Archives for posts with tag: writing

I’m sipping my coffee and feeling sort of cross and “stalled”. Just sort of sitting here, not motivated to act, or reflect, or choose, or consider – I’m a bit stuck, honestly. It’s a very human thing. Maybe I didn’t get quite enough restful sleep? Maybe I haven’t actually consumed enough coffee to get my brain going properly? Maybe I’m feeling (understandably) a little lost, or frustrated, or down? One thing I am definitely feeling is that I am dragging myself reluctantly through my experience, at least for the moment. Maybe I need to take a moment and just… cry?

I’ve been a proper adult over this untimely demise of my current job. I’ve been measured. I’ve been resourceful. I’ve been easily able to pivot to tackling the job search related tasks that need to be done now, and plan ahead to those yet to come. I’ve reached out to contacts likely to know someone who knows someone who knows of an opportunity that may be a good one for me. I’ve handled it. You know what I haven’t yet done, though? I haven’t allowed myself to grieve. I’ll miss this job. I’ll miss these colleagues. I’ll miss so many details of this particular routine at this time in my life. I haven’t given in to the hurt, yet. I’ve simply handled business with a clear head and a sense of urgency and commitment. It still hurts, emotionally, to lose this job – and I haven’t yet dealt with that. I’m going to have to, though, otherwise it will burrow into me, fester, and rob me of my will to act. Not helpful.

I’ve got the office alone, and I close the door, put my head down, and let the tears come – they’re right there, waiting. I let the fear and uncertainty wash over me. I let myself feel the hurt. I let the anger and feelings of disappointment and unfairness surface enough to acknowledge them alongside the tears. I go ahead and feel the feelings, and I cry. From experience I know that if I stifle these emotions and don’t provide myself the nurturing and self-care that I need – physically and emotionally – I’ll pretty quickly reach my “stall point”, and just stop functioning properly. I won’t be able to remember errands, tasks, and commitments, I won’t feel like doing anything, and I won’t be able to interact with people comfortably to talk about what I’m looking for out of a new job (because I’ll be mired in the unaddressed pain of losing the old one and too prone to talking the experience of hurting and loss). It’s like any other grief; the way out is through.

The tears pass pretty quickly, for now. There may be other moments, and other tears, with potential to pull me down and stall me if left unaddressed. Funny how embarrassing it feels to yield to a moment of emotion under these circumstances – there’s no reason for that. It’s not anything besides a very human moment of emotion. Emotion is part of who and what we are. I stretch and yawn, and sip my coffee. I’ve got an interview with a talent agency a little later. Later still, I’ll catch up with a friend who may have contract work that will support the short-term need nicely, for some indefinite time – not ideal, but far better than unemployment. I smile – the same friend got me into the contract that eventually developed into this job, that I’m now leaving with such sorrow. I’m grateful. I chuckle to myself over the value in relationships feeling like some “secret life hack” – it really is the people that matter most, and how we interact with them, and the experiences we share.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I do a quick “body scan” and take inventory of myself in this moment. Pain hasn’t been an issue the past day or two, but this morning it’s ferocious, and I have to deal with that, on top of “everything else”. A very human experience. It is often the case that when I am feeling most overwhelmed, or when I am feeling “stalled”, it may be some one small thing that needs my attention so urgently it shuts down everything else until I do give myself the attention I need. Those are generally experiences very much about emotions. When I feel overwhelmed or stalled, I go looking for the feeling that isn’t “being heard”, and give myself a moment to sit with that feeling, deal with it head on, and provide myself with the genuine nurturing from within that I am needing. Self-care. It’s a big deal.

I sigh and drink my coffee in the stillness. The clock ticks on, without any regard for what I may want out of the moment before moving on to the next. It’s already time to begin again – and there’s a lot to do.

People are funny. We like “certainty” – a lot. Which is sort of inconvenient considering just how much uncertainty there really is in life. In the world. In the way events play out over time. Change something, and other things also change. Make a choice, and events unfold differently than if a different choice were made. Seems like something that could be very useful, if embraced and understood, but understanding uncertainty is not the easiest thing… Perhaps better to simply accept it?

