The Myth & The Majesty

It has been approximately six months since my stroke. ... It feels weird to say "approximately," but the truth is ... I'm not sure I can pinpoint exactly when it happened. I have my suspicions that it was not two hours before I went in to the emergency department, although that's the accepted time. Ish. Anyway. It's been approximately six months and I've been reflecting (as one does) on how things in my life have changed. Sorting out the why is a bit more of a hornet's nest (too many things happened in 2025) but this is what I've come up with so far: Things That Having a Stroke Changed: - What I eat, or more accurately what I don't eat. I do not especially miss the garbage. - My interest in bacon. Much lower. - My eyesight. That's been a wild ride, but at this stage it's actually vastly improved than it was two years ago. - My level of paranoia. Example: Like many people, I seem to break fingernails in groups (as in three in one week, or I...

It's still a little astonishing to me, twenty-some years later, how this one came about. I had applied the previous spring for an undergraduate research position and did not get it. Life moved on, I got through the summer at camp, started my (incredibly demanding) junior year at school, and then learned of an opportunity to go to Russia the following summer to spend a month teaching English. There was, of course, one big catch here: you can't disappear for a month in the summer and expect to get a job of any note. Still, I couldn't pass it up. I'd do what I could to make money that summer but Russia was not something I wanted to pass up. Only about two weeks after I told my parents my intention, I got an unexpected email. It was from a biology professor I had never met; she wanted me on her research team that year. "I read your application from last year and I was hoping you'd be interested this summer." I was thrilled but had to tell her that I intended t...

As you may have gathered from my last few posts, 2025 was a bit of a bear. Rabid badger? Belligerent drunk? Ooh, belligerent drunk. The evening started off well enough, then things got a little moody for a bit, then there was a nice placid phase where it seemed like maybe events would pass in relative peace, and then he decided to start a fight with an innocent bystander and now you're finding yourself at the opposite end of a phone call, refusing to post bail because he's had it coming for a long time and could just use a couple nights of "time out" to think about his decisions. But that relationship is behind you now and you get to try again with 2026. Seems nice enough. Might turn sideways but hey, been there, done that. I'm not sure I've ever felt quite like this: relieved to put a year behind me but absolutely not trusting the year ahead, either. Which brings me to my only real goal for the year. Roast some marshmallows on that dumpster fire. [Note: The A...

On September 24th, my mom died. This is the post I have struggled to write. My sister wrote a rather gorgeous obituary and I gave a eulogy at her funeral, but here? I don't know where to start. Still, some part of me wants to try, to get it out there for posterity. Perhaps it's just time to go at it from a different angle. Mom had been fighting cancer for six years.  Growing up, she'd seemed nigh invincible — energetic, intelligent, talented. Nothing slowed her down, not even three kids. She was endlessly capable, it seemed, and it was strange enough to look back and realize she'd aged along with me. As I'd gotten older I'd come to realize what she'd been up against when I was a teenager (like my weird moods mixed with her upbringing telling her I'd get over it) and that she was, ultimately, another adult trying to make it in the world. We developed a normal adult friendship; we had real conversations, I tagged along with her hiking group when I could, w...

 It's Jane Austen's 250th birthday today!  It's a great day to read a good book, drink some tea, and contemplate your daily life -- all the nooks and crannies, all the strange customs and behaviors, all the follies of your neighbors and sister(s). Take a moment to recognize the birth of an observant genius, one who ultimately gave voice to stories that are still archetypes of so many books and movies that are generated now in the 21st century. Here's to you, Ms. Austen.

Let it be known that I am trying. Granted, I could apply this to a lot of different things. I'm trying to take better care of myself. I'm trying to get caught up on ... everything. I'm trying to find an indoor bike that I actually like so I can get better exercise this winter. My lone decoration at work So perhaps some specificity is in order: I am trying to summon a Christmas spirit. Just a little one. It is no surprise to me that it is proving elusive. It has not been a good year, except that somehow I'm still here. Still kicking. Still working, even. (Hey, that's something.) Maybe not attacking things with enthusiasm, but at least still in motion. So I am trying. I may not be decorating like I usually do and I'm nowhere near being done with my shopping -- I usually pride myself with finishing my Christmas shopping by the tenth of December but at this point I think I've barely started -- but I'm trying. I'm listening to A Christmas Carol and I thin...

 (aka The First Bad Thing) It was March. Things had gotten wacky at work (long story, that) but personally, it wasn't really a crisis year just yet. Heck, up to that point it had even been a pretty great year -- there had been a bachelor party of great renown and a spectacular wedding that finally happened after thirteen years of waiting. A week before, I'd gained a truly beautiful niece. Life was generally quite good. Which is, of course, when that phone call happened. "I have terrible news. Tony died this morning." * I'd first met Tony when I started my new job at The Unnamed Bike Place (TUBP from now on). He had been scheduled for my interview panel but was out for a family emergency that particular week; when I started the job, others warned me that he was a bit of a wild card and occasionally overwhelming. And they weren't wrong. This whirlwind human sat across the room from me and he was ... a lot. He started sentences mid-thought and seemed frustrated w...

