Day: January 20, 2017

The Portal

The portal was opened too much

admitting too many sights and sounds

distracting and drawing

thoughts and energy

from where they were proposed to be.

So he narrowed his focus.

But it remained too wide

permitting in conversations and laughter

and news and sounds

of cars and trucks

and people and animals

distracting and drawing

his attention

from it was supposed to be.

So he narrowed his focus.

Then all he could see were his words

all he could hear were his sounds

all that troubled him were his thoughts

and all there seemed to be

was his voice

and his typing

as his fingers skated and checked across the keyboard.

This seemed just right.

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The Fitbit Effect

“You’ve won your penguin award,” the email said, or something like that. “You’ve walked seventy miles already! That’s the same distance the emperor penguin walks each year,” or something.

It was an email from Fitbit. Cool, seventy miles, I thought, in two weeks. Not great, but I’ll take it. Besides those emails with odd ‘awards’ and progress announcements, the Fitbit has had some interesting influences.

My wife and I each have a Fitbit and wear them continuously, except to recharge. Recharging is required about every five days. It takes one to two hours, but damn it, I was chuffed: that is one to two hours where my activity isn’t being counted. I’M BEING CHEATED.

We’ve taken to jogging around the house, ensuring the right arm, where we wear the Fitbit, swings forward and back. We often jog in place as we’re doing things. “Hey, did you read the news?” she asked, jogging in place. “No,” I answered, jogging toward her and then jogging in place as we chatted. “What news?”

We’re both right-handed so we’ve both figured out how to do things with our left hand instead of our right hand, and continue jogging in place. Making coffee and popcorn, cooking in general, getting the mail, the newspaper, emptying the trash and recycle…brushing our teeth. I’ve drawn the line at shaving my face and drinking liquids.

Everything is taken as an opportunity to add steps. Where we used to empty the car in one or two loads after shopping, to minimize the number of trips, we now carry less so we can maximize the required trips.

It’s insane. 

It also seems a little addictive.

I’ve entered into competition with myself – I did fourteen thousand steps yesterday – go for fifteen thousand today! – along with a spousal competition. “How many steps have you done today?” my wife asked this morning, after returning from her Y work-out.

I’d been expecting this. “I’m at four thousand.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m at forty-one hundred.”

We both started running.

4

Her Mission

He was young, maybe, I don’t know, sixteen or seventeen, using limited impressions: long light brown hair, no split ends, clear and firm white flesh, a slender jean-encased body with a hoodie.

She was black and young looking, on a leash. Racing along with her long ears flying and flapping, she was pulling him down the street. Riding a skateboard, he hung onto her leash with one hand and clutched an acoustic guitar in his other hand. “Wait, Rachel, wait,” he called.

Pink tongue exposed, she slowed and glanced back in a questioning canine grin. When he said no more, she turned her head back and accelerated her young, muscular body, intent on her mission, regardless of what he wanted.

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Unusual Dream

I dream a lot. I remember a lot of dreams. My dreams tend toward consistent themes, symbols, objects and settings. That makes them comfortable and helpful. So this dream, last night, was different.

One, I wasn’t in it.

Two, it was about aliens.

I don’t dream usually dream about aliens. Perhaps I have and I don’t remember it now. Maybe I will with more thought.

The dream was odd in its structure, too. My voice was in the dream but I wasn’t ever seen. No people were seen. No creatures were seen.

Short, the dream opened with a screen. It felt tense. On the screen was a black and white maze with thick black lines around fat white alleys. “What is this?” I can be heard to ask. Others can be heard asking the same question.

It’s material, I realize. This isn’t a maze; it’s a diagram of materials. “It’s the aliens,” I hear someone say.

“You’re right,” I answer, having an epiphany. “It’s the aliens. They’re going to show us how they’ll do it.”

The screen changed as I spoke. Some of the white maze alleys inflated and changed color, becoming aubergine. “They’re applying heat,” I said. “The materials are reacting to the heat. They want us to know what they’re going to do and how they do it.”

“Oh,” others said, agreeing and understanding.

The alien screen returned to its original configuration. The entire process was repeated.

“But why?” someone asked. “What are they showing us?”

Watching the maze, I realized, “That’s them. Part of the maze is them. Or they are part of the maze. Applying heat changes the structure. That isolates them. Then they’ll be able to safely mind meld with us.”

“Ahhh,” others said.

I was satisfied in the dream, whereupon I awoke, clueless about what it means. This is going to require a lot of reflection.

I may need more coffee.

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Today’s Theme Music

This song, and the album it was on, blasted in on us in the summer of 1995.

I was stationed at Onizuka Air Station (a place also once called Sunnyvale Air Station and Onizuka Air Base), working as Director, QAF for the 750th Space Group. A young airman was working at his desk, radio on, as I walked by; this song was playing. I stopped down to listen, and then laughed and said, “Holy shit.” It was one of those songs that shocked me into instant memory. I listened for it on the radio as I was driving arrive the bay, and cranked it up whenever it came on.

The song starts out so gently, confessional and non-confrontational, but then it rises with unmasked, almost uncontrolled rage and contempt, a thematic approach repeated several times in the song. Listening, it feels like an emotional stream of consciousness that zigzags between confrontation, reconciliation and coping, someone trying to release their pain and bitterness even as they search for understanding.

This is Alanis Morissette with ‘You Oughta Know’ from ‘Jagged Little Pill’. 

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