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<p align="right"><font size="6">[[Transition|<font face="Consolas, Courier new">claytoncastle.com</font> •  T R A N S I T I O N]]</font></p>
<p align="center"><font size="6">[[Transition|<font face="Consolas, Courier new">claytoncastle.com</font>]]</font></p>
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=[[2019.12.21 This Broke Me Today]]=
[https://preview.redd.it/5svvoi49xx541.jpg?width=640&height=456&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=2da4eb5d83f52c182a6ddaad3bbf464066e33908 -SOB-]
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=[[2019.12.18 Fredmas]]=
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I was asked by an important new person in my life, "What do we need to do special for Fredmas?"
It made me pause, because in typical Marshall McLuhan-ian fashion, I had always sort of just assumed that the very existence of Fredmas was sufficient to convey the important honouring function.  But a more pragmatic answer was needed. 
So I said,
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<big>"It's a day to be like Fred Castle.  Enjoy working, savour playing and relaxing, bury all complaints under sarcastic wit."</big>
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=[[2019.12.17 Complete Classic Sayings]]=
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Saw a Tumblr thread on this that reminded me of how much I like the original versions, and have an emotional annoyance with the popularly-remembered shorter versions.
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==Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.==
==The blook of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.==
==Jack of all trades, master of none, but better than master of one.==
==Great minds think alike, but fools rarely differ.==
==Birds of a feather flock together - until the cat comes.==
==The early bird catches the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.==
==Love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.==
==If you starve a cold, you'll have to feed a fever.==
==My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong to be set right.==
==Rome wasn't built in a day, but it burned in one.==
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=[[2019.12.13 Ode To Joy]]=
=[[2026.03.14 Might MAGA Kickstart EVs?]]=
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Fridays are now my one school-day morning with the kids, so today we all landed at the Chestnut House ready for heading to schoolWith about 20 minutes to fill before the expected arrival of their walk-to-school buddies (the Dobratz kids), Simon decided it would be a good time to practice his flute.
The immense orange MAGA bobblehead, by starting a war with Iran, is obviously idiotic and insane.  For all the reasons that they claim, none of them make any sense nor are likely to work out they way they want to.  But one, beyond all the others, rang in my head the most hilariously.  If you'll pardon my gen-X laughter at something so wrong.


So he breaks out his flute and his nifty new budget music stand, spreads out his music book, and starts tiptoeing through Beethoven's <i>Ode To Joy</i>.
The claim was that, at the end of all this (like there's any exit strategy at all), that the US will "finally have energy independence".  Meanwhile, having the global oil, natural gas, and fertilizer supply destabilized in this way is going to make that horribly untrue before anything else.  More than just fuel prices, everything else but especially food prices are going to spike for a while.


My heart immediately clasped and tears sprung to my eyesViolet was skipping nearby, and I swept her up into a hug and squeezed her and let my tears dampen her hair.  When he paused to take a breath, I did the same to SimonHell, I had to pause writing this because recalling it made me choke up anew.
But the hilarious part is the re-realization that all fossil fuel reliances are fundamentally fragileI say "re-realization" because this was itself pretty evident after the cold war and the oil embargo of the 70's - but some boomers are too stupid to remembers lessons we've already learnedApparently.


This music has always affected me profoundly.  Which is why I had it played as the recessional for S and my's wedding - another layer of the feels to mingle in.  It's good to find the threads of joy in the midst of all the difficulty these days.
So instead of doing it to save the world from global warming, which we've clearly failed to do, we might at least stop actively fucking it up quite so much once people start nationalistically embracing renewable energy.  Especially the renewables that they can have right in their own country - especially countries that have sunshine or windWait, isn't that all of them?  Why, yes.  Yes it is.
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=[[2026.03.06 Pecha Kucha Money Shot]]=
 
=[[2019.12.10 Simon: "...Hey Dad."]]=
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Simon got sick at school yesterday.  He started feeling not well, and went to the bathroom.  There, he started feeling even worse, and so he called me on his watch-phone.
http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/IMG_0215.png
 
It appeared on my phone as a number not in my contacts, so I answered with my standard: "Engineering.  Clayton here."
 
When I heard the sad, timid "...Hey Dad" I immediately knew it was Simon and that he was distressed.  My black little heart leapt up into my throat with worry, especially when he paused to throw up.
 
I instinctively reassured him immediately. "Hang on kiddo!  I'll be there as fast as I can!"
 
Except I had walked to work yesterday. And I still had a tonne of work to do.  So I jammed my laptop into a bag, and sprinted up the hill to my apartment where Ghost was parked (making record time - should have Strava'd it). 
 
As I hustled up the hill, I felt a further wash of appreciation for how much I like the fact that he reached out to me in his moment of need.  It settled in a fundamentally certain place in my soul: I will always be there for Simon and Violet.
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=[[2019.11.25 Guess I'm Ready Now]]=
=[[2026.02.27 Toys]]=
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Three months ago I was still not ready to discuss my divorce on this mediumBut it's been a long year of discussing all this stuff with people, so I suppose it's about time to open up my processing on this here too.
I like toysEspecially cars.  They're fun for me because driving them becomes an extension of myself.
 
