At the risk of stating the obvious, I've not been good about maintaining this blog. Many topics have been worthy of jotting a few sentences about, and yet... Well, I'm here now. So, some flotsam and jetsam from my head as I wait for my car to be serviced in advance of my next rip to SoCal:
- My mood hasn't been great lately. No particular reason, at least none on top of the stresses and bummerific context of my being a Trustee of my mom's estate. Last month there was an incident that triggered an eruption of buried/suppressed rage that was surprisingly powerful and not especially useful. Even when it seems justified, anger of that degree gets in the way of, you know, addressing the problem. But that was then; more recently I've just been in a foggy sort of stasis, for lack of a better term. I'm no stranger to dour moods, and this isn't a severe example by a long shot, but in some ways this sort is more frustrating. I always want to make sense of things, and when staying focused on anything is an elusive task it's impossible to feel like things make any sense. If that makes sense. Which it probably doesn't. Because I'm all over the place in my head right now.
- So, let's talk about baseball, since that is something I can make sense of. Having the playoffs on during this time of foggy ennui is a good thing, it's helpful, but what isn't helpful is the Toronto Blue Jay offense. I really want to like the Jays. I have a great affinity for Canada, for one thing, and they're the only north-of-the-border team in the bigs; they also have a few individual players I like a lot, from ex-Mariner Michael Suanders to Troy Tulowitzki to J.A. Happ, and I have tended to enjoy the company of Blue Jay fans when they come to Seattle to see the Jays play the M's. Sadly, they are built around a one-dimensional offense dependent on the home run, which is so not my style. Also, not good enough to beat the Cleveland Native American Caricatures. Toronto's down 0-3 to the Clevelanders, and while there is Cleveland shortstop Francisco Lindor to appreciate I just can't find anything redeeming about Cleveland winning the American League championship. Bleh. Come on, Blue Jays, be the second team ever to rebound from 0-3! Meanwhile, the Cubs/Dodgers clash in the National League Championship Series has been outstanding -- Javier Baez even stole home! -- and I await the inevitable freak occurrence that prevents the Cubs from winning a pennant. They're clearly the better team, but if they are to maintain their essential Cubness, they must not win. With a pennant, they would cease to be the Cubs.
- John Oliver has been the saving grace of this year's presidential campaign, and this week he tackled the problem of otherwise thoughtful people choosing to vote for protest candidates Jill Stein and Gary Johnson. I say problem because the people I've personally encountered that are supporting one of those two maintain that their choice is principled and Stein/Johnson is actually the best person running. I call bullshit on that, and so does John Oliver, who points out in glorious fashion that both Stein and Johnson are totally incompetent.
Playing theatrically for a brief run in select markets and available now online at various sites (for a few bucks)
Some friends and I took in a theatrical showing of Adam Nimoy's new documentary film about is father tonight. "For the Love of Spock" was originally conceived as a partnership project between Adam and Leonard Nimoy before Leonard's death in March 2015; the endeavor naturally changed in tone and scope after that and became a perhaps less-focused but more expansive look at both the character of Spock and the man who portrayed him.
It's a good film; not being a documentary aficionado, I can't speak to its merits compared to other documentaries, but it's enjoyable, informative, touching, and interesting, which I think is as much as one can ask of such a project. Being the nerd that I am, I already knew a lot of what is covered in the film. But having it presented from the perspective of Leonard's son gave it a new twist and revealed some new tidbits and clarified some things that were only hinted at in "the official record," if you will. (It also includes, over the end credits, a cover of David Bowie's "Starman" performed by Leonard's grandson and his band, and it's really good.)
Before the screening, there was a live-via-Skype introduction and Q&A with Adam Nimoy himself, which was kind of neat. He said that when originally conceived the film was to be 100% about the character of Spock, but after his dad's passing it morphed into more of a look at Leonard Nimoy in and out of Star Trek, but really, I think, it became more about fathers and sons, as personified by three generations of Nimoys. A powerful narrative device has Adam reading a letter to him from Leonard written in 1973. He reads the letter in chunks that are interspersed throughout the film to good effect, shedding light on a difficult relationship between the two; I wanted to see something similar from a later point in time to similarly offer insight into a later estrangement they had more recently, as there is a lot of referencing of troubles without much specificity. But I suppose the specifics aren't important for us as the viewing audience. There's only so much we can expect of an internal family drama to be brought out for all to see, and there's still a lot here.
