juushika

CW for wildfire talk, COVID talk, dead dad talk I guess.

• The city I'm living in entered green/"get ready to evacuate" status in the first week of the Oregon wildfires (specifically the Lionshead fire), but thankfully never progressed beyond that and de-escalated after ~5 days when the rain came. Air quality was a worse problem for longer, but has since improved thanks in large part to more rain. On one hand, taking photographs of all your valuables, organizing all your important documents into one box, and similar emergency prep work isn't bad to have done; on the other hand, staring into the reality of "these are my physical possessions which, like huge swathes of my state, could be gone forever" is terrifying, and it's just a lot of process on top of the everything else which is also just a lot to process.
  
  
• Example: I had library materials due during the fires which, lol, no. But when I checked the library website they were like "we're extending our already-extended checkouts because the state is literally on fire and we're closed so please don't come in"—which is lovely, their communication and accommodations and safety perceptions have been consistently great, and tbh I wish the checkout periods and no late fees were always this generous. But. "The library, which just reopened after the plague-related closure, is closed again because its entire district is on fire" is so ridiculously indicative of this fucking year and I hate it.
  
  
• The only thing that can make quarantine worse is an air quality advisory! ...Honestly, I appreciate temporary moments of isolation, struggle, deprivation, that power outage/snowed in feeling. But the apocalyptic moodlighting, that "weekend home in Lothric*" feeling, isn't the same. It's claustrophobic, it's heavy; it made me feel trapped in a way quarantine hasn't, given my native agoraphobia.
  
  * Lothric is the city in Dark Soul 3 and I actually have a lot of feelings about living in Dark Souls, which is effectively one of my hearthomes even tho hearttype/hearthome language doesn't usually appeal to me. But when you live in Dark Souls you are part of the lifecycle of Dark Souls, which I've written about in depth before. I find that framework cathartic and productive ... but I don't wish it upon this nation and this planet in 2020; indeed, the dystopic fantasy of burn it down, start over is actively counterproductive. Our world (our people) can't be recreated from the ashes; our world shouldn't be liberated from that endless cycle of staving off destruction; that fiction distracts us from the necessary of work of healing. My point here is that my vacation in Lothric was bittersweet. It was in many ways a concrete externalization of the existential fear of global warming et al.: look ye, look ye, for the world is literally on fire, the sky is red as if the eclipse hung in the heavens!! But the cause and solution are markedly different, and the closeness of that fictional framework isn't a comfort—it's terrifying.
  
  
• We emerged from wildfire haze to discover that autumn was here? ??? It's picturesque in comparison, these bluegrey rains and yellowdead leaves. August, who has been a little standoffish because of summer heat and her general wariness since the introduction of the overly-social babyboy cat, has begun to insist on daily snuggles in a warm lap. I've already made one batch of apple sauce, which came out closer to stewed or even caramelized apples, deep brown and caramel savory/sweet, without losing their chopped texture. I'll start on the next batch when I'm done with this post. I have pumpkin bread planned! It's great.
  
  
• And Speaking of Toby! The fur he lost at the humane society from the combo neuter surgery and collar has all grown in (and probably his winter coat is coming in, too), and he is again transformed. It turns out that's where he was hiding all his fluff. His cheeks in particular have grown a little lion mane. I didn't think there could ever be another cat I might love as much as August ... but things seem to be developing in that direction. I'm so proud of the gradual improvement in interactions between Toby and August, and glad that I taught him tricks off the bat because having "good boy" as a way to provide instant feedback on his behavior is so useful. I love cats every day, love mine every day, would not be complete or happy without them ... but I love them most in autumn, the most picaresque season to have two black cats, one coincidentally named October.
  
  
• My dad died in October, and I hate & am grateful for that timing. Anticipating that anniversary contaminates my favorite season, but loving this season offsets that dread. And as little spiritual as I've turned out to be, that autumnal cycle of death still resonates in a way that makes it feel like a natural time to mourn.

( Dead dad dream. )

* * *

During the move I was too busy to be online; after the move I was too exhausted to be online. Now I have about ~5 hours a day of alone time to kill, given my sleep schedule and Devon's work schedule. I'm alternating between productive days of unpacking and/or library visits, and unproductive days where I just want to stare at Overwatch or YouTube and stop existing for a while. (It's funny that "reading a lot" pings as healthy while "staring at screens a lot" pings as unhealthy despite that both are escapism.) There's no particular anxiety to be escaping except an encroaching, existential dread:

I'm supposed to be okay, now! The external stressors are largely gone; all that's left with me. But I'm a mess of brain chemistry and unresolved trauma from the last two years/five years of Cancer Family and 15/34 years of living with a bad brain—so if all that's left to cope with is me, then that's still a lot. It will be hard and may not be successful, and it'll probably begin naturally now that I'm safe enough to process it.