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[[:Category:Divorce|Stories/Divorce]]
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=[[2019.11.18 What The Fork?]]=
Today I was followed into the parking garage at work by a fellow in a gen-3 Mazda RX-7 - a pretty epic toy from the turn of the millennium. And I got to chatting with the German driver as we walked out, and learned that it was his dream car.  To hear him talk about driving it, and how it exceeded his expectations not because of how good it was but because of all its faults being unimportant and highlighting what he cared about while driving. Very cool, brief conversation.
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[[File:Tianmen mountain.png]]


Watching the latest Ken Block installment of Hooniganism - [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZX2uXBMkO8U Climbkhana 2] - and found myself feeling an extra edge of existential horror.  Generally, Mr. Block does all sorts of driving that I find scary - but my lizard/driver brain wants to do it too.  And he's done it in locations that are pretty extreme - but my driver/lizard brain imagines doing that too.  Sure, I've given myself a mental "NOPE" to all the "high edge" class drifts, but there was lots of other twisty driving surface to fantasize about.  This time, though, the road was a consectutive chain of NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE corners.  Particularly characterized by the giant crumbling Hot Wheels™ set of a road glimpsed here.
Also: the D&D books and kaiju miniature we backed [checks watch] about 2 years ago finally showed up.
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=[[2019.11.14 Hey Dad: Don Cherry?]]=
=[[2026.01.17 Dad Thoughts Evolved For Today]]=
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So, I've written a bunch of Rants about my dad.  Some as I realized he was mortal - which was a weird realization to experience as a rational beingMore immediately when he died to metabolize my grief, and others over a period of a decade afterwardsMany of those were reminiscences of childhood defining experiences and mythologies for my own catharsis, and with burgeoning hopes of there being a way for my kids to know something of him.
 
ME: "Hey, Dad.  I know you're dead and everything, but I have some questions about Don Cherry."
 
DAD: "Hey Sport.  It's kind of an inconvenient time.  There's a hockey game coming on."
 
ME: "That excuse won't work any more, dad.  Partly because of how we watch things now at our own convenience, but mostly because I doubt time works like that when you're dead."
 
DAD: [scowling] "When did you start questioning my hockey time?"
 
ME: "Well, honestly, since always.  Just maybe not out loud.  And that's kind of the point, maybe."
 
DAD: "Are you sure this is about Don Cherry?"
 
ME: "Um... yes?  Because the thing is how much you and Don Cherry were similar.  The idolization of what life was supposed to be about, mostly in terms of a very narrow cultural viewpoint."
 
DAD: "Sport, you come from the exact same cultural viewpoint that I do, so I'm not sure what it is that you think you're see so differently."
 
ME: "Yeah, Dad, I knowI'm a lot like you in a lot of ways, and we both belong in the mountains.  But the cultural piece - that small-town BC dynamic had a lot of problems bundled up with itThere was a lot of good stuff - it was mostly good stuff.  And maybe you couldn't see it, because of how well you fit in, but the problems really sucked when you are someone who doesn't fit in.  I definitely came from the same cultural place as you, Dad, but I feel like I had to crawl out from under it.  A bit."
 
DAD: [huge eyebrows ripple] "I know you mentioned that you didn't tell me about how you got bullied in High School.  Is that what you mean?  Because I can't help but wonder if you would have gotten bullied less if you just figured out how to fit in better."
 
ME: "Maybe."  [I take a long breath]  "But maybe that wouldn't have been a trade I'd want to make.  I really like how I am, even though it's different and didn't fit in with the tribal standards."
 
DAD: [eyebrows softening into a steeple of worry]ll


ME: "And maybe that's why I had such a hard time believing that you liked meI think I knew you did, but I couldn't understand it in a way that let me trust it.  It was so easy to imagine you being disappointed in me."
I think he would have really liked them bothThey have a lot of different parts of him, and his mom.


DAD: "I've always loved you, Sport.  And I've always been proud of you.  I couldn't be prouder of how you've turned out."
Except doubts bubble up from the corners of my memory.  And I find myself working through extrapolations of the son-ward facets I could see into the person he might have actually been.


ME: "I know that's the correct answer, and it's what you've always said.  But it's hard not to remember your frustration with my aversion to team sports or anything social.  And I can't help but recognize a certain similarity to the assumption that fitting in is required with Don Cherry's racist assumptions about who decides to wear poppiesThere weren't a lot of opportunities for overt racism when I was growing up, simply because of how very un-diverse it was where I grew up.  But even so, every time there was a rare instance where race was actually a factor, you generally managed to say something racist."
Obviously, my dad was pretty cool.  And I don't just mean that in the idol-worship way sons have for their fathers - which I kind of do - but also he seemed to have an effortless way of making people want to be his friendI don't actually know where he fit in the Letterkenny Spectrum as kid - hick, skid, or jock (definitely not a native or a christian, or Québécois for that matter nor a degen from up-country).  But the vast majority of people I saw him encounter already knew him, or of him, and respected him if not overtly expressing happiness at seeing him.


DAD: "So, you think I was racist to you?"
All of which I couch as being the basis for assuming that he was pretty comfortable in our pasty-white mostly monoculture small-town circumstances.  That sort of comfort breeds a sense of confirmation about one's own cultural identity.