Adam surprising his dad on the set, 1966
The one part of Leonard Nimoy's life covered in the film that I didn't have a decent knowledge of was his alcoholism, and having recently lost my mom to exactly that, I find myself more interested in that aspect of his history than I'd been before. I had gleaned from various writing over the years that Leonard began drinking heavily around the end of Star Trek's production years -- probably helped along by the stressful and unfulfilling third season (there's another documentary in that) -- but I had not realized that he managed to continue to function and keep it in check for as long as he did before it became overtly destructive; I had assumed he'd beaten it back during the '70s, which turns out to not at all be the right timeframe. It makes me wonder if my mom had a similar experience, hiding it successfully and continuing to function for a good long time before it took her over completely.
Leonard eventually did beat it, but not until the late '80s or so, after he began his second marriage, which was stunning to me. There are interview clips in the film that I had somehow not seen before in which he openly discusses it; in the exhaustive world of fandom where nerd tenacity and celebrity heroes intersect, it's hard to keep anything under wraps, but somehow this was never part of his public profile. Perhaps because his version of alcohol abuse didn't result in obvious or public poor behavior, or because throughout it all he still managed to be Leonard Nimoy, brilliant actor/director and font of thought and creativity, at least publicly.
Interestingly, there is little mention of Nimoy's photography, which was his focus after he was mostly done with Hollywood. There's some bits near the end of the film, and some images from his body-image project of about 10 years ago, but it's kind of a footnote to the movie.
I guess that makes sense, though. As Adam Nimoy said in his introduction, there was just so much that had to be cut to keep the film under two hours long, and obviously little or none of the Star Trek stuff was going to be lost. Or, as Luke Thompson put it in his review of the film for Forbes, the movie "feels like it’s barely nerve-pinching the surface. For fans, a Ken Burns-style multi-hour miniseries may be needed when it comes to Star Trek as a whole, or even Nimoy in particular."
I'd watch that. Hell, I'd help make that. Anyone know Ken?
Cosmically speaking, it was just a regular ol' 365.25-day circuit. Not so much down on the ground.
Labor Day weekend again. That was fast.
Also, man, what a long year it's been.
Today would have been my grandfather's 95th birthday. It's also two days shy of the first anniversary of my mom's death. Makes for a depressing occasion. I miss both of 'em, in different ways and for different reasons. And the same reasons. It's kind of muddled. But this is the closing hours of the year 1 After Mom, so that's where my head's at. I watched "The Visitor" entry of DS9 last night and found myself bawling my eyes out at the end. Because, hey, it's a touching episode on its own, but it takes on a different significance for me now than it did every other time I've seen it.
The past 12 months have been an education in the ways of bureaucracy, in cultural collisions, in frustration with society, and many other things, but mostly it's been a blur of grief. Both overtly expressed and buried under anger and frustration.
My mom died from completely preventable causes, and that makes me mad. It was her own fault, which makes me madder. At the same time, it kind of wasn't really her fault, which confuses me. And it's taken most of a year to get to a point where I can just feel sad without the rest of it.
"The Visitor" has a different edge to it now
She also left me in charge of things, which I have had mixed feelings about. (My step-father was still around at that point, but he had Alzheimer's, so I got put in charge of him too, at least so far as money and practicalities were concerned; he died eight months later, which if I'm being honest is a mixed bag. It's sad and I'm sorry to not get to see him again, but it spared him living with the end stages of Alzheimer's, which would have been hell.) I had no idea a year ago what it meant to be left in charge, what I would be tasked with in any real way. Nor did I have a clue as to the logistical hurdles society had erected in place for people in my position, or the closer-to-home internecine warring that would occur with extended family. I learned a lot. Not all of it positive, but learning is learning. And it's not done with, either, some of those hurdles are elaborate and arbitrary and exist to make people in my position tear their hair out and scream at functionaries that have no power over the situation while they place more and more creative obstacles in their paths.
Meanwhile, the Earth turned and went about its merry way orbiting the sun, and more happened. I learned that another long-term association wasn't what I thought it was, my cat got sick again, and yet more dental trauma hit my jaw and my wallet, all of which was well in keeping with the mood of the orbit. On the other hand, my dad had heart surgery, which you might not think of as a plus, but the result has been exceptionally positive, so score one for the forces of good. And perhaps as important as anything else, I was able to reconnect with someone whom I'd been close to but had drifted away, and with luck and effort will keep her in my personal orbit better than before. So, not all bad, to be sure.
