Captain’s Log – Page 12

Of Voice and Verse

I recently wrote about my venture into podcasts. Along the way I ruminated on the possibility of starting my own podcast. That is very much a project I would like to start.

What would I podcast about? At the moment I am considering making my podcast an extension of my blog: a simple man, talking about what interests him. If you have any thoughts about particular topics to podcast about, please do contact me. I am intrigued about the idea of booking guests to discuss specific ideas. I think Zoom and some other conferencing software can record audio reasonably well, so that may make remote podcasting possible, a necessary requirement.

Speaking of technology, I need to research proper equipment. I have headphones, but I need a quality noise cancelling microphone to capture my audio, at least, right? Do I need a physical mixer? Do I need a pop filter? Should I do video? If so, I need a camera, or could I use my iPhone? All these questions need answering. If anyone has recommendations for tech, send those along. I can use all the help I can get.

The above picture is my podcast cover art, at least for now. The equipment shown is from when I tried to podcast before. I no longer have that microphone or pop filter, unfortunately. Podcasting remains a project in active pre-production.

While I prepare the podcast, another creative project that I have thought about for a long time is being moved up into active production: a book of poetry. I have many poems sitting around waiting for an audience. I thought I would give them one.

I’ve been writing poetry since I was a teenager, and while some of those poems survive, they aren’t my best work. I started writing in earnest when I reached university and studied English literature and composition. Since then I have intentionally written many poems on a variety of themes. I have played with structure and form. I think I have enough poems for a collection.

I have a week of vacation coming up, and I’ve been thinking of beginning work on this literary project while I rest from my day job and other regular activities. I need to start by collecting all my poems under one roof. Some of them are on my iCloud Drive in a folder. Some are in the Notes app. Others exist only on this blog. Still more are scattered in a few notebooks that I have, somewhere. That will be a job in and of itself.

Next, I need to group the poems by subject. Given what I know I have, that makes most sense right now. Then I would spend time to figure out a theme and structure to the overall collection. Finally, the task would be format. I would like to include a little bit about the writing of several poems, similar to what I did with a recent one here on my blog. Doing that would result in a mix of poesy and prose, which is fine. Clearly there are many decisions to make.

Finally, I want to design the book and release it on Apple Books and in Kindle format, so I could place it on both Amazon and Apple. If I could figure out a print-on-demand service, that would be fantastic! I’d love for readers to have the choice to order physical copies as well as download digital versions. Again, I ask for help. If you’ve done any of this, and have tips or advice, I’d be grateful for any suggestions.

It looks as if the rest of my summer and my autumn will be busy. Not only will I be working on my book of poetry (due in December), researching my burgeoning podcast (launching in January?), but I am also helping my wife write a book (due in October) and working two part time jobs. But it is good to have things to do, especially for me. I struggle with knowing what to work on sometimes, and projects with deadlines help focus my energy.

I’ve often wondered what I have “accomplished” with my life, and lately two thoughts have emerged in my mind. First, life isn’t about accomplishments. It’s about enjoying the journey and making the world the best you can while you are at it. Second, people “accomplish” things at all ages and stages of life. My thirties are simply where I start in earnest. With that in mind, consider this my launch event.

As Of Yet Untitled: A Collection of Poetry: Coming Winter 2021!

The RedBeard Podcast: Coming 2022!

Olympic Gold

Simone Biles. The greatest gymnast of all time. I cannot say I’ve been watching her compete, but I have been following her rise to prominence as the buzz about her has spread.

All my life my mother has been fascinated by gymnastics and the Olympic gymnasts. I remember watching the Magnificent Seven compete in the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta. Those were some talented women, so to say that Simone Biles has outperformed them is an accomplishment in and of itself.

But the recent news about Simone Biles choosing to not compete has some scratching their heads. How can the greatest gymnast not compete in the greatest competition of her time? It all comes down to mental health. A person can be in peak physical form, and need help mentally.

As someone who struggles daily with mental health, I can tell you that it is no simple thing to lay aside the thoughts in one’s own head and do anything, much less complicated, and make no mistake, dangerous, physical feats of athleticism. Some days I cannot even get out of bed, much less flips in the air and land on my feet without shattering them. Granted, I am no Simone Biles, but I think the point is made. She couldn’t. And if the greatest of all time can’t, and does the best thing for her mental health, that is something to be applauded.