Let's talk more about that stroke, shall we? To be perfectly frank, in a year that has had a lot of Very Bad Things happen (more to come -- be warned, there have been two funerals and I'm figuring out how to talk about them), the stroke has been a curious mix of "WTF is going on" and "Oh that explains a lot." And despite everything, I find deep satisfaction in having questions answered even when the answer kind of sucks. For instance, "Why do I feel so sluggish?" Anytime I look back over the last two years, I see the deceleration. Hiking got harder, to the point that I couldn't talk myself into it with any regularity. It was difficult to keep up with my nieces. And then stairs got to be a problem. However, I was born in the '80s and grew up assuming that such a slowdown was my own fault. I was just getting really out of shape. Clearly this was something I could control since it didn't seem I was gaining weight. Clearly I just needed to ...

It was a week to break out the winter sneakers, brave the grocery store due to poor planning, and do our best to enjoy each other's company. Happy Thanksgiving, all.

My eyesight had gone wacky. This didn't alert me the way it should have. I've worn glasses for thirty years; that prescription has changed a lot since 1995 and I'd grown used to getting it updated, so when things got extra blurry I realized it had been awhile since my last optometrist visit and I started looking for a new doctor. It did not register just how quickly this had happened. Or how bad it had gotten. In fact, it took entirely too long. Instead, my body threw out other hints -- hey look, this really boring walk is exhausting you. Hey look, you start coughing when you lay down. Hey look. Your feet are swollen. I had a smattering of sick days. I had a hard time reading. I couldn't concentrate at work. Then I finally googled my symptoms late one night. So at 1AM on a Tuesday in July, I woke up the Tall Guy. "Hey. I think I'm having a heart attack. I need you to take me to the ER." He didn't believe me at first, but inside a minute he was much mor...

Rapid City is now home to a Barnes & Noble. I've posted here over the years (yeah, okay, it's been awhile) about my bookstore love. And I spread that love as widely as I can -- cute independent stores like Mitzi's, used stores like Everybody's Bookstore, themed ones like the castle-y places I've visited in Wisconsin and (another B&N in) Rochester. Tiny neighborhood places or the big box franchises like B&N or Borders (may it rest in peace). Mall bookstores, airport newsstands, even simply the book section in a gift shop. I enjoy tripping over a small mom and pop store in towns I'm just passing through, or going on a road trip just to see Powell's City of Books. I love the hushed stores ad the big noisy ones. I love the wild stacks in used stores and the nearly cookie-cutter layouts in franchises. Despite my inner That Guy insisting that I shop local whenever I can (yes, I have one of those in my head), Barnes & Noble holds a special place in ...

"I will show you a technique for exploring your nerves – the underside of them." There, in the calm shadowed chamber, she taught him how to meditate. Moonbound by Robin Sloan What do you do with a midweek holiday? I don't know what I would have done previously. Nothing, maybe. Stayed home and lollygagged if I were at the camp, or back in the Wausau days I may have made grand plans and not followed through. (That was certainly my pattern.) Now -- I escape. Staying home and lazing requires me to navigate downtown parking and that holds no appeal; that simple fact makes it much easier to find and pursue plans. So this last week, with my midweek holiday and my birthday gift to myself, I aimed for one of my favorite spots in my geographic neighborhood. The Badlands. For all my exploring there by car and on foot, I'd never really considered riding a bike on those roads. By and large this is because I've struggled to be comfortable on a bike with cars zooming by or confi...

[Come, join me for a meandering monologue already in progress.] I have not yet figured out what exactly it means to "age gracefully." Seriously. What does that mean? Is it about acceptance? Is it about "living your best life," whatever that actually means? Is it continuing to think about the future even though said future is by necessity getting shorter as you work your way into it? Hm, that last one is jarring. Let's not go there right now. Still, I find myself wondering -- and it has a lot to do with my inner monologue. I don't think I'm alone in this: my inner monologue sounds perpetually 24. Her voice hasn't changed. Her opinions certainly have and she knows a lot more than she did sixteen [eek] years ago, but there haven't been major shifts in her vocabulary or basic approach to many things. And if that's true for me, how many of us are carrying around the same thing? Maybe we don't necessarily act our ages because, deep down, we al...

