Friday, June 24, 2016

Microstory 350: Self-expression

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Self-confidence

I’m not done with the topic of self-expression. I touched on it with the one about sexuality, and I’ll branch out more over the next few entries, and beyond. I feel the need to reiterate that self-expression does not give you the right to express your beliefs if those beliefs are ridiculous. I hate that false maxim of everyone is entitled to their opinion. The truth is that you’re not. Sure, there are different perspectives, and others need to take yours into account, but it’s very possible to be wrong about something. If you’re wrong, you have a responsibility to change. Of course, that presents a bit of a problem, because how will you ever know that you’re wrong? Just because a great number of people are against you doesn’t mean you’re wrong. I believe that people should partake in no recreational drug of any kind, including alcohol. Millions of people disagree, but that doesn’t make my position any less 100% correct. So what can you do? Research. And live. Go out and experience things; learn from others, and even read studies. People have taught you to question other people’s claims, but you should also be questioning your own ideas. You have a right to be who you are, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t change, grow, learn, or own up to your mistakes. I can’t remember if it was on this site, but I’ve told a story before about how I long ago didn’t understand transgendered people. I thought that being of one gender with the appearance of another was their identity, and that they shouldn’t change their bodies. I was wrong, and even though I was just a kid at the time, I’m ashamed for having let myself be so uninformed. This all sounds like a grand tangent from what this entry is supposed to be about, but it isn’t really. You already get that you’re supposed “be yourself” so the only way for me to elaborate on that is to make sure you also understand that being yourself doesn’t mean being stubborn, ignorant, or afraid to evolve.

Tolerance

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Microstory 349: Self-confidence

Click here for a list of every step.
Physical Independence

My self-confidence waxes and wanes through stressors and  successes. For instance, I’m not completely certain that I’ve just used those two terms right. But I’m going to give myself the benefit of the doubt and not look it up, because I have to trust that I know what I’m doing. I’ve always considered the moment I became a writer to be when I learned that I was failing 8th grade science. I had wanted to write about science, but since that was out, all I had was the writing part. Over the next two years, I experimented with fanfiction while trying to absorb what I could from my predecessors. It was at that point, and that point only, that I felt comfortable calling myself a writer. I’ve spent countless hours since then honing my skills; reading, writing, and failing. I’ve tried out all different genres, including dreaded poetry. And honestly, I’m damn good. No, I’m not as flowery as Dickens, or as epic as Tolkien, or as iconic as King. But I get how words work, and I’ve developed techniques to bend them to my will, rearranging them in unusual but still understandable ways. I don’t have an example of this for you as proof, because these are short essays, but I do have evidence of my gratuitous use of the comma, as you can see. That’s part of my style, as are emphatic sentence fragments. Love. It took me quite a long time to nurture my self-confidence, and to know so inescapably that writing is what I’m supposed to be doing, even if I have to do something else to make real money. It’s come at a cost. I’ve neglected other aspects of my repertoire for it, allowing myself to be lax in my studies of other subjects. But I’ve recently worked to improve on these other things, and I was ultimately able to do so because of my self-confidence. Now I know that I’m a decent human being, I can become better. Too much self-confidence can be dangerous, but never more than none at all. For sure.

Self-expression

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Microstory 348: Physical Independence

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Freedom from Persecution

Physical independence is all about being able to take care of yourself. Not everyone is capable of living without the help of others. I’m not talking about emotional support, and I’m not saying that living independently means that you don’t ever need anyone ever. This isn’t about building a cottage in the middle of the woods and becoming a hermit. This actually applies more often than not to the elderly. The older you get, the more susceptible you are to medical issues that can lower your quality of life. Things that were once simple are suddenly quite difficult, and that can be extraordinarily frustrating. It’s important to remember, when and if you reach this point, that your life will have to change in order to accommodate complications that are out of your control. No one is immune to change. We all make sacrifices, and we must all adjust and adapt to external forces. This is sometimes a bad thing, but not always. One benefit of not being able to safely operate an oven anymore, for instance, is not having to cook. All you have to do is kick back and let people wait on you. Take these changes in stride, and remember that they mark a new chapter, not the end. Physical independence is as much about knowing your limitations as it is about being self-sufficient. Know what you can do on your own, and when to ask for help, even if you have been doing something in particular all your life. I heard a story earlier today about a man who was deeply injured in a vehicular collision that could have been avoided if the other driver had been more prudent. He or she was just too old to be driving. Either they or their passenger lost their life because of it. The real problem is that the man who was not at fault could have been killed as well. So it wasn't really fair of the instigator to have been behind the wheel just because they technically carried a license. With independence so should come wisdom.