Still, it's not a year I'd care to repeat. If Al and Ziggy Quantum Leaped me back to September 2015 I would be very displeased. No, I prefer to turn that page. Move on to another turn 'round old Sol, and see what the next orbit brings my way. Hopefully things I'd like to revisit, should I someday find myself by an Atavachron.
Don't Do Stupid 'Stuff'
The current issue of The Atlantic features a lengthy piece about President Obama's foreign policy decisions and worldview. It's a terrific piece, and I recommend it (and not just because the president is described in it more than once as "Spockian"). You can see it in print or you can just go here and read it online.
I'm so gonna miss this president when his term is up, no matter who his successor is. (I caucused for Bernie yesterday, and though I'm OK with Hillary, one of the reasons I opted for Bernie is a trepidation about Hillary's foreign policy hawkishness. Also, just the concept that the longer Bernie Sanders is a viable candidate in the race, even if her doesn't win the nom, the more influence he'll have on the platform and the overall campaign, and his influence has been entirely positive.)
Semi-Annual DST Rant
I grew up in Arizona, one of the few places in this country that does not observe the practice known as Daylight Saving Time. There's no point down there, really, there isn't that much difference from season to season in the number of daylight hours at that latitude. Plus, it's a hundred degrees every day in the summer, nobody wants to wait until 10pm for it to cool down.
Even though it makes more sense up here, where we go from around eight and a half hours of daylight in December to sixteen in June, I still find it to be kind of silly. Though fascinating as a proof of concept—an achievement of social engineering that would likely be utterly impossible in this culture without the artifice of changing our clocks. Because when you get down to it, Daylight Saving Time is simply getting everyone to agree to start their days an hour earlier from mid-March through October than they do the rest of the year, for businesses to open and close an hour earlier, and so on. If you just asked people to do that, what do you think the compliance rate would be? 20%? 10%? So instead we just move the clocks by law. And everyone complies without even thinking about it.
As I’ve mentioned before, just when it looked like my life was returning to some semblance of normal and I would have time and inclination to once again devote to my business, my comic strip, my nascent eBay empire, and so on, a whole new kind of shitstorm came a blasting away, and I’ve thus been overwhelmed with that. But, in an effort to both be productive with something and to distract myself from the stress and drama of that particular fiasco, I have today finished (as much as anything is ever finished on line) the latest renovation of my business site, constellationdesign.net and taken it live. I started working on it many many many many months ago, only to get distracted by various things, then was reaching the launch point last summer, when my mom passed and threw my life into chaos.
But now it’s up. It still needs a few tweaks, a few more testimonial quotes and so on, but it’s a relief to have it up and running and in place of the old site, which had become an embarrassment of outdated clunk.
Endorsement Comedy Jackpot
Stephen Colbert recounts the brilliance of a Sarah Palin endorsement on any candidate...
Ever since my mom died last September, my life has been pretty much consumed by unpleasant things. Sure, with occasional bits of light among the dark here and there, but overall, the general state of things has been ... un-fun. It has been, I think, the most sustained period of negativity and anti-good-mood mojo from outside sources I’ve ever endured, and the sheer variety of emotions involved is quite remarkable. I have not been particularly good at managing these so-called negative emotions—my inner Vulcan has gone AWOL—and this past week I have found myself in a place I have never been before, not with all my mental health and depressive issues that go back at least 30+ years if not my whole life.
I have never been suicidal, and I am not now; I have always held onto enough optimism to keep on keeping on no matter how low my orbit around The Black Hole. But I had a stray thought as I pulled into my garage the other night: if I just left the car running, I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore.
It was just a stray thought, not at all something to be actually considered, but I did find it interesting to note the thought. This experience has driven me somewhere having my heart wrenched out, shredded, chewed up, spat out, and thrown back at me never did; that being unjustly fired from a job by incompetents who failed upward never did; that grief over losses of people and pets never did; that fear of poverty and destitution never did; that betrayal from dearly-important-ex-friends never did.
One way or another, the situation will change. Whether it will change soon or down the line, in my favor or against, I’ve no way of knowing. But the status quo is untenable and will eat me alive. Enough is enough.
