A Follow Up With Doctor Blog-ieo

 The YouTube algorithm has long decided upon introducing me to some unusual human beings. It happens ever so often that I am intrigued enough to follow up on the wider internet to find out more or if what has been said is even true. Must be my weirder side. Guess that algorithm must know that, huh? I won't go into the names, but I will tell you the one thing I have learned from all of them: Looks indeed are deceiving. Some people look dangerous and are not. They even have kind and gentle souls. Others look sweet and innocent, but you'd better not turn your back on them. Gender is no indicator for whether they're dangerous or not either. If you are ever fortunate/unfortunate enough to catch the algorithm I have, you're gonna see a lot of pretty or handsome faces on a lot of gals and guys. But as Johnny Rivers sang, A pretty face can hide an evil mind. Behold and beware this algorithm. It opens ones eyes. And what's bad for me is I not only can't look away, I've also gotta go find out more. I think what put me down that algorithmic path was watching a few of the aptly named "Down The Rabbit Hole" videos on YouTube. I have asked myself why I find these true crime and/or crazy stories so fascinating is maybe it gives me a chance to investigate, to see if I can determine the truth. Are they guilty or were they merely someone in the wrong place at the wrong time and are needlessly being accused, bullied, or trolled. I'm like Magnum PI without the stash. I'm just interested in the truth. Of course in some of these where law enforcement was involved, it's pretty clear. Okay, enough of this. Subject change clean cup, move down.

Radio and sound waves both have harmonics. So do thoughts, feelings, and memories. So do events, so does life, so do people, especially the ones that we love. She resonates in my mind, and echoes forever in my heart. At least there's that, right? Human beings are not robots, you know. Yet we seem to be expected to act like we don't have feelings, other things in our life, or maybe other purposes for being here rather to just work and die. I wonder what future awaits the human condition. Doubtless the major breakthrough that finally makes human existence about more than being subservient to the almighty dollar is gonna happen well after I am in the grave. They use us until there's nothing left. It is one thing to know the reality. It is another thing to have to live it. It is one thing to understand on an intellectual level, another to understand emotionally. I feel like I will forever dwell between those apples and oranges, those rocks, those hard places. When I say I am tired as I have said so many times before, the meaning does not diminish, and there are so many more meanings than one. And when you are so damn tired and expected to act as though you don't know the meaning of the word, and you are trying your heart out just to comply, yet you still catch hell? Well, there's nothing more discouraging, disheartening, or more depressing. Maybe way back when it seemed worth all that hell. But it's far too late and far too pointless anymore. I've been thinking dark thoughts I thought I'd long ago exorcized. Thoughts are only thoughts of course. It's just been a very difficult year for me. All the loss, all the stress. We all have our demons I guess. Those demons are figurative rather than literal. It makes them no less hellish if you ask me. I don't want to go back to thinking those thoughts. It took something drastic last time. I had to have something to look forward to. I needed something on that horizon that was worth the fight to stay on this road. I can't simply exist and it be worth the struggle. I need more. I need so much more. I want to live, not languish. I want something to look forward to other than death. And I want to think thoughts that don't involve the darkness, of closing chapters that can never be reopened. I once knew someone who fought some of the same demons, so we fought them together, Two warriors in a just and noble cause, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, swords drawn, shields glimmering. But she finally won, or lost, depending on your view, and I am now fighting alone. And see, she was a lot of my reason to fight on. Without my guardian, I find I just don't give a damn anymore. Let it all burn to the ground for all I care. It just doesn't matter. If nobody else cares, why should I? I really feel like I've paid more than my dues. After all these years, there ought to be some improvement in the circumstances. Instead, the situation continues to deteriorate. I feel like I'm trying to keep the goddamn Titanic afloat with nothing but myself and a 5 gallon bucket. Pointless, right? You know if pre-birth is like death, then there might be something to be said for it. I didn't suffer the fall of the Roman Empire. The great depression and the World Wars were no problem for me, neither was the turbulence of the 1960s. I wasn't alive then, therefore I have no memory, good or bad. Unless there are past lives. I hope not. The thought of having to go through all this shit over and over again would truly drive me insane. If death is like pre-birth, then maybe it's not such a bad thing. I really don't know. Don't take the last few sentences too seriously. It's just my rambling mind, and these thoughts ramble, wander, and wonder a lot. They're like Dion in all his 1950s glory.  Either I have no time to think or I have way too much time to think. This is a consequence of the latter. Remember, a good servant to the gods, governments, or corporations should never think too much. If you do start thinking, going from a to b to c, you begin to realize a lot of things. Knowledge is power, and they don't want you to have that, no, no, no. And as for my commentary on the status of the world today I will quote Buffalo Springfield, Nobody's right if everybody's wrong. 

