Overlap, Iowa

Overlap is the largest city in central Iowa right on the border, a rural metropolis and the smallest ghost town in the United States. It is known for its sprawling fields, bustling suburbs, desolate swamps, congested coastlines, abandoned territories, and for absolutely nothing at all.

The reason for its paradoxically muddled description is that Overlap, Iowa is the specific convergence point of all timelines, plot lines, parallel universes, and alternate realities.

There is no continuity in Overlap whatsoever. A particular person might be a sheriff one day and a custodian at a secret government research facility the next. Come next week, they might not even have ever existed.

The population of Overlap are not aware of their unique cosmic positioning. They simply go about their days as they always have, never realizing that their yesterday had no bearing at all on today, while tomorrow is a completely random concept.

A Dewey Decimal System of My Own

 Since I abandoned the social media platform previously known as, well, as not a single-letter name, I've been using and enjoying Mastodon, a decentralized version of microblogging. In a nutshell, anyone can start a Mastodon server, and there's no corporate overlord making crappy decisions designed to tank its stock value on purpose. Also, there's no stock value.

Mastodon is part of what's been named the Fediverse, which is the umbrella term for all sorts of decentralized versions of popular web sites. Even better, these federated sites are designed to work in concert with each other, which in my opinion is one of the main goals of an altruistic version of what the Internet can be.

Another part of the Fediverse is BookWyrm, a federated version of Goodreads. I used to try to use Goodreads to track my books and my reading, but I fell out of using it for some reason. With an exploration of the Fediverse and my discovery of BookWyrm, I've found myself back in the world of obsessively tracking the books I own, and which ones I've read or not.

I think part of what caused me to drift away from Goodreads was that I felt like I was being too obsessive about tracking everything: what was wrong with just reading and enjoying a good book? Did I have to enter it into a database and categorize it and rate it and review it?

Getting back into tracking my books has made me realize I think I was growing embarrassed about how much I enjoyed sorting and updating my own library. It was weird, right? But now, I don't think I care. At least, I'm trying not to care.

Taking things that are disorganized (or poorly organized) and applying some kind of logical order to them actual gives me joy. I can admit that now. I like tidying up when my office gets overly cluttered. It not only gives me a sense of satisfaction, but I feel I've accomplished something by making it better. In this case, keeping better track of books I've read and books I want to read, and books I own or that I once owned and can't remember if I got rid of them for some reason.

It's kind of a large undertaking, since I possess far too many books (especially now that I've started using my Kindle more and more). But as long as I only do maybe a shelf a night, and only then if I feel like it and not because I have to keep at it until it's done, it's been pretty enjoyable.

And regarding the title of this post: I don't actually have any kind of self-created system for categorizing my books. I just liked the sound of it as the title of a blog entry. Again: possibly showing my weird to the world, but I care less and less about that. And that's good.

Off.

 I finally get it.

I never really understood why people who were on medication would ever intentionally stop taking them, short of the medication making them feel worse than they did without it.

But what about making them feel less than they did without it?

I've noticed during the past few years that I wasn't crying at movies anymore, even movies that were once guaranteed to make me at least tear up, no matter how many times I'd seen them. I could sense the emotions present in YouTube videos of animals rescued from abusive situations or military personnel surprising their kids by returning from overseas and showing up at some school event. Both of those used to be automatic waterworks triggers but now, nothing.

I missed it. I missed the emotional release of letting tears flow, then gathering myself with a few breaths and moving on.