Terrifying.

Sitting down at the computer to write can't be easily categorized as either healthy or unhealthy. It seems to hover between: it's not engaging with the world/apartment, but it's not escapism; it's engaging with myself. ...And also socially, so at some point I'll need to find a balance of "being involved with the physical world but also maybe interacting with people there," except that during and since the move I've been seeing a lot more of Devon's friend circle, including meeting partners-of-friends who had only heard of me as an alleged partner-of-Devon, so that need is mostly fulfilled and the thought of more is exhausting.

I do really like it here, though. I wish the act of finishing the entire space were less overwhelming and didn't involve furniture—I wish it were done. But place itself, and that we have it for a while, is good.

A week:

Wednesday the 3rd was our move-in date; the apartment had been ours & available for a while before, but they stagger move-in windows for new residents. But it wasn't feasible to do a mid-week move, so...

Thursday the 4th we looked over our schedule and decided that...

Friday the 5th Devon took PTO* and while we'd initially planned to do the move that day it ended up making more sense to use Friday for pre-move things like finalizing insurance, utilities (specifically internet), finializing apartment paperwork, picking up apartment keys, and Devon finally having a free moment** to do some of his own sorting/packing

Saturday the 6th Devon left in the morning to get a moving van, which took 2 hours; we started packing at noon; a friend of his showed up to help us load queen bed + disassemble and load couch; we finished packing everything by 5p; I was by this point miles beyond done and frankly am amazed I was able to keep going, but getting Starbucks & a meal on the road helped; we did the drive and arrived at the apartment at 9p; we parked—absolutely illegally, but, like: fight me—right in front of the apartment and were done unloading by 11p (unloading is comparably so easy); we drove back south and dropped off the moving van at midnight; we went to CVO and picked up cats and misc items; we drove back up north and arrived at the apartment at 3a

Sunday the 7th another of Devon's friends arrived to reassemble the couch; then he and Devon ran errands, I've by now forgotten which, while I road a surprising surge of moving-in energy and set up the bookcases in my room; Devon ran back to CVO for some further forgotten/smaller items while I road on that ongoing surprise energy to set up my entire desk/computer

Monday the 8th Devon went back to work; I figured out walking routes for mail box + library, and used just-acquired mail to get a library card; we went out for celebratory dinner

Tuesday the 9th Devon made yet another trip to CVO to pick up a fragile item & yet more forgotten things, leaving immediately after work and arriving back here at 10:30p; I figured out how to cook? things?? with the 4.5 ingredients and 5.5 cooking implements we currently have at the apartment, but tbh the day for me was mostly a blur of sleep and staring vacantly at wall and screens

Wednesday the 10th, today, I made a second trip to the library; we went to Ikea immediately after work, and managed not to find the immediately-needed item but did pick up trash bins/dust pan/door mat and advisory information like "measure drawer sizes" and "measure furniture spaces" and "probably buy that specific thing online" which will make second trip/rest of the list easier

* his workplace does unlimited PTO (within reasonable, non-abusive limitations) for employees; one of those quality of life things that make us optimistic about the company

** the 4-hour-a-day commute means he was effectively only home to eat dinner and sleep; no time to do packing of his own

* * *

Saturday, the moving day, was so long & exhausting that I expected I'd crash immediately. I'm surprised that I was able to get through the day tbh that I was able to get so much done after—but the concrete rewards of "find thing in box, place thing in location, ~create a home~" are so fulfilling that I've done about 70% of my room and 50% of what we have for the larger house. But the crash has come, slow, inevitable. I'm volatile while at the same time dulled—like who knew you could have panic attacks and space out at the same time, yet here we are. And I imagine it will get worse, because the more I settle in to this safe space the more my brain will dredge up everything I have processed over the last few weeks/months/year and a half under the failed assumption that now I can work through them.

Wrong, brain! No! Never!

But the apartment is huge, by our relative standards. It's tempering even the cats' fear of change. They can run down the hallway, Gillian when he wakes up can yowl out windows and in other rooms instead of a meter from my fucking bed, there's windows & while the noises outside are scary they're fascinating also. It's quiet and clean, and while we're learning every day how many innate things make up a home (does a dust pan spark joy??) it's also ours to fill as we wish, as little as we wish. We're responsible for it all, we'll see every cost, every time I flush the toilet I see dollar signs—but Devon is at a point where costs at that level are essentially a non-issue. And if my days for a little while need to be nothings, need to be quiet and empty, then now they can be. The library is literally a 10min walk away, and lovely.

