Hello, universe... It's me again, but pretend we just met, okay? How goes everything out there? Good? I honestly hope so and I do wish you well. I honestly do.
Anyway, I send greetings and salutations and yadda yadda Yoda to all my fellow patients of asylum Earth. Isn't it a shame is that the Moon is as far as any escapee got, at least on this plane of existence? Anyway, as a current resident since the days of Tricky Dicky Nixon, I hereby say hello to one and all. In my best Beetlejuice voice, "Hi, How are ya?" "Hey, we even shop at the same store!" But seriously, Universe, How are you doing? With me it's the usual thoughts too heavy for the periodic table. What heavy thoughts? Is there a problem with the Earth's gravitational pull? Nah, Just the usual things I worry about, the usual situations I lament, The extraordinary people I miss. The back to back losses of my baby sister and my mother still weigh heavily on my soul. Beyond that, there is a laundry list of things going on that I just don't yet feel ready to talk about. I would have told my sister and therein exists yet another reason of the many that I miss her so very much. She would have understood. I know she would have. I honestly believe we were siblings of more than just blood and of this earthly life. We were, are forevermore, siblings of spirit, siblings of the universe. Some truths of existence are known in the heart. And this I can say I know. Life goes on, work goes on, bills still come due. As I type these words I can hear birds merrily singing and chattering the day away as if this sunshine and blue sky was forever, that life and loved ones were in an endless supply. I guess if this world stopped for each of us billions to grieve, the damn thing would never move. We'd be like Mercury, tidally locked. I guess it must turn so that people can still make memories with the loved ones they still have. I cannot begrudge them. I can step back from my own pain enough to understand, at least on some level of logic. With this heart on the other hand. well it's not so easy..
Ever wonder how a world so full of people can be so lonely? In my life, And aside from when someone says "I love you" and actually means it, the most beautiful words ever spoken were "I'm Here". Except for when Freddy said them in Nightmare 1. That was more scary than reassuring. Kruger and other scary monsters aside, Isn't it good to know somebody is out there? And please let there be. There must be. I must know. I simply cannot be the only one. That would be illogical. The reverse would be most fascinating. Set your scans for hearts and souls, Mr Spock. Mr Chekov, Deflectors on full. Mr Sulu, Warp Factor Nine. I must apologize for the inconvenience, ladies and gentlemen.. I seem to be caught in a Trek anomaly. Stand by for reset: Okay, okay, okay! Where was I? Starting over. Riiiiight. Where do I begin? A brief summary about me? Sound cool? Alrighty then. Here goes: I am a middle aged human being. I lost my baby sister in January. I lost my mother in March. Long ago, I was married for 10 years. That was going on 14 years ago when I was left with three children to raise alone. I have written extensively about this in the past, but so much has changed... Now, while everyone is welcome to read these words and further entries in this blog, please note that this is mainly a sort of self-therapy for a person who cannot afford the real deal. Welcome to poor country, bible belt USA, where the zombie has risen and he wants your soul! Happy late Easter, kiddos. Scary, huh? Anyhooo, I cannot promise these words are going to entertain, or even make logical sense. It is just a place for me to vent and a chance for people to maybe get a chance to read my mind a bit. If you do enjoy it, or if it even somehow brings meaning, then so much the better. Either way, this is me, the real me. I am who I am. I am what I am. And this is going to be written by the true self. Maybe I should take a page from a book by John Delancie and start this with I, me. What was ever really in a name, anyway? That said, Here I go again. Starting over, starting over.. After a considerable time of inner debate, I have decided to restart this blog. I have also decided that too much has changed within and without and in so short a season that I might as well start completely over, save for the letters to my lost sister. Here they are and here they'll stay. Actually, that's the part that's staying the same. When I talk to the universe, I am actually speaking to my sister. If she is truly one with the universe, then it is to her I speak, now and forevermore. It is the only way I can reasonably face whatever is left if this life. I do not expect most people to understand. And they don't have to totally get it either. If it helps, maybe consider yourself (the reader) as a sort of psychiatrist, and I (the writer) as your most interesting patient. Now, as I kick back on the figurative couch, and you have a seat in your figurative chair with your figurative notes and figurative pen (Hey! You're looking really cool, Doc!) You brush up on the notes left by my previous doctor who embezzled about three hundred grand, fled the country, and is now living in Aruba and drinking umbrella drinkys every day. (Hey, there has to be a back story!) And you the new doctor must familiarize yourself with all the cases that lucky doctor currently boogieing down on that Caribbean dance floor left behind. As I, the patient , begin to tell my tale....
