Lump Motif

Rough around the edges.

dailyprompt-2801

  • Death and Parenting as a Single Father

    When I think about my inevitable death, the fear of the unknown is not what troubles me the most. The thought that causes me the most pain is the effect my death will have on my son.

    As a single father of a thirteen-year-old, my relationship with my son is multi-faceted. Folded within the teenage mood swings and my paternal stubbornness is an indescribable loyalty. There also lives an unspoken faith in one another; a faith that silently murmurs, “I will always be here for you,” even though death’s guarantee promises us that this is a self-soothing illusion.

    As a man who has always feared the possibility of a widow-maker heart attack or some sudden death, I’ve attempted to discuss the topic with my son several times. However, the conversation usually ends with a reassuring, “You’re not going to die.” And for some reason, I have not pushed the topic any further.

    But the truth is, I’m going to die. Of course I am. And as a very overweight, middle-aged man, the promise of death lingers in my mind more than I’d like to admit.

    What hurts most is that I won’t be there to comfort him. In my mind’s eye, I see his tears. I see his loneliness and his sadness, and it makes me feel broken.

    This broken feeling motivates me to try to be better. To be healthier. And to be more mindful. To try to fulfill that unspoken promise. That I will always be there for him.

    This post was written as part of this month’s IndieWeb Carnival. This month’s topic is Parenting.

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  • No-Sedation Colonoscopy

    One of my worst fears is going under anaesthesia. As common as it is to have surgery, I still don’t believe this is an irrational fear. So much can go wrong, and the horror stories that I’ve heard have a louder voice in my head than the 99.9% of procedures that have no serious or life-threatening outcomes.

    According to a quick Google search, only about 0.001% of procedures, or 10 per 1 million, result in severe complications. Death occurs in fewer than one in 200,000 to 300,000 procedures (which one is it, Google? That’s a very large range!).

    Even so, the idea terrifies me to my core. So you can imagine my joy when I heard that no-sedation colonoscopies are a real thing. I’ve never had a colonoscopy, but truth be told, I probably should have had one long ago. I’ve had chronic IBS issues for the past decade, but my fear of medical settings in general has kept me from doing the right thing and attending to my health.

    Even more encouraging, patients who undergo no-sedation colonoscopies generally report zero to little discomfort. Where do I sign up?

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  • Keyboard Insecurity

    For the past few years, I’ve used a super clickity-clackity mechanical keyboard that came included with my pre-made gaming PC. Until a few days ago, I hadn’t thought for a moment about how annoying the sound might be to someone else. Keyboard clicks are just so satisfying to use that the potential sound pollution doesn’t even come to mind.

    During one of my online notary sessions late last week, one of the people accompanying one of the signers said, “I hate that keyboard noise. It reminds me of the fake keyboard sound that AI customer service agents use on the phone.”

    “I love the clicky-clacky sound it makes, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I responded cheerfully, in my best customer service voice.

    But he wasn’t done yet. “Well, you should know how annoying it sounds to everyone else.”

    I typically have thick skin, but something about his comment shook me. Had I really been annoying everyone I’ve spoken to online for the past couple of years? Even if I hadn’t, the damage was already done. So I ordered the Kensington Slim Type Wired Keyboard (K72357USA), which is exceptionally silent. Problem solved.

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  • It’s Too Late

    There’s a battle taking place between my intense desire (need?) for sleep and my insistence on getting shit done before I close my laptop for the night. Who am I kidding? Sleep will not come easily if I leave any tasks undone.

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  • Restarting the Conversation

    It’s annoying how fast you reach your maximum conversation length using ChatGPT. I use ChatGPT a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Particularly for my Treasure Coast Today project, which always seems to have something that needs fixing.

    I understand the need for efficiency, especially having witnessed what the process looked like before conversation length limits were introduced. Before ChatGPT had conversation limits, sessions could balloon to lengths that made the site unusable because of the memory required.

    The change means that conversations now frequently get cut off in the middle of pivotal roll-outs. The current process requires me to instruct ChatGPT to prepare a handoff package so the next conversation knows exactly where I left off and I don’t miss a beat. I then upload my full GitHub repo so the new session can see exactly what the current project looks like.

    While this isn’t hard to do, it would be nice if OpenAI released a feature that automatically hands off the conversation, or at least automatically creates a package when a conversation reaches that point, without users having to request it every time. It seems like an easy quality-of-life feature.

