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Welcome to your virtual pub.
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denisdailyfan
[Christmas]
Is it bad when I know what I want for the holiday's before the holiday's come, but when they are near, I forget what I want?
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asukaW
Swamped
Hey Midnight... Been a while.
I've been swamped recently. Coursework piled up, and I rushed to get ahead on it to have some me time. I got on top of it, but it's still not completely done. I've got it under control, though. I'm actually really proud of what I'm working on since part of my coursework this semester is an independent study. It's a good way to bring my college experience to a close.
In the thick of it all, my best friend moved away. No big deal really. I've been at school for the past 3 years, so it's not like we've never been apart. It's just weird knowing my greatest confidant is halfway across the country instead of an hour away. I'm fortunate enough to have others, and I make an effort to keep up with them, but it's still strange.
I'm also under a lot of pressure to figure out what I'm doing after graduation as well. I feel very overwhelmed with options, and the consequences of each are huge. It doesn't help that I tend to put of making tough decisions. There's a lot of anxiety surrounding applications, interviews, and what jobs are "good." I'll figure it out, but it's a tough road.
So that leaves me swamped 3 ways by academics, emotions, and my future career. Luckily, I've gotten away from spending every waking moment working, and I don't feel guilty playing games with the boys, hiking, or catching up with college friends. Good stuff. Cheers, Midnight!
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TomAger
Hello
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BrightBlue
Chugging along with this year's NaNoWriMo novel, and loving it.
I've also started playing around with fountain pens and bottled ink and all the _ accoutrements _ of writing like it's 1899. The results are...expected:
This ink looks much better on paper than on my fingers, for the record.
My handwriting is still atrocious, but I still find joy in slowing down, taking time and care to do something simple and basic like _writing on paper_. It won't make my writing more legible, but if I want to write legibly I can just type. This is more about the experience. Or something.
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tmo
goodbye old normal, hello new normal
And also, there is no "normal". I mean, I'm a stay-at-home lazy homebody who spends way too much time online, anyway - so when COVID hit The States in March 2020, it didn't really change my routine. But WFH life is too much for many people to tolerate, and I can understand that. But, for anyone looking for a "normal" in 2020 (or 2021, to be honest), the best you, I, or anyone can do is to adapt and get into some sort of routine. It's a hell of an understatement to say that the pandemic is a burden - it's a pandemic, essentially one of the worst things that can happen to humankind. But with the state of things being as they are, there are always silver linings to most everything. It just depends on perspective, I suppose. And though there is no path, or tips, or tricks towards how the world can feel "normal" (not a tangible thing) again - one thing almost *everyone* has control of is their mindset and routine(s). Perhaps I say this because I have had so many groundshaking, ruthless upsets in my life - and have had my surroundings, relationships, and sanity uprooted on so many occassions in my 36 years. But keeping a positive mental attitude is indeed the only thing that has kept me going in my time.
Don't sweat the petty. Be safe. Be smart. Be kind.
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hurricane
Entrance
Haven't been here in a while, even though I peek in almost every day to see what others are up to. I feel like my words have lost value, but that implies that there was value in them in the first place which really there isn't. It takes a reader to give them value or importance. Even the online diary I keep has just become a list of things I've done or wanted to do in a day plus internet ephemera. I would stop writing entries but it's still nice to be able to look back and have an idea of what I did, even though it doesn't feel very meaningful.
Last night I watched a live stream concert of Ezra Furman which inspired me to start writing poetry again. While people do NaNoWriMo, I try to write a poem every day in November in some sense of solidarity with other writers dedicating time and attention to their artwork. I stand here trying to think of how I want to start today's poem.
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BrightBlue
I've always been a fan of "working with the garage door open" so that people can see the mess I'm making. To that end I'm putting my NaNoWriMo project for 2020 up on a blog in more-or-less real time.
It's currently called [Exchange Magic](https://write.as/exchange-magic/) but that's definitelly just a working title, and I'd welcome any suggestions for a _better_ title. Or really any other comments you may have.