I’ve been preoccupied of late, to say the least, so I’m a little bit behind on things like, oh, the news, and events out in the world. I was vaguely aware there was a Seahawks football game today because all of the traffic noise outside my building totally went away for a few hours, but things like political debates completely passed me by. But I learned a little about what happened with such things this week during my attempts to distract myself today, including hearing the exchange between Donald Trump and Ted Cruz in which Cruz denigrated Trump for having “New York values.” This is what is known in political circles as a “dog whistle,” a coded term to say something to the base that would be too inflammatory to say overtly, and it was one I found extra-familiar for some reason: because Aaron Sorkin dramatized this very code in the pilot for The West Wing (first clip below; scene continues in second clip).
Reality Bites, But There is Fanfiction
Belly up to the bar
The first four months of being motherless has been trying, to say the least. In addition to the normal emotional turmoil that one might expect when losing a parent, there has been the extra fun of being the person named to handle all the financial fallout. Right around the first of the year, though, all the headaches, obstructions, and general pains-in-the-ass that have come with taking over all the finances eased, it was starting to look like going forward things would be, if not easy, then manageable in a non-overwhelming sort of way. So, naturally, it was time for Murphy’s Law to kick in and make some hay, and what hay it is. Not going to get into the nitty-gritty on the Internet, but suffice to say it’s gotten ugly and has once more taken over my whole state of mind. One trait of my mom’s that I did not inherit is the ability to compartmentalize; no, I am the Processing King of North Seattle and I can’t let anything go, even temporarily while there’s nothing I can do about it but wait for the holiday weekend to pass. The whole issue just churns over and over in my head, conversations replayed, root causes contemplated, scenarios played out, imaginary future arguments had. All the while knotting my stomach into a tangle worthy of the most disorganized box of Christmas lights you can think of. It’s an emotional smorgasbord the sawblade from “Day of the Dove” would get fat on.
For my general health’s sake, despite the frustration of paralysis on the above, I need distractions. And here’s one I’d been looking forward to for a bit: the release of the latest episode in the fan-film production Star Trek New Voyages/Phase II. The series has been a bit hit-and-miss, but I always enjoy them and just marvel at the work that goes into them. Fanzines made for the screen! And made pretty well, too. But I didn’t like this one very much; the story kind of bugged me as a Trekspert. (For the nerds, here’s why: the story shows the first meeting and fling between Captain Kirk and Carol Marcus, setting up the situation we all know from Wrath of Khan. The math doesn't work; this encounter would have to have been about ten years prior to the time of this story, plus the attitude Kirk exhibits at the end falls flat given when this is in his evolution. Would have worked ten years prior, though. Also, the Ferengi are in it, and though I don’t think that’s necessarily bad, they should not have revealed their name, that ruins the fact that they’re supposed to be a total mystery when 1701-D first encounters them. The interaction between Kirk and the Ferengi is actually a neat scene, with Kirk startled to realize that they’re not threatening at all, just out for a buck. OK, the non-nerds can come back in now.) Understanding these are not professional performers (for the most part) helps forgive the rest; it’s not an easy thing, I tried my hand at playing Captain Kirk at a convention once, it’s not all authority and dramatic pauses.
Anyway, more distraction is needed. I have a few comics here and might boot up OOTP for a few seasons’ worth of GM-ing.
For the nerds who care, here’s the New Voyages effort.
More Star Wars
I took some time away from the maelstrom of frustration that has been much of the past few days in my head (doubtful any of that will ever see time here on the blog, at least not in any detail) and went to see Star Wars: TFA again tonight. Some podcasters I’d heard swore up and down that upon second viewing it seemed like a much better movie, and I found they were right. I’m not sure why. Is it just because, in the wake of the prequels, the first time around we were all wrapped in anxiety, hoping like hell that the film wouldn’t suck? Is it because we’ve come to expect disappointment from J.J. Abrams, so that’s what we were primed for initially? Or, more likely (at least for me), after the first time around we could let go of any anticipation of seeing the old Star Wars gang again and allow the new characters to sweep us away?
Whatever the reasons, I enjoyed it more this time. My gripes remain—it still paints our old heroes as failures and incompetents, especially Luke Skywalker; the script loses its focus about two-thirds of the way in so we can have a big action sequence and blow up Death Star Mark III; the R2Deus ex Machina2 problem—but they’re more easily forgiven.
Here’s a Colbert bit I came across to fill out this Star Warsy post.
