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Maybe I'm time traveling
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The big news of the week that no one is capable of talking about is the fact that Google and some smarty pants physicists might have invented frigging TIME CRYSTALS. No, I'm not making shit up, it's not a new Maybe Zombies plot, the nerds are nailing it IRL. What does it mean, Laura? Look, I do not understand diddly about quantum computing, but what I do know is that hyper speed and warp speed and time machines and matter transportation and SkyNet are currently impossibilities because quantum computing doesn't work yet. Time Crystals defy Newton's first law. They are energy without entropy. It's madness.
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Maybe I'm white
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We are in the slow summer season at the moment, and I've spent more time. Time in the garden. Time on the bike. Time laying around with no purpose. Time with un-productivity. I have a sneaking suspicion that come September the time will disappear. I didn't have this time last year as the pandemic meant that people working between non-profits and technology had even more to do. I've finally gotten used to this time, comfortable in it. I am worried that its disappearance is going to be very difficult this year.
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I tore through Yaa Gyasi's Homegoing last weekend, and thereby finished a third book in six weeks. I can't remember the last summer I spent so much time reading. I'm conscious about switching languages, reading one book in English and the next in German. There isn't a lot of congruency to my book choice. Indigenous gardening. Dystopian future. Historical drama.
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“In Africa … the camera arrives as part of colonial paraphernalia, together with the gun and the bible.” Yvonne Vera
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Maybe I need help?
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Earlier this year I wrote a piece to submit to a publication called Dark Mountain. They didn't accept it and now I'm wondering what to do with it. There's the "post everything on the Internet" route that I have not taken, and I need some convincing. This piece feels like a heavy overshare. It's also very heavy. I have read too many stories about people who have their autonomy taken away from them because other people decided they were cray cray. I admit to being crazy, but I'm high functioning. If I tell the world certain things, do I create a record of crazy that can be used against me? Why am I afraid of people using my writing against me in the first place? How to I become more brave with what I share?
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