You know what we used to do with Lingerers?" Salai suggests. "'Suggests.' Oooo, you are good. I can see why she likes you or tolerates you," Salai chuckles; "There was a time when Lingering was frowned upon, which means that we must be on an Orbital. Is this The Orbital, I wonder. It seems like it must be if a Lingerer lingers so ... what's the word ... freely. Yet the two of you," she points slowly back and forth between Jei and Dei, "want me to believe that I am on the Listmaker's Ranch, and from the tangible evidence before me, I should be pretty convinced that I am on the Listmaker's Ranch, and yet, this one tiny little detail of this Lingerer has given up the whole charade (charade pronounced sharaahd)," Salai theorizes as she glances at the Lingerer. She looks amused, "Diction is everything."

Turning her attention to Jei, Salai challenges, "So tell me, dear Jei, when the fuck are we?" Standing now, she looks down hard upon Jei as she enlarges herself to tower over him.  

Poke, poke, poke-her

One of my dreams is to play Hold'em with Michael Jordan. I wish to take all of his money in some slow-call, trolling drag through checks and calls. Obviously, I have no idea how he plays. I'm simply presenting the fantasy from my point of view, like, duh.

You know about the idea how you can like "learn a lot" about a person by "fighting" them, that kung-fu-esque trope depicted oh-so frequently in "cinema"? You can learn a lot about a person by playing them in any sort of game, as well. And one of my favorite games through which to "get to know" a person is Texas Hold'em.

I was adopted into a family that had already adopted a korean infant, and by the time I arrived at nearly the age of four, he was about six years old, and he is my adopted older brother. We are both of korean descent, but we are not biologically related (the interesting thing being that i was the first-born child of my birth mother and lived recognized as such for the first three years of my life, yet i was adopted into a family wherein i was positioned as the younger sibling; there's no way this did not affect our relationship potential). Nevertheless, as my older brother, he took it upon himself to make sure that I knew a few cool "boy things." As a side note, I was also raised by my adopted father, a man who thought it was a compliment to tell me I'm as good as any boy, cause I could run like a boy, throw like a boy, bat like a boy, and I even rode a boy's bike, etc. 

One of these cool "boy things" is indubitably Poker, namely, Hold'em. And I resisted this teaching for a long time, cause I thought it was pointless. What the hell am I supposed to do with the knowledge that this guy is obviously bluffing? My simple little mind couldn't see the point. And then I realized that my brother also didn't really get it either. And so, I quickly surpassed him as a player, and now, we are not supposed to play any sort of competitive-adjacent-type games or activities, etc. 

I'll just say this. He's never, not once, not EVER beaten me at a round of Hold'em. In head-to-heads, he's survived, maybe, six hands, tops. 

But then, I started to play the bodybuddy/lifemate, and he is a much better liar, which is obviously something to be noted. The thing, however, about the bb/lm's skillful lying is that he's forthright. It's easy to tell when he's lying, but he's also good at making you wonder if he's not-lying. A trickster, as it were. And, well, the bodybuddy/lifemate beats me nearly all the time. The only thing I routinely kick his ass at is Scrabble, but we are also not really encouraged to play too many games or activities with any sort of competitive potential, etc. 

Thus, my affinity for Hold'em is something that I've tried to rub off on my favorite korean. I sent her a poker set a while back, cause after a round of flash-questions over [social media redacted] toward the end of last year, I learned that she likes to spend time with her friends, and her friends like to play games and do stuff together, etc. Being on the cusp of college, I thought a poker set would be a fun way to start introducing her to the social potential that poker holds. (gambling is illegal in korea for koreans, but one does not need to bet with anything valuable at stake to gain the skills poker holds, and re gambling, i think tournaments are stupid and the whole idea of the "professional" poker player is a fucking joke, and obviously, the addictive nature of gambling, etc., etc., etc., i'm talking here, more about the social qualities of the game between humans as opposed to presenting a dissertation on a personal blog about gambling addiction, etc., *iroll*) 

Poker is a game of social skills.

