*I* Read an article about analyzing language on social media. https://www.pnas.org/content/118/7/e2017154118

Very interesting stuff. I remember years ago there was an algorithm that would try to determine if the writer was male or female. I ran some of my blog posts through it, and if I recall correctly, I was in-between. Good, I say. 

The abstract intrigued me, particularly this part:

Signs included an increase in I-words, we-words, and cognitive processing words (characteristic of depression, collective focus, and the meaning-making process, respectively) and drops in analytic thinking (indicating more personal and informal language). 

I say "I" all the time in my writing. In fact, I make a constant effort to avoid starting every paragraph with "I", so it could be even worse. I leave the implied "I" there, however. Hmm, I better go back and add the "I" to my first paragraph because the past tense of read is also read and it looks like an imperative.

That's better. Now, where was I? I was going to look up examples of cognitive processing words. Some person online says: Cognitive words refer to words that are associated with cognitive processing and include insightful (e.g., “realize”) and causal (e.g., “because”) words. 

I think I understand. I suppose I do use a lot of cognitive processing words due to my inherent mistrust of my cognitive processes. (Fun Fact: I used to pronounce a long E in "processes" because I thought that's what you did with plural words like that, like how nemesis becomes nemeses but turns out that rule is only for words of a specific language of origin, I want to say Greek because I'm lazy but I don't really remember. I will not back down on the plural for cactus and using a long E when I say "cactuses".)

Now I'm glad I'm writing more. Or more glad, I should say. I'll be able to track my mental ups and downs based on my word choices and see if I'm losing my mind. Although I may only be able to do it once; once I know language might indicate I'm losing my mind I may be able to learn to avoid those patterns. If I fall into that sweet spot of madness like Ahab. Damn you, brain! Always one step ahead of me...

I had a macabre idea last night as I was falling asleep. It felt like the memory of an idea. The thought was of removing the pet ID microchip from Watson's body and implanting it into my own. Pet microchips are rice grain-sized RFID tags embedded underneath the skin of the pet. Using a specialized scanner will bring up the ID number, and a private company holds all the contact info associated with that ID number. 

People I know and love have gotten tattoos of their pets. Given my current feelings on tattoos, this idea seems more exemplary of the complex emotions I feel for my dog. Someone says they got a tattoo of their dead dog, and you think hey, they must really love their dog. Someone says they dug out their dead dog's dog microchip and implanted it into themselves and you think...well, probably lots of things. Love yes, but also the darker side of love where you feel so intensely about them that you start to lose sight of where you end they begin. The endless envy of those not obsessed.

And it wouldn't have the ostentatious inklings of a tattoo. It would be a tiny bump under the skin; barely visible, but noticeable to the touch. 

All this is just musing, since Watson was cremated and thus, his microchip was also. Plus, since those things are injected into animals there is really no way to know what less-than-optimal materials are in there that would now be in your body. Of course, humans can live way longer than dogs and even if the materials are good for twenty years who knows if they're engineered to really last beyond that. 

Also it would be hard to explain to airport security. 

But bonus, it would freak out all the people that buy into the human tracking device conspiracy theories. I could tell them "Oh yeah, I put mine in so they think I'm just a pet, so when they come for all the humans I'll be able to hide in pet stores or random doghouses."

In a surge of Mexican instinct, I purchased a pack of dried mango slices covered in chili powder. Mango I like, chili powder not so much. This, I believed, would keep me from devouring the entire package in one sitting, since my intention is to have it as a snack on hand at work to stave off the constant temptation of running next door and buying chicken fried steak wrapped in bacon. (The cafe doesn't sell that, but I believe they are fully capable of doing it.)

My experiment was a success. I ate a couple pieces and enjoyed it, then the spice kicked in enough to stop me from eating any more. 

Then a man with a gun walked in the door. He was short, stocky, and wore a heavy coat. He was rude also, as he did not remove his hat. I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet up on my desk. If I was going to die, I was going to die comfortable. 

He stumped towards me and leaned right into my face. "I can't find my gun," he said, eyes narrowing.

I slowly raised my arms and folded my fingers behind my head. "It's in your hand," I said. The man jerked upright and brought his hand up to his face, squinting. "Your left hand," I said.

"Hey, you're right! Thanks!" He took of his hat, put the gun in it, and put the hat back on his head. It didn't immediately fall out. I made a mental note to ask my haberdasher about tactical headwear. He grinned. "What do I owe you?" 

"It's on the house, pal. I was getting drowsy and you just saved me the cost of a cup of coffee."

The man saluted, turned on his heel, and went out as quickly as he came in. 