Anyway, so: long week, I'm a mess, apartment is a mess in that unique empty way, and I think of ever moving again in view of all the tidbits we're buying now with this feeling like "but ... how?"—and still a lot more to do. But the worst of it is, finally, done.

* * *

And if you posted a thing I probably have not seen it; and I'm super behind on things like reviews, so sorry for upcoming spam.

Devon's commute means we have about ~2 hours together per day, and I have not been coping well. My bad periods are both varied and familiar. This isn't the soul-deep sadness of sick family member; this is the dissociative grey of a depressive episode. It reminds me too much of college, and of watching my one source of comfort walk away. An overreaction—it is just two weeks of this hell commute—but given how many extenuating circumstances there are I'm unsurprised.

But I declare last week the worst of it. It began with 3 days of Devon being out of state for training, which is behind us now. Seeing him over the weekend helped reset my brain. We wasted a day driving up to see the exact apartment location, and get a feel for its placement. The highway sound is audible, but sounds like wind in the trees and I don't expect it'll seep indoors. The park and library both abut the apartment complex. This puts to rest a lot of my ... purchasing anxiety, I suppose.

And I started the active packing process—mostly clothes/books/games so far. I appreciate an activity to eat up the hours. There'll be rushed things later, and a huge list of things we don't have (nothing urgent except maybe ... flatware...), but my mum has volunteered a lot of items, including a couch. And we move in exactly a week. A week!

It'll get worse and get better but then hopefully be better indefinitely.


* * *

I've been watching The Magicians while packing, but had to stop for 3.5 "A Life in the Day" because it deserved my full attention. It's so like Star Trek: TNG 5.25 "The Inner Light," a comparison I don't make lightly, because that episode is phenomenal and they're not similar just in concept but in quality. My only complaint is can we just cast old people to play old versions of characters. The same episode is happy to cast multiple actors for the same growing son, and aging makeup still sucks. Just cast old people! Anyway who cares. The premise is of one those pure gold tropes—"it was all a dream/time loop" is only a cop-out when it avoids character development, but this more closely parallels a Bad End: it's an insight to a life these people could have and which, for both viewer and eventually for character, informs their character going forward. It's so queer! It's beautifully paced and the denouement, the beauty of all life, made me cry.

(3.9 "All that Josh" made me cry, too, but that's because musical numbers are cheating.)

I only read the first book in the series, and know bits of the plot of the rest (largely: Julia exists) because Teja read the other two. A chunk of my engagement in the first season or so was seeing how the promising but poorly-handled concepts of the book were translated more successfully to TV. Adaptation is fascinating! but most of the secret to success was to add PoC and add women and let all of the above exist in the same place in the narrative.

Now the show has mostly exceeded my book knowledge, so I can't look at adaptation. My technical focus is largely on tropes, particularly how they handle bad tropes. "Not really dead" sucks because it removes risk (this I admit is still a concern) and consequences—but there are consequences aplenty and character are radically changed by death. Julia's entire story is an inch away from awful (and I'm sure the books are), but the show intentionally engages and interrogates and subverts its tropes re: character growth & plot devices as result of trauma. The throughline is multiple-episode consequences, which is what separates the mystical pregnancy trope from Buffy's PTSD; not just nods to continuity, but complicated things persisting though multiple episodes/plotlines as well as being the focus of entire episodes/plots. I've loved this aspect of the genre's evolution since I finally saw The X-Files, and this is the payoff.

And my emotional focus is the character arcs. It wasn't, in the first season—the cast is better in the show than the books, but they were still assholes in a stylized but still-unlikable way. The issue of friendship isn't light-handed—the show doesn't bother itself with light-handed—but it is humanizing, and contrasts effectively against the asshole aesthetic. It's built room for episodes like "A Life in a Day." "TNG's "The Inner Light" works because of investment in Picard; I can't really remember the episode's supporting characters, but I remember discovering a different side to a distinct, stylized, role-defined character. "A Life in a Day" only develops character arcs in snips and snatches; the more consistent development is in relationships, between Quentin and Eliot, between the characters and Fillory, the characters and their quest/social role/social circle. If you can also sing a musical number about it then it's not exactly ... delicately written. But it's working, that combination of longterm repercussions persisting through sometimes-episodic writing as a form of trope inversion + found family/friendship narratives as trope played straight = engaging, effective character arcs.

I still don't know if it's a good show, but I'm glad I picked it up.

(By coincidence/kismet, three convos about the show have been occurring through the bits of the internet I visit, all with similar vibes, all with an undercurrent of "I hope Lev Grossman hates the show, because it stands in opposition to so many of the bitter, hateful, limited, gross things that made his books so awful" and I delight in it. I put off the show for so long because of the damn book!)