Uncertainty often comes with a measure of anxiety – maybe that’s why we seem to dislike it so much? (I say “we” because observation strongly supports that this isn’t a “me” thing at all; it’s quite common.) It’s often easier to just lock in on a particular way of thinking, or a particularly useful piece of “knowledge” in some moment, and insist on the rigid truth of it, compared to gently accepting a lack of knowledge and making room for curiosity (or unknown truths to come). It’s scary to be uncertain (sometimes).

I sip my coffee, thinking about yesterday. I drove home feeling more and more ill. Knowing a colleague had tested positive for COVID that very morning, and that I’d had some measure of exposure, I allowed myself the thought that maybe it was “all in my head”, just from hearing that news. My Traveling Partner looked at me when I arrived home; I definitely did not look well. So, maybe it isn’t COVID (test was negative), but I’m down with a bit of something or other. Uncertainty. I don’t even know “how sick I am”, or whether this will pass quickly. I just feel like crap. I woke after sleeping something more than 13 hours, interrupted briefly a couple times. I know better than to return to sleep without having my coffee; that’d just be an unwanted headache later. So. I’m up for a little while, sipping my coffee and thinking my thoughts, which are sort of gloomy and unsettled, probably because I’m sick and just not feeling my best. Harder to be positive.

Aches, pains, symptoms… The coffee is good, though, and I’m “okay” for most values of okay. There’s nothing really going on. It’s just a sick day at home. I’m grateful that it isn’t a whole lot worse. I’m grateful to have sick days. I’m grateful for an employer who strongly discourages working while ill. I’m grateful for a Traveling Partner who cares for me, and the Anxious Adventurer, who was willing to run to the store for sick day supplies so I didn’t have to go out and spread this around. This is a good place to be. It could most definitely be worse.

I reflect on the value of “leaning into” uncertainty, and take a moment to contemplate what could be driving my background anxiety lately. Work, maybe? I face things head-on. I look over my resume. I love the job I’ve got, but there’s still “uncertainty”. The human mind is an amazing thing; it’s hard not to be aware (on some level) that my average churn point professionally as been around two and half years for almost two decades. I think that’s on my mind as I approach my two year anniversary on this job. Instead of being fussy and anxious, I update my resume and reflect on the work, the job market, the opportunities (or lack of) for advancement. I think about “what I want to be when I grow up” (still my favorite way to frame the question of what to do professionally). Most of my job changes have been about better benefits, or more money, some have been about redirecting my skills into a different role or industry. I think about money, and debt, and the distance from here to retirement. I think about life. There’s a lot of uncertainty. Running away from it doesn’t change that. I make some updates to my resume, and look at job opportunities in my areas of interest. Curiousity is a soothing anodyne to anxiety, and I use it frequently. It has been more effective than any of the drugs I was ever given. (CBT for the win!)

I breathe, exhale, relax, and let all that go for awhile. My head aches, but I don’t know if it’s “just the usual headache”, or if it’s “viral”. Uncertainty. Doesn’t matter. Once this coffee is gone, I’m going back to bed anyway. I decide on a video game to “go with” the last of my coffee. I’ll begin again later.

Moments in life are worth savoring. We don’t know when some occasion will be the last of such things. Being present in each experience tends to make a more detailed, more lasting memory, and a stronger impression on our implicit sense of the quality of our life. That’s been my own experience, at least. Falling headlong through experiences without consideration, thought, choice, or awareness, doomscrolling through the days, shortens our time and gives us little to recall later. I sip my coffee and think on that. I also think about how precious and meaningful it is to me that my beloved Traveling Partner reads my blog. I feel “heard” when he comments on something I have written.

Last night my partner recommended a video, we watched it together. He was inspired to share it because he found that it connected with some of my recent writing. I am moved and grateful that he cares so much, and gives such thought to my reflections in these moments when we are not together. I will say, if you’re prone to existential dread, this video may provoke it. It is, however, interesting and definitely does connect to some of my thoughts on this fragile mortal experience, and what remains behind once we’ve moved on.