"Well," I said to no one. "I'd better get back to work.

Was I saying reality is my escapism? 

Took this quiz from a comic artist I follow on Instagram:  

https://uquiz.com/quiz/dGkWX5?p=527033

Your Result:

Elaine Miller

You're laid back, with a protective streak for those you care about (which is, though you'll never admit it, almost everyone). You're practically the founder of the stupidcore aesthetic. Despite the fact that you talk with your mouth full and operate on a philosophy of kick-first-ask-questions-later, you're a great person to hang out with. And you have tons of potential -- just clean up all the water bottles from around your bed. What you also have, though, is an unimaginable amount of repressed yearning. Your inability to take yourself seriously may just make it harder to cope when all of those feelings clothesline you one day.

Sparked a few thoughts.  Repressed yearning? Me? As in, there's yearning I want to do but I refuse to allow myself, or that I am feeling the yearning and repressing it? Probably the latter. The former doesn't make much sense and why would anyone think that.

I don't know what a stupidcore aesthetic is. Also I don't keep a water bottle by my bed. I used to, but now I just go to bed extremely hydrated, then grab a drink when I have to get up to use the bathroom.

Also, I happen to take myself very seriously. I suppose I also believe I take myself far too seriously and try to keep that in mind, but I don't believe these things are at odds. Not most of the time anyway. I consider myself a recovering Romanticist, in that I like the ideas but they're still just ideas. These things have "-ism" tacked on to the end of them for a reason. 

Sometimes I feel like things can't go on this way. Mostly when my knee aches. I've been lifting weights and exercising, but I think it's time to admit that I have to somewhat maybe consider putting some thought into my food intake. Instead of eating all things indiscriminately. Time is the issue. I want more time in a day to do the things I tell myself I would do if I had the free time. Will I do them is of course another question but I'd at least like the option.

The problem with abandoning madness is that it's quite useful. All my brain training doesn't mean I don't feel as impulsive as ever. The training serves as an interrupt when those impulses occur. The challenge becomes not using this technique on everything, including what I want to do. If a person were dieting, for example. Suppose a person had the ability to turn hunger off completely. Hardly an ideal solution, because if they got too caught up in other things they might suddenly pass out or something. 

What if I'm not myself unless I'm following my impulses? Without them I'd just settle into this common denominator of personhood. Grr. It's not a bad thing; but it rather bores me. 

I'll think a little more on it. No need to be hasty. 

There are pleasant breezes stirring the silt.

Time to eat some pecans. Delicious!

I've been enjoying that the news is relatively boring lately. Just the usual plague stuff, with the added flavor of Reddit taking on Wall Street. Pretty dang entertaining. 

I slept pretty well last night. At some point, the pups climbed into bed, and I noticed, but they didn't disturb me after that. 

Spoiled pups.

My friends were playing Jackbox on Discord last night. I was still walking and did not join. I do miss playing Quiplash 2. 

Even though I'm much less interested in getting tattoos than I was in my twenties, I still feel a temptation for the "runes" from Bloodborne, the video game. Specifically, the one that symbolizes the hunter character. Looks like this:

In the game, there a bunch of these runes. It's the style and atmosphere of the game that I enjoy so much. After all the horror and cosmic horror I've consumed, it was in this game that I felt a real connection to the material. Because what a game can do is make you feel the emotional journey, in miniature, of being constantly beaten down by a world you don't really understand. The game says "Hey, go do this thing. You don't need to know why. You can try to understand why, but it won't really matter or even change anything. There's only a few outcomes, some worse than others, but none of them are good." And then I say, as the player, "Hold my blood vial" and put myself through it anyway. 

All things are but pasteboard masks, and in that striving, I see the living thing straining underneath. That is what I strike.To paraphrase Ahab.

Unlikely I will get another tattoo. I'd rather prefer not to have any tattoos at this point, although I don't mind them exactly. I see them as things I like, and they're fine. Then again, that was my initial approach; to get tattoos of things I like but aren't so meaningful that they need to stand up under the weight of some grand idea of myself.

Not sure where I would place it. I've got kind of a symmetry going with my current placement. Left shoulder, right shoulder, chest. Hmm...maybe on the right leg. In the game, there's a superstition that beasthood creeps up the right leg. Maybe on my quadriceps, where the player characters inject their blood vials. My other tattoo approach was to not get them where they can be seen in my usual clothing. Again, I feel like a tattoo is equivalent to a person saying a thing over and over. Which is why actual sentences bother me so much. They just say that one thing every time. It's like "Here, I'll tell you exactly what to think."