The Isekai Rag

Yesterday, in my long puzzlement as to why Europeans don’t seem to get into big groups online (the kids do a little more than the older people but not like Americans where most of our friends might be spread throughout the country.) It was suggested this is because Americans form spontaneous organizations like mad people. And this is true and probably most of it. There are probably other contributing factors, including that Europeans have more “local community” things. Partly because they all live in countries so small you need a passport to swing anything larger than a ten week old kitten. And partly because the automobile took a lot longer to get widespread there, while here we have a century of it.

In fact by historical norms we are the weird ones. The very, very weird ones. Our own little mutant country. If you’re an American (since I don’t think there are any pure blood Amerindians left, except by bizarre genetic piling on accident) either you or your ancestors, when you decamped to America, left everything behind once already. So it’s perfectly normal for us to move all over. And when our kids grow up, they move too. Our families might be spread across distances that would make Europeans’ eyes water. (You should have heard me trying to explain to the family that my older kid didn’t move that far away. It’s less than ten hours driving, after all. We can do it in a single day if we start up early and only stop once for lunch. That’s nothing. Practically next door. We see him every couple of months. Meanwhile, the Portuguese family is trying to condole with me as if he’d moved… well, across the ocean.) Anyway, that combined with the fact we work way too much compared to Europeans, means that we have little time for local stuff or to establish local ties, even when we try. (We see our local friends once every three or four months.) On the other hand, we’re still humans with need for community, so in between the edges of our very weird lives, and around the corners of our work, we make friends online. Which explains why we have friends all over the country, including in some places you don’t expect to have conservatives. (Waves at Bill in New Haven and Ian in Chicago!) Which means we have on the ground reporting, which means that the “official truth” from on high increasingly gets us to snort-giggle.

All this long introduction has nothing to do with today’s post and Honorable Truck-Kun above. I had an allergy shot yesterday, and it hit me as it hasn’t since early on, in that the entire day reads fuzzy in memory and I committed some interesting howlers. As in, I realized I left a whole cup of coffee by my computer, which… let’s say it’s a good thing I covered it up. Since I sweeten my coffee, Indy would have consumed it and would probably be at the emergency vet today.

Anyway, this brings us to Honorable Truck Kun.

The other things Americans do that is not so common in Europe is self improvement. I figure it’s also because we (Hi, guys) and our ancestors came here as the ultimate self-improvement, leaving everything behind and reinventing ourselves.

All the books from Thinking Yourself Skinny (I do, I do. The body doesn’t agree) to completely reinventing some trait of your personality do big in … America. Oh, they sell overseas too, but the mechanic is different. They’ll catch fire in an entire country, and then the entire country will get disillusioned at the same time and ditch it.

Yes, sure, this also leaves us wide open for things like cults and very weird — I still think of them as California — manias, chakras and auras and heaven knows what else. There is good and bad.

Europeans tend to resign themselves. They usually know what their ancestors were like, and therefore accommodate themselves to “this is how we are.” Which is more tranquil but also more subject to despondency and manipulation. (Few people directly remember their ancestors more than three generations. Which is also why being blamed for your ancestors’ guilt is nonsense.)

Anyway, I am of the trying to improve and reinventing myself mind. Of course I am. I mean, I came here, all by my own self, didn’t I? (Okay, husband helped, but he was already here. Born here. Ancestors here for generations. Since… 1650? Very forethoughtful (totally a word) of him. He’s a planner. I like that about him.)

Now, is self-improvement extra specially effective and last forever? Are you kidding me?

We’re still human, with human bodies and human limits. And I don’t know about all of you, but my body doesn’t JUST ignore me on thinking myself skinny. It pretty much holds two middle fingers aloft when I ask it to do something, more and more as I age. It’s very annoying. It also never tells me anything like, you know “those disgusting sweats you’ve been having, waking you up at night? You should be taking an anti-histamine while doing these desensitization treatments.” Annoying meat-suit.

Anyway, yes, self-improvement only does so much. Most of it tends to rubber band by sheer inertia.

However it does something. Each time I try, it improves a little, and now looking back I’m a completely different beast than I was forty years ago, and largely, yes, for the better.

My perennial battle, more than anything else, is with the fact I’m ADD AF (As F***. My older son’s scientific classification of me. Apparently other people are ADD. People who can’t stand in line at the grocery store more than three minutes and wander off to look at things that catch their eye are ADD AF.) as well as with the fact that yes, to be sure, I’m cramming three lives and five jobs onto a normal day.

When you’re like that, mistakes are made. The mistakes accumulate. And after a while you can’t move for the debris of regret, guilt and depression. And unfortunately, at some point you become the walrus in Alice in Wonderland, wallowing and crying (and still doing more stupid sh*t, because who cares.)

And this is why I’ve come up with the Honorable Truck Kun and the Isekai Rag.

Note that ragtime (which is my husband’s favorite thing to play on the piano) is a repetitive, recurring rhythm. This will happen again and again.

As for Truck-Kun and Isekai, I don’t read this stuff (though I’m willing to try it. I just recently popped up from 3 years of Jane Austen fanfic, so…. I have a lot backlog to read) but my younger fans, my kids’ age tell me there is a whole range of being hit by a truck and waking up in a whole new life: Isekai. For a movie with this beginning, try Yesterday. (His decision is stupid, the mechanism of fate doubtful, the morality flawed, but the movie itself is a delight nonetheless. Just don’t think too hard on it.) For the other works, I’ll let the fans in the comments tell you.

BUT before I’d heard of Isekai I’d come up with this solution to cut the threads of regret and guilt and “if I could go back in time.”

Okay, you’re you but not really you. Your consciousness belongs to someone else who got hit by Truck Kun on the streets of some other world. You don’t have those memories. In fact the only memories you have are of the body you landed in.

But the important thing is that: You’re here. You’re not responsible for anything that created this situation. It’s not your fault. And you feel in your heart of hearts you came from greater things and are destined for greater things.

Yes, the house is a mess (how does someone not only not finish unpacking in five years, so that one room is just impassible, but accidentally create another such room? Guys, this chick was a mess.) The cats are — oh, yeah, cats. And the work is years and years behind.

But I’m here now, and it’s time to clean, organize, and set a schedule.

I’ll fall off the horse, of course, because the body I fell into has its own habits. But something will remain, and I’ll be a little more productive, a little neater, a little less verklempt.

And there’s things I want to do. Resume the art thing — turns out one of the few gifts I can give people is portraits. — Resume ancient Greek. Books I need to read. And oh, my heavens, books to write. Yes, it’s all a mess. That’s what happens when you drop in.

BUT– The Isekai rag is playing, and I’m going to do it.

Come with me. Wave at imaginary Truck-Kun as it speeds on to hit another dancer, and let’s get going.

We’re destined for greater things (DUH, we’re American) and we can’t stand around waiting.

Now — isekai rag!