I think most of us have a holodeck.
I don’t mean an actual room where you can tell a computer to recreate 1940s San Francisco, walk through the doors, and suddenly find yourself standing there. I mean the places we go when we need to leave our own lives for a little while without actually going anywhere.
Sometimes it’s a book. Sometimes it’s a television show where the characters feel like old friends. Sometimes it’s a game. Sometimes it’s a story we tell ourselves.
I’m pissed off.
There are other words for what I’m feeling right now. Disappointed. Discouraged. Defeated. Those are all true. But mostly, right now, I’m pissed off.
I stepped on the scale today and I’m back at the weight I was when I started this diet.
What the fuck?
I’ve been doing this for a while now. I’ve been logging everything I eat. I’ve been watching carbs like they are the literal plague. I’ve an app that tells me what I can eat, what I shouldn’t eat, how many carbs and calories I’ve consumed, and how much room I’ve left for the day.
I’ve always said, whatever Eugene did for The Try Guys, he did it in the most iconic way possible. In this video, he bore his soul through dance and art. He controlled every aspect of the choreography, and made sure it told his story in the most authentic way he could.
He also did this with fear of how he might be thought of as a gay Asian man.
I think he fucking rocked it and I salute him for owning his identity and doing it his way.
Last night, after I shut down the computer, I just sat here for a while feeling defeated. I’d spent two weeks doing what I thought was everything right. I tracked everything I ate. I stayed away from bread, potatoes, sugar, and all the things people immediately associate with carbohydrates. Then I tested my ketones for the first time and… nothing.
According to that little strip of paper, I wasn’t in ketosis at all.
It felt like failure.
For a while, I sat here thinking that if I’d already failed, I may as well eat whatever I wanted. The temptation was immediate. I wanted pizza. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I didn’t have one in the freezer. What I did have was pasta. Bowties, specifically.
Rest in peace, DJ Maxi Jazz. (1957-2022)
For the last two weeks, I’ve been doing my best to follow a ketogenic diet. I haven’t approached it casually, either. I’ve been logging everything I eat in an app, weighing portions, checking nutrition labels, and making conscious decisions every time I sit down for a meal. The app even tells me whether a food is considered keto-friendly, and as far as I’ve been doing everything the right way.
The only thing I’ve been eating that even comes close to making me second-guess myself is the plain Greek yogurt I have for breakfast. Even then, it’s supposed to fit within my daily goals. Nothing about my meals has felt reckless or like “cheating.”
Christopher Plummer’s portrayal of General Chang in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country is magnificent. He is intelligent, theatrical, endlessly quotable, and commands every scene in which he appears. It is no surprise that many fans consider him one of Star Trek’s greatest villains.
Ironically, I would argue that Chang is also one of the least honorable Klingons the franchise has ever produced. That might sound absurd. After all, Chang constantly speaks of honor. He quotes Shakespeare with almost religious devotion. He despises peace with the Federation and presents himself as the defender of Klingon tradition.
Yet if we judge him not by his words, but by his actions, almost everything he does violates the values Klingons claim to hold sacred.
Living with chronic pain has changed the way I move through the world. Sometimes literally.
I don’t walk very well anymore. Every trip to the grocery store, every doctor’s appointment, every afternoon running errands means quietly evaluating things that many people never have to think about. Where can I park? Is there a curb cut nearby? How far am I going to have to walk? Is there a place to sit if I need to stop for a few minutes?
Accessibility isn’t an abstract concept when you live like this. It’s the difference between something being inconvenient and something being impossible.
The frustrating part is that so much of the world feels like it was designed to technically comply with the rules rather than genuinely welcome the people those rules were meant to help. There might be a wheelchair ramp leading onto the sidewalk, but it isn’t anywhere near the accessible parking spaces. Yes, the building has checked the box. Yes, the requirement has been met. But it still feels like someone asked, “What’s the absolute minimum we have to do?”
I miss the early internet.
Back then, the web felt smaller. Not literally, of course, but emotionally. You could spend an evening hopping from one person’s blog to another, following links that had nothing to do with algorithms and everything to do with curiosity. Someone would recommend another site because they genuinely liked it. You’d click through, read someone’s thoughts on photography, computers, movies, or life, and before long you’d find yourself leaving a comment.
A few days later they’d reply, and before you knew it, you had a new friend.