The point though, really, is that wandering about with our device in our hands, relying on our GPS to get anywhere, counting on calendar reminders to remember anything we plan, seeking guidance through prompts in an LLM, doomscrolling endlessly through timeless hours of eye candy, click-bait, memes, and what passes for “news” in the age of modern media, and generally behaving as if we are puppets without agency is almost certainly a very poor choice for the survival of humanity long-term, in addition to being just a shit way to live life. As poor a choice as that run-on sentence you just finished reading.

Did you know there are already people who feel they are losing their ability to think and reason because of their use of “AI” (it isn’t actually artificial intelligence, at all). Brain rot is a real thing happening to real people. Did you know there are people who have begun actually worshiping “AI” (LLMs) as gods? No kidding, this is a thing people are doing. I mean, certainly an LLM has demonstrable reality in our worldly existence, and certainly we do create our gods, but this seems like potentially a very bad idea likely to do real world harms, doesn’t it? What a world. Maybe do at least some of your own thinking? Your literal survival may depend on those skills at some point (almost certainly). Read a book. Hell, read a book about AI if you’re so interested. Read several. Go outside, you know – on your own, out in the actual world, seeing sights, listening to the sound of birdsong and breezes, and see where your path may take you. Look at an actual paper map. Study it and gain understanding of how the symbols represent the world. Take in the information without voice-over narration. Look at a flower up close. Watch wildlife exist in actual outdoor spaces – real creatures, alive, and aware. Breathe fresh air. Feel the sunshine or the rain on your skin. Have a conversation with a random live human being. Try out your social skills before they erode completely, leaving you unable to ask simple directions to a known location or unable to enjoy a party.

…Remember parties?..

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I had arrived home last night feeling pretty okay. The commute wasn’t all that bad (I took a route that, although busier, had no construction and thus less stress). I was feeling sort of cross fairly quickly, though. No fault of anyone else in the household, and I did my best to keep my bullshit in check (with good success). I just needed some quiet alone time; it’s been a ridiculously busy “people-filled” week, full of conversations, meetings, and interactions, and I had started to have that “everyone wants a piece of me” feeling. I felt a bit overwhelmed and encroached upon, which seriously conflicted with my desire to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s companionship at the end of a long (busy) day. He gently suggested maybe a nice shower, and I had been thinking maybe some video games – but the idea of either honestly just felt like “more work”, at least initially. He was right about the shower; it did a lot to put me in a better frame of mind, and after preparing dinner (cold sesame noodles with chicken) I felt more like playing video games for a little while. The evening ended well and I got over my bullshit and enjoyed the time with my partner. Self-care is an important and worthwhile practice.

Life being lived. Did you notice? Not one word about the news. My device mostly sat idle. We listened to music. Watched a couple videos. Hung out in the quiet good-natured merry vibe of a happy family at home. Dinner was yummy, though I think I could have done some things a little differently and gotten a better result. I didn’t use a device or an “AI” – the recipe is in an actual bound cookbook. I wrote notes in the margin while I was cleaning up dinner, so next time I have my own thoughts waiting for me when I make this again, some other time. Pen and paper – my vote for humanity’s greatest invention. (Reading and writing would likely be my opinion for the most valuable skills not directly related to survival.) Later in the evening a friend who lives on our street stopped by to visit awhile. All very human, life being lived. Awake. Aware. Present.

I’m just going to say it; ChatGPT not only is not a god, it’s not even your friend. (Neither are the tech bros who developed it on stolen intellectual property with personal profit as their primary goal.) This is true of any LLM currently in existence. The 2025 version of “AI” is not intelligent, has no cognition, does not reason, can not feel emotions or sensations, and is 100% dependent on the content it is trained on by human beings capable of actually doing, feeling, understanding, thinking, imagining, extrapolating, and really experiencing life. Why bother asking ChatGPT to do for you what you could do for yourself? Short-term efficiency? What about the long-term consequences of allowing your own skills to atrophy (or never allowing them to develop through use and practice and effort)?

Gudetama – the lazy egg. A meme, a character, a metaphor.