A good poker player puts on a persona.

The persona does whatever it needs to do to make the table think whatever it wants to make the table think.

I recently watched the first season of Three Body Problem (or is it the digit 3 ... Body Problem?; we'll never know), and the climax of the series seemed to be (i'm not good at "reading" tv/movies, cause i have other skills) the San-Ti realizing that humans are liars. The idea of lying was not only something the San-Ti couldn't come up with themselves, but also, the idea of lying is something bad, primitive, because we cannot simply read each other's minds, we have to speak, communicate; our minds are separated from our communicative tools, and therein exists the fertile ground for lies, lying, and the liar.

Lying is a human social skill.

Humans are—first and foremost—social beings. 

Having a large, extensive repertoire of social skills will—undoubtedly—take one far in life. 

Lying is a human social skill.

Spotting the Liar, an even greater skill.

Think about what sort of cognitive function is required for a thing to know why and how to lie. 

Children know how to lie. 

More importantly, children know when to lie.

Theoretically, the child speaks lies to preserve their own self. 

Foxes lie, just fyi.

Adults, however, lie for an infinite number of unknowable reasons. Thus, Hold'em is less about lying to deceive and more about lying to communicate. My older brother saw the game this way, but he seemed to not-understand the implication of it all. He read the game through its "rules," etc. "The numbers," he'd growl at me, "The odds!" 

"Why would(n't) you bet (or not bet) on that hand! You have to communicate to the table that you have a strong hand, and make everyone pay to keep playing!"

He would legitimately become so frustrated by the way that I chose to play Hold'em that he'd lose it. My poker playing would make. him. snap. Every time. Every single fucking time. Cause, the way that I saw it was that yea, those are the "rules," but if everyone knows that—and thereby plays by them—what the fuck is the point?

In short, I am all-too curious about the way that Jordan must play the game. He's fucking Michael Jordan. The only thing I know about him—that I believe 100%—is that he does not like to lose. So what does he do? Who does he become to convince me of some bet? How does he hide himself to project the persona? Who is Michael Jordan? 

       

'Oh when the saints [bah dah duh dah] come marching in [do do do doo] oh when the saints *clap* come *clap* mar *clap* ching *clap* in [do do do doo]'

I finally have some time off after a months-long (i actually think twas more like six weeks, but i do not care enough to sit down in front of a calendar and figure it out) stint of six-day jobweeks, and I have a lot of energy because my base-level energy level as a full-time jobber is higher than it used to be as a part-time jobber, so I'm trying my damndest to rest. And for the most part, I've been resting well. 

The thing, however, that I realized—yesterday—is that the one day that I set aside to practice a bit'o "self-care" ended up being the day that has exhausted me the most. The reason :: well, I have a bodybuddy/lifemate, and he basically does all of the taking care of me. I've—obviously—always known that he's good at taking care of me, in a general sense, or else, we wouldn't really be here, but I guess I never really understood exactly how much of my self-care he does for me. 

For example, I had to make myself something to eat when I got hungry. I had to draw myself my own bath. I had to steam my own oat milk for a matcha latte. I had to pull my own shots and steam my own oat milk for an espresso latte. I did a sink-load of dishes. I had to decide what to watch on the tv. I had to turn the tv on, along with all of the equipment that goes with it. I had to load my own bowls. And I had to get myself off!

By the time the bodybuddy/lifemate finally made it home (he didn't take any days off during my days off, cause he only ever works three days a week, cause really, he's a house-husband who jobs to stay busy), I was exhausted.

Do I sound "out of touch" &or "tone deaf" yet?

I am also a child-FREE adult, so yea. 

During this time when I'm supposed to be relaxing and resting—my mind especially—I tend to watch a lot of movies. Generally speaking, I watch more tv-delivered entertainment than I'd like to admit, but I also know that I don't really watch that much, when compared to "the-average" consumers, etc. Nevertheless, I typically watch a lot of tv-delivered content when I have vacation-esque freetime, and now that I'm thinking of it, I've technically quit my pursuit of my dreams, so I don't really need to accomplish anything productive aside from showing up at my fucking dayjob so that I can log those hours for which I am paid a pittance, etc. 

