Tag: Dreams

My first year with XOXO

General

Still processing XOXO and the profound effect it has had on me since I first learned about it. Which was way back in 2013, the second year for it. I’d missed the first incarnation entirely despite being, even back then, chronically online. I knew who Andy Baio was: chief technology officer (CTO) for Kickstarter, an amazing crowdfunding platform, and also the blogger behind Waxy.org. To me, he was the guy who creates and finds cool things on the internet. Finding out that he lived in my hometown, and that he was behind an art-tech festival, I knew I needed to see it and maybe be a small part of it.

In August of 2013 I had quit my job out of depression and grief and had no plans to go back to work. I emailed the info email account for this festival, XOXO, and asked if it was too late to volunteer and help. I got no answer, but I resolved to watch for it again next year.

For the year after that, I tried scraping nickels off the internet using Mechanical Turk, a far more exploitative crowd-sourcing app, only falling farther and farther behind on rent and other expenses. But in the summer of 2014, I saw on Twitter that they were again asking for volunteers for this festival, and I immediately emailed. I got a response from Andy McMillan almost immediately, and I was in. I could be with the cool kids. I wasn’t a cool kid, but at least I could help them run their show.

It’s funny to me now that I have almost no blog posts about that. I have one, and it focuses on one single lesson I learned: do the things you love often, make it a habit. That lesson is one I have learned from many different sources, and clearly, as I blog here for the 149th day in a row, a lesson I am still putting to good use. If for nothing else, Jonathan Mann, the Song-A-Day guy, thank you for reinforcing that drive in me.

But holy cats the other speakers that year! Dan Harmon, who I only knew as the creator of Community, inventor of the Story Circle, and Harmontown host, was there, doing a version of his podcast live from the stage at XOXO. Before the show, wandering around, I saw him talking to a woman, and screwed up my courage to go tell him that I loved his work. I politely waited while they exchanged some kind of tense argument, and the woman pointed at me and said something about me being his typical fan.

I mean, sure, I was (and am) a chubby, bald, cis, white dude. Fair, I suppose. I considered myself a feminist and socialist at the time, although many miles of travel down those roads still stretched before me (and still do) so it stung a little. But then Dan Harmon defended me. “What is that supposed to mean?” he challenged her. “This guy is just some random guy, he’s here at this festival the same as you. What is it you’re trying to say?”

I didn’t stick around and I don’t remember how the conversation went. It is entirely possible my memory is incomplete or a fuzzy confabulation. But I remember Dan being argumentative, I recall the woman being dismissive, and I remember feeling awkward. I was glad I got to tell Dan I loved his work though. I still do. He taught me to acknowledge my failings, because that’s the only way to overcome them.

That year I told many creators and writers and artists that I loved their work. What’s funny is, I never saw myself as a creator, writer, or artist. Not then, even with 10 years of blog posts and two first drafts of novels under my belt. I didn’t think what I was doing was on the same level as the folk at XOXO 2013, because my blog traffic was tiny, and I never published those drafts, and the only drawing I did was for myself.

But I am a writer, creator, and artist. I do it because I can’t not do it. I blog here. I make amazing maps for my D&D game and craft stories and lore that my players tell me is deep, rich, and engaging. I do it because I love doing it, and have fun doing it. I’ve been living the XOXO dream, whether I allowed myself to admit it or not. Thank you, Andy B. and Andy M. Your inspriation and energy are a positive force in the world.

Portland and XOXO

Portland

I would have to do a search to confirm it, but I think I have said that, to me, XOXO is a reflection of the best parts of Portland, in so many ways. As a native Portlander who has spent the vast majority of my nearly 6 decades of life here, I feel somewhat qualified to speak on the topic of what is Portland? And if you accept my premise that XOXO reflects Portland values, I can speak to that, as well.

This is a first draft so it may be a bit rambly and disorganized. That’s a reflection of me, the author, because I am pulling together some of the thoughts and dreams this past weekend stirred in me, along with the duty and desire to keep posting at least 500 words a day here. My streak is reaching 150 days, which feels great but not enough, somehow. Anywho, bear with me.

Portland, to me, is intentional. For good or bad, everyone here has an idea of how the world should be. The best parts of that, then, would be intentions to make the world a better place for as many people as possible. Some examples of Portland’s intentionality would be the Urban Growth Boundary, and the regional governmental agency of Metro. The idea was to limit sprawl and to make sure that city growth did not encroach on farm or natural lands. It’s a progressive goal to prevent using up natural resources necessary for everyone living in the city.

Another aspirational part of Portland is the drive to create. Curiosity, a drive to build something cool and new, the hope to see what works and what doesn’t. I could cite examples like our 1% for Art law, or the Regional Arts and Culture Council (RACC), but the better examples, to me, are the artists and musicians who live here. Portland has always had a thriving local music scene, art galleries tiny and large, neighborhood festivals and street fairs. The tech industry liked Oregon and proximity to Portland for many reasons. There are at least three large comic publishers in and around Portland, challenging the Big Two of DC and Marvel: Image Comics, Dark Horse Comics, and Oni Press.

