Packing Up Stinks

My thanks to Jack Prelutsky.

Packing! Oh, Packing!
I hate you, you stink.
I wish I could throw
All this stuff in the drink.
These terrible boxes
Are crowding my floor.
I’m getting so flustered
Each time through the door.

Packing! Oh, Packing!
You’re making me ill.
These thick cubes of cardboard
Are getting their fill.
The crumpling of paper,
The ripping of tape,
All makes me just want to
Run off and escape.

Packing! Oh, Packing!
How can there be more?
Somehow our apartment’s
A general store.
Tchotkes and treasures
And bobbins and toys,
All sorts of clutter
I cannot enjoy.

Packing! Oh, Packing!
What else can I say?
I wish I could ditch and
Get out of this fray.
I’m swimming in boxes,
These prisms abound.
Where once there was happiness
None can be found!

Packing! Oh, Packing!
When can I be done?
Is it time for a break
And a romp in the sun?
“Of course not,” says Packing,
“You’ll never be through.
“I cannot be sated,
“Let items accrue!”

Packing! Oh, Packing!
You mistress of harm.
I’m hurting my back
And have aches in my arms.
A burgeoning tower,
Oppressively brown,
Is building around me
And getting me down.

Packing! Oh, Packing!
I swear I’ll be free.
Sisyphus doesn’t have
Boulders for me.
Soon we’ll be done,
All our life hid away.
Then it’s time to unpack!
What a glorious day.

Managing Multiple Computers

A pickle I’ve avoided for a couple of years has finally been unjarred.1Is this a good metaphor? Two years ago, I was issued a company-owned laptop that was precisely the same make and model—down to the color—as my personal computer. I was loathe to use two computers and felt uncomfortable doing my extracurricular tasks on the work device, so I continued exclusively using my personal laptop as I’ve done since I started there.

To comply with various data privacy laws and ensure the company can provide tech support, it was recently made clear to me that work had to be done on the work laptop. I now have to maintain feature parity between two computers, bring them both with me while traveling, and generally be inconvenienced by this change.

Continue reading “Managing Multiple Computers”
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    Is this a good metaphor?

Angel Stadium

A short post during a hectic time. I’ve officially visited all MLB stadiums within a reasonable distance of the Pacific Ocean: Petco Park (San Diego), Dodger Stadium (Los Angeles), Angel Stadium (Anaheim), Oracle Park (San Francisco), Oakland Coliseum (Oakland), and T-Mobile Park (Seattle). The next two closest to the west coast are Chase Field in Phoenix and Coors Field in Denver.

On my way to San Diego this weekend, I stopped in Anaheim to see the Los Angeles Angels play the New York Mets. It was a toasty experience in 90º heat, but I found the stadium beautiful and the game itself was good. Going to a stadium surrounded entirely by parking lots is weird—I’ve grown used to Oracle Park and Target Field in Minneapolis, both nicely nestled within their cities—but the setup was nice. It feels good to check it off the list.

There’s No Such Thing as Bad Publicity

AUSTIN, TEXAS—Staring deep beyond his bathroom mirror, George Kurtz, CEO of Crowdstrike, repeated “There’s no such thing as bad publicity” under his breath. He let his head drop and began absentmindedly splashing water on his face, hoping the bags under his eyes would disappear before the back-to-back-to-back interviews that began the next hour.

Looking back up, he wiped down his face with a nearby hand towel embroidered with the phrase “Keep Austin Weird” and forced a haggard smile across his face.

“It was horrifying, seeing that smile,” said one anonymous witness. “It’s like he was auditioning for a new role as Joker.”

Kurtz began muttering to himself, with the comment “It’s just like Zoom during the pandemic” heard by passersby. He was seen thirty minutes later driving his Tesla Model X. Other drivers on the road noticed the man putting his head into his hands at every red light.

Later that day, Kurtz was seen staring at banks of computer monitors steeped in blue screens.