A clerk and a ladder and warm golden light, and then: the right book exactly, at exactly the right time. - Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore Let's talk about the Penumbraverse for a moment. Back in 2016, while wandering the stacks of (the now beleaguered) Tattered Cover in Denver, I came across a book I'd somehow not heard of, even though it had been around for four years by then. White background, bright yellow books (which I later found glowed in the dark – jarring) and an intriguing title. I finished reading it before my trip had ended . Since then Robin Sloan has built a world. Not Middle Earth style – it's not total invention from the ground up – but a world built on our existing one, a world that is just a touch more ideal than the one we inhabit. Every time I re-read one of the books (or re-listen – they're fantastic fun in audio form) I find myself happier. They're fun, they're interesting, and they feel so ... possible. In-world, here they are chron...

 Go play with this. Just ... follow the instructions and click around. (Hit the little button in the corner that says "view machine" if you want to see how it all works together.) ANOTHER XKCD GEM

Well, hello there. Who else realized we're already 25% of the way through 2024 and thought, "Huh, I wasn't actually ready for that. How do I go back a couple months?" Yeah, I didn't think it was just me. So in the last couple of years, I've cut waaaaaay back on my internet presence. There was the general toxicity of The Face, the distraction of The Gram, the inanity of ... everything. I couldn't do it. And as such, this little project of mine also fell by the wayside. The thing of it is ... I've wanted to get back into it. I've missed throwing my little tidbits onto the internet here. This is more of a shout into the void than other platforms and an outlet for a quiet engineer that doesn't get a lot of chances to write anymore. Not to say there's anything of real substance. But the possibility is there. So let's see if I can give this a proper shot again, shall we? I'm in need of a hobby again, and on a day like today -- cold and ra...

 No, no. I mean, "I'll talk." It's been awhile, and for that I'm sorry. Not, like, REALLY sorry -- I doubt very much I've been missed -- but a little. But let me tell you a little about my 2022 regardless. The fun actually began in 2021, as calendar days mean nothing to the universe at large. December 18th, to be exact. That day -- just a bit after noon -- I received a text message from the Tall One. Had an accident heading to the hospital may need you to find out where ********s dad lives and get my truck Yeah, not exactly the kind of thing you want to receive. Ever. Ever ever. And particularly not in text form. Over the next few minutes it became slightly more clear. Bad burns on his legs. Talk of heading to Denver. By the time I'd retrieved said truck and gotten to the hospital, they were packing him up for the flight down. It had been a bit of a freak accident -- a boiler, a can of primer, a spill, and thirty seconds that changed things drastically. St...

I read A Christmas Carol every year. "Marley's Ghost", original illustration by John Leech from the 1843 edition Found on Wikipedia That's not entirely accurate. The last few years I've listened to it; Audible has a lovely version read by Tim Curry. This means that my brain does it's association thing and I get to picture the story as read by Long John Silver, because why not? The bottom line is that this year I listened to it over the course of a few commutes (by the by, I have a job in Spearfish these days, and what do you mean I don't write often enough here to keep you up to date? I know, I know...) and this year, for no clear reason, I found myself wondering so much more about Fred. For those who don't remember the story, Fred is Scrooge's nephew. We only learn a few things about Fred -- he is the son of Scrooge's only sister and his only living kin, he's not particularly rich or well off, and he is unendingly kind. We don't know h...

or "Why my birthday actually scares me" Okay, so the alternate title doesn't really apply. My birthday doesn't scare me. As of now, I don't really fear aging and this year in particular it doesn't seem to mean much. (I was supposed to be going to space camp. Sigh. The full disappointment hasn't hit yet.) However, the sudden realization that my birthday is only a couple weeks away scares me, and it does this every year. Allow me to explain. I made you a chart. See, it has everything to do with the eventfulness of it all... Mind you, this only includes immediate family members -- no aunts or cousins -- and I only threw in the holidays where family gathering would normally occur (so Mother's Day is in there but I didn't count Halloween). The real catch? Those April and May events happen almost entirely in a 21-day period. In that single three week chunk, there are four birthdays, an anniversary, and a holiday. Then, just for fun, we...

It was April and my sophomore year was wrapping up. I was in a relationship that was on the rocks, although he wasn’t yet aware of that little fact. I had applied – and been rejected – for an undergraduate research position. I had no idea where I was going to land for the summer; all I knew for sure was that I needed a job and I was not interested in staying in Sioux Falls. Remembering a conversation I’d had with an acquaintance earlier that year, I found myself searching for an email address. “Mr. Jensen: Hi, I’m a friend of Nate…” It would be the first of approximately four times I was that formal. Scott admitted to having a couple more spaces open for summer staff and agreed to meet me – after he got back from an Easter trip. A couple weeks passed before we met for a burger at Hardee’s; I brought my resume like I’d been taught. He didn’t so much as glance at it while we talked but gave me an application to fill out. Two days later, he was back in town to collect my appl...