Something that will Only Happen Once

Random Missives

I just saw on the Internet that the city I live in is 16 miles from Detroit.

Sixteen miles!  That kinda makes me proud.  ;)

Oo, and if the zombie outbreak starts downtown (which we all suspect it will; be honest), we’ll have at least a little time to prepare before the first wave of ‘em.

The chainmail addiction is definitely in full swing.  Wove byzantine chain last night until I ran out of that size rings, and then got frustrated at running out, even though it was almost 1 in the morning by then.  Augh my package needs to get here!  Some part of my obsession-addled brain insists that it’s not here yet because my closures aren’t good enough, and I’ve caught myself mumbling, Gollum-style, They’re getting better, yessss… Almost half is perfect, yes, perfect…NO!  NO NOT GOOD ENOUGH!  The Precious stays away from ussss!  It will not come!!  Waaauggggurgle.

Ahem.  I’m sure this phase, er, passes.  I’d hate to have to put "hefty supply of rings and pliers" on the list of things I absolutely need in order to not go postal.  Or get mixed up in organized crime so I can afford it.

That just reminded me:  If you’re at all a Terry Pratchett fan, and have not yet read Going Postal, DO.  I’ve decided that it’s my favorite, along with the ten others that are my favorites.  But it’s near the top, definitely, mostly because not only is it a kickass story and hilarious, but unlike a lot of TP’s work, this one doesn’t peter out at the end.  The end is quite fabulous; I devoured every page of that one.

Watch Out for Fall Colors:

By the way, in case it interests anyone, today is my 30th birthday.  ::whistles copyrighted song:: 

This means that I’ve officially made it 12 years past the point where everyone was betting I’d end up in jail or a loony bin.  Heh. 

My favorite thing about this phase of life is how thick everything seems — I feel like I could keep digging and learning things forever and never get far enough in.  Life used to seem relatively flat and either boring or intimidating, but lately I’ve been digging up all these things that I think I’d be content to study and practice for an aeon or so:  taiji, kung fu, yoga, chainmail, piano, singing, poetry (from both sides), other languages (I don’t know any yet, but only because I can’t afford to properly learn — it’s coming though!) … anyway, this is significantly different from how I felt when I was a kid (bored bored bored), a teenager (depressed and despairing), and a young adult (busy, breathless and confused). 

Prescient Epistemological Changes (which is both appropriate, and a joke; it’s an actual chapter-heading in one of my papers):

Also, I’ve been feeling more, um, connected to my younger self than I used to.  This could be an effect of age, or of too much philosophy .. ;)  …But it is funny; when I was younger I always felt relatively "isolated" in my identity in time:  I was me now, and me-way-back-when seemed like someone else.  Now I can feel much more of the progression, and "being me" feels like something that stretches both back and forward in time.  I wonder if that’s what people mean when they talk about "feeling old".  I wouldn’t call it that, though; I feel…bigger, not "older".

No Golden Polyphasic Calves:

(I don’t suppose I need to add that I slept in today.  It’s my birthday!  Geez.)