fractured reality

When faced with the prospect of having to claw my way back up a horribly craggy rock face to scratch out a winning spot after an unlucky hand of poker, let the record show that I will instead play a few more reckless hands and go out, happily returning to the comfy hotel bed, rather than do so.

In other news, the weekend was stupidly good. Thankstaking was pleasant and full of delicious treats, including some mashed garlic red potatoes, and some gluten free cornbread I whipped up. Tay-stee. Then we went to Columbus and had some akai hana and TipTop, culminating in a jeni’s macaroon sandwich early Sunday afternoon.

What’s up, weather? It was still 50-something and sunny on Sunday! Not that I’m complaining, but you do know that this is Ohio, right?

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The problem with doubting Free Will, Clyde reflected, is primarily one of Credit (Blame, in some circles), i.e. do you deserve credit for your achievements, or, assuming that you do, how much is due to your will/personality and how much belongs to your Environment (read: the world, the Universe)? Is your status in life any more due to your brilliant, shining mind than a diamond’s brilliance is due to the will of the carbon atoms it comprises? If you don’t believe in the existence of Free Will, if you espouse the position that it is ultimately an insignificant, if interesting, illusion, a consequence of arising life, then your actions, even those you choose to perform against your better judgment, they are ultimately predetermined.

Credit is overrated, Clyde figures.

Determinism is an inescapable prison, then, for whatever you do, however you act, you were not responsible, not in Control. Even the morning when you first imagined that Free Will might be an illusory by-product of conscious existence, that day was predetermined, if only the full initial conditions, rules of the universe could be understood.

It was nearly time to go to sleep when Clyde made his escape, having figured out that the only counter to this brand of Unknowable Truth was yet another Unknowable Truth, and if that was his inevitable fate anyhow, why not embrace a truth in which he had some modicum of exercisable control? By morning, he had reached the conclusion that if he were choosing to embrace a controllable universe, that he might as well go one step further, and one step further, until by sunrise he believed himself a god, if not THE God. And it was as he was trying to puzzle out why he had fashioned himself a universe that required him, a god, to wait for a bus for thirty minutes to go to a job calculating sales figures for a lesser-known brand of hand sanitizer, a job that he didn’t even like and didn’t even need, being an omnipotent being, that he was struck by an SUV that had over-corrected from a slippery turn, swerving up onto the curb, knocking Clyde unconscious, a sleep from which he’d never awaken, thanks to severe internal injuries.

This weekend, I plan on drinking, playing the new mario game, playing Torchlight, gently beating the kitties, and making some chipotle red bean burgers.

Should I make time to paint? Take photographs? Write? Jump around in the dying days of pre-snow November?

Certainly.

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Holy cow, am I ever sore.

Last night was my first night of curling on Teflon sliders, and boy is it ever a different experience. I also skipped for my first end (the captain of a curling team is called the Skipper, or Skip for short) and drew the hammer right to the button for two. It was terribly satisfying.

The flip side was, since we are still learning, the following end I rotated to Lead, and wow. The second and vice-skip both threw super-light and so we had to sweep like crazy bastards, and we had already spent a half hour earlier practicing sweeping, so by the end of the night my arms were like non-Jell-O-brand gelatin desserts. Today it is all I can do to pull my jacket on.

I think I might really like this sport. It’s too bad the club isn’t a bit closer to where I live.

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The leaves keep falling!

This weekend was a pleasant and restful one, which was good since Becca and I were both recovering from mild sore throats. We moved some more leaves with the leaf blower (yes, in addition to the rakes we have a little electric blower, which is pretty goddamn nice), played some games, had some drinks, and handed over dad’s watch, which he was quite excited about.

It is Monday, and this will be the third week of my curling clinics, which have been great fun so far. Yes, that game with rocks and brooms and screaming on ice. My primary complaint is that most curling shoes appear to be leather, so I may end up having to get sub-par shoes or go with slip-on grippers/sliders. I dunno yet. I think the Eagle shoe and at least one Asham come in non-leather, but almost all the companies prefer (and boast about) full grain leather. Bleagh.

November is National Adoption Awareness Month, did you know that? Huh.

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