Too many are too quick to judge her, or worse, call her weak for choosing to prioritize herself, her whole self, rather than compete. I do not understand those kinds of people. Who among us hasn’t struggled even a little bit? and those who fight every day understand the larger struggles.

I have been applauding myself for continuing to write on my blog, for getting things done around the house consistently, for picking up a book and reading, and other things. For me, these are sometimes Herculean tasks. For me, it is never a simple thing to just empty the dishwasher or take a shower. It is always a mental fight to get myself to do things I think other people can just do without thinking. My head is not always a nice place to inhabit.

Currently I’ve been fighting anxiety and fear, on top of my depression. So many “little” things have been going wrong lately that they are starting to become a few big things in the aggregate. Ordinarily, as I have trouble handling the routine, handling one crisis of any size is a stretch. This past week and a half has seen several crises arise. And I feel myself going under the swells. I’ve reacted badly at times. I’ve managed to make a plan to cover the eventualities, but inside, I am a wreck. I feel threadbare and worn out, and it is only Wednesday.

Why recount this? Because of Simone Biles. If she can prioritize her mental health over Olympic perfection with the entire world watching and judging her, maybe I can have the courage to speak out about what I am struggling with. Maybe I can have the courage to give myself grace in the midst of storms and let myself feel what I feel. I am certain that for Simone to give up gold, which she probably would have won, was not easy. At all. Who could resist the temptation to be known as the best at what they do? A true champion of the world. That is who Simone Biles is. I won’t probably be the champion of anything in my life, but if I can get through today, that is winning.

There is a saying about being “worth more than gold”. In this context, gold is the pinnacle of Olympic achievement. For me, Simone Biles won gold in Tokyo by having the fortitude to stand down from competition. I can win gold for myself today by doing what I need to do, be that sit with my anxiety for a few hours, or “accomplish” something. Because that is what it is all about: being the best version of yourself that you can be. And that varies day to day, moment by moment. Go out and win your gold today. Do what you need to do to take care of yourself, physically, mentally, and in all other ways. I am sure that Simone would say it was worth it all.

Dude, Where’s My Podcast?

My life is becoming more interesting lately. I’m allowing myself to branch out into various directions in terms of what I spend my time doing.

I’m hardly breaking new ground here, but I’ve gotten into podcasts. I know, a billion people listen to them and it seems like a billion people are making them these days, and while that sentence makes it seem like a bad thing, that is a great thing. That means that there are endless avenues of entertainment, exploration, and excitement.

I’ve subscribed to a few podcasts, among them are The Friendship Onion with former hobbits Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan, Gates McFadden InvestiGates, and Did You Get My Text? with Patton Oswalt and Meredith Salenger.

At the moment I’ve only listened to one of those. I am still dipping my toes into podcast listening. That is, I have listened to podcasts in the past, but only sporadically. I am still trying to order my time so that I have a regular podcast listening habit, and the one podcast I am currently enjoying was easy to jump into. I don’t like doing something else while I am listening, mostly because I find my attention wandering and then I am like “what did they just say?” and I realize that I missed twenty minutes of the discussion. And if I am going to listen, I want to do it intentionally.

Enough preamble. Did You Get My Text? with Patton Oswalt and Meredith Salenger is hilarious, touching, and puts warmth into my heart. While Patton and Meredith are married, and live together, they often don’t get a chance to talk face to face, and instead end up texting each other profusely throughout the day. They decided to be intentional about talking together and make a podcast at the same time. The idea of the show is them discussing their texts, but they often wander afield and end up discussing almost anything.

Did I mention it’s hilarious? Yeah, Patton is a famous comedian, but the podcast isn’t him doing stand-up comedy. It is just he and his wife being genuinely funny. They are also sweet to each other, and you can feel the relationship they have being carried on the audio waves. It feels like you have stepped into their living room and are just listening to them talk. But not in a creepy way: they’ve invited you in. You are sipping your beverage of choice, and don’t really have anything to add to the conversation. It’s great.

