Variable Winds

We made it to garbage day and welcome. I think we all know why we're here. A pretty broken up night in terms of periods of sleep. Had several dreams that still are in mind. Mostly about being back at work and not knowing where anything is or how anything is done. I guess it's not surprising how often my dreams return to that spot, considering how long I worked there.

I remember thinking at the time that I'd become like a ghost assigned to the place. Doomed to walk the same parapets over and over, performing the same tasks over and over. In the end, the release of the ghost is not as simple as just some exorcism ceremony. There is no release from the outside.

So where does that leave me now. Well, for the moment, it leaves me warming my hands up in front of the fire/keyboard before I begin my work of the day. So what will today's story be?

I wrote a note yesterday about returning to the common place without the ones you love. Specifically, the feeling of being lost and in the wrong place that you get. It's very striking and disorienting. I guess this happens when you are not the person who energized the place before. Maybe it takes the other person or persons to make that vivification happen, and so without them, the place reverts to a lifeless location.

I'm adding this later. I was thinking about the difference in a place like that described above and a new place, one never visited before. The old place is charged with all kinds of emotions and memories that were placed there by the people you associate with the place, then when they're not there anymore, the place seems less filled than if you'd never been there. Do you see? It's because it was built on the memories and feelings of the other person or people, that it is larger than empty. Then when they're gone, the place deflates and loses color.

Certainly, that movie I watched last night was very evocative. I'm guessing the story was built that way. I was surprised by some of the comments I saw on Goodreads that were so vehemently unimpressed or even disdainful of the author's techniques. I agree that a lot of the dialog from the boy is above what you'd expect from even most adults. But the boy had Asperger's and so could conceivably have nearly any kind of vocabulary that could be shared. I don't know, I guess I should go back and read the comments again and consider whether they are just the voices of trolls wanting to tear down what someone else has built. It seems to be their work, to rearrange the words of others to tear them down.

Why are there so many of the troll types these days? Maybe they were always there and had to settle for just hating themselves and ruining what lives they could reach in a world no larger than the room they hid in.

The internet certainly invites them to lean out the window and puff themselves up to hurt more people at a distance.

It will be interesting to see what appears today from the story. I have the time to start something before I leave to take Ashton to her driving lesson. Let's see what happens.

Wait. As far as the movie went, I have to say that the father that was created was exceptional and that was part of the intentions of the story. A father without fault or weakness, a perfect father, certainly raises unwanted feelings and comparisons to myself as a father who has failed in so many, so many ways to be a good father. Maybe that was another purpose of the character. Like the mother, seemingly detached and helpless to deal with her own life, appearing at the end to be firmly attached and in step with the kid. Also the grandmother again, very perfect in her assceptance of her life and then the grandfather, who becomes the hero, sort of, of the story. I'll have to think on this story some more.

More later,