Yes, it is. In style.
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For Weekend Assignment #217: Career Day on Outpost Mâvarin.
It all started here:
I could go on about how, in the most unlikeliest of coincidences, that I one day decided to be a blogger. Or a programmer. Or a writer. Or living on a secret island base.
But I decided a flowchart would get the idea across without torturing you all.
For Outpost Mâvarin’s Weekend assignment #204: My Favorite Year.
To tell the truth, I’ve had a hard time answering the the assignments for the past few weeks. For better or worse, I end up thinking back to times in my life that other people would call dark. Very, very dark. There’s a reason I’m a here-and-now kind of person: after 20 years of hell, every year of my life has simply been getting better.
Or another way of putting it: my favorite year is the one now, even far before it’s finished, because it is furthest away, in every sense of the word, from those two decades of pain.
Of my years, the ones that I would actually think about letting another human being live, there are about … five “good” years, relatively speaking, not counting 2008, in which case there’d be six. And they are mostly not good years in the way that people typically think of it; they are simply… years.
I’ve had one year in my life that might be considered all-around good. It was 2007, when I managed to put enough together to buy a house, and the PTSD was on hold for most of the year and thus “good” and “bad” did not wash each other out.
2007 built itself upon passable years, which is why I expect 2008 to be better. And 2009 to be even better than that. And so on.
Sometimes, the center holds.
This is Ambien. It is nectar direct from the land of Morpheus himself. Nearly the perfect sleeping draught, peaceful and gradual is your descent into his arms–although I urge you to NOT do anything vital, like driving or, a few minutes after taking it, sitting up straight.
The best part about Ambien, apart from the utter effectiveness, is that there’s no hangover effect. None. Zero. Zip. It’s as though you’d gone to sleep naturally.
Gods know it’s been a long time since I’ve done that, even though these days I prefer to spend my weekends trying to sleep than do anything else.
Bainbridge Island: home of very tall trees that merge and mingle with what civilization exists, sometimes to fall in high winter winds over power lines and cause everyone to rethink priorities temporarily.
That’s my favorite part of winter.
Here are some pictures.
Click here to read more »
After some years of experience with weather on a Pacific Northwest island, I can definitely say that my favorite kind of weather–as long as it doesn’t go on for too long–is sweeping storms with gale-force winds that make many trees on the island fall over, blocking roads and breaking powerlines island-wide.
Life is turned upside down. The power is out. Stuff isn’t working properly.
Everything relaxes as people worry about bigger issues, like keeping warm and having food.
I don’t mind, because:
Notice that I don’t have to worry overly much about warmth and food. Gas is a lovely thing.
I admit that a power outage has to go on for a long time in order for the ferry terminal to get wedged, since that huge generator takes a week to run into the ground. If I could get through it comfortably I wouldn’t mind being stranded.
Yes, I get an aggressive isolation desire sometimes. Usually it ebbs and flows with work.
No trees fell over across powerlines last night. Sigh.
Back to bed and sleep because I just want to do that. If the weather can’t decide to be blustery and raining, or cloudy and quiet, or sunny, I’m not gonna decide on anything else either.
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