Their podcast is a little Not Safe For Work. Patton tends to swear, not in a mean, angry way, just in a by-the-way way. If you’ve seen any of his specials (I think there are few on Netflix?) you know what I mean. Meredith swears too, though not as often. Also, their podcast is apparently sponsored by a male enhancement drug, and the way they read and present the ad copy always makes me giggle. I’m twelve and they make the awkwardness of it funny. But just be aware, sometimes the podcast gets adult.

I am looking forward to jumping into the other podcasts I mentioned a bit ago, I just haven’t made the decision to switch them on. I think my evenings are a great time to listen, because I am usually hanging out with my wife in her craft room, both of us with headphones, and it is relaxed and quiet. I want to maybe work out a schedule. You know, Mondays with Patton and Meredith, Tuesdays with the hobbits Billy and Dom, and Thursday is Star Trek time with Gates McFadden. (Wednesday might become Book Club night. More on that in another post!) Weekends are always busy and I end up doing other stuff, so they won’t really jive with the vibe I need to listen.

I’ve also thought a lot about starting my own podcast. My sister and I discussed doing one together, but nothing has yet come of it. We kind of need to be in the same physical space to make it work, and need the right equipment, and it feels like an expense and a hassle right now, but the idea remains evergreen in my mind. I tried on my own, but only got so far as recording two and half episodes before I quit. I also wasn’t in as good of a mental space as I am right now, so that might be part of it, too. If you would like to hear me do a podcast, drop me a note and let me know.

I find my favorite podcasts on Apple Podcasts via the iOS app, but really most major podcasts are available anywhere podcasts are hosted. I’ve also got Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard in my queue, need to finish Still Untitled: The Adam Savage Project, and have yet to check out but am really interested in Off Camera with Sam Jones. Let me know what podcasts you enjoy, and if they strike my fancy, I’ll give them a follow and a listen. Podcasts. They are the 21st century’s idea of radio. And I’m about to tune into another episode of Did You Get My Text?

Thrice Welcome

Welcome to philredbeard.com, proudly hosted at wordpress.com, and featuring all the content you have come to know and love!

I have purchased a new domain name, and a wordpress Personal subscription, to remove ads on my site and to relaunch my blog. I have started to write more regularly now, and for a while my blog was a dusty road. It will now be updated more regularly, and I thought it should get a new start to commemorate the occasion.

So welcome to “a simple man”. Inspired by the bounty hunter Jango Fett as featured in Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Jango declares to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi that he is “a simple man, trying to make [his] way in the universe”. That moment, and that idea, has stuck with me ever since I was 15 years old sitting in a theater watching Clones for the first time. Really, that is all I have ever aspired to be: just “a simple man”.

On this blog I share my thoughts about what interests me, I share poetry that I write, and perhaps the occasional short story. I am a creator and a maker, and my primary medium is the English language. I also take pictures, paint, and other things, but my “first, best destiny”, to quote Mr. Spock from Star Trek, has always been to write. And here you will find my public writing.

I have fun writing, and I hope that you will find something that you enjoy reading. You can follow my blog by submitting your email to the right. You can also drop me an email to the address to the right. I would love to hear from you!

So welcome, welcome, and thrice welcome!

Glorious Purpose

I feel stuck. Immobile. Mired. I do not much care for this state of being.

Lately I have been watching the series Loki on Disney+. It is a great continuation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the story of that universe’s version of the Norse God of Mischief. The title character is discovering all sorts of things about himself, and growing in so many dimensions as a person.

Loki’s catchphrase, introduced in the first Avenger’s’ film, “I am burdened with glorious purpose” comes to haunt him in a very unique way throughout the show.

That same idea, that “glorious purpose,” has come to haunt me lately. I don’t know if it is because of my once and future depression, or a symptom my covid infection that refuses to go away (I have come to suspect that I still suffer some mental effects from my bout with that virus back in January of this year). I don’t know if it is just garden variety laziness, or some other yet undiscovered malady. All I know is that I, like Loki, am burdened with glorious purpose….but I am unable to do anything about it.

The God of Mischief doesn’t have my particular problem. His affliction is that he seems doomed to fail. The audience of his show have yet to see if that will out once more in the ultimate episode, or if Loki will yet succeed, for once, in his journey. I, too, am in the middle, or maybe even at the end of the beginning, of my journey. I suppose it depends on how much of this life I am fated to live. Anyhow, I, like Loki, haven’t yet lived my last days.