Self-confidence

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Microstory 347: Freedom from Persecution

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Weight Control

Wow, that is a really ominous title, isn’t it? Freedom from Persecution. Sounds like something a former NSA analyst would shout after committing treason by leaking dangerous state secrets to the public. Yesterday, from the time of writing this, I had a haircut. The woman started talking about this girl she saw with a buzzcut like mine, dyed hair, and tattoos. She seemed to be against this until she got the impression that I wasn’t quite so judgmental, and her perspective seemed to change. We’ve all been hearing lately about people coming out publically as “different”. Transgender, intersex, non-binary sexuality are but a few examples. Some people think they’re showing courage, while others find such things to be disgusting. I would like to live in a world where no one has to announce who they are, because they don’t owe anybody anything. You shouldn’t have to reveal that, though you were born with girl parts, you’re actually a boy. You shouldn’t have to explain that you don’t see yourself as having one of two genders, or any traditional gender, or any gender at all. You should only discuss who you are with others if they’re genuinely interested in getting to know you, and if you’re comfortable with talking about it. Either way, you should be able to live your truth without worrying about people making judgment calls about you that have no basis, and serve no purpose. You shouldn’t have to disprove stereotypes, or defend lifestyle choices that don’t harm others, or go over how simple physics and biology work (i.e. that a person’s sexuality cannot be transmitted to someone else). Freedom to be yourself does not allow you to do absolutely whatever you want. You are still subject to boundaries designed to protect everyone’s safety and right to be themselves. If you are doing something immoral; if you are raping people, or killing them, or abusing animals, then you definitely need to change. But if who you are isn’t hurting anyone, then honestly, people who don’t like it just need to shut the fuck up.

Physical Independence

Monday, June 20, 2016

Microstory 346: Weight Control

Click here for a list of every step.
Exercise

As I mentioned before, I’ve developed a binge eating disorder. Weight wasn’t anything I worried about growing up. Other people in my family did, but I was always really skinny. What I was too stupid to understand at the time was that this was because of how active I was. I was working out almost every day. My God, at one point, I was going to gymnastics three times a week. Why was I doing that? I hate competition, so it’s not like I was training for the Olympics. Whatever my reasoning, it all stopped when I went to college. But that alone would have been okay, because I was already starting from a pretty good place. Other things, however, were at play. I’ve always been very money-conscious as well, so when I discovered that the dorm cafeteria was all-you-can-eat, I went overboard. I decided to eat as much as I could each time I swiped my card to get the most out of the money already spent. And this all came out of a lack of education. Your body needs time to digest and process the nutrients and carbohydrates it gets from food. This is why we eat a few meals per day, rather than just gathering all of our calories in the beginning, and saving time. I didn’t know this, so eating two or three burgers at dinner seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution to the fact that I was only allotted so many meals. I’m ashamed to admit that I gained 45 pounds in college. Afterwards, I went through periods of dropping that back down, but I still wasn’t getting much exercise, so it could only take me so far. At this point in my life, I would say that it’s worse than ever. I have a job where I have to keep moving, but that really builds muscle without burning fat. Plus, I’ve recently quit that position anyway. But now that I’ll be making me more money, I need to commit to fixing myself, starting with eating less food at more meals.