ME: "No, Dad.  I mean that your drive for me to fit in has the same basic source as racism.  And that the way you actually love and accept me is the way we should try to treat everyone."
And, honestly, while my dad was great at talking philosophy with me - especially about the why of things - whenever topics of other places or peoples came up he was consistently dismissive and unkind.  And occasionally overtly racist, and sometimes simply xenophobic.


DAD: [skeptical look] "I'm not sure if I'm up to loving and accepting everyone..."
Over the past decade, I've worried about how my boomer dad might have responded to the weird right-wing stumble of western civilization.  If I try to comfort myself with how he was smart and would be disgusted by the stupid lies, it's hard to deny the persuasive power that hate has had over people. Especially boomers.


ME: "No, me neither.  I'm an asshole; probably a genetic condition.  But I do really think that it's important to try, even though we might fail.  Hell, [i]especially[/i] because we're probably going to fail.  Because we need to keep trying to be better, and not just accept that how we're currently shitty is acceptable forever.  Like Don Cherry - he was acceptable back when his humour / bullshit ratio was mostly funny.  He's not sufficiently funny any more; maybe hasn't been for me for a long time."
It occurred to me to try to talk my hypothetical conservative father away from the lure of fascism, but it just hurts my heart too much to think about it too much.


DAD: "Genetically an asshole: funny boy."
But then I imagine how he'd react to his grandkids both being non-binary and fabulous.


ME: "Exactly."
The deepest well of my hope is that he would have spent a lot of time knowing them all through their lives and see how their development into who they are becoming is a lovely and natural extrapolation of the brilliant and lovely potential they've always had.  And that his love for them would ease any struggling conservative confusion he might experience so that he could be the same cool and inspirational patriarch for them that he was for me and my sister.


That doesn't change the fear that he would have not been as close, or as accepting.  And that fear sits on my heart.
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=[[2019.10.27 Shared Reality]]=
=[[2026.01.09 Men With Hats]]=
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So, I recently hurt S's feelings by saying a true thing that I thought was trivially true. It hurt her feelings because she did not know it to be so, and had even been thinking the opposite. Meanwhile, I had not been saying the obviously true thing purely for the sake of kindness, assuming that the obviousness of it was sufficient.  Human perspective is funny like that.
http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/IMG_0138_copy.png
 
The default preferred state for many people is to live in reality¹, even though it is difficult to know truths.  We pile up required assumptions in order to make sense and try to make progress.  But there are things that can be known that we can't guess well, but can easily know if they are shared.  I strongly believe that all of us fare better when we cooperate in our experiences of this shared reality.  Especially with the things that we can know, but others cannot².
 
¹<small><font color="grey">
Despite, you know, many many <i>many</i> examples to the contrary.
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http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/2675399054887965559_copy.png
This is an allusion to feelings. Just to be clear here, in this shared reality.
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=[[2019.10.26 Pomplamoose]]=
=[[2026.01.02 First Day Of The New Job]]=
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Sadly, my epic new seat was not ready to set up. So I just admired the view for a minute - both out the across the river, and into my director's office at the giant Millenium Falcon LEGO set.
 
Been really enjoying a [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmLBSCiEoas mashup of Sweet Dreams and Seven Nation Army] by [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pomplamoose Pomplamoose].
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=[[2019.10.15 How Fast?]]=
=[[2025.12.30 - 2025 Wrap-Up]]=
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940 MB/s
==Fredmas Crash==
On the wet and rainy morning of Fredmas, Ember and Violet were commuting to Hillsdale for school when they were the tail-end of a 5-car pile-up.  Speeds were modest, and the 2018 Subaru Impreza did all the safety-engineered things to sacrifice itself such that neither kid was injured in any way.


That's spitting distance from 1 GB/s.
Communication was not stellar, but Violet managed to let us know right away.  So without actually having all the details up front, Amy and I knew they had a problem and could see that they were in the middle of the Fremont freeway bridge and jumped into Velma to go help.  When we showed up they were the only ones there - shivering in the rain on the side of the freeway.  Amy onboarded the kids to drive them the rest of the way SW, and I stayed in the shivering sideways rain for a couple hours with the wreck to wait for the tow truck.  Fun times.


That's 10 times faster than Comcast at the Chestnut house - on a good day.
Some lessons learned, and Ember has yet to get back in that saddle.  Scheming about how to proceed with commuter vehicle plans is still ongoing.  It seems like a logical time and place to make a plug for the replacement to be an EV, but probably shouldn't push too hard.  Because reasons.


That's 100 times faster than Comcast on a typical game night (using Skype with Dave for [https://nastidyne.com/index.php/Main_Page AIF]).
==Work Transformations==
December as a whole has been weird with trying to finish handing work batons to their new responsible engineers.  It's been the longest that I've been in any group - 10 years! - and recognize that it's going to be a long time to ever fully extricate myself.


For 2/3 the price.<br>
At the same time, the new Vehicle Level Engineering role is both exciting and boggling. Frankly, it's a lot.
FUCK Comcast.<br>
Now I just wish that fibre-optic connection was available at the Chestnut house.
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Simultaneously, Amy is changing shifts to stop the 5 12-hour shifts in 6 days marathon every couple weeks and jumping into 3 shifts every week with her best non-Clayton friend.  We're all very excited for the shift in energy.


