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.
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