Freedom from Persecution

Sunday, June 19, 2016

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: [Error]

Kayetan Glaston, a.k.a. The Merger was a young fellow, probably in his very early 20s. He was eager, feisty, and way in over his head. Following the disgustingly deadly Gladiator games that The Cleanser forced them to participate in, they were both sent to the staging area together, and left alone. Kayetan was placed in a special set of handcuffs that suppressed a chooser’s ability to use their temporal powers, just like the ones Darko had on in the prison those many years ago. They didn’t speak for a long time. Mateo was still reeling from the ordeal. Lucius had prevented him from having to choose who would die—and the Cleanser seemed okay with this—but it was only a matter of time before Mateo would have to kill someone. It was incredibly powerful and admirable of Lucius to postpone that terrible moment at the cost of his own life, but it wasn’t like he would be able to avoid it forever. Sooner or later—and probably in two years, if not tomorrow—Mateo was going to have to follow through in kind on his promise to honor his contract.
Finally, he decided he needed to break the ice. “Do you prefer to be called The Merger?”
“Why would I prefer that?”
“Many other choosers I’ve met like their nicknames.”
“Kayetan will be fine. Or Glaston.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He laughed, but also shook his head, because it wasn’t funny ‘ha-ha’. It was funny ‘oh-God’. “You piece of shit.”
“Pardon?”
He kept shaking that head. “The noble and majestic Mateo Matic of Topeka, son of a Shaper and The Kingmaker.”
“Who?”
He continued, “everybody loves Mateo for his future. Mateo will not defy the powers that be, but he will not surrender to his fate. He takes his so-called ‘gift’ and uses it for good. I’m gonna throw up.”
“You’re mad at me for shit I haven’t done yet?”
“Seems as good a time as any.”
“Seems like nonsense to me.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Time is malleable, right?”
“What?”
“The things you’ve seen me do in the future, those aren’t set in stone, I can change them.”
“Theoretically.”
“Then instead of being angry about whatever that was, how about you use your gift to help me make a better future.”
“I’m not upset about your future itself. I’m just pissed off that everybody loves you, but I’ve seen first hand that you don’t do anything. You just let the river of time flow over your back. You let other people make decisions for you. You’re just along for the ride.”
“I’m a salmon, but I don’t expect you to understand,” he echoed, like a child.
“You have more choice than you think.”
“Great. Let me know when you’re done being just vague enough to be saying absolutely nothing of value. Look, I was going to let Lucius kill you. He deserved the victory more than you. All things being equal, you were the inferior opponent. He just didn’t give me a chance. I didn’t know he was gonna  kill himself!”
“Lucius did what he had to. When you finally reach the point he did, when you have to choose between life and death, and there’s no one around to fix the game, will you be able to do it? Will you man up?”
He waited the appropriate amount of time to make it clear that he understood the seriousness of the situation. “I do not know.”
“Well, you’re nothin’ if not honest.”
“I just don’t understand what you want from me.”
“I want you to get me out of here.”
“Why?”
“What kind of question is that? See, this is why I don’t like you.”
“No, I mean why would I do that? What would I get out of it?”
“I can protect you from the Cleanser, and anyone else you want to get away from. I can put you and your girlfriend in a pocket reality. No salmon, no choosers, no powers, and best of all, no pattern. You’ll be able to live out your days in this perfect little universe, and no one will be able to touch you there.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “There’s a price.”
“Go on.”
“You’ll be living in a place beyond time. Once you enter, no one can get in, and no one can get out. It doesn’t exist for them, and we don't exist to you.”
“But I can bring anyone with me that I want?”
“Yes, in that moment.”
No, that was a bad idea. It sounded less like a safe haven, and more like a trap. He would never be able to convince his family to go in there with him. They would first have to find his half-sister, Aquila. And everyone has people they want to keep in contact with, but not all the time. No, this was a completely impractical solution to a problem they didn’t understand. “No, I can’t live in a place like that. It would never work. This life may be hard, but it’s mine, and I’m not letting it go.”
“Yeah, I knew you’d wuss out. I don’t know why I bothered asking.”
“I never said I wouldn’t help you, just that I’m not down with a pocket dimension.”
“Well, what do you want?”
“Tell me what you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“To get yourself locked up. You must have done something.”
Kayetan’s jaw literally dropped. His eyes widened, and if he had been holding a glass, he probably would have crushed it in his hands. “You really are clueless. That’s bloody brilliant. That’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.” He lowered his voice to mock Mateo, even though his own voice was already deeper, “you must have done something.”
“What’s the problem, Kayetan?”
“The powers that behate the choosing ones. We didn’t do anything, idiot! They’re just pissy about how powerful we are, so they lock us up, suppress our power, and sometimes even kill us. Because that’s what they’re so mad about. They chose to call themselves powers that be because they’re actually impotent. They have no real power, but they have ways of exploiting and using us. The only reason choosers like Meliora and the Cleanser aren’t dead right now is because they don’t have specialities. They’re the most powerful of all of us, so they can’t be tamed. And the only reason you’re not dead is because they have use for you, and they know that you’re so weak, you can’t stop them.”
That all sounded very true.
Kayetan went on, “you keep getting bad information, but I’m here to set you straight. There are only two kinds of people in the world; those with power, and those without. The humans have none, the PTB steal theirs, you salmon are burdened by yours, and we own ours. You could become one us with the proper training.”
“You mean like Makarion?”
He tilted his head in consideration. “Makarion’s different. He’s not really one of us, and that’s not bigoted or elitist, he really isn’t. He’s in a category all his own.” He thought about it some more. “He’s more like the powers that be than anything, actually.”
“Then that’s what I want.”
“What…Makarion?”
“No, I want you to teach me how to be a choosing one.
“I thought you didn’t want to let your life go.”
“I’m happy to do it if it means getting a better one.”
He smiled.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
“Assuming you have any idea how to get me out of these handcuffs, yeah it sort of was.”
Mateo stood up and started ruffling through his bag. “Rule Number Seven: pack the essentials, and always keep them within reach.” He took out the key Leona used two weeks ago in the salmon-chooser prison to free brother Darko from his suppression cuffs.
“My man!” Kayetan said under a dramatic change in attitude. After Mateo removed the cuffs, Kayetan rubbed his wrists in that same way people on TV do, as if the restraints were so painfully tight that they lost feeling in their fingers. He breathed deeply too, as if he had been held underwater. “Thank you so much for this.”
“You better create one of your merge points and get us somewhere safe.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. But first I need to get you to your place beyond time.”
“What! No!” Mateo screamed, but it was too late.
He was standing on a small patch of desert that spanned only maybe twenty feet in all directions. The edges were rough and uneven, in some places fading out to the nothingness, but in others ending quite abruptly. Everything that wasn’t either a desert or a Mateo was a great big void. There were no stars or planets, so he wasn’t in space. There were no sounds or winds or life. There was nothing. He was in hell. For a few seconds.
A hand reached out and took his. He looked over to find his love, Leona on the other end of the arm. But she wasn’t the same Leona he had left behind. She looked a bit older, and definitely a lot more jaded. The most notable difference was her face. She was wearing an eye patch on the right side. She spoke in a northern English accent, “trust me. I’m the Doctor. Run.”
They jumped into the abyss.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Second Stage of Something Started: Loaners (Part X)