=[[2019.10.03 Old Wounds]]=
==Other Stuff==
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This winter break had been bookmarked for a bunch of reading and writing plans, all of which have basically unravelled as I'm actually spending most of my time just mouth-breathing my way through the exhausting cold/flu that Ember gave me.
In the midst of all the ongoing processing, the recent resurgence of a bitter pessimism about my fate with respect to intimate partners is the most pernicious problem.  It has a barb of ego, in that I get to "be right" about how I will always ultimately be betrayed and abandoned.  I suppose that makes it particularly hard to assuage with my general philosophical tactic of assuming that I will be brave - and offer up my heart to the pain - because living life to the fullest is worth it.  Ego tends to reinforce ego.


It was different before, thoughBecause it wasn't that I was left, but instead recognized how they were never really with me to start withBecause they were with a projection of me, because I was difficult to actually know.  But S knew me.  More than that, I worked really hard and became eminently knowable.  And she un-chose me.
Now that the kids are back, I do intend to inflict all kinds of old but beloved movies on themSo there's that.  There's also a butt-tonne of sugary foods from all the sources to keep me overfed while I quietly lament how few bike rides I actually went on this year.


Even as I metabolize the un-choosing, and I slowly assuage the childishness of my old pessimism, how do I deny the truth at the root of the pessimism?  How do I let myself feel trust at being chosen ever again?
So it goes.


Maybe I just fucking don't.  And I'll just have to live with it.
Things I'm looking forward to in 2026:
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* bunches of Amy+Clayton adventure time regularly
 
* diving into a dream job (should probably write a separate post about that thought alone)
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* defeating fascism
 
=[[2019.09.15 Emotional Amelioration]]=
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When it comes to feeling better, it's hard to beat building a giant LEGO™ Star Wars space ship set with your kids, then catching up on the feature-length Steven Universe goodness.
 
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/25/Tantive_IV.JPG 
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/85/StevenUniverseTheMoviePoster.png


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=[[2019.09.13 Worst Oldness Ever]]=
=[[2025.11.30 Movember]]=
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Back through most of my 20's, I did not celebrate my birthday outwardly. Nobody around me really knew when it was, or were sufficiently ill-equipped socially to remember it. It was a day of reflection for me; a private ceremony of selfish narcissism and a secret grudge against the world for my sense of otherness and not belonging.
http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/IMG_0072_small.png


That changed in my 30's with the advent of pernicious social media reminding everyone, friends who care about that shit, and starting a relationship with someone who is dedicated to making every occasion specialIt was awkward and at odds with some of my fundamental drives, but loving and kind.  And it helped me recognize my growing role in the world - no longer a selfish youth, but a sharing and supportive adult.
Not my best effort.  I suspect that the grey makes it incrementally less impressivePlus I kept trimming to avoid poking Amy so much, and the surrounding scruff softens the effect even more.


That's why today was so hard.
Gone now, but not missedOther than the daily startle of seeing my dad in the mirror.
 
Being divorced against your will is hard enough.  And reaching out in the world to try to grasp some new connections, only to have them reject you, is painful in a way I'm struggling to endure.  Then the recent revelation that I will be losing my full-time access to my kids has been almost too much to stand; it feels like my footing in the world is lost.  It all sucks so very much.
 
But then today... today...<br>
Today was the world's way of making sure I felt all of that at the same time.  Every fragment of pain had a renewed trigger; every aspect of loss was flaunted before me to not have; every insult was re-uttered by realitySo many of the fundamental ways in which I have belonged were burned before me today.
 
And it's not over yet.  The parade of horrible feelings gets to continue for another couple days.  Tomorrow is the wreckage of more hopeful plans and the gasping of fresh holes in my soul.  Then the day after tomorrow is my 12<sup>th</sup> wedding anniversary, by which point I'm probably going to be contemplating seppuku with a rusty spoon.
 
Fuck this shit.  How much more processing do I really need to do?  I know the plan is to allow myself to feel all this, so that I can integrate it in a mindful way and move on while feeling complete.  Which sounds super fucking enlightened.  But in this moment, I definitely see the allure of temporary chemical oblivion and denial.
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=[[2019.09.10 Oh, Wow]]=
=[[2025.10.18 No Kings]]=
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I've discovered a new well of pain to fall into.
40,000 people in Portland sending a clear message.


Gosh, I'm special.  17 years to come full circle.  [[2002.11.26_Emotional_Meaning]]
Awkwardly, the current administration has also been sending a clear, fascist message.
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=[[2019.09.04 Iconography]]=
=[[2025.10.04 Federal Troops In Portland]]=
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I'm wrestling with whether my avatar of extreme friend-zone-ness is Jorah Mormont (noble and vulnerable) or Snape (dignified and accepting).
It's really weird.  Just, you know, profoundly weird.


Either way, I'm a fucktard.
Acknowledging for a moment the footage from 2020 looked bad - as shown on cable news.  But even then that was basically constrained to a couple blocks downtown for actual protests.  Meanwhile there were other simultaneous marches about police brutality throughout the city that were completely peaceful and not newsworthy.