Okay, Doc, here goes: I had another "Maze Dream" last night. Since I am starting over, allow me to explain: Mazes are a recurring theme of my dreams. One among many, actually. These mazes take many forms, wilderness, old dusty mansions with 1970s sunflower wallpaper, abandoned malls, highways, jungle pathways, caves, you get the drift. In these maze-like dreams, I am always looking for someone or something. Sometimes there is somewhere I have to be in a short time. Usually, I can't find them or find my way to where I need to go. My ex-wife also made an appearance in this one. She unfortunately recurs too. I find myself back with her not knowing how or why. In the waking world, I'd sooner go to Hell in then to go back to her. I would sooner trust the devil with my safety and my sanity. However, it seams dream me is quite the bonehead apparently. Anyway, this time I was in this gigantic Walmart, kind of like the Costco in Idiocracy. Just a vast globe spanning Wally World. Couldn't find what I needed and the ex was getting angry and impatient with me. Just like she used to do. Very stressful for a dream. Not quite a nightmare, but not pleasant either. I have always had these intense dreams, vivid, emotional and seemingly real. In these some of these dreams I have been visited by "ghosts". My grandmother, gone for 27 years. A friend from the 7th grade gone 3 times her lifespan. And lately, I spent a night kicked back on the couch watching TV with my baby sister. Also, My Aunt Nell and I walked around a flee market resembling Bartertown. Another maze dream. These "visits" are far more rare than the mazes. Sad, really. The worst part of these visitation dreams was waking up to find that they were, in fact, only dreams. Sometimes reality is the nightmare you wake up to. Anyway, there you are: the recurring themes of my dreams, Mazes, Returning to people and places of my past, and less often, ghosts. Logic tells me that these ghosts are nothing more than manifestations of my subconscious mind. My heart hopes that it really is their spirits checking in on me. Especially, for my guardian sister. If I knew she watched over me, I would feel safe, secure, and loved. And... Maybe not so godamned lonely. If I knew she were somehow with me, I could maybe hold onto my sanity for just a bit longer. Of course, sanity may be a point of view sort of thing. Consult your Obi-Wan Kenobi if you experience a certain point of view.... Unless you happen to be a 21st Century Napoleon Lincoln of course. "Where is my Josephine? I am za Emperor! Glory To France! I demand a room with a view. Is this my Gettysburg address? The GPS seems to say so, four blocks and seven turns ago." Okay, okay, subject change! Clean cup, clean cup, move down, mooooove doooooown!
Okay, Now I am going to ask myself a seemingly simple question. What do I want? Not that simple is it? Maybe I want to be around those who want me around. Maybe I want to feel that I matter, that I am wanted, maybe even needed. I want to have a valid positive reason to get my butt out of bed in the morning. You know? Instead of the usual negative ones like well, you'll get fired if you don't go to work. No Shir, Shitlock. I like totally know that, dude. But I guess it is just not simple to answer that question. Maybe I could just be vague and say I want peace, happiness, love, and to belong. But there are many steps to get there and it is those steps where things get a bit more detailed, actually complicated. What if I used the above as sort of a template, a starting point? Would that help? I guess there is one way to find out. So, let us start with peace. How can I find peace? Stability and at least some sort of predictability of course. Too much predictability is of course boring. Too little, however, is chaos, and chaos scares the hell out of me. Stability is essential. I need to be able to count on certain things. A home where I feel safe and secure would be a start. A certain inner sanctum within said home would even better. Maybe a room where only I hold the key, that only I can enter. A place to rest and to keep my few possessions. A place which feels safe from the chaos without. As for happiness, just having peace would be a start. I need not be rich. I need not be exempt from working for a living as I have done so for all of my grownup life. Peace, stability, and maybe to feel like I am loved. No, not by some disembodied deity. I never understood that. Hadn't you ever simply wanted to be held and told things are going to be alright, that you matter to someone, that you would be missed if you left this world? I am not specifically talking about anything Late Night Cinamax, but wouldn't you want to just be held and be made to feel that you were loved? Wouldn't you want to feel that even if it seems the rest of this world could give a shit, at least one person loves you. understands you, or at least they try? Wouldn't it be wonderful to be loved for the person you are? I mean really: Unless your evil like the bad guy from Lethal Weapon 2, you deserve to be loved for who you really are. This actually covers all I mentioned really. So, what I want is a safe and secure castle, and a very special friend to be co-ruler of that kingdom, and it be just we two. Now if I could only pick one, I'd live in that castle alone and maybe be mostly content. And I would rather be alone than find myself in a bad relationship. Never in my life did I feel more lonely than with my ex. That famous quote by Robin Williams holds true. It is more lonely than being actually alone to be around people who make you feel all alone. True. Been there, done that, got the heartache. It's not pretty. So there you are. The answer to my own question finally.
