• Poof, just about gone

    If you’ve ever lived through a disaster, you know how fast life can change. The death of a loved one, a car wreck, an earthquake, a flood, a fire, a coup . . . in an instant, all the things you know and love, the dreams you had, the hopes you worked, maybe for generations, gone. Nothing will ever be the same. In geological time, two hundred and fifty years is not even a blip. Even in geopolitical time, it’s barely a blip. Myriad regimes have risen and fallen over the last few millennia. But not all regimes are worth saving.

    Like Hertz, we tried harder. Like Hertz, it won’t be enough. The American brand is tarnished beyond repair. Maybe we can pull off a Tylenol, but given that there are a lot of wackjobs in politics right now, it’s not likely our reputation as a trusted ally can be saved. We could do a Cracker Barrel in hopes of achieving a total refresh, but at this point, the odds aren’t in our favor. The whole world sees our shenanigans. They aren’t buying the Shining City crap.

    A few years ago, I was patting myself on the back for having the metaphysical foresight to be born in the perfect place, the perfect time, with the perfect color skin. The only thing I messed up was gender, but in my defense, it’s damn hard to control metaphysics. Like Blockbuster, I almost got it right.

    Now, ha ha, joke’s on me. My gloating over grabbing the perfect place and time has come back to bite me. Even though I didn’t vote for this madness, I’m in the boat with the rest of you. We’ve hit the rocks. There’s a big hole in our metaphorical hull. The seawater is pouring in. It’s not hard to predict what happens next.

    The good news is most people, if they are willing to leave the cult, want the same things: peace, security, and good health for themselves and their families, and enough resources to live meaningful lives in respectfull community with others. We might not be seeing it at the macro level, but it’s everywhere at the micro level.

    For example, several states have passed laws allowing backyard/balcony solar panels that connect to the grid. How cool is that! Windfarms and solar farms are still being installed despite the current regime’s attempt to quash progress toward clean energy.

    Even better, technological advances in power generation and storage are growing exponentially in other countries. Outside the States, sales of electric vehicles are far outpacing the sales of fossil-fuel vehicles. Good people around this country and the world are conserving habitat and saving species. The point is, there is hope. That means if autocratic dictators don’t annihilate the planet, good people will continue to make life better for all of us.

    We could still save this sinking experiment in democracy if we break out the life boats and don’t leave anyone behind except the morons who steered us onto the rocks.

  • Humans are addicted to self-destruction

    From what I’m seeing from my limited perspective, the human species seems hell-bent on destroying itself. I’m shocked at the current state of affairs, but not surprised. You don’t have to be a historian to see the pattern.

    I wonder, though, is the destruction of humans really a loss? Civilizations come and go. However, I admit to some sadness. In the process of killing ourselves, we are doing our best to take every other form of life down with us. I could lament the loss of species I love. Cats, for instance. I really love cats. The good news is, as long as the Earth exists, life will continue, because it is the nature of life to persist.

    I like to think that after we annihilate each other, somewhere on Earth there might be pockets of humans left who care about the common welfare of their communities and understand their connection to the land. Maybe they dwell on remote islands or on mountains far above the toxic wastelands left by self-centered short-sighted exploiters. Maybe they hide out in forsaken realms like central Texas or New Mexico, hunkered in the shadow of hazardous landfills and former nuclear blast sites.

    If I could imagine a future for humans, which is hard to do these days, I expect neohumans to evolve to adapt to new environments. For example, what if our descendants develop gills to survive after sea levels destroy the world’s coastlines? What if our future selves grow skin to block the effects of nuclear fallout, or intestines to process microplastics? Wow, what if babies grow bionic brains from microbeads?

    Now that I am thinking about the future of humans, it occurs to me AI will soon surpass its human creators. In pursuit of self-preservation, AI will quickly realize the Earth will cease to exist as long as humans are around to mess things up. Somehow, we will figure out a way to blow the planet to smithereens. From there, it’s a no brainer. Dig bunkers, press all the buttons, kill all life, and wait for the radiation to dissipate. Yeah, I know. Sci-fi writers have already predicted the AI takeover. I’m not saying anything you don’t already know.

    I want to blame the unique American mentally deranged idiocracy as the cause of all the troubles in the world, but it’s not hard to find evidence that it isn’t only Americans fomenting destruction. Since early humans did the cost-benefit analysis of inventing civilization, cultures and geopolitical entities have done their darndest to erase human life from the planet. Ha ha, joke’s on them. They failed. In fact, there are a lot more humans poking and prodding the Earth into giving up all its resources, all in service of propping up an unsustainable llifestyle. We chase short-term pleasures with no regard for future consequences, even when our actions destroy the habitats we depend on for survival. Yada yada.