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  • Weeknotes 2

    • At work, we continue to be bombarded with Archer’s Talc Powder Settlement documents, and it continues to wear on me. Work leaves me in a dark mood. And apparently we’re only 10,000 signings in, out of a current contract of 65,000. I feel like I’ve done 10,000 myself.
    • The Director of Notary Operations asked if he could give me a call for an informal chit-chat. We spoke for about 20 minutes about my experiences working for them and whether I had any advice for how they handled the Talc project. He admitted that they didn’t factor in the mental toll it would take on us, notaries. The guy sounds out of his depth. He’s not even an active notary. I’m not sure how one obtains the role of Director of Notary Operations without even being a notary. The conversation did little to instill me with faith in this company’s leadership.
    • I had an odd experience with one of my signers. Like many of the other Talc settlement sessions, this man had a tragic story to tell. His wife died of ovarian cancer, and he was visibly torn up about it. In the middle of the session, apropos of nothing, he asked, “Were you vaccinated?” I answered, “Yes, but I haven’t received a booster in several years now.” He sort of giggled to himself, “I think a lot of this has to do with that, but I won’t get into it. Well, I’ll pray for you.” We live in a world where an entire generation has been indoctrinated.
    • My son was home for a couple of days more this week. His doctor called on Monday and told us that his throat culture had come back positive for strep. So, he had to be medicated and feeling better before returning.
    • I finished reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro and the Dictionary of Fine Distinctions by Eli Burnstien, and began Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo.
    • I did a lot of music listening this week, as per usual. Most notably, I listened to Weezer’s new Gold Album. Very mediocre, but not disappointing since I expected a complete trainwreck. Though it did lead to me listening to some of their classic back catalogue.

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  • Token Black Model

    Starting around the mid-90s, corporations started using diversity as a marketing tactic. The fat cats in boardrooms across America stuck their piggy noses skyward and sniffed out a change in the zeitgeist.

    While browsing through any clothing catalogue during this time, one might come across a new edition to their novel-sized clothing compendiums: the token black model. Companies would hire a single black model to mix into the pale sea of posing Chads and Kyles. The token black model would appear once every 3 or 4 pages, strategically placed to be visible, but not too visible.

    Arguably, hiring one sole black model was even worse than having no black models at all. In hindsight, it felt more like a quota companies were expected to fill, rather than an organic result of a more inclusive culture. Sadly, diversity has become mostly a commercial concept, rather than a cultural one.

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  • News Bites: August 28th

    Trump to skip 9/11 remembrance at Ground Zero because they wouldn’t let him give a speech

    Thank you, lord! Can you imagine the giant, orange scumbag rambling about stolen elections and Barack Hussein Obama at a 9/11 remembrance ceremony? This is truly a blessing. Thank you for looking out for us, whoever it is that is coordinating the speakers.

    “RFK Jr. has lied to the Senate”: Lawmakers call for criminal probe, ouster

    RFK Jr. creeps me the fuck out. He’s got the same creepy, blank, sociopathic stare of Roy Kohn. And just like any true sociopath, he has no quibles lying his ass off for self-gain.

    Bluesky now has a feature to save you from accidentally going viral. I want it everywhere.

    I kind of like this idea. Not that I’m ever at risk of going viral at any particular moment, but it would be nice to have the option not to regardless.

    Grok Not Only Generates Child Porn but Was Also Trained On It, New Lawsuit Claims

    X is an absolute cesspool and it sucks. There is so much potential, but the sheer toxicity is truly sickening. And it all starts from the top.

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  • Imaginary Preschool Cults

    A few times per year, I dream about a preschool that doesn’t exist. Or if it does exist, it’s so deeply buried in my memory that it might as well not be real at all. The preschool isn’t your typical preschool; it instead feels sort of like some sort of fringe religious indoctrination program. Each time I have the dream, there is another surreal element introduced. And you probably won’t believe it, but every time I wake from the dream, I have the same stale, musky taste in my mouth. A taste that is unique to this particular dream.

    Last night’s version was unique because instead of being a student at the school, I was returning to see former teachers and offer a pep talk to current students. The whole experience was oddly normal except for what we were all wearing. It’s too odd even to put into words, but I’ll do my best. We all seemed to be decked out in the same set of belts; that’s the closest description I can think of. And these belts circled our bodies from head to toe.

    There is something different about this dream that sets it apart from all the rest. It almost feels like a repressed memory, even though I know I was never a part of a cultish fringe preschool program. Oddly, elements of cult-like experiences pop up in my dreams quite often. I have another similar dream where I’m reading or watching children’s cult-like media. They are profoundly disturbing in a way that’s hard to describe, mostly because they seem so harmless in a way, but have such a sinister undertone.

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  • Lighten Up

    I’ve been mixing in some YA and Children’s fiction into my reading recently. As I get older and increasingly more nostalgic, I find myself seeking comfort in simplicity. It’s nice to take a break from adult literature from time to time and just read something cozy and straightforward.

    I’m currently reading Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo, a cute little coming-of-age tale about a girl and her dog. And I swear if the dog dies at the end I’m never reading anything about an animal ever again.

    I also recently read the first book in the Fear Street series, The New Girl by R.L. Stine. Obviously, it was corny and dated as hell, but it was a light, cozy, quick read that really acted as a reset after the serious lit I’ve been reading lately. It’s part of a Fear Street The Beginning, which is a collection of the first four Fear Street books.

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