Now, let me speak of a bit darker subject. I have learned more about death this year than I ever wanted to. I thought I knew before, and honestly I don't wish to learn anything more. But there are some things about losing my sister and then my mother that have got me thinking. Death itself (My own that is) no longer scares me. A quick look at my current life circumstances would show you why... There are just three things I do not wish my death to be. Please don't let it be scary and painful as it was for my sister. And please don't let it be prolonged suffering as it was for my mother. Let it be quick, painless, and without fear. And... May I live long enough to ensure my sister will be remembered forever. Being the guardian of Marsha's memory and legacy is my one reason for living these days. I do have two heavenly hopes, though if you would indulge me. Either the peace of eternal oblivion, or the peace of being reunited with the ones I love. And no bowing down to any deity who allowed this to happen. Sorry. Not happening. I won't go declaring what I am, but I am becoming more certain to what I am not. 2022 sealed that deal. I say that factually and not angrily or with any other emotion. My logical brain keeps on ticking even while my heart is breaking. I long ago learned how to separate the two. That was the only way I survived. I am just being honest and I am just being me. A ripple in space and time and here I am.. And I am getting too damned old to bend without breaking. Everything changes. I get that. But the clay can only be molded so many times until it crumbles. And my inner being has always been my own. It is only the role that can be tampered with. The real soul cannot be altered. I think a lot of the mental problems of this world stem from human beings being forced to be somebody they are not and never meant to be. And that is how a name or a title can become a prison, a dark dungeon with murky bleakness to drown a soul. But that's a whole nother rabbit hole to fall into. Let's keep our Wonderland tour simple today, shall we? No wild cards, No painting the roses red, No precise dosages of whatever the door mouse is on. No capital punishment over a game of croquet, okay? Let us start fresh and strike out in another direction, spin the wheel or the bottle or whatever you've got. Where the Hell is Bob Barker when you need him? Okay, Here goes....
I believe that time is fluid, and can often flow in the opposite direction of our desires. When we want it to last forever it is gone in a flash. When we want it over with, it seems to creep and drag for all eternity. However the way we want it to go, it will be its opposite number. As I sit here writing this, I feel strangely detached from this moment. It seems I do not feel strongly either way if it should hurry by or not. There is really nowhere I can think of that I wish to be, nor much of anything I feel like looking forward to. It's Limbo. It's Purgatory. Yet it seems I'm still alive. I have absolutely no clue why I feel this way. Could this be yet another symptom of lingering grief? Marsha just straight up lives in my mind now. I couldn't get her out of my head even if I wanted to. And I don't want to. Momma's there too, but I must confess that it is my baby sister whose presence occupies the lion's share of all space and time. I see her just about every time I close my eyes. And there are so many things I encounter each day that remind me of her. (Or would if she wasn't already omnipresent in my mind) She just lives here. And maybe I am crazy for this, but I have this compulsion, this undefinable need, not only to never forget her, but to also make sure nobody else will either. What is this compulsion of mine to practically build a digital equivalent of a Great Pyramid to my baby sister? Am I saving everything else because I couldn't save her? Well, Doc? I don't know but this is simply how I feel: How are the Pharaohs of Egypt of 5000 years ago more important than my sister of just 3 months ago? They'll be remembered, no doubt. Their names will be spoken in languages not yet invented. So why not Marsha? Why can't her name be known long after I am gone? Why can't her countenance be stored on a computer at the Centari Space Station in the year 7575? Why not? She does not deserve to be forgotten. If you knew her you would understand why. Maybe it is simply that I cannot let her go. That's right, Moses. Take this to the bank and take this to your God, For thus will be forever so. I will never let my sister go. There you have it: A Prince Of Egypt parody that is totally serious at the same time. And if this is a sign of the final unraveling of the tapestry of my sanity, Well then so be it. What does it matter anymore? Just look me as I am, look at my life as it is, and tell me just what else is there? I see nothing else. At least not now, at least not yet. Maybe this is my way of trying to work these feelings out. I would say I was maybe in the 'bargaining' stage of grief if I were not still phasing between denial and despair. Acceptance? I just can't see it. I can never accept what will never be right. Nobody will ever convince me otherwise. I cannot change the way I feel any more than I could bring her back. You lose all your money? Go make more. Your house got destroyed? Build another one. Lose someone you love? To be or not to be. And are there any slings and arrows that could have hurt me more? Sorry about the Hamlet kick. Couldn't help myself. Blame it all on Rosencrance And Guildingstern. This glum introspection I find myself in of late reminds me of that ill fated prince, but rest assured I