Life is sweet. Suck the juice out of every delicious fruitful moment! Choose your path. Choose your adventure. Try your skills (and your luck). Live. Isn’t having your own experience – and your own thoughts about it – more worthy of your human potential than relying on some predigested homogenous content built primarily on out-of-date information, provided to you in response to a prompt that you potentially took from someone else?? Be you. No LLM can do that for you. No response to a ChatGPT prompt can guide you as well as you can guide yourself through study, practice, and endless curiosity.

Are you still reading? I’m impressed. 😀 Thank you for indulging me. Sometimes I feel like an “old man yelling at clouds” or as if I am “screaming into the void“, when I rant about this stuff. Life is so precious and short, and our abilities need practice to maintain them. We’re pretty fancy primates – but we are primates, and some of what makes us so special is very much a “use it or lose it” proposition. Don’t diminish yourself through dependency on AI. Please. You are so much more than that. We become what we practice. What are you practicing?

It’s your choice. The journey is the destination; choose your path wisely. Isn’t it time to begin again?

I’m thinking about the year that is ending today. My birthday is tomorrow. My birthday last year is barely an afterthought or footnote in my memory, and I have to look up photos by date and old writing to recapture of sense of that day. It wasn’t as important-seeming as the imminent arrival of the Anxious Adventurer, or my Traveling Partner’s scheduled surgery and day-to-day care needs. At the end of May, I’d gone camping for a few days. In July, I made a change from painting in acrylic to painting in pastels. June? June is largely missing from my recollection. I think I was mostly just glad to have survived another year.

Pictures tell a tale of living life along familiar pathways: walks on favorite trails, getting storage ready to accomodate the Anxious Adventurer, and time spent on watches and my Traveling Partner’s watchmaking tools, a coffee at a little cafe in the Pearl District. All of it felt like either a distraction from, or preparation for, my Traveling Partner’s surgery, scheduled for August. It was a weird time, and my birthday wasn’t really a particularly “big deal”, all things considered. I was definitely okay with things just being okay.

Strangely, the more I search my emails and photos for pictures to do with my actual birthday last year, the clearer it becomes that I don’t have any. lol I appear to have (perhaps) gotten a new phone around this time last year? Possibly a new watch, although it’s not clear quite when that happened – perhaps in May. lol The photo history on my phone just stops some days after my birthday, and there is nothing older there. The photos in my cloud storage skip the entire week of my birthday. lol I was clearly putting my mind and my time on other things. I sigh to myself and let it go. It’s barely even a minor aggravation, just a bit puzzling considering how commonly I snap a picture of this or that moment. The year, taken as a whole, was a busy rollercoaster ride of emotions and trying circumstances, but there were many joyful moments and things I recall quite fondly in a life well-lived, generally speaking. I’m okay with that. More than okay with it, I just lack the right words.

…In spite of the chaos in the world, and the train wreck that is American government presently, I am happy to be alive, and faced with another birthday…

…62 years…

For sure this journey has not been all cake and ice cream. I’d laugh, but frankly trauma isn’t all that funny. I’m glad I have survived all that I have, and have had so many opportunities to begin again, to do more better, and to walk this path toward becoming the person I most want to be. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve learned a lot. I’m proud of the woman in the mirror; she’s been through some shit, and she’s seen some things, and still she persists in walking her path. I’d be impressed, too, but… (and?) I do know how very human I actually am, and how hard I really have to work, and how often it isn’t quite enough. My results vary and I need more practice. That’s just real.

So… today is the last day of being 61. It wasn’t exactly a milestone year of any kind, but it was the year during which I had to learn caregiving for real (and omg do I ever suck at that – it’s very difficult), and I am pretty glad to see this particular year coming to an end. Recent months have been pretty splendid, and I’ve loved feeling my relationship with my Traveling Partner deepen and grow and become something quite wonderful, like falling in love all over again. It’s good seeing him making real progress toward regaining his skills and mobility, and freeing himself from being dependent on caregiving. I’m eager to discover what 62 holds for me – and for us, as a new year together begins.

I sip my coffee looking out at the blue summer sky. There was a fat luminous full moon hanging low over the horizon as I left the house this morning, but it is long gone now. It’s a new day, and it’s time to begin again.