Ever hear of the insomnia demon? That little bastard likes to steal sleep, sanity, and social skills. On mornings after, I try to simply avoid people because I know I'm gonna be grouchy and antisocial. I honestly wish it were otherwise, but a lack of sleep is one of those things that makes me that way. Still, some folks persist and get the very conversation I was trying to avoid, but fact is I can't always be Disney chipper especially when my head is pounding, my world is fuzzy, Can't think, can't concentrate at all, and I'm far from ready to deal with shit. Hey. I'm not the one who's trying to poke a hibernating bear in his own damn cave! Grrrrrrrrrrrr! I'm not unapproachable, but there are certain ways that will bring out my grouch that would even leave Oscar in the dust. Look, I can't help it when I haven't had my sleep. Zombie Me is a bit of a jerk. I admit it. I'm not saying it's right, but it can't be helped. Even if I make my best effort to improve. Problem is, despite whatever efforts I make, the functionality upstairs to be a sweet social butterfly just aint working on 2 hours sleep. It's all I can do to go through the motions. I can only promise to do oh so much better tomorrow. You see, I'll be so damn worn out and exhausted when I finally get through the end of the day that this insomnia demon won't stand a chance the following night. Then I'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning. That demon can only win on a one night basis. So in short, If I'm being an ass, just know I tried to avoid it. I tried keeping to myself and staying on top of things enough to avoid the need of conversation. I didn't force the issue. Not to mention I have never ever been a morning person in my life and it takes a bit of getting my shit together before I'll ever be ready to deal. I didn't invent this system where everybody's gotta rise at or before the butt crack of dawn. It's insanity if you ask me. Especially after a night of chasing and never quite catching sleep. Still, I guess I have to meet expectations as best I can. Seems harder to do in this latter half of living. It was so much easier to face up when I was young and still felt like I had some sort of a future. Ya know what I mean, Verne? Meanwhile here's hoping break time power naps will get me through on days like that. My problem is neither with being asleep nor with being awake. Really it's the transition between the two states. I have a hell of a time falling asleep and even more trouble waking up.  I mean when I'm out, I'm out cold. Anything more would be comatose.... Or dead, really. Sleep is the great escape when bad dreams are not involved. I had one hell of a nightmare last week. An instant replay of losing my baby sister. I didn't know one could literally cry in their sleep. I guess we're never too old to learn new things, right? I have honestly been a total zombie this week, drifting through on autopilot, going through the motions. Monday was super stressful. I didn't really sleep that night which made Tuesday quite hellish. Wednesday and today were just busy as hell. For someone who craves simplicity and peace as much as I do, I do declare this whole damn universe is trolling me. Is there any wonder motivation or the lack thereof has been off the freaking rails of late? If I spend a day busting my butt and breaking my back to accomplish more than expected and all I get is grief because it wasn't quite to folks liking... Well don't expect the same effort next time. I'll take my time to get it to perfect specs. Remember that a pat on the back is never far from a kick in the ass. And life is way too damn short for this kind of stress. Also the pay is way too low for it. And the benefits? They're both unaffordable and suck all at the same time. Quite a feet, huh? In other words, they're getting too good a bargain outta me as it is to complain. I guess the bottom line with company A is that we're just not gonna be happy with each other. I guess I've been around long enough to have seen the world and the wheels go round so many times that I am simply both tired of them and bored with them, all at the same time. This is all a game for the young and I'm just too damn old for this shit. The only surprises I get anymore (Especially in 2022) are those of a tragic nature. The rest is all expected BS. Work, sleep, pay bills, run yourself in circles just for the privilege of existence. By Grabthar's Hammer, what a bargain. The long road of evolution has led to this. I wonder if we're in an evolutionary cul-de-sac. Are we really going anywhere with this or do we turn around and go the other way? This simply cannot be the pinnacle of existence. There is no higher level of being with the Metal Lord. (Unless you're  hanging out with Ozzy) I mean really, is this it? I guess the answer is all around me in any direction I look. Chaos and uncertainty to infinity. It is quite difficult to put two thoughts together. It's all lost in the noise, the static, the roar of the television snow. It is so easy to lose track, to forget, to drift away into nothingness. I have so much to say but no real idea of how to say it. That's why you get ramblings like these. Just a download of all the chaos in my brain. Raw text, you could say. And so ends another session with Doctor Blog-ieo. He's crappy, but you can't beat the price. He's the therapist for the broke and the poor. No one can succeed like Doctor Blog-ieo. Catch the lyrical reference? 

