Ender was getting headaches and Barbara took him to get his blood drawn. He panicked and they were unable to get any of his blood, only lots of tears and excuses. We all went together the following Saturday morning. At one point I said, "Me squeezing your shoulder hurts more than the needle will." I am sure I've mentioned it, but for those looking for parenting advice and/or operant conditioning for dummies, I never hit the twins as punishment. The pressure point on their shoulder was my go-to. It's like spanking, I know, but it minimizes the ritualization.

Thus, as Ender is sitting on my lap, he begins to panic again. He twists, shouts, and insists that he suddenly has to use the bathroom. I'm holding him and then he says "Squeeze my shoulder!" I'm like whaaaaat but he says it again, "Memo, squeeze my shoulder!" So I do. Not as hard as I usually do, but hard enough. He stops moving enough for the techs to draw two vials of blood, and then we're done.

I mused on it later. During their conditioning, I've told them several times what I'm doing: "I'm training you. I'm not saying you're bad or good, it's just action and consequence. When you get older, you can choose to reject your training. But even then, you'll still have it available to you."

Were they actually paying attention to the idealized parenting philosophy I'd been spouting as I attempted to care for them? I don't know. At least it worked out this time.

His blood was fine, by the way. A little high in excuses, but who isn't?

The thing about making love to music is that eventually you're going to hear it again. Sitting at work, in a clothing store, or driving, you'll be hit with a wave of physical memories. We're used to remembering events, but this is a deeper memory, the ghosts of sharp breaths and sweat and skin on skin. The scent and the taste. Muscles remember the rhythms of pulling pushing pulsing.

The ghost of you and her.

It will fade, however, as it becomes a memory of a memory. Mirrors reflecting each other into infinity, and darkness.



It wasn't always music. Sometimes it was a movie.

To Do:
Make a list of all the things that will never be the same.
Make a list of all the things that I never want to forget.

If walls are raised around them, find a way to climb over.

Pull them close to me.

There were ways to link to others. Surely there are others.

I should stop at the store on my way home. I may want something to eat besides quesadillas and pie. Surely there is some other circular food that can sustain me. Pizza. Perfect. And maybe some gel inserts for my shoes. Standing at my desk all day combined with walking all evening is painful to the soles.

My knee stopped hurting, at least. I could pick you up again.

I'm so hungry my stomach hurts. Strange, I had a piece of apple pie this morning for breakfast. Pie, why have you forsaken me? It's likely all the water I've been drinking. Yesterday's walk was long and I can't be sure I'm properly hydrated again. Today should be better. I have the big water bottles now.

I was just online looking for a mechanical keyboard to hook up to this Chromebook. I prefer the mechanical keyboards. At least I think I do. The chiclet keys are fond to my fingers. Maybe I don't know what I like.

Portability was the whole point of this. Take it with me so it's as easily available as a notebook. A notebook with an internet connection. What if I have a great idea without an internet connection? Mostly I don't, so I'm not worried.

I've been trying to be less argumentative. People make statements, and instead of a truth value of TRUE or FALSE, I apply a score, like the Olympics. Coming to the correct conclusions with faulty logic, for example, scores higher than a wrong conclusion based on non-facts. Still get my mental exercise. And as a bonus I can isolate their faulty premises and apply a "Conviction Score." If they want to believe it real bad, there's little I can do about it. We find a way.

Invisibilia, the podcast, did a bit on personality. I listened to it while I walked. Personality is malleable, they say. Interesting.

Walking for what feels like forever. Listening for what feels like forever. Everything's a middle. Can't remember the beginning, can't see the end.

Then it does end and it's been 7 miles. Counting vertical feet, apparently, but still pretty good.

I ordered a 24 inch monitor to use at work. Triple screens make me triple mean. According to the tattoo on my lower back. In Ye Olde English font, naturally.

Went to Kelly's grandma's memorial service on Saturday. 7th-Day Adventist church. Lots of vegans. This church kept a bible in their pews (unlike the handful of other churches I had been to for weddings and other impossible-to-get-out-of occasions.

The nephews came over on Saturday evening to play video games and hang out. They came over on Friday, too. We went out and got pizza. The Olympics was on, and we watched. I didn't go in to work like I meant to, but that's because I had some very important sleeping to do.

Deadlines.

Meteor showers every night that I do not awake to watch.

Habits maketh man. It is written in the Hagakure "Even if one's head were to be suddenly cut off, he should be able to do one more action with certainty." That belief that enough determination and preparation will drive you forward though you are beyond reasoning.

The less extreme is also true. Even if one were to be pressured by an unfamiliar environment, he will probably do what his habits lead him to do. Even if he's not really paying attention, he could meander in the general direction of his destination.

Momentum of decisions, like rocket ship thrusters. In space, a push will send you along forever if you let it.

Good thing I'm not in space.

I think. It might be awesome up there; I don't know.

Work has been difficult. Challenging, I should say. It's time to admit that I like crisis. It's a very comfortable state. All sorts of momentum to push me along.

You're the apple of my eye/you're the apple of my eye
-Some song by The Foals

It hurts to type on this. Hands have been spoiled by my mechanical keyboard. Or maybe I'm just pushing too hard on the chiclet keys. No resistance like my machine keys. Soft and squish.

You're the apple of my eye.

Brain is on fire. The good kind of on fire.

Productivity in the 3rd Quarter is down, according to reports. Or a report. That big report that comes out that everyone talks about. They save all those giant reports and burn them for warmth in winter.

I'm trying to be more productive. Not sure how to cultivate it. It starts with sleep, I think. 7.5 hours of sleep gets me about 4 hours of "overdrive" before I slip back into normal mode. Overdrive is fun; I try to hold more and more tasks in my mind. Like a computer screen with a bunch of windows open. How many is too many depends on how much sleep I've had.

Eating a bunch of pie for breakfast also seems to help. Brain energy good for when it's on fire.

I was walking on the treadmill last night and playing Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare. It's become something of a habit. I enjoy the game, and I enjoy the walking. Perhaps there is some part of me that still yearns to be a soldier. With infinite lives. It's a video game, but I think about my character representing a real person with hopes and dreams, and the years of training and struggle it would take to reach the elite ranks of special forces. Then my character runs around a corner and gets wasted by the enemy. During the dying animation the character's imagined life flashes before my eyes.

Pretty well quashes further thoughts of fighting like that again. It was pretty hard on the knees, too.

During the political party conventions, I turned off NPR. I'm interested in politics, but not so much the minutia. The little moments exhaust me. When the rhetoric becomes so calculated it's hard to be objective. Sales and Advertisement of ideas.f

What's most interesting to me is the speed of the rhetoric, the dialogue, the call-and-response. So many people are talking. It's almost like back in the old days of AOL instant messenger. Group chats, with side chats, so many conversations. We loved it.

It's probably all our fault. Heh heh heh.