Where was I? Movies, right.

So, we watched Guardians 3 and Wakanda Forever over the course of the past two or three days. Sorry, we re-watched them. We've obviously seen them already; we are of the millennial generation, after-all, lol. 

Guardians 3 is so fucking sad, and Wakanda Forever is so fucking sad. The two are some serious downers, but then, obviously, they end on the bright side *iroll*

I thought I had a point, but Nothing is forming in my mind.

Ever since I started to use the *left swype* on Threads I'm finally starting to be delivered different voices. Call yourself an "influencer," &I'm out! And some of those voices are from some seriously angry adoptees. It's refreshing to see them online, and it's fascinating to hear what they have to say. Like all things, every individual adoptee's experience will fall on some spectrum from Horrible to Wonderful, and it makes me wonder how many adoptees see these types of posts and then are able to "judge" their own experience more accurately. I am familiar with my own experience, and obviously, anyone can say just about anything about their own experience, but since nobody has exactly my same experience, I am finding the task of "relatability" the issue when passing by other adoptees on socials.

We find common ground in being adopted, and then each of us breaks off atop individual pieces of an immensely-personal experience. If you had a "horrible"-side experience, there's no real "common enemy," an entity toward which we can air our grievances. Each individual circumstance has tailored an enemy for each of us who has had an experience that falls on the "horrible"-side of neutral. Those who fall on the "wonderful"-side of neutral have no complaints, theoretically. 

And so, I find it challenging to read the various ways in which variously aggrieved adoptees view the world. I, obviously, have my own grievances, but they are not systemic; they are personal. I also think that there's a vast difference between domestic, same-race adoption and domestic/international transracial adoption. The two experiences cannot be compared. Whether or not an adoptee experienced foster care cannot be compared. Whether or not an adoptee experienced an orphanage cannot be compared. And then, obviously, if a person is "adopted" by a family member, there should be a different word for it, cause this is a wholly different circumstance and experience.

In short, there are so few comparisons that can be made about two adoptees, much less all adoptees, that the issue no longer becomes about the experience of being adopted but rather, the experience of unwanted pregnancies. 

Wow, this is not where I thought I'd end up. I sat down to write with nothing about which to write, and this is where we find ourselves? Fascinating. Especially when considering that the tune, "Oh when the saints [bah dah duh dah] come marching in [do do do doo] oh when the saints *clap* come *clap* mar *clap* ching *clap* in [do do do doo]" etc., keeps pestering me, and I'm seriously considering this lyric for the title of this post, etc., but I shant. I might. No, I shant.

Obviously, the whole issue of adoption started trending on socials, undoubtedly, because of a certain poster-child of the recently-ended XXXIII Olympiad, etc., and so it's a bit annoying that perhaps some of these adoptees are making themselves visible because adoption is trending as a topic, as opposed to being spotlit because they've always spoken about adoption, etc. *sigh* Fucking-socials fucking-ruin everything. *ugh*

Well, this penned out to be some mediocre nonsense *shrug* I'm on vacation! Until next time *peace*

If you have money, what do you need followers for?

She saw two ladybugs yesterday, one of them twice. 

The fat face of the Yellow Moon warned her from beyond the row of palms that line the sandy beach of the calm cove over which the Yellow Moon's shine reflects through a low set of cotton clouds. 

Feeling poor is not the same as Being Poor.

Everything's changed since Eugene arrived.

If you cannot even properly identify your enemy, how will you ever defeat them?

^..^

"Slowly, the Lingerer slinks toward me," she starts; "No way, stop it; this is going to get really complicated, really fast," she scolds. 

Silence.

Stillness.

"For the fucking LOVE of all that is green, please, can we just have one normal sequence," Ladybug sighs, despondent. "I'm not despondent," Ladybug thinks for a moment, "I'm ... I'm ... okay, fine. I'm despondent." 

