mary, mary, quite contrary

I’m a contrarian. I don’t do it on purpose. There’s just something in my brain that hears an opinion or a thing accepted as fact and can’t help but play devil’s advocate and ask: what if it wasn’t?

It’s an absurd desire to see the other, that I can’t quite avoid. I used to call it opening worlds, and that’s a good an explanation as any, but it comes down to this. Whatever the view is, I want to see the other one.

Or another one. There’s rarely just two. It means constant growth, and it avoids dogma, but it does tend to put one on the outs with everyone else.

Always asking the question: what are the other ways to look at this? What if it’s not?

What if there’s another way?

What if there’s a hundred?

What about a thousand?

What if it’s infinite?

It’s taken me a long time to get used to the idea that this will never end, that there can be no end to perspective and questions.

And if puts me at odds with humanity, well, so fucking be it.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1026 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear (finally, enjoyed it, but too much interference)
Comics: The Sacrificers 6, The Holy Roller 2-4
Music: Wasting Light, Foo Fighters

introspective return

Being up north, as frustrating as it can be at times (family, am I right?), always leaves me introspective, and as we wound back down highway 11 toward home, I could help but think:

Has chastising someone for saying something politically incorrect ever actually worked?

My mom said Indian; my sister-in-law barked INDIGENOUS at her, with vitriol, like my mother was some raging bigot who wasn’t just stuck in the habit of saying Indian for over seventy years.

I see this all the time online and every time, I think, and you wonder why people radicalize away from you?

One could say, “I think they go by indigenous now,” in a nice, non-condescending tone, thereby sparking a conversation and education that ends amicably with at least one party elevated with an updated viewpoint, to hopefully, do better the next time around. If that party still resists at that point, and won’t listen to an updated viewpoint, well, then, yeah, okay. Maybe you got a bigot.

But most people aren’t that bad, and by escalating so quickly, and implying that they are horrible people right off the hop, well, you’re invalidating everything they are in favour of a label of bigot, fascist, whatever other horrible thing you’d like to use, over something that more often than not, is more micro than macro-aggression.

Think of it like this: you probably don’t think you’re a bad person. You likely don’t think you’re perfect, you might even think of yourself as being flawed or broken or screwed-up, but you probably don’t think you’re evil. You might think you make everyone’s lives worse, but that’s because you’re a fuck-up who can’t get their shit together, and not because you’re, you know, Hitler.

But let’s say one day that you use the word (and let’s keep it kind of ridiculous here) “ginger”.

And maybe a family member immediately turns to you and escalates, labelling you an absolute bigot, and telling that they go by “rouged” now, and that using ginger makes you a horrible racist and probably supportive of all the anti-trans, homophobic, sexist nonsense out there, and a Republican while you’re at it.

Now, you, even thinking you’re kind of a loser, probably don’t think that of yourself. And so, how do you respond?

Like pretty well everyone does when they feel they’ve been unjustly accused – defensively.

You get your back up. You get defensive because this person is trying to invalidate all the good parts of you, that no matter how screwed up you are, at your core, you know you’re not that, not EVIL, and reduce you down to this one thing – rougephobic.

And with that, all the other nonsense that gets conflated with one level of bigotry. If you’re transphobic, you must be anti-gay as well. You must hate lesbians and black people and Latinos and women. If you’re a women, you must be a TERF and probably pro-life as well.

Of course, you know you’re not that, so even if you don’t say it out loud, you push back. You internalize your indignation and all of a sudden, all these disingenuous assholes talking about the elitist left looking down their nose at you, start making a bit more sense. And you’re sucked in, a little more each time it happens, until you’re a full blown Trumper (I mean, hopefully not that far, but imagine this isn’t just one person doing this to you – it’s a million people, a literal million, in some cases, online, constantly, without cease. How far down the rabbit hole might you go in your anger at being unjustly labelled Evil).

And all this is knowing that if they’d just said, “I think they go by rouged now” in an informative and non-judgmental way, sparking a brief, but important conversation, you might have avoided any of that, avoided the defensive trigger response and even possibly, gained an ally.

Education, not condemnation. These are the keys to winning back those on the edge, those that just maybe need a little bit of knowledge, rather than vilification.

These are the things I think about as I drive.

And they’re the things that are killing the left – why we get smaller every day, while the lunatics swell in size.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1256 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear
Comics: A Righteous Thirst For Vengeance 10, Deadly Class 54-55, The Scumbag 14
Music: The Warrior's Code, Dropkick Murphys

there was nothing good about today

Nothing. I’ll write up a whole thing tomorrow about our baby girl and how much she meant to us, but I’m dehydrated from tears and the sweat of digging a grave in thirty-degree-celsius heat (not to mention lack of sleep), and I’ve got a pounding headache.

Suffice it to say, we’ve lost something beautiful today, and my heart hangs in tattered shreds.