Storms And Ports And Open Books

It is my belief that everybody needs a center, that one place in geography, body, mind, heart and soul... I don't mean a safe place with all the political overtones and yadda yadda Yoda... I mean a safe place as in a home. A safe place as in a starting point and an ending point. A port for a ship. A garage for a car. A hangar for an airplane. It does not mean we don't take to the air, sea, or road.. We do... However we do so knowing there is always a place waiting at the end of the journey, a place to come home to. An ending point, a starting point, a place of reset. A closet for clothes. A drawer for your drawers. A box for your socks... A Degobah for your Yoda. I'd have so much more will and strength to face the waves, the turbulence, and the traffic if I knew that I had somewhere to rest later. Books stand better with bookends. Pictures are more durable in frames and albums. Items need this, and humans need this so much more.. This longing manifests within the soul. It's that reassurance that all the struggles, all the battles, all the hurting, all the grieving, all the longing, all the missing, and the wanting, needing, being without is not forever.. That there is a refuge, a port, a place, a home... And it's waiting patiently for me with open arms ready to embrace, hold, comfort.... Welcome home. It seems these days, my only refuge is sleep. Even then, my dreams have been crazy. The best dreams have been the extremely few when my baby sister dropped by to visit, watch TV with me, or show up at a 2022 new years party I would have in real life otherwise shunned for all the pain this goddamn year has caused, especially by stealing the people I love so much. No such luck in my dreams of late... They've been even more messed up and no sign of loved ones in these. Instead, I seem to be dreaming in fables. I won't go into details of this one because it was twisted and weird as hell. But, as with any fable, there was a moral to the story. And I will tell you that part. Apparently, being the favorite, favored, noticed, liked is not always a good thing. It can be a very very bad thing actually. Let's just say that in my dream, I was not the favored one and it saved my dignity, maybe even my life. Because the spotlight was not on me, I was able to escape. The favored other was not so lucky. Poor guy probably never saw it coming. Remember, ladies and gentlemen, being the outcast can be a good thing. The ass saved (literally) might well be your own. Favor does not always lead somewhere pleasant.

I hate to be that dark cloud, that buzz kill, or that party pooper. It is not my wish to be glum or to bring anybody down. Still my feelings color my world in a shade of blue that I just cannot help but show sometimes. It's no wonder that I don't exactly find myself surrounded by friends, especially now. Who wants to be brought down? Nobody, not even me. I am not some bit of misery awaiting company. Being around friends should be anything but misery, right? It should be smiles and laughter and good good times. Look. I can't fake things very well. People have often said I am an open book, so easily read. And from what I have seen of myself, I can only conclude that they're right. If any good comes out of this, maybe it's that with me what you see is what you get. Even if I am not comfortable with revealing everything with these words, I still speak volumes visually. Those who know me, those who see me, You are not hallucinating or imagining this. I am who I am for all to see if they choose to see. And if they won't, I understand this too. It's the way we can all live together in this vast world. At least I am a bit of an optimist in that one tiny area. It is refreshing to be. Otherwise I see life as simply something that never ends well for anyone. I really do believe that we're all headed for disaster of one sort or another. What, How, and When varies from person to person. Endings are never happy, never pretty. Truth be told, endings suck. It's hard when you are forced to watch everything go to shit, having have little to no power to change it or stop it. To watch things around you fall apart, To lose the most loved people in your life, to be on that unstoppable locomotive chugging at ludicrous speed toward the face of a mountain. We are all Wile E Coyote when you really think of it. Train, roll on. Meep Meep. Yadda yadda Yoda. Youth ain't forever for those "lucky" enough to live long enough.... Long enough to outlive the ones you love most. Getting old is the insult added to that injury.  Lucky my ass. Only if she had lived too. I was born first. I was born first. It's not right that she's gone and I'm still here. Why do my thoughts always circle back here? My train of thought must be on a circular track, coming around to the same station again and again and again.

