Interlacement: An Essay About Thinking

A couple of years ago, there was this enormous (and kind of dumb) internet discussion about whether or not people have an internal monologue. Of course, some people do and some people don’t, but the most interesting thing that evolved from the discussion was a sub-discussion in which people began to describe how they think.

The discussion involved a lot of metaphors and descriptions of how people “see” ideas inside their minds, as well as a lot of increased visibility into aphantasia. Many shared that they thought in words or in images; many didn’t. Some people shared that often they didn’t have any thoughts at all.

I cannot fathom existing without thinking. Thoughts are ever present for me, even when I’m sleeping.

That said, I don’t always think in words, or images, or sounds, though sometimes I may think in any combination of these things.

And sometimes, I think in a different way, which I call Interlacement.

Imagine, if you will, the universe.

What visualization, if any, would your mind create?

Do you see stars, planets, and clouds of interstellar dust? Do you see blackness interspersed with tiny pinpricks of stars and solar systems and galaxies? Do you see words or hear sounds? Or envision a photograph of a galaxy from Nasa’s incredible collection? Or perhaps you see a holographic 3D map like you might find on a futuristic space-faring TV show.

That’s what I see.

And that’s how I envision thinking.

The ideas in my mind are a whole universe with galaxies and stars and planets. Sometimes I traverse it with images; sometimes with words; sometimes with sound; sometimes with all of the above.

Sometimes, I zoom in and sometimes I zoom out.

Sometimes I sit and let the movement and flow of my internal universe wash over and around me—I feel my thoughts.

It’s hard for me to imagine only thinking in one way. I think in many ways for different reasons. Sometimes thoughts rise to the surface in specific formats, because that’s the best way to understand the idea. Other times, it’s the connection between ideas that is more important. And that’s not experienced in words or thoughts or sound or monologue, but in thought-thought. The experience of understanding without translation.

The most fundamental unit of thought.

Sometimes, I pull up a song in my mind and listen to it in my head. I’m sorry, I don’t pay royalties on that. I can feel it in my ears.

Sometimes, I watch movies in my head. I can see images, events, movement, color, texture.

Sometimes, I just sit down and let my thoughts exist within me. As just … thought.

My mind isn’t empty. To the contrary, it’s full. The fullest.

Like an ocean of thought, in which everything is connected.

Interlaced.

I can focus in on a single drop of water; or, I can just let myself float.

Interlacement is the shape of my thoughts.

Animals, Writing, and the Daily Waggle

Animals have always been a part of my life. For years it was mostly cats and dogs—companions who curled up on my lap while I wrote, or stole my spot on the couch when I got up to grab a cup of tea. But in the last couple of years, animals have become a much bigger part of my life. Now, when I look out the window, I don’t just see a dog chasing a ball or a cat grooming itself in the sun. I see goats bouncing on pallet platforms, geese announcing their opinions to anyone who will listen, chickens scratching in the dirt, ducks holding bachelor parties by the pond, and our two mischievous kittens, Gallium and Copper, batting at each other in the garden.

And it’s not just that I have animals. They’ve started shaping the way I think, the rhythm of my days, and the stories I want to tell. Feeding time becomes a chance to observe dynamics—who eats first, who sneaks around the back, who insists on headbutting the feeder until they get their way. Walks with the dogs turn into meditations on loyalty and stubbornness. Even the cats, with their aloof affection, remind me of characters who want connection but on their own terms.

Because animals occupy so much of my brain-space now, I’ve realized that a lot of my writing moving forward will probably lean into them more heavily. It’s not something I planned—it’s just what happens when you spend your mornings trying to coax a goat out of the chicken coop or when your rooster insists on serenading you at inconvenient hours. These things work their way into stories, whether I’m writing fantasy, science fiction, or even non-fiction.

Enter: The Daily Waggle

This shift is part of why I started The Daily Waggle, a second blog I launched earlier this year. It’s a space dedicated to the small, quirky, everyday stories animals inspire. Some posts are reflective, some are funny, and some are just me marveling at the way animals interact with the world.

There’s also a practical side to it. As many of you know, we’re working on starting a nonprofit animal sanctuary. The idea behind the Daily Waggle is that, as it grows, it can also help channel a little support toward the sanctuary through ad revenue. It’s a way to share the joy and chaos of animals while also creating something sustainable for them.

If you want more animal stories in your life, you can subscribe to the RSS feed and get the Waggle delivered straight to you.

Creativity in Motion

Since I began this work — both with the animals themselves and with the Waggle—I’ve been flooded with story ideas. Some of them are lighthearted tales sparked by a goat climbing where it shouldn’t. Others are more speculative: what if a town depended on a flock of geese for protection? What happens when a cat believes itself to be a god (and maybe isn’t wrong)? The hard part isn’t coming up with the ideas—it’s finding the time to sit down and write them all.