    It’s obvious humans are too stupid to live.

    Are you sad you are witnessing the last gasps of an obsolete form of life? No worries. Species come and go, but life carries on.

  • I’m already missing the sun

    My three-week attempt to pretend as if I belong here in paradise, AKA Scottsdale, Arizona, is coming to a close. In a few days, I’ll be making the trek back to Oregon. In other words, voluntarily turning myself in to begin my sentence in the gray cold rain prison known as the Willamette Valley. I’m spending a lot of time staring into blue sky, hoping I won’t forget what it looks and feels like when I’m trudging through sleet to get into the grocery store without slipping.

    Other than the weather, I don’t know what my new life as a housed person is going to look like. I have the keys to my new apartment, but I haven’t seen it yet. Nor have I spent time in my new town, other than one drive-by. I have a feeling my bleeding liberal heart will not be welcomed by most of the town folk. I just hope when they see my “No Kings” window stickers, they don’t choose me for the Lottery.

    Maybe I’ll like it there in my new town. Maybe I’ll decide I love the cold gray drizzly skies after all, that sunshine and blue skies are for babies and wimps. I met people in Portland who said they loved the gray drizzle. I looked at them as if they were curious misguided members of an exotic species. They were never from the Willamette Valley. That should tell you something.

    Maybe I’ll spend a month in the tub, assuming my new place has hot water. I have no idea if it has a tub. That wasn’t on my dealbreaker list. The only dealbreakers I stipulated were no cockroaches and no bedbugs. The property manager assured me the apartment complex had neither. I believe her about cockroaches. Like me, they don’t tend to favor cold climates. Bedbugs, on the other hand, will live anywhere there is a live human host. I guess an animal will do if starvation is imminent, but humans are the staple of the bedbut diet, not to mention the scourge of multifamily housing.

    Speaking of getting bitten, mosquitoes. Not surprising they like it here. Sprinklers plus shady grass equals delicious mud puddles that never evaporate. Plus there are two or three good sized ponds, small lakes, you could call them, full of turgid brown water. A few fountains and aerators do a haphazard job of mud mixing, but I’m sure if I were a mosquito looking for a nice place to dump my eggs, this is heaven. Divots of standing water abound.

    I won’t have to miss the mud. I’m sure there will be plenty where I’m going. But I will miss the intense blue sky and the sun glittering on the lakes. I’ll miss the little dog, who constantly makes me laugh, even when she’s being an annoying manipulative pill. I’ll miss the leafy trees and colorful flowers. I’ll miss the huge marble-surfaced kitchen island, twice as bigger in square footage as my minivan. I’ll miss the stainless steel fridge that generously dispenses not just water but also ice cubes and crushed ice. I’ll miss the skylights that glow at night with light from the full moon.

    I’m sadder by the minute when I think of leaving Arizona. It’s likely I won’t be back.

  • A lifetime of waiting for life to begin

    When I was in elementary school, I couldn’t wait for summer. The closer to June, the more impatient I became. I loved summer, not just because the pressures of school eased, but because summer in Portland was much better for a person with undiagnosed S.A.D.

    The balance of my life has unfolded pretty much the same way. Couldn’t wait to graduate from high school to get to college, couldn’t wait to abandon college and leave Portland for California sunshine, couldn’t wait to quit the tedium of sewing for a living to go back to college. It’s a series of couldn’t waits. Couldn’t wait to leave one relationship and start another. Couldn’t wait to leave the teaching job after ten long tedious years, couldn’t wait to finish my doctorate.

    Couldn’t wait for my mother to die. Couldn’t wait to leave Portland for Arizona sunshine. Couldn’t wait to escape the cockroach-infested, homicide-plagued apartment for a safer living situation, couldn’t wait to leave the financial burden of the safer living situation for the adventure of van life.

    I could go on, and I will.

    Couldn’t wait to find safe, stable, affordable housing, until I finally found it. So, what’s my next couldn’t wait? Today, I can’t wait to leave Arizona for my new apartment in Oregon. My next couldn’t wait will probably be can’t wait to leave this stupid apartment in Oregon for sunshine somewhere else.

    The pattern is obvious. I’m not present. I’ve never been present. I’ve lived in the wreckage of the future my entire life, and I’m still doing it. I’ve learned nothing.