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zed
Katsuki Sekida was a strange cat.
My first introduction to Zen was via a book called "Zen Training - Methods and Philosophy" by Sekida, and. It's. Weird.
In my limited opinion, it's equal parts genuine insight, and mad rambling fuelled by kind of hyper-systematic-approach to things that seems to come from Japan. His notes on attitude, mood, existence, kensho, breathing, there's a thread and weave of a lay Zen master throughout the book, no doubt.
This is paried with some original concepts that are both brilliant, but possibly huge obstacles to the kind of engagement with the "nothing", "void", "eternal now" that Zen hunts for. Take Nen for example.
Nen was Sekida's unpacking of moment to moment awareness. I've seen it referenced in other books, but never heard of it before Sekida documenting it. The following is a snapshot I found of one of the diagrams he uses to explain it:
<https://i.stack.imgur.com/0n4tI.png>
This seems to be a mash up of pure-awareness with some other mechanisms from psychology and physiology (as a lot of the entries in the book are), and it's pretty clever. The layers of Nen roughly align to "Awareness, Experience, Memory", and it does a lot of good in explaining how different subjective experiences can arise as a result of the different perspectives of what is right in front of you.
The thing is, on reflection it's a terrible way to be introduced to Zen. Zen has a lot of finesse, and a lot that masters avoid talking directly about so students don't get hung up on words, phrases, techniques. The entire Buddhist canon attached to it can be tricky enough to navigate, and what Zen Training does is add a huge volume of technical process to both the physical and mental practices in Zen.
I think Zen is best practiced "from scratch", as in, learn as little as you can about it then spend a lot of time sitting, investigating the moment, investigating yourself. Adding layers and layers of technique and practice is almost a "pleasant distraction" from doing these core activities that could keep you busy for a decade before you realise they are just "ash on snow", or more concepts layered onto your already conceptual existence. This is my main beef with the book.
As a comparison though, Sekida's translation of the Blue Cliff Record (in the title Two Zen Classics) feels a lot more spirited and lively than someone like Clearly, Cleary's being a stronger academic text but lacking the (something) that Sekida brings to the table. I think this is because of Sekida's passion or experience of the practice itself, and something about doing a translation vs an original work "reigned in" a lot of his wilder ideas (though, he still makes reference to Zen Training to explain concepts during the text).
Given the choice again though, I'd have someone teach me Shikantaza and then say "now fuck off and practice, and never read another word about this topic" =)
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nsilvestri
Haven't been here in a while. I can't give any reason why. Been busy, I suppose, but not with anything that I needed to be busy with: I started playing _Old School RuneScape_ again. Again, no reason why. Just felt like it.
I also landed a new job. Recruiter sent me a message on LinkedIn. Initially, I ignored it. Not sure why. At some point I realized it was a lot closer to where I am trying to direct my career, and honestly, recruiters are a lot easier to land jobs with than applying with resumes. Two interviews later and I have accepted an offer. Starting December. That's exciting. I'm ready for the change.
To balance that out, someone I have been casually dating this summer moved away, to another city a ways across the country. She's between jobs. Lost her insurance in a job switch. Couldn't afford her medication. Attempted to commit suicide. Or maybe her plans were intercepted by her friend. The story is unclear, she's not telling, and I'm not prying. She was going to kill herself on my birthday. Coincidence; she didn't know. I prefer my birthday be untainted by tragedy. Now she's involuntarily admitted to an institution.
I talked with her on the phone for about two hours yesterday. She says she should have followed through with it. I tell her I'm glad she didn't. She asks: "why?". Why? Because I care about her. "Why do you care about me?" I'll be damned if I have an answer. I don't have a choice in who I care about. It's the way things are.
Why rarely provides a satisfying answer. If you continue down the why-question spiral you can only arrive at the following conclusions: 1. it's the way things are, and 2. life is meaningless and the universe is arbitrary. Those aren't good answers. Stop asking why. Ask: who, what, when, where, and how. Fuck why.
