We Are Cooking in a Stew of Germs*

With all the /waves hands/ news going around about the Coronavirus (Covid-19), and it looks like it's happening (it's happening!), we should talk about how to stay as safe and healthy as possible.

First

Wash your hands. Every time you go to the bathroom, wash your hands. Before you eat, wash your hands. After you touch a bunch of stuff other people have touched, wash your hands.

Basically, wash your damn hands.

Second

While I'm on the subject of washing things, wash your stuff.

Net Neutrality = Internet Equality

Image from Man, Machine and a... Cat Riding a Unicorn?!?!? - Trials Fusion - IGN Plays Live

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Darling! It's been so very long!

Dear readers,

I hope you've been having a lovely year.

During the time since my last post, I've been thinking a lot about what constitutes an Apocalypse.

The word invokes images of fire raining down from the sky, Marlon Brando, and bunnies. It screams of the ground opening up to swallow cities. It bellows about the oceans flooding to reclaim entire swaths of land. It screeches about missiles and bombs.

Goals, shmoals

This year, because I missed my goals so roundly last year, I decided not to write a piece about my
goals or resolutions this year. I have some - of course I have some - I just don't want to share them. (Some of them are repeats from last year.)

I would like to review my (stated) goals from last year and let you know where I stand on them.

Let's Just Stop And Ask For Directions, Shall We?

Lately, I've been thinking a lot lately about what an apocalypse is. And, in doing so, what surviving anypocalypse means.

One of the definition entries on Dictionary.com for apocalypse is a "prophetic revelation, especially concerning a cataclysm in which the forces of good permanently triumph over the forces of evil." I picture the Avengers, the X-Men, the Justice League, and that lot fighting sentient robots hell bent on destroying man, hate-mongering tyrants, and genius lunatics with money and weapons.

Complications, you say?

From burke and spenn

Way back in January, I wrote a post about having goals rather than resolutions, I Resolve To Have Goals. If you haven't read it, go do that now. I'll wait...Back? Okay, good.

Most of the SMART goals I listed seemed very reasonable. At the time, they were very reasonable. But, I fouled the whole thing up.
I forgot one crucial part of life: Monkey Wrenches.

I Will Relax in the Garden at Midnight

Sometimes a girl needs to kick back, toss off the Manolos, put up her feet, and chill.

Back in May of 2012, I wrote an article about how to take a vacation in a world where the apocalypse could happen at any moment. I discussed how to plan a vacation that will not leave you unprepared if the apocalypse should decide that your vacation is a good time to happen.

I am on the verge of taking a vacation! I leave in a few short hours.

Truth time: I'm not very good at vacations. I do the packing okay. I usually bring everything I need (e.g. - toothbrush, comb, body wash, a book). I always bring the things I don't actually need (e.g. - computer, tablet, four paperback books). I get there and back fine as well.

Forsyth Park, Savannah, GA from International Atlantic Economic Society

It's that part in between leaving and coming back, the part where I'm supposed to relax that I run into trouble. You see, I tend to be a Worrier. I get that worrying is a misuse of creative energy (credit to someone on a Podcast for saying that; I think it was someone on a Nerdist episode), but that doesn't mean I can just shut that off.

Is it irrational to fear spiders bursting out of a pimple on my cheek a la The Believers? Yes, of course it is. However, I will have nightmares tonight because I thought of that movie and wrote those words.

For this trip, I am taking measures to fend off the darkness of my imagination. Actually, fend off might be misleading: the plan is to distract that part of my brain. To funnel the worry energy into entertaining activities as well as creative ones.

We didn't rent a car, so I will be able to work off some of the nervous energy that, even now, I feel building inside my gut, its muscles tensing, pulling in on themselves, getting ready to pounce. (Or, it's that Moscow Mule I am drinking. I think it's the Worry Panther in there though.) I am, of course, also bringing my laptop. While I haven't decided whether or not to blog during my trip, I do plan to work on a couple of short stories that I have been ignoring in favor of work, chores, and Facebook.

As a person who has trouble relaxing, I suspect I will spend my vacation working rather than chilling out like I need to. Internet, I beseech thee: tell me how you unplug from your daily lives and enjoy time away from the daily grind.

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What is this Gentle Rapping at My Chamber Door?

The Raven by Fuacka

In Edgar Allan Poe's classic poem The Raven, the narrator - a fellow who has lost his love - nearly has a conniption fit because of  knocks at his door. He tries to convince himself it's nothing; the knocker is an unexpected guest. Showing up on his doorstep at an ungodly hour. In December. During a violent storm...