Palpable, the futility begins to reveal itself. "This is not a futile situation," she and Squirrel state, in unison, while standing. "Not this again," Ladybug eyerolls. "Squirrel said that the dragonfly suggested we were only a week early," she explains. Ladybug laughs so hard it falls over and begins rolling around on the ground on its shell. "It's ... nota ... shell," Ladybug manages between giggles. "What the fuck is so fucking funny, Lady!" Squirrel shouts. Ladybug chuckles as it dusts itself off, "A dragonfly? A dragonfly came by here and 'suggested' that you're about a week early?" "Yea," Squirrel, losing confidence, confirms. Ladybug has another fit of laughter. 

"Stop it," she eyerolls. 

Upright again, Ladybug shakes its head, "That dragonfly lied." "How the hell do you know?" Squirrel challenges. "Cause, look," Ladybug points in the direction of the green green hillside at the base of the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet. "What are we looking at?" she and Squirrel speak simultaneously. "Where's the barn?" Ladybug offers. The two skeptics stare off into the distance.

"Fuck!" the two simultaneously shout. "Yes," Ladybug agrees; "We didn't realize you were off to the Listmaker's Ranch." "How? How could you not know? Isn't that why you're here?" Squirrel sniffles, aghast. "Uh, no. We thought we were summoned to you, uh, you know, for no reason at all," Ladybug cheerily suggests, top legs wide, a shit-eating grin.

"Lay-dee!" Squirrel shouts, eyes wild, teeth clenched.

"Goddammit, Squirrel. Why do you always have to be like this?" Ladybug shakes its head, disappointed. "Like what?" Squirrel spits. "Just, ugh, you're clueless," Ladybug starts. "About..." Squirrel leads. "She's obviously not whoever you think she is," Ladybug points at her. "Whu...who?" Squirrel stammers.

She looks guilty.

"She's a Bromide,"* Ladybug shrugs, despondent. "She's ..."

"A disgrace," she interjects.

^..^

The people who treat her the worst on this planet are women over-fifty-five, which is such a weird demographic to hate on the next generation of women, especially Globeaux women, in her opinion. 

Exhibit A

She's doing her job at her jobplace. An overweight, ugly, white, Over-Fifty-Fiver slinks into an aisle behind her, and she does not see the OFF. As she begins to move down the aisle, she incidentally "cuts off" the OFF. The OFF screams at her, "Excuse me! I'm trying to get down this aisle!" "I didn't see you," she explains, "I didn't ..." "The customer is always right! You're a worker. I'm the CUSTOMER!" 

Exhibit B

She's doing her job at her jobplace. An older senile, droopy-faced asian Over-Sixty-Fiver slithers by. As she passes by the OSF, the OSF's face congeals into a nasty look that suggests the OSF would like to see her dead, and then, as some young male walks by, the OSF smiles. 

Exhibit C

She's shopping about town. A sign spinner stops her on a street corner and suggests a cute little shop where she might like some things. She follows the map and heads toward the shop. As she nears the shop, an old ethnic-looking OFF grabs her by the shoulders and informs, "My shop is right over there," and points, "the guy just called me saying you were on your way." Creeped the fuck out, she gazes blankly at the tchotchkes for sale in this particular "street market" in which she finds herself. She decides she'll take a look at the OFF's shop. Upon arriving at the OFF's shop, she realizes the "shop" is more of a "stall" or "stand," and is immediately turned off, nevertheless, she approaches. "Oh, so where are you from?" the OFF starts with a smile. "Here. I moved here," she says. A shadow falls over the OFF's face, "Oh, so you decided to move here?" "Yea," she answers. "Why do people want to move here?" the OFF starts, "Everyone wants to move here, why? It'll kick you out if you don't belong. I've been here since I was five. Fifty-seven I am, now. That's fifty-five years. Everyone moves here, and it makes everything expensive, so now I'm unhoused," she explains, and then she answers her iPhone through the Airpod in her ear, as she sits in front of thousands of dollars of product she what, stole? 