This morning I woke up feeling subtly different about “things”, generally. It wasn’t a huge obvious change of heart or significant shift in mindset, but there was definitely a hint of a sense of purpose that feels more focused. I like having a plan. A bit of self-reflection can go a long way toward “lighting the path ahead” – like wearing a headlamp on a dark trail. It’s no substitute for sunlight, but it’s better than wandering around in the dark.

I’m sipping my coffee and taking a look at my notes from yesterday. It’s not a detailed plan, just a handful of notes. Something more like a notion of what landmarks to look for on a memorized route than an actual map. For example, “read more bound books” isn’t very specific at all – but I also have an actual stack of books to read, and a list for more that I’d like to read once I’ve finished the stack I’ve got. Now that’s a plan. Well… no. That’s an intention, backed up by physical tools to get the thing done. My plan is to take advantage of quiet time in the evenings to read a bit, and on weekend mornings when my Traveling Partner is sleeping in (when I can’t quite start on housekeeping chores and such because I’d make too much noise), those are good times for reading. If I wake during the night, I’ve got another good opportunity to read a chapter or two, before returning to sleep. That’s a plan. Making it all come together is about the actual actions, and as I said, this morning I woke feeling focused and purposeful – and not just about reading more bound books, there’s more to my notes than that, more that I’d like to do, to live, and to change. So… there are definitely verbs involved. Life to live. Choices to make. We become what we practice, and I’ve plenty of practice ahead of me in the new year.

This morning I am feeling hopeful and encouraged about life, in spite of the chaos of the world. Yes, there’s a lot of distressing horrible shit going on in the world, but very little of that is happening in my little town, and none of it in my home or at my job, and I don’t mean to be selfish or self-centered about this, I’m just saying there’s more to life than the outrage machinery of the media, or the horrors of foreign wars. It’s okay to also embrace hope, and enjoy… joy. In fact, it’s probably healthy, and helpful. So, I make a point of it. I’m not ignoring the shit that needs changing in the world – I’m merely “filling the tank” so that I have the endurance for this race, and the resolve to speak truth to power, and the will to do what I can to make positive changes, even if that is only raising my voice without shame to say “this is wrong, we can do better”.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m already thinking about distant trails, and afternoons camping in forested places. It’s winter now, but Spring will come again. I think about my Dear Friend for a moment. She “gave up” too soon, I’ve often thought. A great many things that we human beings do are more than a little “use it or lose it” in practice. You can love hiking, but if you don’t hike, it slowly becomes more difficult until it’s not easily done at all. This is true even of movement, generally. I don’t want to follow that path, myself, don’t want to “give up” too soon – so I keep walking. I keep camping. I keep working in my garden. (Well, that last is presently a bit aspirational; my untended garden full of weeds vexes me every time I walk past. I can do better. It’s on my list.) It’s easy to feel the fatigue and the pain and to want to just… rest. It’s a risky choice to rest too often for too long. It can too easily become a sedentary life of inactivity and malaise. I keep walking. I keep beginning again. One more step. One more task. Another project. Life is full of verbs.

I look at my calendar – I see a new physician next week. The week after that, an old friend (The Author) will visit – I’m excited about that. I haven’t seen him since… 2016? 2017? 2018. It’s been too long. The week after that I get my hearing aids. Busy January. The path ahead unfolds step by step. I look over my notes; it’s not about “ticking boxes”. It’s my life. I want to live it. I’m enjoying making time for more reading. I’m enjoying refreshing my Czech language skills. I’ll try out a new recipe tonight – probably. I skipped my walk this morning, and it serves as a powerful reminder that consistency is also a practice. (Every day that I don’t walk a trail is a day that reduces the likelihood of hitting that 1k trail mile target, I remind myself unnecessarily.)

I sigh quietly to myself, and stretch. I’m 61 as I sit here – 62 in June. How much time do I have left? What do I want to do with it? How do I live my best life for the longest amount of remaining time? What matters most? I don’t “feel old” – but I also don’t feel young. Today’s a pretty good day – I’m not in a lot of pain (call it a 3 on a 1-10 scale, which is honestly pretty good for me). There’s more yet to do – and doing it from a perspective of presence and mindful awareness changes the experience for the better. I smile and sip my coffee and push up my sleeves. It’s time to begin. Again.