Actually, I would probably be just as freaked out.

However, the narrator's visitor is a talking raven. At first he finds it to be a welcome distraction from his ruminations. Then, as the bird sits on a bust of Pallas without stirring, the narrator becomes agitated again.  Despite the bird's stillness (or, rather, because of it) and lack of vocabulary, the speaker becomes increasingly distressed. He imagines that the bird is actually a demon. The poem ends with the narrator in miserable distress.

So, what changed that made the narrator run through almost all these emotions (sadness, fear, bemusement, sorrow, anger)? Nothing we can see.

The changes are all internal. They all happen inside the narrator!

Instead of looking at this bird as an opportunity (talking bird!) he looks at it as a portent of doom. Yes, yes. Ravens feed on carrion and are generally considered bad omens. But if the bird is an omen, the narrator has a choice: be afraid of what might come or use the warning as a way to change the future.

Shot by Brendon1000

What if the raven is there to illustrate what the speaker's life will be like if he continues to pine away over his dead love?

Or, perhaps he was there to let the narrator know that the birds are planning an uprising and he'd do well to stock up on seed and maybe plant a worm bed.

Maybe the raven's single word, nevermore, was not a warning, but a promise: nevermore would the narrator be alone. (Admittedly, this could also be considered a threat. But that's a different post.)

When Hitchcock's horrific vision of a world overrun by birds comes to be, humans will need to be able to find the positive side. While going to school or work might be a tad more treacherous, feathered headdresses will come back into fashion. There will be fewer insects. Recipes for black bird pie will be in vogue. Just imagine the culinary adventures!

Opportunity knocks all the time. A bad omen is a chance to get out of the way of the truck that's bearing down on you at seventy miles per hour.

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Saturday Night Cabin Fever!

From The Boston Globe

As you may know, I am from New England. We are so over the storms. Snowpocalypse. Snowmageddon. Whatever you want to call it, we are so done. Some of us have lost power. Others, their water. Even a few, their lives. It's like The Day After Tomorrow out there.

We are all in danger of losing our minds, for a short time, to Cabin Fever.

Cabin Fever, the reaction a person or people may have when they are trapped in a small space for an extended period of time, happens to New Englanders every year. Many of us (notoriously hate the cold but are too stubborn to move,) spend an inordinate amount of time in our homes, huddled under the covers, sipping drinks that'll warm our insides. (Don't you try to tell me what to do Mother Nature!)

Darling, That Protest Was So Very Gauche!

As you may be aware, I live in the Boston area. Today, 15 January 2015, we had our very own protest!

Image from @NewsAroundDot

I'm sure it was very exciting. According to the Boston Globe, protesters successfully blocked both the north and south bound lanes of I-93 stopping traffic from going into the city from either direction. And it was for a good cause: black lives do matter.

Sadly, this was quite possibly the most ill conceived protest I have ever heard of.

I Resolve to Have Goals

This is not an article about New Year's Resolutions. Yes, it is still the beginning of the year. Yes, I am writing about things I want to change. This article is about goals. However, resolutions and goals are different beasts from one another.

Image from Yelp
Steak and Lobster from House of Embers

Resolutions are vague. They are statements like, "I will lose weight this year." Or, "I'll eat better." They don't plan anything. They can't be measured. Losing less than one pound counts as losing weight. Saying one will eat better means next to nothing. What is better? Does that mean more vegetables or more dinners at Ruth's Chris?

I dissolve--NO! Resolve! I RESOLVE! (Revisited)

With every New Year, we make resolutions, or promises to ourselves, about what we are going to do and who we are going to be. If we tell others about our resolutions, we are making promises to them.

Last year around this time, I made a few resolutions that I posted on this site*.

1. Start the year off with less stress
2. Eat more healthfully 
3. Exercise more 
4. Learn at least one more survival skill (archery) 
5. Get more pedicures 
6. Set realistic goals

I have been successful to varying degrees.

Don't Look! There Is an Ebola Right Behind You!

I said, "Don't look!"

I admit that this is not a George Berkeley Idealism situation where if you turn your back on the issue, it ceases to exist. But that doesn't mean that Ebola is the Freddie Kreuger of diseases. It will not hunt you down and kill you.

Let's take a step back and assess the situation in a rational way. Listen to Brian Williams's words of wisdom.

I'll Be Fine! It's Just a Puddle.