Which brings me back to glorious purpose: what am I to do? Or, better yet, how am I to find the motivation to do it? I don’t know. Loki found a better part of himself in his journey that is dragging him up from his depths. Maybe I need such an impetus to drag me up. Perhaps. I somehow don’t think my problem is external. There could be some new drug, or treatment, or therapy, or thing that could pull me onwards, but I doubt it. I think my trouble in internal. I think inside of myself is both problem and solution.

In digging deep, I think I can discover my cure for, and ignition towards, my glorious purpose. Loki discovers that his glorious purpose is a diversion, a limiting factor. He saw he was doing it wrong all along. By trying to live up to some high ideal, whether crafted by himself or thrust upon him by station, he was already failing. But by following his own path he found his true glorious purpose: simply being himself.

That realization could be my salvation. I may need explore within and reconnect with who I, Phil RedBeard, am, and was, and will be, and embrace that fully. I am already doing some of that here. I am writing, and that has always seemed to be my first, best destiny. Suddenly I am not sitting around scrolling social media without purpose.

I am moving forward. I am achieving. And it is a heady feeling; I like this feeling. It’s almost as if I have met my true glorious purpose at last. Loki would be proud.

Ease of Use

I have notice something about myself: I need things to be simple.

I’ll give an example: I don’t drive a standard, or manual, transmission car. I technically know how, but I won’t do it. It is too complicated. Mash this pedal while shifting this knob and not letting up on the gas while steering and maintaining a lane. Nope. Too much happening. I would much rather the car handle the transmission while I steer and adjust the speed. That I can handle.

That brings me to my latest purchase: a Bluetooth keyboard for my iPad Air. I have a traditional computer, but I use it primarily, really only, for work. Sitting there to write a blog post or something else feels too much like work. Plus, it isn’t a laptop, so I can’t take it anywhere I want to go. For these reasons, and a few others, I haven’t really sat down to write that much on the computer. The iPad, while mobile, suffers as well from a variety of issues that for me just don’t make it easy to sit down and start writing. Thus I just haven’t written much. The price of entry is too high.

My new keyboard is a seenda, not a brand I have known or heard of; it was an Amazon find. It is backlit and has a few other great features, but the best part is it makes typing, and therefore writing, easy and uncomplicated. Without making this a product review, I love everything about this keyboard. From the moment I paired it with the iPad and started to type, I knew this was the keyboard to get me writing again.

At the moment I am writing in the WordPress app while watching a baseball game using the picture-in-picture mode of the MLB.TV app. I’m sitting in my easy chair while my wife crochets next to me. It is wonderful. I am so happy writing right now. The flow of this blog post makes me hopeful that regular writing can again be a part of my life. Honestly: I’ve missed it. If this keyboard can bring that back it will be worth way more than I payed for it.

Ease of use is very important to me. Solving the complicating factors standing in the way of something I love is a major win. And I like winning. (Speaking of which, my team needs a win. Currently they have lost 9 in a row and are down 3-1 in the game. C’mon, Cleveland!).

A New Hope

Someone once said,
"Inner emptiness is not a void
but an engine of possibility."

I’m less sure. My hollow bones
are no raging krayt dragon.
Instead: a bleached skeleton in the Wastes.

Destitute droids roam by in search of home
while I lay thirsty and long since dead
of any ambition, a desperate howl in the desert.

What I need is a whisky Jedi to lend my corpse a cause,
some damn fool idealistic crusade would do,
anything to get my fighting blood astir.

Maybe my Jundland is territory to be traversed?
Could a broken old speeder carry my spirit to Eisley
in search of a wretched hive of hope and potentiality?

If so, come Lord Kenobi! Help me, as only you can!
Together could we find redemption,
a watering for our beleaguered souls?

I’ve been feeling very dead and dry inside lately. A lack of motivation rules supreme. For instance: today I slept most of the day. I didn’t feel particularly depressed or down, but I just couldn’t find that spark to get me going. I’m not proud of it, its just what happened. My sensei of sorts, Adam Savage, has a saying that “This is what is happening” which means that you need to embrace what is instead of inviting frustration or other negativity about what you wish could be. So I slept.