But that’s part of the adventure, too. Just like animals pull you away from carefully laid plans (because a duck got stuck in the fence, or because you found your goats debating who gets the top bunk in Goatopolis), writing pulls me into new directions I didn’t expect.

So, that’s where I am right now: knee-deep in fur, feathers, and the occasional mud puddle, trying to balance real-life animals with fictional ones. If you want to follow along with the smaller daily observations, come check out the Daily Waggle. And if you stick around here, you’ll probably notice more animals sneaking into my fiction, too.

Because at this point, they’re not just part of my life — they are my life.

How to Survive the Apocalypse, Part 8: Mental Health at The End of the World

If the world is ending, you’ve got more problems than just rationing food and dodging whatever new disaster has come knocking.

Because even if you’re physically prepared, you also need to be mentally prepared. Otherwise, you’ll be the person having a full-blown existential crisis while everyone else is figuring out how to filter drinking water.

The good news? You don’t have to wait for civilization to crumble before taking steps to keep your brain from imploding under stress.

Accept That Things Will Get Weird

If you think a major global disaster is going to feel like a fun action movie where you’re the rugged protagonist, think again. The apocalypse will be weird, unpredictable, and exhausting. Routine will go out the window. People will react in unexpected ways. Your favorite snacks might disappear forever.

Take a deep breath and acknowledge now: Things will not be normal. But humans are adaptable. You are adaptable. The more you accept change as inevitable, the easier it is to roll with it.

Build Resilience Now (While the Wi-Fi Still Works)

You don’t have to wait for catastrophe to start strengthening your mental endurance.

• Practice stress management techniques. Mindfulness, breathing exercises, or whatever helps you chill now will help when things get real.

• Embrace boredom. No internet? No problem—if you’ve already learned how to entertain yourself without a screen. Read books. Learn a skill. Get comfortable with silence.

• Toughen up your decision-making skills. Start making small, tough choices daily so that when the big ones hit (stay in the bunker or risk the outside world?), you’re not paralyzed by indecision.

People Matter More Than You Think

Yes, even introverts (like me!) need community. Loneliness is just as dangerous as dehydration—maybe worse. Humans thrive in groups, and mental health in a crisis improves drastically when you have people to rely on.

• Strengthen friendships now—before you need them to help you rebuild society.

• Find your apocalypse support group. You don’t have to call it that, but start identifying the people you trust and who keep you grounded.

• Have a communication plan. If cell service dies, how are you reaching your people? Establish backup methods before everything goes dark.

Laughter is Survival

If you can’t laugh at the absurdity of the end times, you’re going to have a bad time. Dark humor is a coping mechanism, and it works. Keep a sense of humor, because some of this will be ridiculous—whether it’s scavenging for toilet paper (ahem, 2020) or realizing your survival plan depends on a 15-year-old can of Spam.

Hope is a Strategy

The world ending doesn’t mean you have to give up. History proves that people survive, rebuild, and find new ways to move forward. The apocalypse is just another challenge—so keep your mind sharp, your stress low, and your support system strong. You’ve got this.

How to Survive the Apocalypse, Part 7: Making Tough Choices—Who Gets the Last Can of Beans?

The world as you know it is gone. Resources are scarce. You and your small group of survivors are staring at one last can of beans, and the silence is deafening.

Who gets it?

The strongest fighter? The person who found it? The weakest member of the group? The one who will contribute the most in the long run?

This is the moment where morality, survival, and human nature collide. Welcome to Trolley Problem: End-of-the-World Edition.

The Trolley Problem, But Make It the end of the world

In the classic Trolley Problem, a trolley car is barreling down the tracks toward a split. On one side of the tracks, five people are tied up. On the other track, one person is tied up. If the train car continues with no intervention, five people die. If you intervene and switch which track the trolley will go on, only one person dies.

The choice is yours:

• Do nothing and let five people die.

• Pull the lever and kill one person to save the five.

It’s an interesting ethical puzzle—until the apocalypse makes it real. Because in a post-collapse world, there is no “correct” answer. The rules of morality shift when survival is on the line.

And here’s the kicker: the choices we think we’d make in a crisis are often very different from the ones we actually would make.

Right now, sitting in our comfortable, mostly-functional society, we value fairness, kindness, and long-term thinking. We donate to charity. We hold doors open for strangers. We believe in laws and justice.

But when the world breaks? Priorities change.

The question isn’t just who deserves the last can of beans? The question is: how much of your humanity are you willing to trade to survive?

