Yesterday (as defined by the typical clock format, as opposed to "my previous span of wakefulness") was another of those days you can't really say all that much about. Nothing really happened, one way or another. It was the fourth of July, of course. I totally forgot until, like, 1PM, though, at which point my neighbors informed me that our other neighbors were having a pool party and I could come, and that the first neighbors were firing up the barbecue and making some prime ribs and other stuff like that. As always, I responded impersonally, involuntarily, politely, and untellingly. I might come.
As they left, I didn't have a "first instinct"; my two instincts emerged equally strongly and quickly, for they were the same two instincts I always had, and you know what they say a wheelbarrow does to the path it always takes. I should go, because I never do anything outside my own house and if I keep this up I will die having lived the most unsatisfying life imaginable; I shouldn't go, because I know fully well I will spend every torturous second there wishing I had not gone, and when I come back I will be relieved and swear to take my own feelings into consideration more often. Being a Neocities user, it also crossed my mind that I shouldn't go because of all the atrocities the United States has been committing lately. Before that thought was even done being thought, I knew it was immaterial; my neighbors are normal, kind people. Hanging out with them as they laughed and partied would be an arbitrary pixel's difference in the vast static of the Butterfly Effect and its presence or absence would be too stochastic to be worth serious consideration. This was local. I had to decide for myself.
Of course, it was a while until the pool party began, so I could do something else to take my mind off of it until it happened, and decide later while in a different state of mind. I watched Youtube videos of other people watching other Youtube videos, not once ceasing to think about my dilemma. I was in the same state of mind an hour and a half later. Except, I was just starting to settle into the Youtube video. And it's not like I was going anyways, in all likelihood.
I did not suddenly miss my window; I had my eyes locked on it for the entire time it was passing me by. And I felt the same deep, corrosive regret I always do, and I also felt so relieved I could finally stop thinking about it. I actually remember smiling a little bit despite myself.
A good hour or so after, I did actually go over to the house of the neighbors who made the food. They still had some out, and I got a small plate of boudin and pasta salad that I immediately took home. The pasta salad was bad. I ended up throwing it out. I felt so guilty, but what else was I supposed to do, leave the plate of it out in my dining room to mold forever? Preserve it in resin as a keepsake?
I had mellowed out a bit more once night fell, and I was as much past the whole thing as I was going to be. I was paying full attention to my Youtube videos, until I heard the first fireworks.
I love fireworks, by the way.
I got up to look outside, but the view from my room's window was awful, and the only thing I could really see without being at a terribly awkward angle was the neighbor's house, with their yard and pool and decorations.
I've done it a couple times before, but not recently. I decided, not with any particular bravado, that I was going to go outside and walk around the neighborhood, looking at the fireworks. This would be my adventure for today. This would be the thing I'd do instead of staying shut in during a holiday.
I took my phone to play Panic! At The Disco songs in the background, a knife in my pocket just in case, and nothing else. I walked around, gawking in the darkness at the beautiful explosions in the sky, and between them I'd try to get lost even though I knew the neighborhood like the back of my hand, so that I would have to figure out a way back and have fun doing so. I actually did get lost, for about a minute. It was delightful to put myself in the hands of chance, instead of my own, agonizingly predictable hands.
I want to do that more often. Historically, every time I think that phrase, I end up trying to force myself to want to do the thing in question, and then I hate it and never do it again. But maybe, if the fireworks are what tipped it into being worth doing, if it can only be done like this twice a year, I'll be excited instead.
One of the reasons I started this website has been to have a place to just yap my absolute ass off about anything. As you might be able to tell from the numerous "and long story short"'s in my last post, I haven't really been doing much of that thus far. There are so many things I need to say but it's like my subconscious's titanium grip will only let up if I satisfy some secret condition completely unrelated to anything you'd imagine would be inducive of the flowing of the brainwaves. Perhaps it has something to do with the scope of each of these subjects, and my history of completely abandoning everything I don't finish in one go.
If anyone reads this shit, then expect a new section on the site by tomorrow. It will be the beginning of Radiantsimulacrumasylum's crown fixture.
Oh, also, my Minesweeper record has already dropped to 66.54 seconds. I am a god and you all are less than ants to me.
I've been playing a lot of Minesweeper recently.
I have two PCs, the far more fast and modern of which is unable to connect to the internet due to some truly convoluted bullshit I might cover if I ever get a PHD and have no other ideas for what to write the dissertation on. The other one is from, like, 2009 or something and I found it years-unused in my house recently. I factory reset it and decided that, since it was from the Frutiger Aero era, I might as well go full retro with it. Among other things, I installed Minesweeper.
A habit I picked up from being a terrible student in school is blasting music into my earlobes while fully locking into some simple computer game to keep my fingers busy. Tetris was the classical choice. I tried looking for a really nice, chill retro Tetris, but unfortunately, I succeeded, and the Tetris I latched onto required an emulator for this strange thing called a "DOS", which led me to a whole rabbit hole I eventually bailed on and am uneager to resubmerge into. As such, my go-to earrot game is Minesweeper now.
That was just, like, a week ago. Now, my best time on medium-difficulty Minesweeper is 71.79 seconds, which is absolutely fucking ridiculous. If I was so inclined, I could keep doing this for a few years and probably become a big head honcho in the professional Minesweeper speedrunning community or something. Why do all the things I'm good at have to be stupid bullshit?
Oh man the pressure's on. This is gonna be the first RSA blog post, FOREVER. This'll always be the first one, the one people that sort by oldest see first, the one the authorities will see first if they ever do a full top-to-bottom investigation here, the post people in the far-flung future will see first if they click the earliest little bubble on Internet Archive... Ummm... I have no ideas dude. What the hell. Goddamn. This is it. Just a self-deprecating joke. I am straining my brain and I think my neuron connections are going to snap. Man. This fucking sucks. This is bad. Fuck me. Fuck this shit. I didn't do it.