Having to work this afternoon kind of broke the spell of nothingness and got me going a little. I listened to a few upbeat songs just before my shift, and that got me going a little more. Then I started thinking. And then I wrote a poem in between working. I don’t know if it is a good poem, I don’t concern myself with that. I simply try to write the best damn poem I can at the time. And I don’t usually explain my poems, but I thought that maybe this time the exercise of explanation would do me good, so here goes:

I read a poem recently, and forgive me, I don’t remember where or I would quote and link to it. But the epigram for my poem is a paraphrase of that verse’s main idea. That poet said that our skeletons house a vast emptiness, but the turn was this idea that instead of being empty, we are full of untapped potential.

I feel dry inside. That always makes me think of deserts, those beautiful tracks of desolation that cover large portions of the rocky part of our planet. Deserts make me think of Tatooine, the all-desert planet from Star Wars. And from there my thoughts started to race with the Star Wars metaphors. My skeleton became that of the krayt dragon that R2-D2 and C-3P0 trudge past in the beginning of the first Star Wars film, A New Hope. “Wastes” refers to the name of that Tatooine desert, the Jundland Wastes.

That “desperate howl” is the noise that krayt dragons make when on the hunt, and which Obi-Wan Kenobi imitated to scare off the Tuskan Raiders who were assaulting Luke Skywalker. That leads naturally to Old Ben, who here is a “whisky Jedi”. That idea comes from Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory, a story about a “whisky priest” that is, a drunk priest who struggles with doing his priestly duties and searches for redemption. I imagine that Obi-Wan is doing the same thing while hiding out on Tatooine and protecting young Skywalker. I wonder if, like he energized the bored Skywalker into his career as a Jedi, maybe Kenobi could do the same for me.

That phrase “blood astir” references another poem “Vagabond Song” by Bliss Carman in which the speaker says that “there is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir” by which is meant that the fall climate and trappings fires up the need to wander. I’ve always loved that poem, and here I bring in that idea that I need to be roused and my longing for an Obi-Wan Kenobi-type to set me ablaze.

From there I begin to wonder if maybe my desert, again the “Jundland Wastes”, is merely a time to be traversed and not a permanent dwelling. I call to mind Luke’s rusty X-34 landspeeder and the spaceport he and Kenobi raced to, Mos Eisley. I turn the tables though on that seedy city, a “hive of scum and villainy” as Kenobi calls it, instead reimagining it to be a hive of “hope and potentiality” as it really was a place that launched Kenobi’s resurgence and Luke’s emergence onto the galactic stage.

Finally, I liken Obi-Wan to a Christ-like figure of redemption, both his own as “whisky Jedi” (further tying in the religious aspect of The Power and the Glory) and mine from the desert inside my bones.

There you have it then. Just now, writing the poem and the explanation was exorcitive (did I just invent that word? I mean it was an exorcism of my soul). I feel loads better just having that out there and working through it in the writing for any who may read this poem and explanation. I don’t know, maybe it will do you good as well. I hope so.

Glimpse of Mortality

I’ve been close to death before, but it was quick. A move of desperation, grim faced and full of rage, daring the Reaper to take me. Then I rushed to my senses and swerved to safety.

But this past winter, I was made to stare into my own mortality and really contemplate the end. I was made to live with the knowledge that each labored breath could be my last, that if things went sideways or southwards, I’d be headed for my end.

I was one of millions who contacted the Covid-19 virus and it sent me to the hospital. I had survived a year of mask wearing and lockdowns and restrictions, but at the turn of the calendar, I got sick. One dark night, I tried to go to sleep. I have sleep apnea, and wear a cpap mask to keep my airways open. But even with that, I couldn’t fall asleep. Even with that positive air pressure being forced into my lungs, I couldn’t grab a breath. Into the night, sitting up in a recliner, I labored to breathe.

Eventually I texted my wife, unable to get enough breath to shout up to the bedroom on the second floor. Eventually I woke her up, and told her I needed to go to the Emergency Room. All the way to the hospital, I felt fear take hold. Unlike my previous suicide attempts, when I desperately wanted to die, this time I desperately wanted to live.

All year, I had seen the death toll rise world wide. I had read and heard stories of healthy people succumbing to this virus that sometimes seemed innocuous, and sometimes seemed vicious. I began to be terrified that I would never leave the hospital alive.

