Showing posts with label contemplating the futility of all human endeavor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contemplating the futility of all human endeavor. Show all posts

Thursday, July 21, 2022

Horoscopes for July -- it is July, right?

Aries:
The mists gather, softening the world, muffling sounds and hiding objects. They thicken, limiting your vision, until all that remains is you. The world might still be there when the mists depart, but I wouldn't count on it.

Taurus:
The waters rise, carving away the coastal cities, driven by strange tides and once-impossible currents. They sweep onto the land, a steady success of invasions and retreats, eroding farmlands and industrial centers alike, driving the survivors to ever-higher ground.

Gemini:
The melting of the ice caps released them from their imprisonment in Lake Vostok. We do not speak of them; we can barely see them. Their influence is measured by the ever-expanding zone of mysterious disappearances and strange transformations.

Cancer:
The storms roll through, driven by the rising heat of the atmosphere: floods and droughts, side by side, lightning storms that melt buildings, winds that flatten cities. There is no stopping it; it is too late for that, and the underground cities are only a stopgap. They were never meant to be permanent homes for what remains of humanity.

Leo:
The world is empty. We wander through the cities, meeting and parting, trapped in the broken reflections of what was once our world. We cannot form families, alliances, societies; we are gone from each other almost as soon as we meet, will we or not. 

Virgo:
It was a magnificent effort: a massive artificial intelligence, self-educating but able to access the whole of the world's knowledge. It was supposed to save us, to show us how to turn back from the edge. Instead, it shut itself down in disgust. 

Libra:
It started innocently enough: we were all so tired. It was only natural to lie down and sleep. A few extra hours here or there, to make up for what we'd miss. Maybe an extra day. Maybe two. Maybe a week, or more. Now the last remnants of the wakeful wander through a world of blissful dreamers.

Scorpio:
We had no idea they were among us. It seems very possible they didn't know themselves. Then the signal came, and there they were: marching in the streets in their matching uniforms, rounding up the ones who opposed them: nameless, faceless, all driven by the same will. Perhaps we could oppose them, if we only knew the source...

Sagittarius:
The end of the world came without drama, just a slow grinding down of everything as we used up the last of our resources and all the great achievements of our technology and civilization fell to pieces. Even the great die-off was a slow, gradual thing. Our lives are not bad lives, those that are left, but we live them knowing that we will never again be what our people once were.

Capricorn:
It was that research into psychic phenomena, back into the seventies. Fifty-some-odd years trying to isolate the ability, verify it, tie it to something genetic or trainable. Then they created the children, thinking that children would be well-behaved and biddable. They were so, so very surprised.

Aquarius:
They say it was something at the supercollider that set of the rippling patterns of instabilities, swapping bits of our world for others, turning loose new plants and animals and ecosystems, changing everything. We may yet survive, if we're fast enough to adapt, but we can lose anything at any time.

Pisces:
The stars aligned and that horrible, maddening city rose. The things it loosed -- monstrosities, madness, murder -- made a mockery of our mortal concerns. We live now in a world where that city has always been risen, those things have always been here, and everything has always been this horrible.

Thursday, May 7, 2020

"Just In Case"

Well, it's here again. Happens every month. It's just an email to notify me that the Online Account Statement is ready. Which means it's time to pay for the service for all the pagers that this company supplies to us.


Yes, you read that right: "pagers".

Pagers.


Do you know how many pagers we have active right now?

None. Zero. Zip. Nada. Not even one.

Haven't used 'em in years.


And yet, every month, I get an email explaining that my bill statement is now available for online viewing. There's a link for it and everything.

For the pagers. Of which we have none.


It's a working link. I mean, it takes me to a webpage, and there's a login and everything.

Of course, we don't have an account anymore, so I can't log in. I can't even reset my password, because the login page doesn't recognize my email address.


That would be the same email address at which, every month, I get an email explaining that my bill statement is now available for online viewing.

For the pagers. Of which we have none.


I could, of course, have myself removed from their Electronic Invoicing Program. All I have to do is log into Account Manager.

Account Manager: that thing for which I have no credentials. That thing that doesn't recognize my email address. The same email address it keeps sending alerts to.

For our bills for our pagers, of which we have none.

I have called the company.

They tell me they cannot remove me from the mailing list, because I'm not in their system. I don't have an account, you see. We haven't had an account with them in years.

They can't even find my email. The one which receives the notices from them.


And yet, every month...

Well.

You know.

Pagers.


Seventeen years ago, when I switched from being the Helpdesk to doing something else, I asked if I should get myself taken off the account.