Octavia E. Butler’s “Parable” Duology

While looking for a new book to read from the library on the Libby app, the name Octavia E. Butler popped into my head. I don’t know when she first came into my awareness, but I searched her name and there was Parable of the Sower. Its various blurbs mentioned it alongside 1984 and Brave New World. I love alternative and dystopian fiction, so I was immediately sold.

After completing Parable of the Sower and its sequel, Parable of the Talents, I’m convinced that these are the most relevant pieces of dystopian fiction for the modern world precisely because they are not hyperbolic science fiction that acts as a metaphorical warning. Instead, their story is a grounded and horrific extrapolation of economic stratification mixed with modern democratic fascism.

Two elements keep these books close to modern reality in a way that would be considered cliche or overdone were they not written in the 1990s. First, they are set in California in the late 2020s and early 2030s, so the timeline immediately makes one think, “How does this apply to my life?” There are no extreme science fiction elements; computers are mentioned, but only in ways that still feel relevant. A professor runs classes online, and kids can look up information. There are jokes about push-button home phones. It is shockingly restrained and prescient in this way, which gives the impression that it’s an alternative history book written a couple of years ago. Second, the presidential candidate who (spoiler) gets elected runs the Church of Christian America and speaks in ways that imply action among its followers but he can never be accused of specifically inciting violence. One of his campaign slogans was indeed, “Make America Great Again”. A 2017 New Yorker article emphasizes this point in particular.

These books are profound, and their subject matter is serious. Though not needlessly graphic, they include many triggering events one would imagine in a dystopian novel: disease, death, slavery, and rape. Religion and zealotry are two key themes, and these books can be viewed as a beautiful and thoughtful study into how one can justify one’s religious beliefs in a world gone mad. That would have been my main takeaway if I had read these in high school. Instead, I read them a few months before a critical election, and my impression changed; I want more people to read these books, particularly Talents, which is written so that one can fully understand the story without reading Sower.

Give them a shot. It’s heavy material but written as a series of journal entries, which makes it feel more approachable. I found them impactful, meaningful, and worth sharing.

Morning Pages

I began writing morning pages in June. I first came across the concept via Pagi when they made a post about it being rejected by App Store review. It was a funny way to be introduced to a new creative method, but I didn’t give it additional attention. The idea was tossed into some filing cabinet in my memory.

Morning pages resurfaced in the second episode of Paper Places, a new podcast about writing on Relay FM. Hearing a conversation with actual writers let me more fully connect with the practice, and I decided to give it a shot. Every morning since June 3rd, I’ve taken time in the morning—not first thing, I do my puzzles before anything else—to sit down at a device1My default is my iPad, but my computer is close behind. I have successfully written them on my phone as well. and write about 1000 words, letting whatever pops into my head flow onto the page.

Unlike the official version of the practice, I don’t write these pages by hand. I have my evening journal for that. Instead, I focus on the overall goal of morning pages: dump my morning brain full of random thoughts and anxieties to an external spot so I can start the day feeling refreshed and centered. I often close my eyes while typing, treating it as a form of meditation. I recently read that meditation is more about acknowledging and dismissing unworthy thoughts than clearing one’s mind entirely, and that is where morning pages come in.

I don’t hit 1000 words each day. Some mornings I nearly forget to begin or lack the mood and ambition to do it, but I’ve continued to push on it. They have proven to be among the most valuable fifteen minutes I spend each day, particularly when I wake up feeling off in some intangible way. Morning pages often make those feelings quite tangible and addressable, and I can proceed with the day once I’m done.

It’s not clear whether morning pages, when taken seriously, will work for everyone. Writing is my most natural form of thinking and processing the world, but I can imagine other creative practices getting at a similar goal, if in a more abstract way. I’ve learned that it works for me. I’m happy I’ve tried it and intend to keep the routine.

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    My default is my iPad, but my computer is close behind. I have successfully written them on my phone as well.