We arrived, and I sat alone in the waiting room, struggling to breathe. My wife wasn’t allowed to sit with me, to reduce the risk of infection to those healthy of the virus. Fear settled in to stay. Eventually I was taken back for a few questions and tests. I was given oxygen and a wheel chair. I could breathe easier, but inside I was still gasping, grasping for a hold on the moment.

After forever, I was taken to a room on the ER floor. An oxygen feed kept me breathing. After a bad night during which I didn’t sleep a wink and was reduced to deep indignity (no nurse was available to unhook my IV and in desperate need of relief, I shit my pants and pissed all over the room floor and still waited 15 minutes for help and a janitor to clean up my mess). But that was nothing: I was being admitted with a severe case of covid.

What followed was a week in which I was sequestered by myself in a hospital room on the fifth floor. A friend visited, but we talked on the phone and saw each other from 30 feet away through a window in the wall. He wasn’t allowed closer, being a nurse himself caring for covid patients. I couldn’t see my wife, and could only call her. I still can’t imagine what that week was like for her, alone and herself afflicted with a milder case of the virus.

I spent my long hours staring out of the window, watching the weather and thinking. For the first time in my life, I really contemplated the fact that I could die. The doctors, not seeing improvement, started me on steroids and a powerful drug (I don’t remember what it was called) to try to fight the infection. I was so scared, though I put on a brave voice for my family when they called. I kept thinking that healthier people than me had lost their battles with covid.

Eventually, after a few days, I did start to get better. In the end, I spent a full week in the hospital. I was discharged on oxygen and with a bucketful of meds, healthy enough to finish my recovery at home. I was finally reunited with my wife. It felt so good, though I was weak and still finding it hard to breathe.

It has taken me much longer to recover psychologically. Thanks to my doctors and the medication, my body got stronger and I could surrender the oxygen and I could walk up the stairs without getting winded. But the fear has only recently loosed its grip on my heart and mind. With my covid vaccine, I now am starting to feel that I might live a while yet.

No longer will I take life for granted. Never again will I tempt the Reaper. I know now that my life is precious. It could flee from me at any moment, after all, I could get into a car accident tomorrow, or something else could happen. The permanence of life remains an illusion.

But I deeply appreciate my life now in a way I didn’t before. I am gentler with myself, more accepting of my flaws and foibles. They aren’t as important or devastating anymore. I have been given a perspective I lacked before. I was flat where now I feel dimension. And all it took was a real look into the specter of nothingness. I wouldn’t wish covid on anyone. I wish I never had that experience, but I cannot deny the change it made to my life. It has taken me months to publicly talk about it in this way. But I find it important to acknowledge what happened.

I feel my life has begun in a new way since January. I feel I am living a renewed existence. And it feels good. Life still hurts and is confusing and messy and frustrating, but at least for now, I am breathing. And that’s not nothing.

One of those days when I was just lying in my hospital bed, I wrote a little poem. It isn’t anything profound, but I find it beautiful, and it is these little moments of beauty that I live for now. Life isn’t guaranteed, never was really, so I am about catching the little moments of beauty while they last.

The city,
wreathed in steam,
dominates only a small portion
of my windowed horizon.
An industrial plateau stretches ‘round.
What I took for a flock of birds,
frozen in the sky:
dirt on the windowpane.
Low winter clouds buttress the sky above,
grey and bleak and lit from far away.

- view from A5110

Best of: 2020

Look, 2020 has been a helluva year. I get that. I won’t enumerate all that has gone wrong this year, because we’ve all lived it and it’s still too soon. And that’s why I want to discuss my best things. Positivity never goes out of style and can’t be beat for long. So with that in mind, here is a brief accounting (in no particular order) of my top objects and experiences from 2020.

Best Of

#1: iPad Air 2

Inherited from my dad, this 9.7” glass and aluminium wonder has helped me create and do many other awesome things. Shoutout to Apple for designing a smashing bit of hardware and software. The Air 2 isn’t the latest and greatest, but it does the job and it is still solid. I just love it for watching my favorite YouTube channel, Tested, in the evenings, or playing Scrabble, or editing photos. Eventually I will upgrade to the newest iPad Air (in green! and with an Apple Pencil) but for now, this thing really rocks.