My former boss told me not to. She wanted me to be able to get into the account, just in case.


And in the seventeen years since then, I have never once needed to log into that account.

But every month, I receive a notice that our billing statement is ready.

For an account that we don't have.

Using credentials that no longer exist.

For the pagers.

...Just in case.

Friday, May 10, 2019

We put the cat down

We took the cat to the vet this morning and saw him off. Firstborn is home sick (probably Strep - will we ever be rid of this wretched disease?) so it was everybody except Secondborn. It's probably for the better that he was at school.

It was definitely time. The cat was essentially immobile, so much so that the vet didn't bother giving him a sedative to prepare him.

Definitely time, but it sucks.

Tuesday, May 7, 2019

The cat is dying

When Beautiful Wife and I first got married, each of us had two cats. Mine were Wayward and Astrophe, while hers were Syn and Claire. We'd pictured merging the two households as a sort of fuzzy Brady Bunch kind of thing, but in the event they didn't blend well. Claire and Wayward kept scrapping for dominance, and various cats were spraying all over the apartment trying to mark territory, and... it just didn't quite work out.

So Wayward went to live with my parents, in a life of luxurious indulgence that I can only admire. The other three stayed with us. Astrophe, apparently, was sufficiently unthreatening that he could bond with the other two.

Then we had children, and I can barely describe the looks of betrayal that the cats gave us as they aged. Cats and toddlers are natural enemies, as cats are very particular about how they get touched, and toddlers will touch everything and have no sense of restraint. But we mostly kept them separated, and everyone was mostly all right.

And, of course, we all got older -- though when the toddlers do that, it's called "growing up". So, y'know, they grew up. The rest of us, cats included, just got older.

Eventually, for health reasons, we put Syn down. A few years later, we did the same for Claire. Neither was easy. Shortly after Claire left us, my parents did the same for Wayward.

And somewhere in the past two weeks, I've realized that we're looking at the same thing for Astrophe. On one level, it's almost overdue; he was looking skinny and miserable two years ago, but we altered his diet to something much more gravy-intensive and got him onto a semi-regular dose of miralax, and for a fairly long while he was doing a lot better. But over the last two weeks or so, well...

He's amazingly skinny. His bones are all very prominent. He keeps wandering into the kitchen and looking at us, but no matter what we give him he eats very little of it. He walks slowly, almost (but not quite) limping. One day last week, he managed to poop and throw up over a huge portion of the house, basically tracing a path from Firstborn's room back to his litter box. It took me a solid half an hour to clean it all up. And as of today, he keeps settling on this one mat beside the litter box -- way closer to his own waste than a healthy cat should be willing to settle. He doesn't seem to be in pain, he's just... increasingly, relentlessly weakening. It's been very sudden. And so far, our every effort to bring him back from this has failed.

He's still a sweet kitty. He's still... I don't know, not comfortable but also not miserable, and we're trying to give him as much affection as we can in whatever time we have left. But he's quieter than I ever remember him being, slower than I ever remember him being, more careful in his movements than I ever remember him being.

He's twenty years old, and I'm pretty sure the cat is dying.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Legendary Things That Probably Never Existed

Apparently this is my week for making lists. Eh, whatever... with Hallowe'en fast approaching, I've been thinking about monsters, mythology, and sundry sorts of legends. So, without further ado, here's my current list of Legendary Things That Probably Never Existed In Real Life:
  1. Unicorns
  2. Dragons
  3. Vampires
  4. Winged Horses
  5. Bigfoot
  6. Mothman
  7. Ghosts
  8. Vacations
  9. Retirement
  10. Functional Democracies

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

That one conversation...

Two co-workers pass in the hallway.

First Co-worker: "Hello."

Second Co-worker: "I should have taken this week off."

They stop. Their eyes meet. Then they shake their heads sadly, and move on.


Y'all, I have heard this conversation five different times so far...

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

I hate this time of year.

We're into our second week of school for the Beautiful Wife and both boys, and naturally we're sick. (Firstborn appears to be the lone exception.) Fortunately, we're not badly sick -- I took Monday afternoon off, but made it all the way through Tuesday, if only barely -- but this is a lot more sick than I'd like to be. Especially since I'd like to be, well, Not Sick At All.

But, no: headache, low energy, irritability, occasional chills, inability to concentrate... blech. At least I'm not sick to my stomach anymore; that was what did me in on Monday. But I can feel the swollen lymph nodes in my throat, and they are not happy.