Different Survival Philosophies: What Kind of Leader Would You Be?

Let’s say you’re in charge of this little survival group. How do you decide who gets the last can of beans?

1. The Utilitarian Approach: Greatest good for the greatest number

You give the beans to whoever will keep the most people alive for the longest time. Maybe that’s the healthiest, strongest person. Maybe it’s the person with the most valuable skills (doctor, farmer, builder). Maybe that’s the person with the most knowledge.

• Pros: Maximizes survival chances for the group.

• Cons: If you’re sick or weak, your odds aren’t looking great.

2. The Altruist Approach: The most vulnerable eat first

The sick, the injured, the elderly, the children—they eat first, no matter what. The strongest can survive the most easily, so we should provide additional assistance to those who need more to maintain the bare minimum.

• Pros: Keeps your conscience clear.

• Cons: If resources run out, the people most capable of rebuilding society might not survive.

3. The Capitalist Approach: What can you offer in exchange

Nothing is free. You want the beans? Trade for them. Got extra supplies? Useful skills? A favor to offer? It’s a deal.

• Pros: Encourages contribution and productivity.

• Cons: Ruthless. If you have nothing to trade, you don’t eat.

4. The Strength-Based Approach: Might makes right

The strongest takes the beans, no questions asked. Either through force or by proving they contribute the most.

• Pros: Nobody has to waste time debating.

• Cons: Hope you’re the strong one.

5. The Democratic Approach: We all vote on it

Everyone in the group votes on who gets the beans. Maybe it’s fair. Maybe it turns into a popularity contest. Maybe it ends in a fistfight.

• Pros: Feels more fair than the other options and everyone gets a say.

• Cons: A democracy only works if people follow the results. And desperate people don’t always care about votes. And sometimes the most popular will win rather than the person most likely to help the group survive.

So… Who Gets the Last Can of Beans?

Maybe the real answer isn’t about who gets the beans. Maybe it’s about what kind of world you’re trying to build.

The apocalypse isn’t just about surviving—it’s about deciding what survival even means. If you save the strongest, do you risk creating a society where only power matters? If you prioritize the weakest, do you doom the group long-term? If you make every choice transactional, does trust even exist anymore?

This is how civilizations rise and fall—not with a grand battle or a final, dramatic moment, but with small, difficult choices like this. The way you distribute resources today determines the kind of society you live in tomorrow.

So, do you hand over the beans? Share them? Hoard them? Trade them?

Whatever you decide, just remember: the hardest choices don’t just shape who survives. They shape the future of the human race.

How To Get Your Great Pyrenees Dog To Stop Ignoring You

[This post was written for a job application. They didn’t pay me for it, so here you go!]

Dandelion (L) and Blueberry (R)

In our house, Blueberry is the undisputed King of Selective Hearing. One morning, I asked him to come inside. He stood at the edge of the yard, wind in his mane, looking out across the field like a statue of noble resistance. After a full minute of silence, he glanced back and sighed—as if to say, “Fine. But only because I was going to anyway.”

If you’ve ever asked your Great Pyrenees to “sit,” only to be met with a slow blink and a long pause, you’re not alone. Pyrs are famously independent dogs. They’re incredibly intelligent—but they often seem to operate on their own mysterious internal code.

The good news? They’re not ignoring you out of defiance. It’s just part of who they are.

Great Pyrenees were bred for centuries to guard flocks in the remote Pyrenees Mountains. These dogs had a serious job: protect the sheep at all costs, often without a human nearby. They needed to make decisions alone, without waiting for orders. That independent thinking is deeply embedded in their DNA.

These days, your Pyr might be guarding the yard, the couch, or the kids—but the mindset remains the same. They still believe it’s their job to assess every situation and act accordingly. That’s why traditional training methods that rely on immediate obedience don’t always work.

Your Pyr isn’t ignoring you to be stubborn. They’re evaluating whether your request makes sense.

For example, if you ask them to lie down while they’re on “alert duty” near a window, they may not comply—not because they don’t understand the command, but because they’re busy “working.” In their mind, protecting the house takes priority.

Aside from traditional training techniques, I think the key to getting your Great Pyrenees dog to stop ignoring you is to stop interrupting him when he's working. And to do that, you need to change your perspective on your dog's behavior.

Once you start seeing your Pyr as a partner rather than a subordinate, everything shifts. Respect their instincts, time your commands wisely, and build trust through calm consistency.

Sure, they might still ignore you sometimes—but when they choose to listen, it’ll be on their terms, and that makes it all the more meaningful. Besides, with a dog like Blueberry, half the joy is in watching them think for themselves.

Blueberry