#2: Canon SL3

Using the one and only pandemic stimulus check I received, I paid off some debt and bought a new DSLR: a Canon SL3. I have yet to really put it through its paces, but already it has proved its worth. I love the flip-out screen. It takes beautiful, high quality photos and is a joy to use. Plus it looks great; I got the white camera body and hoo boy is it snazzy. I want to purchase a few additional lenses for it when I can afford them, but for now the 18-55mm it came with is adequate for most of what I use it for anyway. Shoutout to Canon for a quality camera.

#3: The Mandalorian

Debuting at the end of 2019, the Mandalorian is a fantastic space western. Set in the Star Wars universe soon after the events of Return of the Jedi, the show follows a lone Mandalorian bounty hunter on his way through the galaxy. Season two debuted in October of this year and has just completed. I watched it every week as it was released on Disney plus with my wife. It is certainly the highlight of our week and something we look forward to. The production value is sky high, the acting is superb, and Baby Yoda, who we recently learned was named Grogu, couldn’t be cuter. I love everything about the show, and it has done what all good entertainment should do: given me an escape from the occasional dreariness of life on Earth and rocketed me off into a galaxy far far away. Shout out to Dave Filoni, Jon Favreau, and all the women and men creating that show.

#4: The Mandalorian

No, I’m not repeating myself. I’m talking about my Black Series 6″ action figure. Somewhere in 2009 or 2010 I started taking pictures of some 3.75” Star Wars action figures. I don’t even remember where or why I got the original two figures, two stormtroopers who I named Kyle and Kyyle, but I started taking pictures of them as a way to have fun. Through several years I took hundreds of photos. It was a ton of fun and a creative challenge. At least two years ago I started to collect Hasbro’s Star Wars Black Series action figures with an idea to restart taking stormtrooper pictures. While I have taken several photos, I haven’t done so on the scale I used to. But this year I acquired a Mandalorian action figure and it is beautiful, well articulated, and just plain fun. Shoutout to OT Customs for an awesome cloth cape for my Mando action figure, purchased via eBay. It really looks great and elevates my humble Mandalorian action figure.

#5: Tested

I’ve been a fan of Adam Savage since his days on Mythbusters, and towards the end of that show’s run, Savage joined a small startup called Tested. Tested has become centered around Adam Savage and his obsession for making things, usually prop replicas or costumes for cosplay, but really just about anything he dreams up that he possesses the skills and materials to make. Since Covid 19 forced everybody into lockdowns and social distancing, Savage took to self recording One Day Builds and other videos alone in his shop. Watching his videos on YouTube has been a high point of each and every week, and this fall I took the plunge to become a patron of the channel for a few bucks a month. This allows me access to behind the scenes and exclusive videos, which is well worth the price of admission. Shout out to Savage’s editing crew.

#6: Art

I battle depression each and every day. I started a project for 2020 that I had no idea would come to define a really bad, no good year. My wife crochets constantly, and one thing that she showed me is a mood blanket. Comprised of various colored squares that represent various moods, it allows the maker to create a blanket that reflects their state of mind over a period of time.

I don’t crochet, but I do paint. So I took a 16×20” black canvas and divided it up into one inch squares, each square for a day of the year, excluding Sunday’s. I then assigned different colors to different things: blue for depression; silver for productivity. Green for reading or writing; red for artistic endeavors and photography. Yellow for LEGO fun; purple for special days. The idea was to assign each day a color based on what I did that day and track how many days my depression kept me down, or how often I accomplished something, and what. At a glance I could see how 2020 was going and have a map of my mental health.

I started in January, having no idea what 2020 would bring. It has been fascinating to see the year unfold on this mood painting, and also to see how few days I actually was unable to master my depression. There are plenty of blue squares, to be sure, but way more of the various other colors. I am so glad to see that I have an upper hand on my depression and also that 2020, bad as it has been, has been unable to join with my depression and overwhelm me. My mental health remains a daily challenge, but it is not my master. I will have this painting as a perpetual reminder of that fact. Shoutout to my wife for a fantastic idea.

Christmas?

