I always get a kick out of my writing days with good numbers. I celebrate every hundred posts. I notice the palindromes even if I don’t log them in posts. I revel in the repetitions. So naturally today’s numerical sequence tickles at my limbic emotional responses. My conscience mind says “oh patterns” and I feel capable and intelligent.
Noticing shit is nominally my job. I was obsessed with William Gibson’s Cayce Pollard in Pattern Recognition. The trend spotting cosmopolitan consultant with an allergy to brands inspired my foray into fashion. I wanted to be her so much that I once bought a Pilates reformer because she practiced it. I remain dedicated to the craft of knowing what is coming around the bend.
There was a time when I wanted to be the sort of person who capitalized on each and every shift in mood, zeitgeist or vibe. I’d be sure I could be queen of a given wave. But in truth I’ve come to think I’m better at spotting “the thing” early than being the person that manifests it’s adoption. I prefer to notice early, place my bets, and watch “it” unfold now.