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March 2025

Quick Notes

R.I.P Game Pass Subscription: January 26, 2019 – March 21, 2026. What I have to say about content subscription services is that they’re not worth it. This topic deserves a proper essay, though.

Let none find fault with others; let none see the omissions and commissions of others. But let one see one’s own acts, done and undone. The Dhammapada, Chapter 4, Verse 50, translated by Eknath Easwaran

Whenever someone says, "According to reports," make sure you see the reports and verify their sources before making any decisions.

Aging

I turned fifty today. That’s twenty-seven years longer than nineteen-year-old me thought I would live. I’m not certain if the survivability’s been worth it. There are many times when I think that going out in a blaze of glory long before the aches and pains of aging set in was the “correct” method. That could just be a genetic holdover, something in the Norse/Mohawk mix of blood that flows in my veins. But then I remember that it’s likely my ancestors on both sides were farmers, not crusading explorers or warriors, and it’s probably the residual LSD in my spine that produces such fancies.

I had only one goal for reaching my fiftieth birthday: health. Three-ish years ago I stood in front of the mirror and made a solemn oath to sculpt my unwilling flesh into eighty kilograms of lean muscle and sinew. I broke that oath many times in the years since. I’m still hovering close to a hundred kilograms, more sedentary gamer-flab than Olympian tone. But I’ve been hovering here for more than a decade, so if I was to look for a positive, that would be it.

I also suffer from a growing host of maladies. There’s been the Meniere’s disease, which has now claimed ninety percent of the hearing in my left ear. I’ve learned to manage the vertigo, though. No caffeine, a low sodium diet, and a good eight hours of sleep a night seem to keep the heaviest attacks at bay. I’m in the process of getting a genetic test for Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease—something my father suffers from. In the past couple of years I’ve noticed a tendency for my feet to tingle with soreness at night, and I tend to lose my footing or bang my feet into objects I’d previously deftly avoid. This could be any number of things, but the doctor suspects the genes, so we’ll test the genes.

My eyesight continues to degrade. I had the LASIK when I was in my mid-twenties. At that time, it was a miracle. A short procedure and the laser carved my astigmatic corneas into better than workable condition. When the post-op tears cleared I had 20/25 vision. I threw away my Coke-bottle glasses that had made me the target of bullying throughout my K-12 years and bought dozens of pairs of Oakley sunglasses. That was a good era that lasted almost twenty years. Now I need bifocals. I don’t know if another run under the laser would help, and I don’t care to find out. I’m embracing the decline. But if I could do it over again, I would. Non-prescription sunglasses are rad.

I have myriad lumps under my skin that are disturbing in appearance only. They’re benign cysts. I had one removed from my right forearm a year ago, and it left a scar I’m still not sure was a worthwhile trade. It’s sensitive and aches in the cold. I think that if I could redo that choice, I’d keep the lump.

Last, but not least, is the stress-induced fungal rash that’s plagued me for the past half-decade. When it first broke out I was terrified: blooming raised blotches that itched like the Dickens, all over my body. I thought it was permanent. It can be treated but never cured. I’ve learned to live with it, and if anything it’s a fantastic barometer for my stress levels. And today, I’m stressed.

It’s school, mostly, and the impending end of this education era. It began with “Exploring Indigenous Communities” and “Writing Short Fiction” in January of 2016 and ends next month with “Intro to Systems Analysis”, “Database Systems”, and “Object-Oriented Software Development”. Forty-six university courses taken over a nine-year period culminating in what should have been a four-year undergraduate degree in creative writing with a minor in computer science.

I’m sick of school. Maybe it’s the particular school I go to. Maybe it’s how long it’s taken. Maybe it’s my dead brother. Maybe it’s the almost twenty years since holding a real job. Maybe it’s the one-hundred-and-eighty (and counting) hours I’ve spent over the past few weeks in Grand Theft Auto Online. Whatever the reason, I’m hanging on by my fingernails, clawing my way to the finish line. I’ve missed more class time this semester than ever before, and it’s an absolute truth that the primary key to academic success is in attending lectures, no matter how worthless they may feel at the time.

Whether I pass or not should be one of the bets on Polymarket. I don’t know where I’d lay my crypto, but my hopes are on making it through. I can’t abide the thought of spending another four months fretting over pointless assignments in that school.

Something of a dark report, eh? But these are the truths of where I’m at. I have a lot to say about one of the major achievements of my forty-ninth year: completing the readings of The Holy Bible, The Qur’an, The Bhagavad Gita, and The Dhammapada. But this leg of my spiritual journey isn’t complete. I’ve still got The Upanishads and The Tao te Ching to read, and once those are done I’ll pen a lengthy summation. But I can say this about myself, thus far: I’ve given in to craven desires far too often. But I’ll bet you have, too. And I’m still not convinced that behavior is fundamentally bad, but I know it’s incompatible with transcending. Meditate on that, if you will.

Content Consumed

Here’s the list of stuff I’ve managed to jam into my brain in the past month:

Read

Watched

Listened

You’re now up-to-date on my life and times.

P.S. I almost committed to this.

2025.03.01 – 2025.03.31

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