Ever feel that certain things are farther beyond your control than people know or understand? They want you to do more than you are able, but they sure ain't offering any help, are they? And it sure sucks when you are putting in the most monumental effort that you can, only to face critique. Ever just wanna say, can you really do better? Why don't you show me how it's done? Not only do I feel tired and old, but I am damned tired of outsiders who have no clue what it's like to be me giving me pointers on being me. A lot of people would be surprised just who this self actually is, making said pointers null and void. But I guess that is a story for later if ever at all. And to tell you what I believe to be the truth, maybe it doesn't really matter anymore. So long as I know, I can pretty much just be. The one person I would have opened up to about all of this is long gone anyway through no fault of her own. Sometimes I feel my one remaining mission in life is to keep whatever sanity I can as I run out the clock. There will come a day when this glitchy game is gonna end, and friends I am no longer afraid. I no longer have any strong feelings one way or another. Yes, Zapp, this is what turns one neutral. This disconnect feels weird, as if there were such a thing as Novocain for emotions. It really as if nothing matters. The game is a formality that I am merely going through the motions just to get it over with. I just don't care anymore and I can't even articulate why that is. My bucket list is now a fuck it list. I just don't care and I see no point anymore. Yet, here I still am. Go figure, go fish. It beats the hell outta me. 

I've been trying my best to rekindle my interest in some of the hobbies I used to enjoy so much. I've done a little more with my music, my web pages, and my 1990s FPS games. Yes yes, just like I used to do, or so I hope. I need to once again have pastimes that less resemble mental illness. It seems of late that if I am not grieving my baby sister or my mother, I am diving headlong into this little identity crisis of mine of what it means to find myself alone in all the ways except for the one I wish to be. So I've been doing my best to reconnect with some old friends, The Pinkies, The Chuddies, The Cybies, The Former Humans, The Kitties, The Piggies, John, Paul, George, and Ringo... All old buddies of mine. BTW, the above was a reference to Doom, Duke Nukem 3D, and my massive Beatles album collection. I have nicknames for game characters. Chuddies are Imps, Kitties are the lizard aliens, Yadda yadda Yoda. I've been playing these games for at least a quarter century now, so I am allowed my own nicknames for the critters in them. I remember my baby sister dropping by sometimes and playing them too. That was a really long time ago. See how she's never far from my thoughts? No matter the subject, I am always reminded of her somehow. Still, I know she would want me to get back to my old self. I know she wouldn't want me to be unhappy. Though I do believe she would understand. So, where was I? Ah, yes my games. After all these many years, these are still my favorites. As far as FPS games go, all the best ones came out before the turn of the century. Now for visual novels, the best were from about 2001 to 2015.. All of this is just my opinion of course. I love the Original/Real Doom every bit as much as I did in 1994.  The monsters may be pixilated, but the gameplay is super fun. And I'm doing my best to get back to enjoying things like that, maybe not think so much about the fact I am getting so damned old, that I miss Marsha so very much, of how it often seems everything is going to shit. So... I am going to try focusing here. I have gathered together a lot of levels and mods over these last couple of decades. Some of these might be rare as I downloaded many late last century and extremely early this one. Here today, gone tomorrow has always been an aspect of the internet. I have also saved a lot of my favorite web pages for that exact reason. I want all the best stuff to be preserved. Why? I don't know, but I'm just gonna go with the impulse. It is just something I feel compelled to do. 

If I could Truly Be

 Friends, Acquaintances, Total Strangers, Robots, or Whatever:

