NoJoMo Catch-Up and Finish in Those Public Entries

I was at my parents’ house in Indianapolis all last week, and because my very old Macbook died earlier this year (I think the motherboard shorted out, so not really worth fixing; I’ll just keep an eye on Mac Of All Trades for a good deal on a slightly newer one), I didn’t really have much access to a computer. I’m old-fashioned; I don’t like typing entries on my phone.

In what ways are you aware of being a product of your era or environment?
Well, as a middle-aged Millennial (and part of the micro-generation that was born between 1987 and 1992, that had a mostly offline childhood and grew up with the internet becoming the dominant cultural force), I’m reasonably tech-savvy. I actually didn’t realize how much, until I had to help one of my Gen Z coworkers open the task manager on their laptop. I mean, I never thought I’d have to teach someone who grew up with computers that ctrl-alt-del is how you get a computer to behave, but here we are.

I know how to open and use a command prompt. I know how to install an operating system. I know how to manually back up a hard drive. I know how to take apart and clean a laptop, and I know how to replace hard drives, and how to install more physical memory. I know how to burn CDs and DVDs. I know some coding (HTML and CSS, but I’m learning Python and Java, finally). One of the programs I use in my job is basically a Mainframe, and my boss from that group was surprised I even knew what that was, let alone how to use it. I had a computer -don’t ask me what kind, I don’t know- from at least 1992 to 1996, and it was, like, Windows 3.1 or something. MS-DOS. Anyway, I played games on it a lot, so I’ve always “known” how to use a computer. I’m not super-techie, but I have skills that, to me, are just the basic things everyone should know about computers and how they work.

When was the last time you fell in love, and what tipped the balance?

Quick - the witness protection officers are at the door, you’ve a small suitcase and fifteen minutes to pack before you walk out of your life forever. What are you taking and why?
Smudge and Nyx, obvs, plus their favorite blankets. My emergency cash (I assume my credit and debit cards will be canceled, to make finding me a little harder). My knitting needles. My Kindle. And my back-scratcher. …When I’m stressed, I get itchy.

Write about a song, book or other piece of art that holds special meaning for you.
I kept trying to think of something I could write here, but my brain, after a week of travel, is basically this:

What’s something that your family do or don’t do, that you thought was universal ‘til you started spending time at other people’s houses?
I thought everyone went to church at least twice a week, and that the sermon always lasted three or more hours. Growing up hyper-evangelical (specifically, Assemblies of God) is a trip.

Describe a rude awakening you’ve had and how your life is different as a result.
“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not weakness, that is life.” I love this line, because it’s a whole-ass refuting of the just-world fallacy in two sentences. Life isn’t fair. Good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people. There are a lot of highly intelligent, extremely talented people who never get a chance to develop either thing, because they had the bad luck to be born into poverty, or unsupportive families, or they’re girls in a part of the world that doesn’t educate girls, or in a ghetto, or one of the Kim family’s generational labor camps.

The moment I stopped expecting life to be fair, the happier I became. I mean, do you know how much sweeter poetic justice is, when you have absolutely no expectation of it? That’s why I enjoyed the Fyre Festival implosion and the Orange Shitgibbon getting COVID so much. To paraphrase Cody Johnston/Some More News’s video on the latter, the POTUS is rarely held accountable for his crimes, so Shitgibbon getting COVID felt like him finally getting his due, after four years of being untouchable. (Fyre Festival, to quote a tweet I saw at the time, “is an art installation where mediocre people realize what their lives would be like without rich parents.”)

Give me a piece of random advice, it doesn’t matter how small - in fact, the more niche the better! Feel free to tell the story of how you came by it as well.
“Pay the ADHD tax upfront.”

Okay, so this will require a bit of context. The “ADHD Tax” is the price people with ADHD pay for having ADHD. We’re impulsive, we lose things frequently, and as good as our intentions are while shopping, our crispers usually end up as a graveyard for shriveled, half-moldy produce. Or, in my own case, I sometimes legitimately forgot to get more cat food until Smudge’s feeder was empty, and had been for maybe a day or two. So, my ADHD tax since July 2021 is paying Chewy to deliver my cats’ food and litter once a month. Is it more expensive than just going to Petco or PetSmart or even Walmart? Yes. But I can absolutely rely on Chewy to deliver these items, once a month, on the day I choose, and I have never run out of their food since. (Litter, sometimes. I usually buy two 28lb bags, but with Nyx being as persnickety about her litter box as she is, I’m usually completely changing the litter and washing both boxes every 7 to 10 days, and they both have extra-large boxes.)

Other examples of me paying the ADHD Tax upfront: All of my bills are on autopay. Every single one. Because I learned, when I had my very first apartment in 2014, that if I don’t put my bills on autopay, they won’t get paid. That’s how I ended up three months behind on my electric bill and getting it shut off. Lesson learned, and I’ve never been late on any bills since. Or, I do grocery pick-up. I can go into a store and get most of the things I need, but it’s really easy for me to pick up extra things and go over my budget. So instead, I just pay the service fee (which I work into my budget) and send my list to the store for someone else to pick up. No more impulse buys! More recently, I realized I wasn’t vacuuming upstairs because hauling my Dirt Devil up there is a massive pain in the ass, and it doesn’t have a handheld feature, so I couldn’t get the stairs. Solution: Buy a little dust buster and keep it upstairs. Problem solved.

What’s something you don’t know or don’t understand, and don’t seem able to get to the bottom of despite the entire sum of human knowledge existing in a little box that you carry about with you?
How, exactly, compounding daily interest is calculated. I understand compound interest and how that works on, say, a monthly or yearly compounding schedule, but not on the daily. CDs that compound interest daily are a complete mystery to me.

Are there any musicians/bands/songs that send you into a rage, you hate them that much?
“Broken” by lovelytheband. I don’t really have strong opinions about music anymore; I like what I like, and other people like what they like, and as long as they’re not blasting it right outside my house at 3 am on a weekday, I couldn’t care less what other people listen to. But everything about this song and this band feels like someone picked my brain, specifically, to find out how to create a song/band combo that pisses me, specifically, off. The worst Garbage song is not a fraction as terrible as “Broken”, and their worst is something I skip as soon as it starts playing. (“I’m Really Into Techno”, but if you seek it out, don’t throw things at me; I told you it sucks.)

Also, if you like this song, don’t take my opinion on it personally. Me not liking this song just means that I, personally, do not like it. I don’t think liking this song says anything about you, and given some of my music choices, I don’t judge anyone else’s.

If you could switch bodies with anybody for one day, who would it be and why?
I wouldn’t necessarily want to switch bodies with anyone else. I just want to alter some parts of my own. Like, getting rid of the excess hair, reversing the (genetic) degradation of my knee cartilage, straightening my teeth, and maybe adding five or six inches to my height; specifically, to my legs. I have really short legs. Ever seen King of the Hill? Proportionally, my legs are almost as short as Cotton’s, except I have calves.