The worst part, though, is that the Beautiful Wife and I are both just demoralized. And I'm pretty sure it's less of a rational assessment, or even a reaction to being sick, than it is a direct result of being sick itself. But it's just... Ugh. I feel useless. And wasted. And stuck. It's like we've come down with an emotional head cold as well as a physical one. I feel like... I feel like I'm never going to do the things I really want to do.

And then I think about the boys sleeping in the next room, and I know that can't be right. I'm already doing the things I really want to do. This is the life I want. And yeah, there are some things which aren't developing the way I'd like, or anywhere near as fast as I'd like, but I'm pretty sure that shouldn't fill me with this weird existential combination of dread and despair.

The boys are actually doing okay. Secondborn was sick to his stomach back on Sunday (just as I was on Monday), but he managed to go to school and seems to be doing fine; Firstborn continues to watch YouTube videos while walking on the treadmill at every opportunity. He laughs in the face of illness. He, too, seems to be handling his first week of school (and his first year of Middle School - he's in sixth grade now) pretty well.

So, again: rational analysis suggests that things are actually going well, if not perfectly. But... well... just try telling that to my feelings...

Friday, August 18, 2017

Real Work Conversations: Reboot

IT Tech: "Got it!"

Accountant: "So what you did was just turn it off, and then try it again?"

IT Tech: "I think it was the turning it off and on again that made it work."

Accountant: "Thank God for IT people."

Y'all, it was a coffee maker.

Friday, July 21, 2017

Books I will almost certainly never write

I've got nothing, so instead here are some books that I will almost certainly never write:

The Maltese Space-Falcon
He's the richest and most eligible bachelor on Alpha Centauri. She's an ex-cop who's been burned one too many times. The alien artifact they're searching for could unlock the secrets of an alien civilization, or destroy their own. Or both!

High Stakes
Evie Dowling is an ordinary high school girl, but when a 4,000 year old vampire joins her senior class, she suddenly finds herself dodging magical traps, supernatural assassins, and an entire squad of vampire hunters. Now she'll have to choose between her humanity and the tempting combination of immortality, supernatural power, and incredible wealth. High Stakes: humanity doesn't stand a chance!

Heroic Destiny For Sale!
Dov spends his days being herded by goats and dreaming of heroic deeds. But when he stumbles onto the magical sword foretold by ancient prophecy, he suddenly realizes that being a hero isn't as much fun as it sounds. Now the Dark Lord's minions are trying to kill him, Princess Jerra wants to throw him in jail, and his magical talking blade just won't shut up. Dov thinks it'll be okay, though: all he has to do is get to the market at Derwhit and auction off the blade for enough money to retire on, and all his problems will be solved.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Done

I am... tired. Beyond tired, even. I'm just kind of *done*. I have no focus, I have no enthusiasm, I'm impatient but not because there's anything I particularly want to *do*. In fact, it's kind of the opposite: I just want to stop doing things. I want this day to be over. I want my job to be over.

I'm not suicidal. I don't want to leave my family. I'm just... I deeply tired of being tired. I'm deeply tired of being discouraged. I'd like to have some motivation back. I'd like to have some energy. I'd like to have some sense of morale.

If I'm about to get sick, then I'd like to just run a fever (or whatever) and get it over with. I don't think that's it, though. I just want everyone to shut up and go away for a few days. Which is kind of a problem, since I'm parent to two pre-teen children and since my wife seems to be in just about the same place I am, emotionally speaking. And, honestly, when I wrote this the boys were doing a lovely job of entertaining themselves; it's just that I can hear one boy's YouTube videos and the other boy's video game, and I want it all to stop.

I swear, I used to enjoy things. I used to have hobbies. I used to be able to finish things, at least every once in a while.

Right now, though -- and I'm going to set this to publish later, not just after I finished writing it, so with any luck none of you will read it until after I'm somewhat recovered -- right now I don't want to do any of it. I just want to bury myself in the earth for fifty years, like one of Ann Rice's vampires, or plug myself into cryosleep for a century-long trip to another planet. I want to turn into a statue and wait until the proper alignment of the stars recalls me to life and movement.

I want to stop needing to do all the things that right now I still need to do.

Instead, I'm going to put the boys down to bed. And in the morning I'll wake them up and I'll go to work again. I'll even pretend I care about what I'm doing there, though I don't guarantee it'll be convincing.

And I think... I hope... that I'll start looking for some way to make a change. Because I think it's vital, especially in a mood like this, to remind myself that things really can get better. And maybe if I act like it, I'll start to believe it again.