February 2023 – Back Desk

I haven’t wanted to admit it for quite some time now, but I am stuck–professionally, emotionally, spiritually…ecumenically? I don’t know what to do. When I don’t know what to do, I do the only thing I know how to do which is is write. So I guess I’ll write… I’ve been working on this story for some years now. It’s become such a complicated piece in my mind that I have decided to break it down into short stories in order to build the world leading up to the novel. The character I created to explore the world is called Jason. These are his stories.

Jason hurried home. Today was a long day. Normally, he would go by land, preferring the scenic route of trains and trollies so that he could enjoy the pristine beauty of the alien isle’s landscape. The alternative was the SkyiBridge: 9x faster, 100x more terrifying. He wasn’t exactly scared of heights, but he possessed an overabundance of anxiety about falling from the sky without a parachute. No one could explain exactly how the SkyiBridge worked, but everyone (except Jason) seemed to trust it implicitly. But today was a long day. The kind of long where Jason felt every second tick slower than his undead heart. He had been in zombie mode all day. He had woken up to bad news–a text message–and while he was half-expecting it, he was still stuck on its contents 18 hours later. It ruined his whole shift and even caused him to break his perfect Karen-Cairn record–that’s the real tragedy in all this, he thought.

Jason was a Negotiator on the Island. It was one of the most coveted positions in Hyrule. Negotiators are local heroes to citizens of Quill. They get called in whenever there is a hostage situation–anytime a resident worker is being bullied or harassed by an Island guest. Jason was somewhat of a prodigy in the Negotiation department. He was one of only three Fifth Year citizens recruited to the department and the youngest Negotiator in the kingdom. He had earned the nickname “Karen Whisperer” after his ninth takedown in just three months; although Jason suspected that the moniker had more to do with the rumors that he slept with three of the assailants, rumors that he could neither confirm nor deny. Karens are notoriously difficult hostage-takers. They consumer underlings and target management. If a negotiator can’t stop her before she reaches the Final Boss–the venue GM–then the guest receives a Master Key, and the venue receives a Cairn which must be placed at their location in shame for a whole cycle, engraved with the names of the Negotiator and the Karen that was left behind. There were no Karen-Cairns in all of Gerudo Valley where Jason worked… until today. Today was a long day.

Jason’s cheek quivered as he stared with dead eyes down at the plumber’s crack of an overweight tourist that was moving surprisingly fast in front of him. Jason wondered where he was off to in such a hurry, and why. He decided to let his brain follow that train of thought as far as it would take him–As long as it’s away from here, he thought, thinking not of a here, but of a her. The plumber’s crack hooked a sharp left and headed for the South SkyiBridge cannon station. “This time of night? Must be going to the Pleasure Palaces down in Zora Domain,” he said softly to himself, trying to force his train into another station. That’s actually not a bad idea, the train picked up speed just as a comforting thought shot into Jason’s mind: Lyrica. Jason stopped and pulled out his Sheikah Slate. One of the reasons Negotiators were the envy of the Island was their access level. They had view-only (restricted) access to the entire Guest Directory. Dossiers of personal and private information on every Island guest were literally in the palm of his hand. Jason was certain that the Guest Directory violated countless international espionage laws but it was the Island’s best kept secret. 98% of residents think it’s just a list of names. The nefarious potential of the Guest Directory was obvious, which is why Negotiators were investigated so thoroughly by the Hylian Knights before being offered a position. Jason was surprised that he passed the screening, but apparently being an orphan with no ties and a non-violent misdemeanour background are not disqualifying factors.

He opened up the search function on his Sheikah Slate and typed in L-Y-R. The name Lyrica Jackson auto-populated from the search history. It had been six months since Lyrica was last in Hyrule and Jason was pleasantly surprised to find her listed as “In House.” Lyrica was an occasional Masked Guest on the Island. The Majora Program had started about a decade ago as a refugee and outreach program. Originally intended to provide displaced international refugees and asylum seekers with temporary work and lodging. Maskers are not citizens, but they receive wages, a Level 0 Master Key, and discounted lodging for the duration of their work contract. Nowadays, thought Jason, most Maskers are struggling artists and entertainers, or sex workers, or both… Such was the case with Lyrica Jackson.