I am posting this 6 days before the big winter holiday, and while I may receive some awesome stuff under the tree, I didn’t want this to become a “what I got for Christmas this year” list. I think to really appreciate something you’ve got to live with it for awhile and use it and have it enter your life. Each of the things on my list have done that and earned a “best of” label.

And certainly this is not an exhaustive list. I could have added many things here, among them a little leather journal that my wife bought me and that I use for recording the odd poem. I don’t write nearly as much as I should, which is why it didn’t make the list, but it is a fantastic little journal.

Wrap-Up

I’d be interested to hear your best of 2020. Send me an email and let me know what brightened your year. As I said, there is plenty of 2020 to feel bad about, so let’s all focus on what there is to feel good about. I am sure there were at least one or two things that made 2020 not quite so terrible.

Thanks for reading. May 2021 be kinder to us all.

Mercy For My Dreams

There is a song that I love about a sailer and a rolling ocean. The sailor is alone at sea amid an angry storm. He is frightened, and doesn’t know where safety lies. Part of that song says

“…give me mercy for my dreams
‘Cause every confrontation seems
To tell me what it really means
To be this lonely sailor”

I think about that song, and that part in particular, a lot. “Give me mercy for my dreams” is a powerful statement. The sailor had dreams of sailing the ocean, but the ocean turned on him, tried to kill him. He needed mercy because his dreams grew large, turned terrifying. Mercy because now the sailor now only wants to survive. Dreams had vanished to be replaced by crashing waves.

The singer of the song identifies with the sailor, identifies with overwhelming dreams, identifies with the loneliness of a vast and powerful ocean that is trying to kill the hapless sailor.

I have dreams. Dreams beautiful and vast. And most of them have turned on me, become terrible and mortally terrifying. I have struggled much, and sorrowed much, over my dreams, dreams for which I need mercy. I have been and continue most days to be that sailor, adrift and alone.

And if the song stopped there, then it would confirm my fears that there is no hope and no escape and no rescue and no safe harbor. But that isn’t the end. The song continues to say

“I should have realized
I had no reasons to be frightened”

and

“And when the sky begins to clear
And the sun it melts away my fear
I’ll cry a silent weary tear…”

Storms don’t last. Skies clear. The sun shines above black clouds and through lightning strikes and thunder blasts. Eventually the sun breaks through that darkness and seas calm. Then the speaker realizes that they’ve endured, they’ve survived. Message? Dreams can survive.

Storms can last a long time, and I feel as if my boat is still rocking and roiling. But all storms must end. I am holding on to the sides of my boat, pulling my slicker closer, and wiping rain from my brow. After all, the refrain of the song has become my anthem:

“But I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready
I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready”

You see, storms can kill. The idea isn’t that the sailor is foolish to be frightened, but that once the storm ends and he is alive, then he can rejoice in life renewed. The idea is to be ready for the storms, because they will arise. Every time, waves will surge and hurricanes will rage. But if I am ready, then maybe I can weather the storm.

How?

“It’s an angry sea but there is no doubt
That the lighthouse will keep shining out”

What is the lighthouse?

“And when you take me by your side
You love me warm, you love me…”

“And you will find that in the end
It brings you me, the lonely sailor…”

Love. Love can calm oceans of doubt, despair, and overwhelming depression. Lonely sailors simply need a steady, surmounting lighthouse that will shine out despite all and through all, guiding the sailors back to safe harbor.

I was thinking of this song and dreams, because I had a brief encounter over social media today. I responded to a celebrity post asking “Have you committed to following your dreams?” and I said “yes” not really thinking about it. Then the celebrity contacted me, and I am sure many others who answered, asking “How do you manifest your dreams?” and I really had to ponder that. I don’t have a solid reply. I said “I go after what I want and don’t look back” but the truth is that while I often launch my boat and head certainly out to sea, when the seas grow large I often flounder. I want to look back; I want to head back.

But I have love. And love keeps me sailing, love keeps shining out, guiding me in the right direction. When I need safety, I can find it, because I have love. Love doesn’t always look the way I want it to, doesn’t always feel like I want it to feel, but it is there, often right in the boat with me, a steady hand on the tiller and a strong arm on the ropes, tacking the sails.

In the end, I am ready for the storm. So give me mercy for my dreams, because once again I am headed out to sea.