After Mateo Matic was pulled into the timestream in the replica of the Colosseum, he was escorted down to a staging area. Makarion returned shortly thereafter with bad news. “Okay, so I told you that everything would be over once you built the Colosseum, but I can’t necessarily deliver on that one hundred percent.”
“What does that mean?” Vearden asked with a scowl.
“The Cleanser is going to keep using you,” Makarion began, “as long as the powers that be have you loaned out to us.”
“We’re on loan?”
“Yes, that’s what makes you The Freelancers. If the powers want you to go somewhere else, they will, which is why you, Saga worked with The Doctor for six perspective years. If you walk through the stargate now, and you end up anywhere other than Stonehenge, that means you’re still on retainer for us.”
Vearden breathed in deeply out of exasperation, but it ended up making him yawn. When was the last time he slept? “Why are the powers that be helping the Cleanser? They seem to be...” He couldn’t find the words.
Saga finished his sentence, “at odds.”
“I am not privy to that information,” Makarion said.
Dropping it, Saga said, “so we just keep walking through portals, waiting to find out who we work for next, assuming the current job is done.”
“That is how I understand it.”
She looked to Vearden. “Well, I guess that explains our nickname.”
“Yeah,” he responded. “Makes a level of sense now.”
“But you don’t know what’s on the other side of our portal?” she asked of Makarion.
“No,” he said honestly.
“Very well.”