A Public Service Announcement
As most, if not all, people who’ll see this know, 2015 was a lousy year in large part because of my mom’s rapid decline and ultimate demise. Lots of upset there, and to one degree or another, that is commonly understood. What I was not expecting, though, was the trauma that goes with being the executor of the estate. So, as a heads-up to anyone who may find themselves, at some future date, in the capacity of an executor, Trustee, attorney-in-fact, whathaveyou, here are a few things that would be helpful to know at the outset that I learned over the course of four months (and that have been backed up by others who have been in this situation):
- Know your documentation, know the lawyer that prepared it. You don’t want to be surprised later on to discover that important legal papers were done poorly or incorrectly or lost or destroyed before they ever became your problem. Find out straightaway if everything has been properly filed with proper agencies and if there are any prior documents that were superseded by what you have, and if there are, get your hands on those as well. You may find them necessary if the lawyer in question failed to dot any “I”s or cross any “T”s. And don’t let that lawyer keep the originals out of your hands without an agreement for access if necessary. Remember that these are legally-binding documents when you have to show them to banks and other institutions and rely on that.
- Expect trouble. If you expect every interaction you have with a bank, brokerage, creditor, or other institution to be perilous, you will be pleasantly surprised if/when it goes smoothly, which is far preferable to expecting them to do what you need them to and blowing your stack when they refuse. (Possible exception to the trouble expectation: retirement fund outfits. There’s still red tape to navigate, but they deal with this sort of thing as a primary part of their business and seem to be more sensitive and accommodating).
- The size of a financial institution is inversely proportional to the amount of cooperation they’ll give you. The big kahunas do not want to assist you, they want to avoid being sued, and the staff you’ll have to go through do not want to report any problems above their station. If you find yourself having to deal with a large bank or investment firm or anything like that, be prepared for lengthy hassles. The people you first deal with will prefer that you go away mad than actually help you with a problem because they are conditioned not to make waves with higher-ups. Also, I’m rather convinced now that at least some of these institutions will refuse to help you as a matter of policy. Whether it’s to protect themselves from “the threat of fraud” or that they don’t want to give up any capital they’re earning interest on or that it’s just perversely fun for them, it appears to be by design that they refuse these kinds of requests in hopes that you will just go away; they seem to believe that they are invincible because they are “too big to fail.” On the other hand, small banks, credit unions, etc., rely on service and are far less likely to give you a problem if there’s no legitimate reason for them to do so.
- If someone is not helping you, go over his or her head. The trouble with this is that you may not immediately know if someone is jerking you around or not. But once it’s clear, demand to speak to their boss, or even a peer. Someone else, at any rate, and keep moving up the chain, if necessary. If you know what you’re asking for is appropriate and legal, eventually you will get to someone who will help, even if it takes months and even if they only do it to avoid the involvement of lawyers. I went to eight branches of Wells Fargo bank before finding one that was run by a manager that put a value on service and whose staff was willing to work out the corporation’s problems with/for me while I waited. Even they were stymied by Wells Fargo corporate at times, but they made a large portion of what I needed from WF happen, even though it took a great deal of time for them as well as me. Meanwhile, I was dealing with a large well-known brokerage outfit that uses a bull in its logo (I now know they show the wrong end of the bull) that it took three-plus months to get anywhere with; the person they had assigned to my case was simply unwilling to do anything but regurgitate a script and demand things that she had no business demanding of me, or she would ignore me altogether. It took a great deal of persistence and getting different people on the phone to finally find one that was sympathetic and understanding of my situation and who took action. Once I did, the matter was resolved within 48 hours.
- Don’t be afraid to threaten legal action if you are certain you’re in the right. Getting a lawyer involved may be the only way to get an obstructive, assholish too-big-to-fail financial entity to cooperate. There were several occasions where I verified with a lawyer that a bank or firm had no basis for refusing my authority on accounts, and then on one occasion felt it necessary to play the “I can take you to court” card. It probably made a difference with the Bull outfit. (Of course, don’t play that card without knowing you’d have a real case to make. Check with your lawyer even if it seems bloody obvious, just in case.)
- Figure on a year or so before everything is settled. If your situation is like mine, you will be dealing with other family members or interested parties who are impatient for resolution to things. Too bad. If your situation has a competent lawyer, no ambiguity, no legal hiccups, few arguments with banks, then maybe it’ll only be a couple of months, but if so count yourself lucky. As for my own case, my current estimate is for things to settle out after a start-to-finish period of nine or ten months, but I won’t be surprised if more delays happen between now (the four-month mark) and then.
Anyway, the more you know, and all that. I went into this mess cold, expecting some delay in getting from A to B, but not expecting the kind of obstructions and runaround I’ve come to know is more or less standard. So, there you go. Your mileage may vary, but probably not by a lot.