Hi Bubbles.
I suppose that if one were to conflate the "hundred days of protest" in 2020 with the rising homelessness problem, one could squint and see the folks cowering in tents and vehicles and pretend there's a direct connection of some kind.  I mean, other than the systematic violence done to the worker class both strip mining us for wealth and trying to overtly pit us against each other.
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But in context of what is actually happening right now - which amounts to a group of 6-16 people regularly taunting ICE agents at a single building - it's wildly disproportional.  Especially with the Portland Police Department stating, in court, that all the altercations they have evidence for so far are mainly cases of untrained federal agents trying to instigate meme-worthy moments with the peaceful protestors.


=[[2019.08.26 Litany Against Fear]]=
So the federal activation of 200 National Guard to "pacify Portland" is, well, purely for show.
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I must not fear.<br>
Fear is the mind-killer.<br>
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.<br>
I will face my fear.<br>
I will permit it to pass over and through me.<br>
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.<br>
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.<br>
Only I will remain.
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<pre>Frank Herbert - Dune</pre>


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Which makes Portland's main reaction one that endears this city to me even more: to be silly.  Dressing up in harmless costumes, dancing, and handing out cookies.  Doing whatever it takes to make the video bites nearly impossible to weaponize politically, as the fascists so clearly desire.


=[[2019.08.24 Not Ready Yet]]=
And to the person in the inflatable costume that had the inlet of their suit sprayed with pepper spray: I hope you are OKAs much as that must have sucked, and possibly could have caused serious medical repercussions, you embodied the shallow idiocy of their position.  In no way could a bumbling inflatable costume be considered a threat, and to assault you was to show the cowardly and loathsome depth of their antisocial motivations.
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There are stories.  OH so many stories.<br>
And there are thoughts.  Wallowy have-to-extrude-them thoughts that should not be left to foul up my mind.<br>
Plus there are plansYes, plans for how the thoughts and the stories should all be rolled out and expelled and dealt with and celebrated for the healing power of sharing and remembering.


Except I'm not ready yet.
To the federal fucknugget that used pepper spray on an obviously-harmless person in an inflatable costume: Now we all know why you have no real friends and your life is empty of meaningYou obviously don't belong in Portland.
 
I'm not exactly sure what I'm waiting for, but there's something in the mix about letting them marinate a bit more.  Plus unresolved issues of privacy that I have yet to give up on.
 
So, yeah.  Disregard this whole entryIt's just me venting by virtue of the action of writing more than by the substance.<br>
Sorry.
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=[[2019.08.07 7 Years Of Violet]]=
=[[2025.09.17 Bertrand Russell On Fascism]]=
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As mentioned on BoingBoing today:<br>
In 1962, Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, invited Nobel-winning philosopher Bertrand Russell to a debate. Mosley aimed to persuade Russell of fascism's merits.


The localized distillation of pure imagination and concentrated joy that is my daughter had her birthday today.  To mark the occasion, she had her first sleepover with one of her oldest friends, Ruth.  An uninterrupted stream of dragons and faeries and warrior princesses and other magical beings have delighted our home (and a local restaurant) in giggling playful forms.
Russell, who was 89 at the time, replied:
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=[[2019.07.29 Hiding]]=
Dear Sir Oswald,
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The simple truth is that there is too much going on, and to do my usual processing here in the open is inappropriate.  So, instead, I hide.


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Thank you for your letter and for your enclosures. I have given some thought to our recent correspondence. It is always difficult to decide on how to respond to people whose ethos is so alien and, in fact, repellent to one's own. It is not that I take exception to the general points made by you but that every ounce of my energy has been devoted to an active opposition to cruel bigotry, compulsive violence, and the sadistic persecution which has characterised the philosophy and practice of fascism.
I hide my thoughts. The details of which should not be shared.


I hide my feelings.  They are complicated and improbable, but even worse than their humiliating privacy are their grisly impossibility.
I feel obliged to say that the emotional universes we inhabit are so distinct, and in deepest ways opposed, that nothing fruitful or sincere could ever emerge from association between us.


I hide my dreams. Every night, after too little real sleep, I succumb to as many nightmares as I can stand.  They impress with their simplicity and their subtle reach.
I should like you to understand the intensity of this conviction on my part. It is not out of any attempt to be rude that I say this but because of all that I value in human experience and human achievement.


I hide my hopes.  They are too fragile for daylight of any kind.
Yours sincerely,


I hide my fears.  Like any proper shadow government.
Bertrand Russell
 
</blockquote>
I hide my self.  Because I can't bear to witness what's left.
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=[[2019.07.22 Kintsugi]]=
=[[2025.08.15 If Not Stupid, Then Why Stupid-Shaped?]]=
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The [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi philosophy] is my hopeful path.
Seriously, there is so much political stupidity going on.


The [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi_(album) album] speaks to my lived experience.
ETA:<br>
Examples?  Hell no. It would be like admitting a vampire into your home to post anything like a meaningful set.


https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/9/94/Death_Cab_For_Cutie_-_Kintsugi.jpg
If there is permitted to be accurate news and history recorded of this era, simple searches will reveal enough to explain.
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=[[2019.07.15 Today Was A Day]]=
=[[2025.06.25 Corporate Culture]]=
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It was a thick dayBurdened by heavy draping obligations and smothered by impossibility.
Big changes at workNot going to talk about that overly much - it's too boring to even write out.
 
It was a funny day.  Paradoxical in the dance of struggling with what is wanted versus what comes easily.  Ironic in seeming to fail at my strengths, but gifted with success at my weaknesses.