shall resort to nothing so drastic. Though I admit to that famous soliloquy echoing through my mind sometimes of late. Well that and Poe's Raven slightly edited. Some connections the mind makes unconsciously. Or it could be that I'm just going crazy. You decide. I found some more things that Marsha sent me years ago. Particularly, a music video she made to the song, "Anything But Ordinary". Now that's a song title that describes my little sister quite well. She was a very talented actress. And no, this is not just a big brother's bias talking. When one really thinks about it, they can come to realize that many talented people have been barred by circumstance and nothing more. Take my own word that I will take to my own grave: If parallel universes exist, than my sister's probably already got a star on a Hollywood sidewalk in quite a few of them. I got the privilege once of getting to see her play Emily in "Our Town". I just dont want to think of that cemetery scene at the end. It surly takes on a melancholic shade so much darker in my heart than before. But my point was that my baby sister's aspirations had very valid reasons. Anything but ordinary, these words so very apt. That was Marsha. You know? The brighter, the more beautiful the person, the darker, the deeper the emptiness is the void they leave behind. Crying will not bring her back. Rambling on and on in great walls of text will not bring her back. Scouring through my old files to find every picture, every reminder of my baby sister will not bring her back. Memorializing her like an Egyptian Queen will not bring her back. Falling completely apart and winding up committed in a padded cell and a straight jacket will not bring her back. Just what am I supposed to do? And forget religion and its one word answers. Science is forever and so is my sister. I will never forget her and so help me nobody else will either. Just as she was my guardian in life, so am I now guardian of her memory. She deserves nothing less from me.
There are times of late when I feel people expect far more from me than is realistic or even possible. Look, let me put my situation and my mental state in a bit of perspective for the situation impaired: In addition of all the hell of this damnable year of 2022, I have had anxiety all my life. Consider it the backdrop, the background noise, that tiny bit of television snow in the movie of my existence. Anxiety. Like a bad neighbor, it's always there. It is more commonly understood now, but back when I was a child? No. Not at all. In addition to that, there is just the way the world of back then worked. Sometimes even now. This stigma is real and it remains. Nobody with anxiety wants to have it. I would be glad to give it away if I could. As Aniken said, I would certainly like to. Despite this, you know something? I think I did okay. I somehow managed to overcome somewhat enough to do fairly decently in school. People even thought I was smart. Maybe I was pretty smart, book wise. But in other ways? No, not at all. I admit I was quite stupid outside of a book. I'm not the brightest socially even today to tell you the truth. I may have been an Einstein book wise. But with people I was a Forest Gump or maybe the lawnmower man. Still, I did okay, considering. I really think I did alright, you know? Except that especially back then, being the social mess I am, I managed to quite thoroughly ruin my own life. I was never good at meeting new people or making new friends. And. beyond that, I didn't exactly have any serious relationships until I straight up married the first woman to pay me any real attention in that way. Genius, right? Not! Long story short, I wound up raising three kids by myself from the ages 5, 7, and 9, all the way to adulthood. I did the best I could. I really did my best to make their childhood as normal as it could be. I held down a job. I cooked, I cleaned, Did my best to see to their needs. Was I perfect? No. Far from it. But I promise I did the best that I could do. Even while fighting my own demons, I think I did okay. Not great. Not awesomely, but I did okay. And I was happy to have at least done that. Now, I had a lot of help back then too. Momma and Dad would help with the kids, watch them when I was at work. They helped me in many ways. Then there was Marsha, my sister, guardian, and my unofficial psychologist. There were many hours on the phone. She talked me down as I would later do that for her. Not sure if I would have made it through without her support. Like I have said before, we understood what was going on in each other's minds better than anyone else on Earth. This is one of the many reasons why her death has hit me so hard. I really need her now to talk to. I need her to help me work out my feelings of loss, For my mother... And for herself. There is the problem, the catch 22, the inescapable loop. I need Marsha to help me through losing Marsha. See my problem? Do you? Allow me to illustrate something that is hard to picture. Among other things, my baby sister was a Star Trek fan. It was one of the fandoms we enjoyed together. There was this episode of the original show where aliens took over the Enterprise and turned Kirk's crew into these little cubes, these tiny inanimate objects... And it strikes me hard.. Because what have I seen this year? Why, my mother and my baby sister both turned into little white boxes. And unlike Kirk's crew, there is no changing them back. Ever have a nightmare where one second you are surrounded by the people you love, and the next second, you are surrounded by little white boxes with neatly typed labels? How do you