People say they’re just animals, but fuck them. Anyone who doesn’t understand the love between a person and their pet is emotionally stunted.

You might as well take your heart and throw it in a river, for all the good it’s doing, you soulless jerk.

Sorry, I’ve never gotten over the comment about our first loss: “It’s just a cat.”

Fuck you, bitch. Fuck you.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1048 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Rocket Ship Galileo, Robert Heinlein
Comics: Death Or Glory 11, Low 23-25
Music: Warp Bootleg, CKY

martyrs and charlatans

I once saw a chart that showed someone who worked super hard but made no connections versus someone who didn’t work, but made nothing but connections, and basically, it stuck them in two categories.

All work and no connection creates self-imposed martyrdom, while all connection and no work creates charlatans. Bullshitters versus drudge horses, with those that can find the balance (working hard and creating worthwhile things versus connecting with fans, with industry leaders and insiders, in a genuine, non-bullshit manner) as the true exceptions, the step above the rest. A martyr can find its work recognized and suddenly reach popularity, only to flame out over time (but still leaving behind good work).

A charlatan can become popular for nothing, and lose everything and be leave nothing behind.

I’m a martyr right now, that’s for sure.

May I never be a charlatan.

May I someday find the balance.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1114 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Odds On, John Lange (Michael Crichton)
Comics: Deadly Class 37-38, Black Science 39, Low 21
Music: War, U2

old friends

Even if they’re not mine, it’s nice. You’ve been through enough together that it can be a nice, genuine evening.

Or fraught, if the relationship was a perilous one.

My wife has seen both ends of that spectrum this week, and honestly, it’s so refreshing to be around people without all the weird family politics or selfish interests.

You’re just catching up.

It’s nice.

People should be nicer to each other.

Less fighting. Less either/or.

More us and.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1389 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Grass Is Singing, Doris Lessing
Comics: Black Science 31-33, Deadly Class 31
Music: Waiting For Herb, The Pogues

yesterday’s revelation

I realize that may have been too much to share yesterday about my wife.

The thing is, I’ve punched way above my weight in that category, so I’m quite proud of our relationship.

She’s capable and smart, she’s got a great heart and a good sense of humour.

And yeah, pretty darn hot.

So, I lucked out.

I’m not going to take it for granted or play it down. I’ve done pretty well for myself in that category; much better than those whose relationships (and I know so many of them) revolve around the stale notion of guys vs. girls, “Take my wife. Please.”

Honestly, if that’s your idea of a great relationship, well, shit, people.

You have got a bad relationship, and you’ve somehow convinced yourself otherwise.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1184 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
Comics: Low 11-12, Deadly Class 19, Black Science 21
Music: Exile On Main Street, The Rolling Stones

watching my wife work out

I mean, I don’t know what it is, but watching her do her exercises for her arms and wrist, as part of her rehab.

Yeah. I’m into it.

Like, waaaaay into it.

It’s nice to know that the magic still lives.

If you need me, I’ll be busy ogling the woman I married.

Damn.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 706 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
Comics: Deadly Class 17-18, Black Science 19-20
Music: Exile In Guyville, Liz Phair

the one day in the office

Yeehaw, called in sick Monday so we could take the grandbaby out for waffles, and yesterday was a stat day, so only one day in the office.

Now, if only my laptop bag didn’t smell so horribly like cat pee.

My life is one walking travesty after another, punctuated by brief moments of joy that I can barely enjoy.

Depression’s a monster.

The black dog sucks the joy out of everything.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1888 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Agent To The Stars, John Scalzi
Comics: Black Science 10, Low 4-5, Deadly Class 9
Music: Everything Under The Sun, Sublime

well, that was exhausting

But, congratulations to my youngest niece, now a high school grad and on her way to the big time.

Honestly, we couldn’t be any more proud of her and her sister.

We’ve watched them grow up, had them over weekly, as much as possible, since they were wee, and to have had that bond with them has been so incredible. It’s been really nice that they still wanted to, right up until they’re off for college.

We genuinely assumed that like most teenagers, by the time they hit high school, at least, they’d be too cool for us. But my wife and my younger niece have forged a wonderful bond, and even though we don’t talk as much as we used to, the elder one and I have always had similar interests (heavy readers, obscure music, etc).

Sometimes, change kinda sucks.

But I know it’s going to be exciting for them in their futures, and I hope to god, it’s not turned into a living nightmare by someone who doesn’t give a fuck.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1213 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Agent To The Stars, John Scalzi
Comics: Black Science 7-8, Low 1-2
Music: Everybody In The Place, The Prodigy

nieces and grads and granddaughters, oh my

It’s going to be a long day, dealing with the usurper of babies and my niece’s graduation party and pool time with the granddaughter.

All this is true.

All this is fun.

Fuck it.

So tired, but still worth it.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 835 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Agent To The Stars, John Scalzi
Comics: Black Science 6, Deadly Class 4-6
Music: Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge, Mudhoney