It's a long dayObjectively starting way too fucking early, and dragging on way too longBut more than that, the individual moments stretching out ponderously.  And probably memorably lingering for a great deal longer.
BUTAn aspect I find interesting is who is excited about these major changes, and who is worried about them.   


It was a day to be aliveLife is good, complications and all.
Now, obviously, both reactions are simultaneously valid and possible.  I feel both myself.  But whether the excitement is more important compared to the various individual level of concern does speak to where many of us areWhich, in turn, is strongly indicative of the sense of trust we have with the company - or our sense of trust in ourselves to offset any lack of trust in the company we have.
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=[[2019.07.14 Castles at Jewel Lake]]=
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[https://photos.app.goo.gl/2bRwu4BfH3MAz9ey7 Castles at Jewel Lake 2019]
S made a related comment about what happened as 'a lot of water under the bridge'.  That feels like it applies pretty broadly.  Facets of that might follow...
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=[[2019.07.03 10 Years Of Simon]]=
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http://www.kvankii.com/gallery/Simon10.png
Quintessential Simon birthday: bike ride on a well-equipped mountain bike, plus a couple big LEGO sets.  Topped off with ice cream cake, and a pending D&D party with his crew.
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=[[2019.06.27 What Can I Do?]]=
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<p align="right">Maybe nothing.</p>
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=[[2019.06.23 OCHOCO 2019]]=
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[https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMGOLEwKSv-sFTw8W0TW8JIGmpGa7K5omCFog8Q4OVfWFPpAZfajIrF-hxcBGpQHg?key=MmJVenRlWUM2V2ZYZkU5MXBxNVh2VktuNHBMRm13 #OCHOCO2019]<br>
[link to a Google drive full of images]
This year was a father-son bonding odyssey, and gave us grand adventuring spectacle as a background for having lots of time and space to contemplate existence.  Laughing and joking for hours and miles really does help build souls, even while the cold and smoke and pests and injuries build character.  Simon had an OK time too.
Nobody managed to quite capture decent images of the horses we came across running free through the woods of Ochoco Forest, but they felt very emblematic.  Were they wild?  Were they just pretending to be wild for a little while?  Something like that.
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=[[2019.06.19 So Many Feelings]]=
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More Amygdala talk?  Maybe sort of.  Except cryptic in a different way.
# <big>Gasping Joy</big> - From the soul nourishing magic carpet rides down Johnny Royale.
# <big>Warm Completeness</big> - From the Father's Day time spent with family at the Pride Parade.
# <big>Tickling Exhilaration</big> - From pending adventures and planned work project attempts.
# <big>Shivering Inadequacy</big> - From facing the family changes that cannot be undone.
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=[[2019.06.11 I Feel Mad]]=
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http://kvankii.com/gallery/IMG_2071-web.jpg
Violet has demonstrated a precocious ability for representational artwork, drawing things realistically.  But even her symbolic artwork shows a clarity that can be striking.  This recent one really is great.
I hear you Violet.  By the way, I stole this, and I'm keeping it forever.
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=[[2019.06.10 Regarding My Amygdala]]=
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Being a human is often surprisingly difficult for no other reason than we experience the world largely through a filter of emotional response. 
Senses do their level best to report what's going on.  Similarly, our rational minds make the best of what they can manage to lift with their few dedicated neurons.  But it's all really a bit much, so evolution made the pragmatic venture into applied heuristics by not needing us to have either a clear sensing of things nor a complete understanding of anything for us to get some sort of directional suggestion.  These suggested interpretations of reality, let's call them "feelings", are legitimate members of reality themselves by virtue of a Descartesian flourish - <i>I think I feel, therefore I'm sad</i>.
One of the lessons I've learned reasonably well is to not to try to deny feelings.  That just makes them angry, and cruelly manipulative.  But even as we acknowledge our feelings, that doesn't mean that we need to let them control us.  Having a thought or a feeling is not what we're responsible for, those are just things that happen.  What we are responsible for is our actions, so what we do with those thoughts and feelings is what really matters.
Today my feelings conspired to make it a multiply-difficult day for me.  Vaguely negative feelings about my career started early on, which set the stage for my vulnerable and hurt feelings about the confusion that is my marriage-like relationship with S.  Finally this was capped off with feelings summoned by a sad song on my commute home that reminded me that I still miss my dad.
Sometimes the only thing we can do with our sad feelings is to have a good cry.
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Disclaimer: not everything posted on this Main Page is kept in the Rants section.  But continuing to scroll won't bring them back. Sorry.
RESISTANCE STATUS:
 
* US citizenship:  APPLICATION (still) PENDING
* local politics:  NULL, homeless situation correctly one of the main foci
* global politics: NULL, wait - Justin is dating Katy? Nice.
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Latest revision as of 22:06, 14 March 2026

claytoncastle.com



2026.03.14 Might MAGA Kickstart EVs?

The immense orange MAGA bobblehead, by starting a war with Iran, is obviously idiotic and insane. For all the reasons that they claim, none of them make any sense nor are likely to work out they way they want to. But one, beyond all the others, rang in my head the most hilariously. If you'll pardon my gen-X laughter at something so wrong.