Exhibit D

While home for the summer between college semesters, she tans herself in the sun in the backyard of her family's house. Her mother appears on the back patio, "Are you on your period?" She lifts her head, confused, "Yea?" Smiling, her mother yells among laughs, "I knew it! I can see your belly pooch!"

^..^

One person has 50K social media followers and $0

Another person has 0 SMFs and $50K

If you think that it's impossible to have hundreds of thousands of followers and $0, think again.

The person with 50K SMFs thinks that they can do something for the person with $50K.

What, exactly, can the person with 50K SMFs do for the person with $50K who neither wants nor needs SMFs?

^..^

"It's the imbalance of it all that ensures that there are limits to some friendships."

Who said that?

"Don't worry. The world spins round, not up and down."

What does that have to do with anything? Who are you?

"What is a friend?"

...

"Do you have a friend?"

Are you asking me?

"Yes."

Who are you?

"A friend."

Whose friend?

"Your friend."

How can we be friends, if I don't know who you are?

"You know who I am."

Who are you, then?

"I'm your friend!"

^..^

On Glory

More than fame, more than greatness, glory. Like reverence but less-personal. Like saintly but not-religious. A state of being as opposed to a title, imbued not bestowed. Adoration but not really. 

On G.O.A.T.-ness

"Of All Time"? Seriously? All Time has yet to unfold. The already-dangerous pride has morphed into hubris, and we're all for it, cause there are no moral lessons about hubris *wink wink*

^..^

a little

right from the first sip

i could feel it

*yes, the original posting of this post had Ladybug describe her as a "Monitor," but the Truth is, as i sit here in the future [24Aug24 approximately 0330], that she is a Bromide. these are sketches, remember, an anthology-like work of science fiction being written &shared in real-time.

The Total Number of Medals Won by RACE | is a headline you're never gonna see, so i thought i'd create it as a thing to be seen as obvious 'click-bait' for all these mothafucking fuckers who wanna get incensed about something ... anything *wink wink*

some tuesday + some wednesday sun sailing

a Some Thoughts on Some Stuff Session | re the XXXIII Olympiad, the Kamalas Khan and Harris, and, well, my mental health?

i'm obviously watching some of the Olympics (it's too much, and i just don't care that much), and honestly, it's making me feel a lot of feels, and some of the feels are thoughts that are not being readily shared, cause, well, it's ... what's the word ... ass-holey. 

never. the. less.

there's an overwhelming theme of this Olympics, from my point of view (butt-fucking, duh!), that has do something with some rule change in the NCAA. i've never watched collegiate athletics, except for the many times i attended various sporting events while in school, etc., however, i never spend any free-time watching college sports on broadcast television or the internet, now, as a taxpaying adult.

this lack of mine has made me realize that not only have women been fucking killing it in sports but also, colleges around the U.S. have been pulling in an immensely talented international pool of women athletes. the sheer number of women competing is a story in its own right, but the fact that so many of these women are able to represent their home countries for the first time and WIN is something else entirely. 

this NCAA/Olympics situation points to the obvious downside ... the U.S.A. is an incredibly rich (as in tons of money money rich) country, a country to which the world's talent flocks, i.e. "brain drain," and this has been the status quo my entire American life.

this NCAA/Olympics situation points to something less-obvious (to me, as a non-participant) ... women, around the world, have been choosing their education over professional athletics, and they are professional-level athletes nonetheless.

as stated above, i do not participate in the NCAA culture or whatever, thus, i have zero intellectual knowledge about the situation that changed that allowed NCAA women athletes the opportunity to participate in professional arenas &or just the Olympics. what i do know is that something changed and now all of the women who were participating in NCAA athletics, meaning they are enrolled in a U.S. college, which means that they are obtaining undergraduate &or master's level degrees while continuing to pursue their athletic careers, are now able to also participate in the Olympics. 

this was a groundbreaking decision. 