The Directory said she checked in three weeks ago. Jason wondered why she hadn’t contacted him. Lyrica was a singer and a songwriter of no real acclaim. She would apply for an Island work visa whenever she ran out of money or, to be more precise, whenever the money ran out on her. She had a lovely voice but lacked the discipline to make it out of the local clubs and open mic nights. She had a casual addiction to shrooms and a casual relationship with her two children that lived back in Oklahoma with her mother. She also had stunning beauty and keen perception but only average intellect, which made her quite attractive to Jason. He typed out a direct message–You up?–and hit send. Normally, he wouldn’t be so crass. He knew Lyrica had a gentle heart and a hard time saying no, but today was a long day… (to be continued…)

Pour out my soul to control the hurt
Why must Earl Simmons swim in dirt
I’m gon’ make it work–
28 and trying to get baptized
Priest scared to touch me
Cuz he said I gave him bad vibes
~DMX

I was late to the rap game. My boyish romanticism was largely supported by R&B back in the Nineties when Rap music first started weaving into the mainstream. I remember liking Tupac’s “Dear Mama” song and decided that rappers were pretty cool, even if I couldn’t understand their too-fast lyrics, but I didn’t really start getting into Hip-Hop until the 21st century. When I did finally get into the game, DMX was one of my first favorite artists. He was much more gangsta than I could ever hope to be, but I was drawn in by his storytelling and honesty on the mic. He reinforced my belief that vulnerability and weakness are not the same things.

Pour out my soul to release the hurt
Why must Q Bostick swim in the dirt
Can I make it work?
Desperate to feel alive at 39
Queen scared to date me
Cuz she said I gave her sad vibes
~Q

I think everyone agrees that dating in these modern times is the worst. It’s insanely difficult and also dangerous. Global anxiety has crippled social growth and development. Trust issues are a prerequisite nowadays, and not an unfortunate side effect. Dating has become less about partnering our strengths and more about pairing our weaknesses. We seek to match vices more than virtues because a drinking partner is a lot less work (and more fun) than a study buddy. I’m guilty of it, too. I don’t think I could date a woman that’s not 420-friendly. Is that fair? No, but I’m not willing to give up the habit. I haven’t wanted to work too hard at love (or anything, for that matter), so I have only been open to the riff-raff and trash that wafts in the wind, just looking to get higher and higher.

I have not been intentional about dating for a few years now. After my last relationship ended, I was solely focused on my role as a father until the pandemic came along and the Kid left me to follow her own path. I was emotionally wiped out in the fallout of that catastrophe. I have spent the subsequent years healing, and searching for acceptance. I always thought that acceptance would mean relief from the pain, but I am having to re-evaluate that belief.

The assessment that I gave off “sad vibes” left me unsettled, but not unsurprised. A few weeks ago my sister was surprised to hear that I wanted to date someone, and I was surprised that she was surprised. She explained that I just didn’t seem like I was interested in the act. As a hopeless romantic, I’m always interested in the possibility of love; however, after hearing her assessment, I had to admit that I had unintentionally made myself emotionally unavailable in the years following the heartbreaks of my dad’s passing and my daughter’s leaving.

Now here I am trying to dive back into the dating game but I have not built myself nor my confidence back up. I have spent so much time being small and feeling less than as a result of my losses that I approach every potential partner with the assumption that IF she even sees me, surely she will leave me, too. I manifest my own worst fears and then wonder why it happened.

A lot of this trauma is the result of my own disappointment at being unable to connect with my daughter in a timely fashion. If I can’t get my own offspring to see me, especially when she’s so annoyingly similar to me, then what hope is there for a stranger with no ties? I know it’s an unfair comparison for so many reasons, but I can’t shake the fact that I don’t feel seen by anyone. And this latest rejection is just proof that I still have more changes to make before I can emerge fully from my cocoon.

The truth is, I don’t feel sad, but I don’t feel happy or fulfilled either. I want to be seen. I want to be heard. I want to be appreciated. I am not sad. I am angry that my plans have all failed, and I am tired. I am tired of this cycle of grief. I remember being told once that “Happiness is a choice.” I also remember the Green Goblin counseling the original Spider-Man that “We are whom we choose to be… Now, choose!”

I choose…