 Here we are, high summer, the dog days fast approaching... Storms are brewing over the gulf, and I am dreading the next few electric bills. The losses of this previous winter and spring are still fresh, wounds that are simply going to be there. My mother and my baby sister are never far from my thoughts. In my deepest mind, they never leave my thoughts. It has been nearly six months since I lost Marsha. Nearly four since Momma. I've been going on with life as best I can. It's been making a living and dealing with things. It's finding what distracts me and makes me happy. It's balancing being my true self yet still kinda being what the world expects of me. It's trying to keep my mind off what depresses me, stresses me out, all while trying not to be unhealthy about it. I have thoroughly backed up Marsha's digital stuff. Her plays, pictures, web pages, Sims saves, CD's and more... I put all of this in a special folder along with my own 20 plus year collection of games, movies, music, text, HTML, and yadda yadda Yoda. I am working on ways to make sure all this digital treasure lives long after I am gone, so that people will know me, and more importantly, know her. Maybe I am crazy for grasping at such straws, but I've gotta do something otherwise this grief is going to sink my mental health below the waves. Nobody but me knows just how precariously close to a fullon breakdown I've come. It's been a knife's edge and nobody knows. I only thought I knew loneliness before. Try feeling like you're falling and there's nobody there to catch you. Social media tends to make this feeling worse. I really need to stay away, had kinda planned it before I lost Marsha. I guess I feel this need for connection with other human beings after all. I need it even more without my baby sister being just a phone call away. Yet it is just impossible, at least highly improbable. It's all a game for the young. I am no longer young. Being I have little choice but to go on, there are needs that somehow need to be met. I need stability in my life. I need a whole hell of a lot less worrying about when the sky is gonna fall. I don't need the stress of a relationship. What I really need is a friend. I feel old, irrelevant. It's as if my life were a video game that glitched out. My character can aimlessly wander, but there are no more real goals. It's like there is no point anymore. I've gotta break out of this somehow. It's not healthy, you know? 

How much of ourselves do we really leave behind? My Great Great Grandfather lived from 1847 to 1927. I have exactly two photographs of him. The only other thing I have is remembering what my grandfather told me about his own grandfather. My Great Grandfather lived from 1881 to 1972. Of him I have several photos. My father tells me about him. I remember my mother, who married my father in 1970, saying that my great grandfather used to call her his little lady. My Grandfather lived from 1906 to 2002. I have direct memories of him. There are many pictures, audio, and a bit of video of hum and my grandmother. My father was born in 1948. He is my one remaining parent. My mother lived from 1949 to 2022. My baby sister lived from 1981 to 2022. Half my great great grandfather's lifetime. Less than half my grandfather's and my great grandfather's lifetime. Eight years less than my life so far. This is something that makes no sense to me. I was born first. How the hell am I still here? But I've talked about that a lot already. What did they leave behind other than my memories and my love for them? Marsha of course had a lot of digital stuff and I have saved all that I can. There are photographs and her plays, her drama awards, her Bachelors Degree from FSU, letters and texts we sent to each other. There are her writings. There are the voice impressions we sent to each other on tape. There is her website dedicated to her favorite soap opera couple, still online and accessible. I have a heart full of memories that I really should write down. Maybe this can be what I leave behind. I honestly wonder what that would be. Will my descendants be going through my files realizing how weird their ancestor was? If I have great great grandchildren, will they have more of me than the two photographs I have of my great grandfather. Will they be able to learn about Marsha? Will they through genetics be able to feel a connection to her when they see her smile, hear her laugh, read the thoughts she wrote down so long ago? I hope they can. I hope they will. I hope that maybe I can at least be of help in keeping her memory for the future. I could be a little closer to peace knowing that I did at least this for her. I don't know if eternal oblivion or seeing her again awaits me. I hope for the latter.  The only upside of the former is that either way: This will be when my grief will end. I will be with my baby sister again, across the universe or forever in nothingness. Either way,  it will be the end of this pain. 

I think it is very easy to misunderstand, even when it is not the intention. It happens with most everyone. I can't say I always get it right, myself. In fact it seems the older I get, the less I understand.You know, It isn't always about being depressed. Sometimes it's just fatigue. Sometimes it's just having nowhere to go.

Okay, okay, okay Subject Change, clean cup move down, mooooove doooooown!

It's awesome to see Ozzy making new music. He's my Dad's age, you know. I doubt I'd even live that long, much less be that darned spry at his age. Then you see Paul singing his heart out onstage at 80, twice the age John lived to be. I think we would gave had at least some sort of Beatles reunion in the late 80s or early 90's had John not been stolen from us. It is good to see Paul still out there. Then you have William Shatner, Captain Kirk himself going to space for real at age 90 last year. Yet here I am feeling ancient with a little bit to go before crossing the half century mark. Does life really begin at 50? I'm not sure I believe so. And even if so, it seems to be not at all fair to Marsha. See how every tangent my thoughts goes on, how they always come back? The heaviness of my thoughts are an event horizon. I am tired of grieving, but I cannot stop it. Every day I wake up she is still gone from this Earth.