Saga and Vearden once more walked through the stargate to find themselves in some kind of encampment. “When and where the hell are we?” Vearden asked.
“I recognize these kinds of tents,” Saga said. “I think I’m back in World War II.”
“Why would they bring you back here?”
“I don’t know, but I worry about crossing my own timestream.”
A man Saga knew from before approached them stealthily from the side and pointed a gun at them. “Who are you?”
While Vearden held up his hands, Saga tried to diffuse the situation. “Sargent, it’s me.”
“Me who?” Sargent shook his gun threateningly. “I don’t know you.”
“We must have not met yet from your perspective,” Saga tried to explain. “We’re both salmon. This is my partner, Vearden.”
“Nice to meet you,” Vearden said, arms still up.
Sargent put down his gun. “Are you here for the battalion, or for Operation Earworm?”
“We don’t...” Saga started to say.
“Operation Earworm,” Vearden answered with confidence. It was a rational guess, because he really didn’t think an entire war battalion was in need of two more soldiers. If the powers that be dropped them off right here right now, it was for a reason.
“Good, because you would otherwise be dreadfully late,” Sargent pointed out “What year are you from?”
“2079.”
“Then you have implanted translators,” he said, nodding.
“No, we’re originally from the 2020s,” Saga clarified. “We have no transhumanistic enhancements.”
“Lucky for you, I have two extra, but we’re still going to need to find you Nazi uniforms.”
“We’re Nazis!” Vearden exclaimed.
“We’re pretending to be,” Sargent said.