imagine that feels? Does it make you want to fall to your knees and scream as if you were one of the damned? And have you ever awakened from a nightmare with such a scream lodged in your throat? Tell me what terror truly is if it's not this. And suppose that despite such a nightmare, you've gotta go out in the world and fake normality. And you do this quite well. No gold star. No cookie. No medal of honor. Just the privilege of not going to the nuthouse. Hooray? This is not a very good conversation starter is it? Just not something people want to hear. I know everyone loses someone they love. I know that we all must face this sort of pain sooner or later. Doesn't make such a wound easier to bear, though. It is a Hell of a thing to discover that love and loss is something of degree. I lost loved ones before. I have lost friends before. I loved them, I really did. I would absolutely never wish to downplay the love I had and still have for them. But... Marsha... This is a wound so deep, a pain so intense. I cannot state it with words. When I say I lost a part of myself, I ain't kidding you. I miss my mother too. Of course I do. But there is something about losing my baby sister that hurts so much more. far more than any emotional turmoil has hurt me ever before in my life. This is not meant to detract from my love of others. Marsha was very special to me. Losing her feels like having my soul torn in half. It might seem unreasonable. It might sound crazy. But this is how I feel. I cannot change that.
And now this brings me to the point of what I am trying to say here. It is taking every ounce of my inner strength, every bit of that remarkable glue that is holding what's left of my sanity together, just to pay the bills, just to hold onto my job, just to be productive and reasonably functional. I wish there was somebody still here to be proud of me for simply managing this. Marsha was proud of me, you know? She said so. Sometimes I think she thought better of me than I did of myself. Maybe I didn't deserve that credit, but for her I tried my best to live up to it. It did my heart good to know that at least one person on this earth truly felt proud of me. And it was her belief in me that not only reassured me, but made me want to try and be better. But now, what do I have? Who do I have? Maybe it's just Mr Anxiety talking, but there have been times of late when I feel people expect way more of me that I can deliver, So much more than I can be. Marsha would have understood. They do not understand. I feel so damned alone right now. Nobody gets it, nobody even wants to try to understand. If your expectations are that high, I am guaranteed to disappoint you. Sorry. Not only am I a mere human being, but now I feel tired and old too. I need rest, a very long rest. I need peace, an everlasting peace. Unless you can accept me the way that I am, then just please leave me be. I cannot take any more stress. I cannot take any more drama. Please leave me in peace. If my way offends you then please go your own way. I am sorry I cannot be more. I am sorry I cannot be who you want me to be. I am sorry I cannot fit this role. My sister was the actress, and a damn good one too... Me? I can only be myself anymore. Not many folks are going to like that. I did not start this civilization, society or it's rules or it's role. I was only born into it, during the reign of Tricky Dick Nixon. I'm not claiming to be too good for this world, but I was certainly never made for it either, a puzzle piece with no space to go. I am tired of feeling this way. Please let there be more. Please let there be a reason that makes some sort of sense. I don't think people realize just how much I have changed at my very core. They don't seem to get that there are just certain things I can no longer abide. This change did not start in 2022 or last year, or even the year before that. No, this change within has been ongoing for a very long time now. 2022 has just accelerated it quite a lot.. I honestly wish I could leave this place and start completely anew, somewhere else and as somebody else too. Surely I cannot be the only one. Logic and the law of probability should defy that. I am so tired of the day to day. I need something more in order to be more. The most basic thing above the level of creature we humans need is to be understood,. truly known. I find that need even more unsatisfied these days. The one human being closest to understanding me is now gone. I find myself alone in ways I cannot express. It is not out of dislike of the people around me, but just the impossibility of expressing that for which these words will never be enough.It is not repulsion from them or from here, but a compulsion leading somewhere else, a place I wish I knew. How could I possibility make anyone understand just who I am and where I want to be? I can't. They say we glean from this life the meaning that we can. I try to find happiness or at least distraction in the little things. I normally surf the web to try and think of other things... Now my internet is down. It figures. Though if you're reading these words, Maybe they fixed it. It's not the simple things one cries for. Still it happens when they normally help one cope with greater losses. If giving up the net would bring my sister back, then goodbye internet. I would say it with a smile. But... Since it won't.. I kinda need it. Look folks, I know I have problems. And really? Is there any wonder at all? At least I don't deny them. Why would I? Hell, I have earned them by living as I lived and losing as I have lost. I might as well own the problems that I have earned.