The claim was that, at the end of all this (like there's any exit strategy at all), that the US will "finally have energy independence". Meanwhile, having the global oil, natural gas, and fertilizer supply destabilized in this way is going to make that horribly untrue before anything else. More than just fuel prices, everything else but especially food prices are going to spike for a while.

But the hilarious part is the re-realization that all fossil fuel reliances are fundamentally fragile. I say "re-realization" because this was itself pretty evident after the cold war and the oil embargo of the 70's - but some boomers are too stupid to remembers lessons we've already learned. Apparently.

So instead of doing it to save the world from global warming, which we've clearly failed to do, we might at least stop actively fucking it up quite so much once people start nationalistically embracing renewable energy. Especially the renewables that they can have right in their own country - especially countries that have sunshine or wind. Wait, isn't that all of them? Why, yes. Yes it is.

2026.03.06 Pecha Kucha Money Shot

IMG_0215.png


2026.02.27 Toys

I like toys. Especially cars. They're fun for me because driving them becomes an extension of myself.

Today I was followed into the parking garage at work by a fellow in a gen-3 Mazda RX-7 - a pretty epic toy from the turn of the millennium. And I got to chatting with the German driver as we walked out, and learned that it was his dream car. To hear him talk about driving it, and how it exceeded his expectations not because of how good it was but because of all its faults being unimportant and highlighting what he cared about while driving. Very cool, brief conversation.

Also: the D&D books and kaiju miniature we backed [checks watch] about 2 years ago finally showed up.


2026.01.17 Dad Thoughts Evolved For Today

So, I've written a bunch of Rants about my dad. Some as I realized he was mortal - which was a weird realization to experience as a rational being. More immediately when he died to metabolize my grief, and others over a period of a decade afterwards. Many of those were reminiscences of childhood defining experiences and mythologies for my own catharsis, and with burgeoning hopes of there being a way for my kids to know something of him.

I think he would have really liked them both. They have a lot of different parts of him, and his mom.

Except doubts bubble up from the corners of my memory. And I find myself working through extrapolations of the son-ward facets I could see into the person he might have actually been.

Obviously, my dad was pretty cool. And I don't just mean that in the idol-worship way sons have for their fathers - which I kind of do - but also he seemed to have an effortless way of making people want to be his friend. I don't actually know where he fit in the Letterkenny Spectrum as kid - hick, skid, or jock (definitely not a native or a christian, or Québécois for that matter nor a degen from up-country). But the vast majority of people I saw him encounter already knew him, or of him, and respected him if not overtly expressing happiness at seeing him.

All of which I couch as being the basis for assuming that he was pretty comfortable in our pasty-white mostly monoculture small-town circumstances. That sort of comfort breeds a sense of confirmation about one's own cultural identity.

And, honestly, while my dad was great at talking philosophy with me - especially about the why of things - whenever topics of other places or peoples came up he was consistently dismissive and unkind. And occasionally overtly racist, and sometimes simply xenophobic.

Over the past decade, I've worried about how my boomer dad might have responded to the weird right-wing stumble of western civilization. If I try to comfort myself with how he was smart and would be disgusted by the stupid lies, it's hard to deny the persuasive power that hate has had over people. Especially boomers.

It occurred to me to try to talk my hypothetical conservative father away from the lure of fascism, but it just hurts my heart too much to think about it too much.

But then I imagine how he'd react to his grandkids both being non-binary and fabulous.

The deepest well of my hope is that he would have spent a lot of time knowing them all through their lives and see how their development into who they are becoming is a lovely and natural extrapolation of the brilliant and lovely potential they've always had. And that his love for them would ease any struggling conservative confusion he might experience so that he could be the same cool and inspirational patriarch for them that he was for me and my sister.

That doesn't change the fear that he would have not been as close, or as accepting. And that fear sits on my heart.


2026.01.09 Men With Hats

IMG_0138_copy.png

2675399054887965559_copy.png


2026.01.02 First Day Of The New Job

Sadly, my epic new seat was not ready to set up. So I just admired the view for a minute - both out the across the river, and into my director's office at the giant Millenium Falcon LEGO set.


2025.12.30 - 2025 Wrap-Up

Fredmas Crash

On the wet and rainy morning of Fredmas, Ember and Violet were commuting to Hillsdale for school when they were the tail-end of a 5-car pile-up. Speeds were modest, and the 2018 Subaru Impreza did all the safety-engineered things to sacrifice itself such that neither kid was injured in any way.

Communication was not stellar, but Violet managed to let us know right away. So without actually having all the details up front, Amy and I knew they had a problem and could see that they were in the middle of the Fremont freeway bridge and jumped into Velma to go help. When we showed up they were the only ones there - shivering in the rain on the side of the freeway. Amy onboarded the kids to drive them the rest of the way SW, and I stayed in the shivering sideways rain for a couple hours with the wreck to wait for the tow truck. Fun times.

Some lessons learned, and Ember has yet to get back in that saddle. Scheming about how to proceed with commuter vehicle plans is still ongoing. It seems like a logical time and place to make a plug for the replacement to be an EV, but probably shouldn't push too hard. Because reasons.

Work Transformations

December as a whole has been weird with trying to finish handing work batons to their new responsible engineers. It's been the longest that I've been in any group - 10 years! - and recognize that it's going to be a long time to ever fully extricate myself.

