February: A Musing.

Belatedly, I wanted to make a New Year’s resolution declaration.
In years past, I’ve had goals as simple as better posture, less fingernail biting, or more eight-minute phone calls. This year, I merely aim to post once a month. I wrote a long email to a mentor the other day and, after I sent it, I thought I guess I should have put some of that into a more permanent place.

I don’t believe my Gmail outbox is going anywhere, but I do think putting words in places for potentially public consumption keeps me honest. To whom? Myself, mostly. But that counts for something in this day and age.

So with a goal stated, one must then ask: well, what do you have to say?

Currently, not much. I am three weeks into my 39th year. My brother suggested I enjoy this one because they don’t get better for a while. No good birthday on the horizon. I think I am at the age when men experience the midlife crisis. I am less in a mode of crisis and more in a mode of stasis.

A job under threat of AI incursions, but one that I have a good grasp on. A house that could always use an upgrade here or there, but is perfect just the way it is. A family that drives me up the walls, but I wouldn’t trade anything for anything different. Life is what it is at this point, and that’s okay.

I said to my mom the other night that I was happy to have visited 50+ countries earlier in my life because I am not sure when I’ll get to a new one anytime soon. Don’t take that as some sort of wistful declaration. I am not sure I have the aspirations to go anywhere. I am content in my current place. That said, it’s always useful to have a list of wants, and Ireland, Mexico, Hong Kong, and New Zealand are atop mine.

Roman’s been sick for the last three days, and I think there’s a weariness to my mood that might impact this writing. It used to be that when a child was sick, keeping them home was okay because they’d nap, sometimes for two-plus hours. And in those two hours, I was able to get a lot done. Now, though, he’s sick but not so sick that he needs to sleep, and not so old that he can entertain himself or wants to be alone. He’s sick and just wants to hang out with Papa. I get that. But it really cuts down on my ability to think cogently about much else when he’s asking me for help in a Wild Kratts video game, asking me to read him a book, do a puzzle with him, or get him a snack. Alas. This too shall pass.

Here’s an update on my media diet. I read a lot in January. Something about the hellscape that was our reality, I reckon. February has been less productive. I am currently reading Michael Mann’s Heat 2, in advance of the film that will come out at some point. It’s too long. The chapters are too short. I don’t normally say that about a book, but this one has a lot of characters and very short chapters, and I can already identify that this is a problem for a movie. Hard to weave cohesion together when you’ve got a lot of characters, a lot of time jumps, and a lot of short chapters. We’ll see.

I also read Nuclear War: A Scenario, and that one stuck with me more than most things I’ve read recently. I think that’s why I’ve got this goal to get to New Zealand, though honestly Argentina might be okay as well. I just want to be out of the way when the Russians launch their missile at us because they thought we launched our missiles at them after North Korea hit us with a pair of surprise nukes. Anyway, not an upper, but certainly an eye-opener.

Lastly, and maybe relatedly, I decided that in my quest to identify a midlife-crisis goal, I’ll lean into conspiracy. I am right now an inch deep and a mile wide in my quest to find the one I really go full rabbit hole on, but I am open to suggestions. Maybe that’s cliché. Maybe that’s okay.

Until I write again in March, hopefully.