this is a mind-blowing circumstance.

not only is the U.S. collegiate system pumping out incredibly intelligent women from around the world, they are also pumping out incredibly talented athletes from around the world. 

the importance of the Olympics has changed for women.

for the world, it's a continued tough reality. 

there are simply some continents that are not being represented in the top ten medal counts, and we're not supposed to interpret this in any sort of way, lest it be supremacist, elitist, etc., but the math holds that there are simply some countries that are gaining even further ground on the rest of the world, and that we're still quite a ways away from the top ten in overall medal count being evenly distributed among all of the world's habitable continents. 

but we're certainly not-supposed to talk about that.

just like we're not suppose to notice the race of all of the athletes who win for the white countries.

Hillary Clinton posted a thread on Threads about this Olympics hitting gender parity. 

nobody's going to do the math on winnings distributed by race, cause it is where one trains that matters, not one's race or nationality.

if we did a full tally on all of the medals won at the Olympics this go-around, it'd be interesting to see how many medals were won by athletes who live and train in the U.S. 

nobody's going to do that math cause, well, it'd sorta defeat the entire spirit/purpose of these Olympics, will it not?

And then, there's Kamala Khan.

we watched The Marvels the other day cause we were browsing our new access to Disney+ (we pay for internet access and receive a cable package for free, and after living here with this new internet service provider for one year, our cable package has been "upgraded" twice). we saw it when it came out, but it was such a chaotic time in our life, and our "caring about" movies, in general, is low, these days.

never. the. less.

Ms. Marvels' energy is exactly what i need in my life as of late. she's naive. her ignorance is bliss. she's living in the moment because she's living for the first time. she's young and brave cause she's full of conviction but lacks experience. it's a beautiful outlook, especially when juxtaposed with Captain Marvel's general intensity. and then Monica sacrifices herself and sets us up for more multiversal blah blah blah, etc. 

i do not wish to be young again. being young is terrible. i do wish, though, that i could feel that light and airy feeling of zero responsibilities. *sigh*

And then, there's Kamala ... Harris.

i tend not-to write about women i respect, cause, generally speaking, my writing is oftentimes, not-respectful. 

never. the. less.

i feel no respect or disrespect for the 2024 Democratic Presidential Nominee. i feel nothing about Harris. she does not excite me. she does not disappoint me. she's just there, as the Nominee. i don't even know what i would write if forced by some entity holding the money bags, etc.

i also lack any sorta feeling about the Republican Nominee. 

honestly, it's whatever, cause like, why we pretending the popular vote counts?

And then, I feel trapped.

before i started the job by which i am currently employed, i had this irrational (read: *beezed*) fear of said job. i kept thinking to myself, "If I take this job, I'm going to be trapped there, forever, unless I can find a replacement when I want to retire." i literally feared the idea that if i took this job, i would not be able to leave unless/until i found my replacement, etc. 

this smeezy idea sunk its teeth in me, and for the past year, i have been mentally struggling with this idea that i am trapped there, forever. 

And then, the bodybuddy/lifemate said something.

we've been talking this mental loop out ever since we finally put a finger on it a few months back. and i got frustrated that the bodybuddy/lifemate doesn't help me figure it out more; why he doesn't help me fix it. so, over the past few weeks, he's been double-air signing me and saying all sorts of different things to help me see my life from a different perspective than the mental "trapped" loop i've been suffering for nearly one full calendar year. 

he finally said the thing some time in the past, not too long ago, after i grilled him on why he doesn't understand my feeling trapped.

"Why," he asks, "Why would I understand your feeling of feeling trapped? We don't really know how to stay put."

And then, the bodybuddy/lifemate made something.

this is (nearly, as some places are too near each other) everywhere we've lived and been
since 2013
read the deets on my "... in projects ..." page

And then, it clicked.

but the habitual loop loops. i'm simply not-yet strong enough to maintain that mental place, but the heavy revelation finally hit me in full just last friday, so patience, with my own self, is on order.

Until next time *peace*