At the same time, the new Vehicle Level Engineering role is both exciting and boggling. Frankly, it's a lot.

Simultaneously, Amy is changing shifts to stop the 5 12-hour shifts in 6 days marathon every couple weeks and jumping into 3 shifts every week with her best non-Clayton friend. We're all very excited for the shift in energy.

Other Stuff

This winter break had been bookmarked for a bunch of reading and writing plans, all of which have basically unravelled as I'm actually spending most of my time just mouth-breathing my way through the exhausting cold/flu that Ember gave me.

Now that the kids are back, I do intend to inflict all kinds of old but beloved movies on them. So there's that. There's also a butt-tonne of sugary foods from all the sources to keep me overfed while I quietly lament how few bike rides I actually went on this year.

So it goes.

Things I'm looking forward to in 2026:

  • bunches of Amy+Clayton adventure time regularly
  • diving into a dream job (should probably write a separate post about that thought alone)
  • defeating fascism


2025.11.30 Movember

IMG_0072_small.png

Not my best effort. I suspect that the grey makes it incrementally less impressive. Plus I kept trimming to avoid poking Amy so much, and the surrounding scruff softens the effect even more.

Gone now, but not missed. Other than the daily startle of seeing my dad in the mirror.


2025.10.18 No Kings

40,000 people in Portland sending a clear message.

Awkwardly, the current administration has also been sending a clear, fascist message.


2025.10.04 Federal Troops In Portland

It's really weird. Just, you know, profoundly weird.

Acknowledging for a moment the footage from 2020 looked bad - as shown on cable news. But even then that was basically constrained to a couple blocks downtown for actual protests. Meanwhile there were other simultaneous marches about police brutality throughout the city that were completely peaceful and not newsworthy.

I suppose that if one were to conflate the "hundred days of protest" in 2020 with the rising homelessness problem, one could squint and see the folks cowering in tents and vehicles and pretend there's a direct connection of some kind. I mean, other than the systematic violence done to the worker class both strip mining us for wealth and trying to overtly pit us against each other.

But in context of what is actually happening right now - which amounts to a group of 6-16 people regularly taunting ICE agents at a single building - it's wildly disproportional. Especially with the Portland Police Department stating, in court, that all the altercations they have evidence for so far are mainly cases of untrained federal agents trying to instigate meme-worthy moments with the peaceful protestors.

So the federal activation of 200 National Guard to "pacify Portland" is, well, purely for show.

Which makes Portland's main reaction one that endears this city to me even more: to be silly. Dressing up in harmless costumes, dancing, and handing out cookies. Doing whatever it takes to make the video bites nearly impossible to weaponize politically, as the fascists so clearly desire.

And to the person in the inflatable costume that had the inlet of their suit sprayed with pepper spray: I hope you are OK. As much as that must have sucked, and possibly could have caused serious medical repercussions, you embodied the shallow idiocy of their position. In no way could a bumbling inflatable costume be considered a threat, and to assault you was to show the cowardly and loathsome depth of their antisocial motivations.

To the federal fucknugget that used pepper spray on an obviously-harmless person in an inflatable costume: Now we all know why you have no real friends and your life is empty of meaning. You obviously don't belong in Portland.


2025.09.17 Bertrand Russell On Fascism

As mentioned on BoingBoing today:
In 1962, Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, invited Nobel-winning philosopher Bertrand Russell to a debate. Mosley aimed to persuade Russell of fascism's merits.

Russell, who was 89 at the time, replied:

Dear Sir Oswald,

Thank you for your letter and for your enclosures. I have given some thought to our recent correspondence. It is always difficult to decide on how to respond to people whose ethos is so alien and, in fact, repellent to one's own. It is not that I take exception to the general points made by you but that every ounce of my energy has been devoted to an active opposition to cruel bigotry, compulsive violence, and the sadistic persecution which has characterised the philosophy and practice of fascism.

I feel obliged to say that the emotional universes we inhabit are so distinct, and in deepest ways opposed, that nothing fruitful or sincere could ever emerge from association between us.

I should like you to understand the intensity of this conviction on my part. It is not out of any attempt to be rude that I say this but because of all that I value in human experience and human achievement.

Yours sincerely,

Bertrand Russell


2025.08.15 If Not Stupid, Then Why Stupid-Shaped?

Seriously, there is so much political stupidity going on.

ETA:
Examples? Hell no. It would be like admitting a vampire into your home to post anything like a meaningful set.

If there is permitted to be accurate news and history recorded of this era, simple searches will reveal enough to explain.


2025.06.25 Corporate Culture

Big changes at work. Not going to talk about that overly much - it's too boring to even write out.

BUT. An aspect I find interesting is who is excited about these major changes, and who is worried about them.

Now, obviously, both reactions are simultaneously valid and possible. I feel both myself. But whether the excitement is more important compared to the various individual level of concern does speak to where many of us are. Which, in turn, is strongly indicative of the sense of trust we have with the company - or our sense of trust in ourselves to offset any lack of trust in the company we have.













































































































RESISTANCE STATUS:

  • US citizenship: APPLICATION (still) PENDING
  • local politics: NULL, homeless situation correctly one of the main foci
  • global politics: NULL, wait - Justin is dating Katy? Nice.