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tmo
Lounge
One Halloween
This isn't the scariest story you've ever read, or even scary at all, but it is my first "memorable" Halloween that I can recall. Enjoy
Halloween is my favorite time of year. Even though I grew up in a strict Catholic household, my parents weren't *that* dogmatic to the point where I, a seemingly normal kid, couldn't go out and trick-or-treat when Halloween rolled around.
Many were typical, but one year I went "all-out" when I dressed up as the Terminator shortly after the release of T2 (which I saw in theatres) (1991, maybe?). Anyway, I had this mask that had an eye that lit up, and I was supposed to cut the mask down to fit in the upper portion of my face, and we used some pale "goo" to make the mask stick to my face. That, and my leather jacket and some black jeans and boots, and I was all set. The coolest looking 8 year old on the block!
We did out usual rounds of trick-or-treating on my street, Woodland Trails, and the neighboring street, Clark - but then when it came time to head up to the "rich" houses (in Fon Du Lac Estates), we decided to go the opposite route at the dead end of Woodland Trails and cut through a neighbor's yard to the "backroad". I am still not even sure what the name of the backroad was. It was a street that went on forever and every so often a gravel driveway would appear and it would go to a fairly isolated house. Upon a dare from a kid named Kevin (the oldest among us), we would take turns walking down every other driveway and knocking on the door for candy. Surprisingly, most of the houses had *bowls* of candy outside the front door (as I guess they didn't want to bother to answer the door themselves). But still, the fact that they were even prepared for trick-or-treaters was pretty nice of them. So, knowing full well that there would literally be no other trick-or-treaters in that area at that hour (well past sundown), I helped myself to as much candy as I liked. Then, I bolted down the driveway back to my group of friends who would greet with with the usual "why are you running? Are you *scared* or something?"
One house had a garage outfitted with lights, and hay bales, and all kinds of Halloween-esque stuff, and they were clearly "open" for anyone to come through and experience their ad-hok "haunted house". We were all up for it, but ironically, it was Kevin, the oldest kid, who was too scared to walk up the driveway so no one went.
The night went well and I filled a pillow case with tons of candy, came home and put on Garfield's Halloween Special (which I later looked up in adulthood, and it was from 1986, but they "re-ran" the special on Halloween on a local television station every year when I was growing up).
I would think that after a night of trick-or-treating that so and so would stay the night at so and so's house and just stay awake all night getting stoned on refined sugar, but instead I was off to my house where my two (much) older sisters were either out at a party, or keeping to themselves and I sat on the thin, red carpet of my poorly-decorated bedroom and sat and chowed down on Reese's, Snickers, Mars Bars, Gummy Worms, those little plastic bottles with the "candy cola" inside, Dots (little sugary circles attached to a piece of paper), and when I needed to settle my stomach from all the candy, I would simply chew gum until I was ready for Round 2, and then Round 3, and on and on until the sun came up and I was quasi-anebreated from lack of sleep and corn syrup poisoning! LOL!
The morning after Halloween no one talks about. Skipped breakfast, usually in bed until noon because I stayed up the entire night before, a million candy wrappers sitting at the foot of the bed, headaches, stomach aches - it was like experiencing a hangover long before I was able to drink! But it also meant November, 1 - which meant it was the month of my birthday - which meant when I *DID* gather myself and no longer felt ill from sugar, I would go into the living room and dig out a Sears or JC Penny catalog and start "shopping" for things I wanted for my birthday.
Fun times, indeed. And I never remember any type of adult supervision past the age of seven when I was trick-or-treating. The world may have been "safer" back then (though, in reality, it was probably even *More* dangerous, in some respects), but it certainly felt like a "wheels off" type of childhood compared to the youth of today, some of which probably never even learned to ride a bike. Haha. But that is neither here nor there. I can just say that *I* had an OK childhood, and made some good memories.
Stay safe, and Happy Halloween! :)