You may recall from a post from early 2013 that I am a firm believer that panic is the enemy. I'm not picky about where people should not panic since I'm pretty sure it's bad news in just about any environment.

From Introduction to Myiasis by Melissa Runsten

If a deal is about to fall through at work, should the sales woman panic? No, she'll look disorganized and out of her depth. Also, she is more likely to make a bad deal for The Company than she would have been had she kept a level head.

When interstellar maggots attack the beef packaging plants of the Earth, panic is not going to stop them from entering the pupal stage then hatching into giant blow flies. In fact, panic will probably help the flies since humans would be too busy blaming each other and freaking out to actually deal with the situation.

Ready, Set, Go!

Being able to lead a small band of intrepid survivors against the onslaught of Mutant Martial Artist Tortoises is an excellent skill for every post-apocalyptic leader. It is one that must be learned and honed. It must be carefully distilled from years of pre-apocolyptic leading.

Western Hermann's Tortoise, Wikipedia

It has a partner. A companion skill that no one likes to talk about.

After the Mutant Martial Artist Tortoises rise from the sewers to takeover the above world of roses, pleasant smells, and a distinct lack of human excrement, people will whisper about it behind closed doors. When they can find a building that still has its doors. And rooms.

The Facts of Life

In this hemisphere, we are starting to see and feel spring. The weather is noticeably warmer, but a bit rainy. The ground is thawing and trees are beginning to bud; my allergies are starting to kick up. More people are out and about since leaving the house does not involve twelve layers not including the waterproof.

You take the good, you take the bad...

Life is full of good and bad. Finding the bad in the good is no feat. It's easy to let one rotten apple nuke the orchard. Letting setbacks or inconveniences ruin an otherwise good experience is, for some, entirely too effortless.

Surviving vs. Thriving

Winter is upon us. Again. It has been for a couple of months now. Pretty much everyone agrees that it's old. Over. Stale. It's the extra three loaves of bread, two and half gallons of milk, and two eighteen packs of eggs we bought to survive a Nor'easter at the end of December. In a word: unappealing.

From Wandering & Wondering

Most of us are sick of the snow and the cold and the shoveling. Dear god the shoveling! The random sixty degree days are little comfort: they melt the snow and ice, but it just refreezes once the sun has set.

The world turns into a solid sheet of black ice.

There are a few people, a crazy minority, who enjoy the weather. They relish the crisp air. They revel in the bright layers of fleece and wool and down. They wake up early on the weekends looking forward to going out into the cold!

Patience: the Most Annoying Virtue of All, Or, Fools Rush In

Imagine we have gone camping: you and I and a few friends. We are nearing the end of the trip and you and I decide to go for a hike. Not a long hike: just a few hours of nature and us. Because we are running out of camping time and the light is waning, we rush off into the woods. Sadly, we do not take our time and prepare for the hike. We don't bring some rations. Or an extra layer of clothing. Or a compass (pretend the GPS on our phones doesn't work because of low service). Plus, we are only planning on a few hours, remember?

We head off in a direction hoping for a little nature spotting. We chat as we walk. Our walk becomes more about our conversation than the nature so we don't pay enough attention to the foliage as we pass.

A couple of hours go by and we realize that we are lost in the woods without the proper gear, any food, or any way to determine which way we should head. Because we didn't bother with a compass, we don' t know which direction we have been heading in. We are starting to get cold and hungry.

Too dramatic? Perhaps, a more realistic example then.

The Pinocchio Complex

As a girl, I was a Tomboy. As an adult, I feel like a girl. Well, a teenager. With an awesome fashion sense. I have a job. And credit. I pay bills. (Oh, the bills I pay!) I am on the third car I have purchased myself. And it happens to be my second brand new car.

But I sometimes wonder when I'll be An Adult.

Pinocchio from Wikipedia

I often find myself wondering when I will be A Real Writer. As I sit here, typing these words, working through what it is I want to say, I feel like a kid playing pretend. (I'm going to be a writer when I grow up!)

The Enemy Within

On the long, wakeful nights when I contemplate the End of Life as I know it, a heavy and wearying
depression tries to take hold. Its embrace at first seems light, as though it barely brushes against me. It whispers that it isn't dangerous. The Depression sings sweetly of a darkness without end that I can create if rule under the Mothmen is too oppressive.

Depression is a liar. It tries to trick me into thinking it's a long-forgotten friend. It is no friend. No confidant. It is an enemy that lives in the dark places of the mind waiting for a moment of weakness so that it can drag its victim into the Pit of Despair.