Well, it happened again. I seem to have been successful in building a blogging habit for myself on weekdays, but as soon as the weekend hits, I’m like “what’s a blog?” So I guess it’s time for another “be kind to yourself” modification. I blog Monday through Friday and only on the weekends when I care to do so. Perhaps if I speak less, I’ll have more to say when I do.

I spent a good chunk of the weekend reading obsessively about all the UFOs that our military has been shooting down. I think a summary goes like this. A chinese spy balloon caused a big hubub, so they shot that down, and they modified the gating on our radar systems to detect slower, smaller things. This resulted in the detection of a bunch of unidentified things, which we have been scrambling jets to intercept. We’ve shot down spheres, cylinders, and even an octogon, apparently? These will all probably turn out to be kites or something, but I’m thrilling myself with the idea that they’re actually unmanned extraterrestrial crafts.

I’m a child of the 80s, which means Time Life books on the Paranormal, Bigfoot TV shows, Unsolved Mysteries, and the X-Files. I live for this stuff, and if I have any regrets about our existence in this life, it’s that it’s not quite as weird as it could be. The presence of high weirdness like this is what gives me joy.

I’m looking forward to the disappointing reveals, but maybe, just maybe… for now, we can suck so much life-sustaining marrow out of “maybe.”

I want to believe.