I nearly froze to death multiple times in the past four months.
Straight-up hanging from the ceiling of an ice cave, lightsaber and tauntaun innards scattered beneath me. No mystical energy field to help me get free. No warm intestines to nestle in to stave off that final chill.
But here’s the cheap shot: I’m speaking metaphorically.
There’s a cute cutaway in 30 Rock where Liz Lemon considers settling for Dennis Duffy, the human epitomization of a trash can that’s not even interesting enough to be on fire.
“Ugh, it just sounds hard. Being with Dennis is easy. If you give into it, you just start to feel kind of numb and warm, and then you just get sleepy. That’s not that bad.”
“That’s exactly what they say it’s like when you freeze to death.”
Every day of the past few months, I repressed a thought named LizLemonFreezing.jpg. It’s been surprisingly easy work. Frighteningly easy, in fact. Enough to eventually induce a chill that traced outwards from the nerves in my spine and erupted in my heart.
Trudging the same path day after day creates a distinct wear down in the road. Beyond
Paragon and Renegade Good and Evil dictates that the same wear down appears in you. A familiar crease forms inward and outward, and both see points of weakness. Internally, mine split along that crease and my insides ripped downwards. My hopes and dreams, my fantasies of happiness in merely my efforts, rained down on me.
As I looked up into the storm of possibilities, I had to look at my life.
I can work bullshit retail, pay my rent, eat rice and beans, maybe splurge on a dumb tattoo every few months. I can live, not day-to-day, but workday-to-workday. Live for the space between work. Not for myself. Not for my passions. Not for not for nothin’.
No one willingly walks into hypothermia, let alone metaphorically willingly. It’s that slight slip, the mental note of, “This isn’t that bad.” Professional stagnation is one thing; fewer people are retiring, leadership positions are becoming scarce, forward movement is sluggish. Understandable.
Personal stagnation does not exist. It’s pure hypothermia. If I don’t better myself, I’m laying down in that snow and taking off my thermals. I’m dying as a personality and becoming one of my few true fears: boring.
So I’m going to light up the sky with what’s kept me warm the past few months. Gas on the fire. Consuming new media’s kept me alive, but that’s all it’s done; it’s time for some pyrotechnics on my part.
Three times a week, I’m publishing something about a piece of media that’s impressed me. I’ve got this habit of breathlessly telling people, “Hey, this thing is super dope check it out alright bye.” It’s not a great way of recommending things that have actually moved me to feel something. So here’s the sched of what I’m calling–
Pop Culture Please
So at noon o’clock MWF, there’s going to be a dose of PCP. Yeah, it’s dumb and cheesy, but damnit, lame alliteration is one of those things that make me smile. And it only gets worse.
My days and nights are boring, but there are things that break the monotony of my everyday life, namely podcasts and books, with a sprinkling of music. These are the IVs in my arm as I survive workday-to-workday.
When the week reaches that halfway point, you need something to think about and look forward to when that final whistle blows. This is all the visual media that keeps me thinking about it every seconds it isn’t being beamed into my eyeballs. Hint: there’s a reason I just subscribed to Crunchyroll.
For when something as kooky as a Z in the place of an S is required, Fridays are for the things that I genuinely enjoy actively participating in: games. They won’t necessarily be the hottest releases and my words won’t necessarily tread new ground (“Hey everyone, this classic is a classic!”). But being that this is the category I’m most passionate and excited about, I just gave myself another reason to look forward to Fridays, so that’s cool.
They say too much PCP will melt your brain. I don’t know who they are or what actual PCP is like, but my PCP is going to be the thing I use to rebuild my brain from the stem up. These are intended to be freeform kinds of things that’ll predominately be writeups, but I’m running it like I run my DnD games: I don’t really have a concrete clue what I’m doing so it’ll all fly with a good enough roll. So let’s see what the dice say.
Yours in carbonite,
W. Griffin Matis