trai·tor

/ˈtrādər/ noun a person who betrays a friend, country, principle, etc.

Ah, the hook of catchy marketing.

If you are here in search of some juicy gossip from the local swill, you are going to be sorely disappointed. But I do appreciate the fascination with my life, although I can promise it's not reciprocal.

For the rest of you, on with the story.

At 4 AM, my beloved furry children were actively stirring, which is not normal. What it does mean is that there is something outside that has piqued their interest.

I hope they get over it for atleast another 2 hours.

They don’t.

So, eventually, I give in and let them out. They inspect the fence line with precision and repetition.

Thankfully, nothing was on the wrong side of the fence, so to speak. When things are, it rarely ends well.

The thing about waking up at 4 AM is that your mind wanders in the most fascinating ways, at least mine does.

One of my Mars retrograde winter season where did the sun go guilty pleasures has been the show Traitors.

Love Alan Cumming. Loved Instinct and The Good Wife. Love Traitors, but not generally a big reality TV fan, so I have no idea who most of the cast is/was…except for Britney’s ex, because well, Britney.

Part of my fascination with some of the shows Alan Cumming has undoubtedly made better is the undercurrents of human psychology. While so many others have taken up the torch of social media trolls masquerading as truth seekers who are actually conspiracy spewers, I have been reading a cognitive psychology textbook.

Every week on Traitors, someone metaphorically dies.

Every week, someone gets voted out.

I love love love that round table - the symbology on it is impeccable.

The fascinating part of the show is the group dynamic. One loud voice can sway the room. One logical voice can sway the room. People turn on each other, even when they were supposed to be allies. People pretend to be something they are not, just for the sake of winning. Yet they often end up losing anyway.

It’s all quite fascinating, with a healthy dose of deja vu.

Part of rebuilding neurological pathways is letting your mind wander, writing down what you can remember, and letting your conscious mind try to make sense of it later.

As my mind was wandering this morning, the canines snuggled back into their beds and fell fast asleep.

I envy their ability to go from chaotic and alert to serene and sleeping.

I wish other parts of life were that simple.

February 4, 2025

p.s. Alan Cumming’s Not My Father's Son: A Memoir is absolutely worth the read/listen.