But they were doing more than just pretending. The implanted interfaces allowed them to perceive the German language as English. The translator voice that played right inside their ears even sounded like the person who was talking. They only knew they weren’t actually listening to English because people’s mouths didn’t sync up with the words they heard. Visible text even transformed to the English language instantly. This kind of technology existed in Saga and Vearden’s original time, but usually had to be seen through some kind of device, rather than being sent directly to their visual cortex.
Using further incredibly advanced technology, they were provided with forged documents that allowed them to go just about anywhere in Germany. They headed to a place called Berchtesgaden. There they met a man named Hermann Göring who agreed to listen to them after learning of their powerful positions within the Nazi party. Sargent spoke to him in German, “Mr. Göring, tomorrow Karl Koller will arrive to inform you of Hitler’s intentions to appoint you negotiator for peace. The Führer believes the war to be over, and that it is time for us to move on.”
“I am to become leader of the Third Reich.”
“Yes, that is true, which is why you must act now.”
“What do you mean?”
Sargent sighed and paced around, careful to keep the composure and posture fitting for a Nazi officer. “The name Adolf Hitler has, for a long time, been synonymous with Germany. People treat him as a God, and will follow him everywhere. But you and we all know that he is but a man, and the Third Reich was always destined to outlive its creator.”
Göring did not respond, but appeared to be intrigued by what Sargent was saying.
“And you are destined to lead us into our next stage, to protect the sanctity of Germany, and maintain its dominance over Europe.”
“But if the war is over...” Göring started to say, never expecting to end the sentence.
“There are many different kinds of war,” Sargent explained. “Europe has turned its back on the Führer. Even if we were to win the war, the continent would be in great distress. We would be spending vast resources merely on appeasing  and containing the population. The time for trenches and helmets has passed. We need someone new for the party, Germany, and Europe to follow. We need a new voice, one with the strength of a commander, and the eye of a true strategist.”
“But the Battle of Stalingrad...” Göring trailed off again, referring to his failure at that point in history.
“Will be forgotten in a year,” Sargent stated dismissively. “You and the Führer are not on good terms right now, but you must cement your place in the party. Send him a message. Remind him of his plan to appoint you as successor. Germans, we are a proud race, and we do not dance around the issue. We get to the point, and we get things done. No one knows that better than you. So get this done. Show the world what a true Führer looks like.”
Hermann Göring needed little further convincing. He agreed that this course of action was best for the Reich. He really just needed someone to stand up and tell him that was okay. After they left, Saga asked what was really going on.
“We need to encourage discord amongst the top levels of the party. Hitler is under a great deal of pressure now. Germany really has lost the war, and a telegram from his top officer, reminding him of his promise to allow him to take over? Well...whew, that’s not going to go over well.”
“Forgive me, Sargent, but if we’re time travelers, why don’t we just go back further in time and kill Hitler? Wouldn’t that be easier than just rocking the boat with one little telegram?”
“There’s something you should understand about this, Mr. Haywood,” Sargent began. “This is the upteenth time salmon have returned to this time period. They have tried countless permutations. They tried killing Hitler several years ago, they’ve tried killing him as a youth. They’ve tried bombing Berlin like the Americans did against Japan. They even tried meticulously extracting all prisoners from the concentration camps. But none of these worked. Stopping the war, using advanced technology to win the war; it all just ends up turning to shit. The only way history will allow us to move past this time period is if we let most of it happen the way it did. The main thing we’re changing is killing Hitler a couple years before he died of syphilis anyway, but we first need to prevent anyone who took over the party in alternate timelines from having enough respect to accomplish that in this timeline.
“I’ve been traveling Germany, and abroad, for months now. I’ve planted seeds of distrust amongst dozens of bigwigs. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Felix Steiner that his army detachment could no longer fight. I’ve had more rewarding jobs, though, like passing along certain bits of intelligence to the allied forces that they would otherwise be ignorant of. This, however, was my last mission before I’m sent back in time to join the salmon battalion for some good ol’ fashion guerrilla warfare, so the rest is up to Mateo.”
“Mateo is coming?”
“Well, I don’t think he’ll actually be coming to 1945. I believe Glaston has been assigned to run a merge point for him. Either way, he will have the worst-slash-best job of all of us.”
“What might that be?”
Sargent looked at them like they should have already figured it out. “He’s going to kill Hitler.”

Friday, June 17, 2016

Microstory 345: Exercise

Click here for a list of every step.
Career Integrity

Whenever anyone’s ever talked to me about exercise, they always have some idea of the best way to do it. I’ve also read articles about what you’re supposed to do, and what you’re not. The truth is that different kinds are good for different things. Lifting weights isn’t going to get your heart rate up, but swimming isn’t really going to increase muscle mass. It just depends on what you’re trying to get out of the activity. When I was a child, I didn’t seek out exercise, it was just something that happened to me. I played baseball for however many years long (don’t remember). I started gymnastics very early on because I saw someone on television do what I later learned was a roundoff backhandspring backflip. After eleven years of practice, I was finally able to do that myself. Looking back, it should not have taken that long. Anyway, the point is that I wasn’t trying to stay healthy, especially not when my parents made me join the dive team in high school. These were just incidental, and I didn’t realize how much good they were doing for me until I went to college and promptly stopped exercising. I wasn’t doing anything. I walked to class, but sometimes not even that. My dog still lived back home, so I wasn’t going out with her. I was leading a very sedentary life, and developing a binge eating disorder, but I’ll talk more on that later. It was only a couple years ago that I decided to start hiking again, which was something I had done, again incidentally, through the scouting program. That was one of the best choices I made in my life, and I wish I could do it more. I wish I had the money for a treadmill so that I could multitask with it. But I need to get past my roadblocks and understand that there are ways to exercise without paying any money at all. I hope you’re getting some level of exercise, whether it be yoga, dancing, or even running.

Weight Control