A pointless post about TV

Sparkly and I have been on-and-off watching (as it becomes available online without paying an extra fee) a show called The Knick. It’s about a struggling hospital in 1920s (?) New York (?). The main cast includes the head something of the hospital who’s deep in gambling debt, a surgeon who’s addicted to various drugs, the first black doctor in the hospital, an ambulance driver who also sells dead bodies, and a nun who does abortions.

It’s actually not particularly gory, which I appreciate, but there is a lot of sex on screen. Sparkly thinks it’s amusing and cheers whenever there’s a sex scene.

Some quick thoughts about books

Some of which probably won’t make sense if you haven’t read the books in question, sorry.

There really is no succinct way (possibly no way at all?) to describe the Burke series without making it sound completely unbelievably ridiculous. And yet while I was reading them they seemed 100% serious and true and important.

When I read the Dragonlance books I thought Raistlin was way more interesting than Caramon, but thinking back I am really happy that Caramon exists and is as well-developed a character as he is. The authors clearly took him seriously even though I didn’t when I read the books. And I identify with him, at least at this point in my life. If I were the type of person to think of myself as split into separate people (for whatever reason, I seem to very much not be that type of person) one of them would be Caramon and one of them would be Raistlin.

I remember a few years ago– before I read The Thirteenth Child— trying to come up with characters I identify with for some quiz, and the only one that came to mind was St. Vier from Ellen Kushner’s Riverside books. And that’s not the aspect of his character that I was thinking of at the time, but still. There are some patterns here.

One of the cool things about Code Name Verity is that it doesn’t fall into that pattern– the main characters are both super shiny admiring of each other, and they both have very different talents and faults, but the book is overall pretty neutral on comparing them to each other. There isn’t a leader and a follower, or an Actually Cool One and a Less Cool One.

Sometimes I say that the closest I’ve ever come to a religious experience is music.

I saw something on Tumblr today that got me thinking. What if that was allowed to count as a religious experience, without qualifiers? What if I considered the things I have wibbly feelings about to actually be important and meaningful because I feel that way about them?


The lack of meaningful posts here can be attributed to me working more, I think. And Sparkly being at home more, maybe. IDK. I’m making more money, though, which is good, because we need it for when we move.

And speaking of, I know very few people read this but I might as well:

Do you make videos? Maybe for a blog or a Youtube channel? Would you like them to have captions? Have you noticed that Youtube’s automatic captions are pretty horrible?

I would love to caption your stuff for you. If you’re interested, my email is on the “contact me” page.

Music again

I have a song in one of my Spotify playlists that Sparkly knows how to play on piano– ey actually played it for a competition once, when we were both in high school.

Every so often, I have it on when ey is around, and I remind em that yes, I know ey played that song once, that’s why I have it, because I like it and it reminds me of em.

I want to write fiction more. I’ve been very slowly working on this one thing, and I think I have it outlined in a way that makes sense now. It was a “I want this character to do X, but why would he do that, and how long would it take for him to make up his mind?” sort of problem.

About meltdowns and dealing with stress

Once when I was little, like maybe first or second grade, my mom tried doing my hair in “rag curls”– braiding and tying it up with fabric scraps while it was wet, then having me sleep on it.

When I first woke up it was of course a huge mess, and for whatever reason that REALLY bothered me. I went in the bathroom and locked the door, and spent what seemed like a long time being viciously disgusted by how my hair looked, sobbing myself silly, calming down slightly and then seeing myself in the mirror again, and repeat.

There was no way I’d be able to untie and detangle it myself, and I wouldn’t let my mom in to do it, partly because I didn’t want anyone to see it and partly just because I was too upset.

This is the only time I remember having a really dramatic meltdown over anything.

So, this is a thing. I have the potential to go around and around in circles thinking about something that upsets me– not venting and then feeling better, not thinking of solutions to a problem, just thinking the same thoughts over and over about something that I can’t stand to think about, and not stopping until I’m totally exhausted. I don’t have screaming meltdowns about it, and I don’t even cry about it that often, but it’s a path that my brain can easily get stuck in.

It sucks. I don’t want it to happen and I don’t enjoy it.

So I don’t. I try not to dwell on things that bother me. If I am going to think about things that bother me, I try to focus on productive things like “what can I do about this” or “what should have been done instead/what should happen next time” or “why is this incorrect” or “why does this bother me”.

Sometimes that takes effort, sometimes it’s basically a reflex and I don’t even think about whether the thing in question would have actually bothered me That Much if I dwelled on it. Mostly I am very good at not dwelling on things.

I’m not sure what flips the switch in my brain between “writing about this will help me think through it” and “writing about this feels like rehashing it pointlessly” but that’s a thing that happens.

So, Sparkly, if you were wondering if I was going to write about recent stuff, I’m not going to at the moment, because… I guess I feel like I don’t have anything more, different, to say about it? And I’m tired, and going back over what I’ve said before feels like work. I might write about it later though.