The stereotypical view of Portland is as a leftist utopia, and I admit that I am a leftist, politically. Our city government, however, has not been very progressive for a while now. In fact, I acknowledge that the Oregon territories were settled in large part to create a white utopia. White supremacy exists on the streets and in our city halls, and I condemn it with my whole chest. And that brings me to another Portland value: we are not afraid to see the pitfalls, the dangers, and the destructive elements, and we speak up about them. Daddy Bush called Portland “Little Beirut” because we were never afraid to speak truth to power. Protest is in our blood. I know it can be a bad thing when used to punch down, but again, I am speaking of the best parts of Portland, and when we are speaking up in defense of the oppressed, that embodies Portland, to me.

Iced Coffee Kick-In

General

Such weird dreams last night again. Must be the heat that’s making them so vivid. I’ve got a window-mounted air conditioner in my bedroom. It’s the good kind, which is the kind that hangs on the windowsill and has part of it outside; here, let Technology Connections explain it for you, they’re great at that and you should watch them.

Anyway, even with the AC running in my bedroom, it doesn’t get much cooler than 75°F in there. When I woke up this morning, it was 64°F outside, a full 10 degrees cooler. I’d complain, but when the heat of the day rolls around, I’m happy it isn’t 100 freaking degrees in my bedroom because that would be unlivably hot.

My dreams were centered around Star Wars tattoos (not mine), work, bad authoritarianism, the ignorance of crowds, and petty theft. Also friendship? Lots of weird themes in there. I’m not going to relate the events of the dreams because on waking, they don’t really flow together well. In the dreams, of course, since it’s all a stew of feelings and impressions, it felt like it was one continous story.

Even though the themes I mentioned feel heavy, for the most part I was not anxious, I was happy and felt connected to those closest to me in the dream. It only got scary and tense during the theft part, but since it felt like my own fault for tempting danger I couldn’t be too hard on myself. But up to that point I was the one who was righteous and I knew what I was doing. I was encouraging the community to be better, which is a personal goal in real life, too. Well, once I’ve built community, I mean. After I have a community, after I have connected with my neighbors, I will encourage them to be better as much as I can.

Now I’m sitting at my computer tapping on my keyboard trying to come up with something interesting to say for 500 words or so. I have some great stories from yesterday evening but I’m saving those for when I have more time to put into them. Don’t want to rush through those.

Because of the heat I have made cold brewed coffee instead of hot brewed coffee this morning. It’s a nice treat and the flavor turned out mild and rich. Waiting for the coffee to kick in. Any second now, coffee. I need your brain-rejuvenating power today. It’s not kicking in yet. I hope it’s just a bit slow today.

I’ve been trying to include pictures with as many of my posts as I can, either something I personally took or a good royalty-free stock photo. Can’t really tell if the posts with pictures do “better” in terms of page views than ones without. Even if there’s a difference, my page views are low enough that the difference would be single digits, and who can tell if that’s significant or random noise? Not I. I may favor the scientific method but I am no statistician.

Ah well, coffee-kick-in or not, time to go to work. Have a great day, readers. I treasure every one of you. Thank you for stopping by.

Heated dreams

General

As I write this, it’s 6:17 AM on Tuesday, and my apartment is warmer inside (about 81°F) than the air temperature outside (65°F). My little window air conditioner unit started out OK but has been struggling to keep up with the sustained 90°F and up days. I’ve got my windows open and fans blowing air outside to try to move some of the heat out. That’s how it works, right? If nothing else, the cooler air from outside feels nice for now.

Woke up in a sweat about an hour ago, which is about 45 minutes before my alarm would go off. My dreams were about group activities; sports, for one thing, specifically, football. And it was some odd mixture of American football and what Americans call soccer; sometimes the ball was an egg-shape and sometimes it was a sphere. And nobody on the field had protective gear, just loose clothing, because it was a casual game for fun, not a professional game for money.

The funny bit was, I kept having the most incredible luck. I’d just be walking across the field and the ball would bounce off me, blocking a goal. Or I’d find myself near the ball, in position to kick it away and toward someone else on my team. I wasn’t planning any of this. There was no mastery of the applied physics and geometry that someone who is good at sports would have; just me, wandering around like a chubby old guy, getting in the way in exactly the right time and place to make something good happen.

If dreams are metaphors, what is my brain telling me? My dreams, my most vivid ones, are soaked in emotion. For a long time the emotions I felt the most when I was unconscious were anxiety, fear, doubt. This dream was much lighter in tone. I was surprised and delighted whenever I managed to complete or assist with a play or a goal. I was a little nervous when the opposing team targeted me, but I was able to win them over with a joke.

I do remember a little tension around what I should have been doing. Maybe I wandered into this game to avoid something else? Yeah, OK, that tracks. But am I creating a new plot line now, or am I honestly remembering a plot line from my subconscious mind an hour or more ago? Hard to say.

I am feeling anxiety now that I’m awake, though. I worry that today is the day the 100°F weather is going to make my apartment too hot for my dad. I have to go to work, where the office has air conditioning, but dad has to stay here, with my meagre mitigations for the oncoming Fire Season. But the forecast shows that cooling temperatures are on the way. This doesn’t appear to be a Heat Dome situation, or maybe it is but it’s reaching its end. One can only hope.

There’s a small bit of anxiety about work, too. I worry that I can do this job. It’s a good job, great team of people, doing good things for the community. I couldn’t ask for much more. My self-doubt, though, might trip me up. Don’t want to get in my own way, y’know?