[Seth Says] A Delicious Bowl Of Wrong Flakes
Because breakfast is too early in the morning for eating humble pie.
Yes, I make various pronouncements in my newsletter to the best of my knowledge, but I'm not too proud to admit when newer information tells me that my presumptions were inaccurate.
TO ERR IS HUMAN, TO FORBEAR, URSINE
The day after sending out my previous newsletter about man and bear (next time: moose and squirrel!), I saw that one of my hikingest friends had made a post about how she'll relocate her entire hike to avoid a man hiking alone, so clearly the fact that I hadn't heard much comment about encountering a man while hiking (as I might if she encountered a bear) was not necessarily indicative of caution level.
Also, another of my friends emailed me to let me know that he had been killed by a bear, so apparently I was underestimating the dangers on that side as well.
Anyway, it seems clear that if you're a polymorphing druid who can shapeshift between man and bear at will, nobody wants to encounter you on a hike. ("Funny, he doesn't look Druish")
IMAGINE THERE'S NO HEAVEN
I have not had the best celestial luck. I did catch the solar eclipse last month, but was rather underwhelmed by the experience. I am led to believe this is because I only caught the partial eclipse rather than the path of totality, which is akin to being interviewed for a job rather than getting the job. (Skills: blotting out the sun, causing eye strain)
Still, at least I saw it, which was not the case with the Aurora Borealis, which everyone posted many beautiful pictures of on Facebook, but which neglected to appear in the skies around here. I mean, I'm glad that a large swath of the world got to see a heretofore very rare event -- including a friend of mine who had previously taken a honeymoon to Iceland in an unsuccessful bid to see the Aurora Borealis, and now got to see it from her backyard -- but in spite of believing in stoicism and trying to direct my brain thusly ("What's my motivation?" "You're trying to seize the day, and not grieve for the things which you have not, but rejoice in those which you have." "Huh?" "Just smile more."), I remain a fool who can fall for FOMO. And sometimes I stay there too long. (FOMO Years! FOMO Years!)
I was reflecting on this just earlier this evening, as I had been suckered into playing a game I wasn't excited about by the fact that it was leaving Gamepass soon, rather than playing the game I was actually excited to play. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has made this mistake with Netflix, where there's a movie that says "LEAVING SOON", and you think, "Gosh, I'd better watch this mediocre-looking film I feel tepid about while I still have the chance!"
I blame the brain weasels.
THE BRAIN WEASELS
May is Mental Health Month, so it seems like a fine time to acknowledge that in spite of having a pretty fantastic life and a philosophy of stoicism and appreciation, I still struggle with brain weasels. This is not terribly uncommon; although unfortunately mental health issues are oft more stigmatized than physical health issues, they are just as prevalent. And while most of the world has accepted that a ceaseless cavalcade of physical ailments is an inevitable part of getting older, for whatever reason it is less universally accepted that living in the world (and this world in particular, climate change, fascism, and all) is likely to cause mental health issues.
Like my physical health issues, I am fortunate that my mental health issues are not nearly as bad as they could be. They are not zero (I alternate between thinking I am a genius and the crippling self-doubt that my writing is garbage and friends only say they like it to be nice)(and also simultaneously worrying that all my friends secretly (or not-so secretly) find me annoying and do not like me)(need for validation and went into stand-up comedy, how original!), but my brain weasels do not generally prevent me from getting my writing done, much in the same way that my acid reflux does not generally prevent me from going for a walk. (They both just mean unpleasant things will keep being brought up for me.)
A few years back I wrote a column about depression, but for the past few weeks I've frankly found the world too overwhelming to write about anything serious, and so this week you get a silly little column where I complain about not exercising and then make bad literary puns:
A Writerly Physique: Physical Fitness the Heming-way
What can I say, all my humor is in Ernest.
WALK OF AGES
With warmer weather finally upon us, my hope is that I will be motivated to walk more often this summer, one of those things I always intend to do more of but then get drawn in by the glowy box unless I'm meeting a friend to walk, and of course I'm not as good at reaching out as I could be (see supra, re: brain weasels)(oh man, remember spleen weasels?)
Still, the outlook is sunny, or at least hopefully the weather this weekend will be, so I thank you for reading, will be back in a couple weeks with a new column, and encourage you to go out there and win one for the GIPPER (Generic Internet Personage Providing Enthusiastic Rationale).
Bedtime for Bonzo,
Seth