Let us talk, for a second, about life.
I’m kidding. That’s far too broad for somebody like me. Instead, let’s talk about sex. Nah, let’s talk about Hollywood. Or maybe literature. Specifically, sci-fi/fantasy. I’ve had a lot going on in my head these past few days. The voices up there have formed an a cappella choir and are now singing gospel hymns and battle marches twenty-four-seven, so forgive me if I get a little self-indulgent. I’m reading at least four or five books at the same time. It used to be that I could pick one and focus on it, but now, that is no longer possible. Now, I start a book, put it down for weeks or months or even years at a time, and don’t pick it up again until the voices in my head have quieted down enough to make room for it. That’s basically how I organize my schedule. Whether or not I do something is dependent mostly on whether I can work up the energy to do it. If I can’t work up the energy, I just spend hours on the internet. Ah, the internet. What would I do without you?
I always seem to make the mistake of giving people what they want in the hopes that they will leave me alone. That never works, does it? Fanaticism, as a great fictional character once said, is forever busy and needs feeding. People will never leave you in peace if they need you to soothe their insecurities. So I tend to push back in the form of taunting bigots. (Not that any of them read this blog, but there is fun to be had in laughing at them.) One of my favorite discoveries of the past half-year or so is this blog, in which an evangelical Christian goes page-by-page through the Left Behind books and explains why they are not just bad literature, but bad theology. I have a bit of a weak spot for post-apocalyptic stuff. Some of my favorite genre literature is post-apocalyptic (A Canticle for Leibowitz, Earth Abides, Y: The Last Man, I could go on). I think what really appeals to me is the notion of having to rebuild civilization and discover what really tied it together in the first place. How would you survive if you didn’t have internet or running water and insane biker gangs were prowling the area? There are infinite possible answers to that one.
You can’t make people who are full of shit stop being full of shit. I have definitely figured that part out by now. Some people just like being contrarians. Of course, I find that aggravating because I often find myself holding the minority opinion, so I get tetchy when I have to deal with someone who clearly just likes telling other people how wrong they are. The best way to deal with that, as far as I can tell, is to just not back down. There is a time for compromise, but I’ve already compromised on quite a bit. You ever find yourself with so much free time that you don’t even know what to do with yourself? That is not exactly how I feel these days. I have Netflix and Spotify. There are so many movies/TV shows/albums that I must listen to, and I’m working through them ever so slowly. Where to begin? And more importantly, where to end?
I can spend an entire day reading the comments section under an online review of an episode of Game of Thrones. (Spoiler: everybody dies.) There are those who feel (actual spoilers here) that the shot of Daenerys crowd-surfing on the freed slaves of Yunkai was colonialist, as it implied that the brown savages just needed a strong white person to civilize them and show them the evils of slavery. I must respectfully disagree. While I’ll concede that the writing for that plotline was a bit simplistic (how exactly did sending three guys into the city incite a slave rebellion that freed all of them?), I kind of liked it anyway. Daenerys doesn’t like slavery, so when she comes to a place where slavery is legal, she frees the slaves, and they are grateful. Who wouldn’t be? The racial elements, for me, are incidental. After the Red Wedding, it was nice to see one character have a happy moment that wasn’t immediately ruined by wanton slaughter and mayhem. It could take me a while to unpack everything that happened last season, but I think splitting the third book up into two seasons might have been a good idea. A truly ridiculous amount of stuff happens in A Storm of Swords, and given what I’ve heard about books four and five, they could probably condense them into one season anyway.
I should have a job now. I got hired by Peet’s and am still waiting for them to get back to me about which location I’ll be stationed at. They assured me that I still have a job with them, so I hope it won’t be long now. I have debt payments coming up and all that shit. And since I spent about 80% of my time at my last job hoping my managers wouldn’t notice that I was on the internet, perhaps having a job where I have to actually do shit is a sort of karmic justice. Ironically, I don’t drink coffee much myself. I never got hooked on it, having pulled off the miraculous feat of making it all the way through grad school without needing it to wake up in the morning. So now, I just drink mochas occasionally for the taste.
I considered becoming a vlogger instead of a blogger, but performing–either in front of a camera or a live audience–is just too draining. It’s why I don’t act anymore, either. I do this instead. It’s fun, occasionally, but more importantly, it’s a relief. I scream at the world and occasionally, somebody screams back.