Wandering Wonderings

 Here I am bending my own mind again. If in the theory of spacetime being broken up into slices of now based on an observers perspective, does this not mean that from some of those points of view, I have already made every choice, done everything I ever will do? And if so, is there only one version of events? If not, then what determines which set they see? If so, then how can I have free will if I am destined to make every decision a certain way? Universe or multiverse? Do I get a second chance? Do I get infinity chances? And just what were the right answers to this insane test? I guess these are questions that don't really matter in this universe, in this timeline of events. Unfortunately, Sliders was only science fiction. Damn it. Oh well. At least that means Commissar Wapner won't be sentencing me to 15 years in the Alaskan gulag. No stopping on green, no going on red, nor seeing Elvis in Vegas either, though. Bummer, dude. It is not only the here and now that I must live with, but also here in this particular now. Even if other possibilities live, I can never have hope of seeing them for myself. Thank you, Mario. But our princess is in another universe. Then of course, If we really want to get hazy, we can talk about dreams. I have spoken of the recurring aspects of mine. The maze dream, The revisiting people and places dream, the re-doing high school for some reason dream, yadda yadda Yoda. But have I spoken of the car dreams? In these I always have one or more extra cars parked in my yard that I never drive. Heck they're always way nicer than my current in real life way of going. Sports cars, classic cars, 1970s muscle cars. Its always like I keep forgetting I have them. Calling Doctor Freud. Last night there was this silver sports car I could swear I have seen before somewhere. I have been wracking my brain this morning trying to remember where and when I saw it in real life. It was silver with a giant spoiler and fancy white letters in a black background on the bumper. I can't remember what the words said. I have seen that car somewhere. That was the extra car in my dream. I think I was driving that exact same car the next night. Or actually wandering parking lots and city streets trying to find where I parked the damned thing. This was yet another maze dream. Sometimes I was alone and sometimes someone was with me, not always the same person. At one point I was giving one of my internet friends a detailed tour of my old middle school. Why the hell I would do that I have no clue. At another point, there was someone else who I can't remember with me on a busy city street where we walked past the scene of a heinous crime. All this time I was still trying to find my car. There was somewhere I needed to be. Work maybe? It's all about mazes. A lot of my dreams are like that. Wondering in spacetime. Old friends. Old Acquaintances. Old foes. The past revisited. Confusion, missions and quests. Chaos, distortion, disorder. Somewhere I need to be. Someone I need to find, either to rescue or be rescued by. Only the form of the maze ever changes. The maze itself is always there... Trees, buildings, streets, highways, all still that very maze. I am constantly trying to find my way to a place only my subconscious knows where or what or why... Just another level of me I guess.

That song, "Smiling Faces" is the greatest truth ever put to song. Kudos to the writer and the singers. The only two-faced character I will ever like is Harvey Dent. And buddy, you're talking to the wrong Harv. I am sure we've all encountered the two-faced co-worker who thinks they're so slick that you don't know what they're up to. They shouldn't tattletale on me any more than I should go tell Captain Ahab their whereabouts so he can get some payback for his leg. Some folks aren't as smart as they think they are. Textbook examples of the Dunning-Kruger effect. I'd sooner deal with Freddy. Dunning-Kruger should meet Freddy Kruger: That's what I say. There are too many folks who totally live for lording it over others, Yet in their very methods prove they're not jack themselves. They're no better than anyone else, contrary to their own head cannon. And they prove so spineless and squirmy when called out for their own behavior. Stones and glass houses turn on no lights in their dusty upstairs warehouse. Okay enough venting about white lies of white whales. Back to sea with ya, scallywag!

As always, Marsha is on my mind today. I miss her more than words could ever express. I might as well be unable to speak at all...

I lived an entire eight years before my baby sister was born. Now it has been six months since I lost her. The big differences are being many decades older now and also knowing what a beautiful soul has been lost. A best friend. A guardian warrior who didn't take well to people messing with her brother. Finally, she was the one person I could tell everything. The one person who understood. These are all things I've said before... And they're still true, will always be true... Who knew grief could hurt this much, where emotional pain begets physical pain. I miss you Sis. I can never express how much it hurts.  You always meant the world to me. What is a wonder without their twin? What is a stunt double without the superhero to stand in for? What is an OS on only one computer? And what the hell am I anymore without you? This is all wrong, Sis. I'm 8 years older, remember? We were gonna play the Sims and network Doom in the old folks home. We were gonna see the world. You were oh so young, too damn young. Nobody will ever convince me it was your time to go. Bullshit! Big brothers are not supposed to outlive their baby sisters. It goes against the natural order and it's wrong, wrong, wrong. And quite frankly, Sis, This world just plain sucks without you in it. And between you and me (And maybe the rarest of readers) I am just to the point where I am not sure I want to even be here anymore. Fact is fact.This damn rat race is fast shedding selling points. Not even Billy Mays could sell this shit. Why, what for, and what is the goddamn point? Sorry to sound so grim dark. I'll work on that. Only for you and nobody else though. 

Social media doesn't really bring people together as one might think. For some of us, it only reminds one of how isolated we are. It also seems like a game for the young and maybe it is. My baby sister got me started on social media many years ago. First MySpace then Facebook. It was so different back then. It wasn't as toxic as it is these days, not the drain on mental health it would one day become. I try to put my main thoughts here anyway, in just this old style blog. I doubt many would care about the chronicles of my life, but I still write them because what the hell else can I do? I guess if anything, writing is the way I try to put my thoughts in order. Yes they're still a jumbled mess, but it still gives me that false rosy sense of accomplishment, right? Hooray? And if nothing beyond this, it also gives me a chance to express thoughts and feelings I otherwise have no one left to tell. No doubt, some folks may think I'm crazy, and who knows? Maybe I am. One can't really be the judge of ones own sanity, right? Like I said, If so I have earned it. I've once heard it said that we're all strangers, really. It's like nobody can truly know anyone, not even themselves completely... What am I? Who am I? There is that being deep within my soul, so elemental, the very center, the purest core who swears they have no doubt just who and just what. Then there is the Vulcan like logic and reason that tells me I must be logical in all the ways I come to accept and careful in the ways I choose to express... And the rest of me that just says I must be finally losing it after all these years... And though it all, I would much rather go Mad Hatter than Nutso The Clown. Hatters are fun. Clowns scare the hell outta me. I know what this world and society tells me I should be. I know far better what my heart and soul tells me I truly am. I know, even if my only validation comes from within. Its just that I have been playing this damnable game for far too long and I grow weary of the ways I must shackle my soul and bind my character. Hello, it's me. Just for once, look upon me. Just one time, let me walk into a room and simply be. It is a lot more complicated than that, of course. This is such a longstanding mess if a web, I doubt it will ever be truly untangled. Maybe unraveled but never untangled, like that sweater song by Weezer... Undone... It fits. It really fits. The more I see, the less I can believe that sanity is anything more than a relative point of view. I'm crazy. You're crazy. We're all crazy. Let's do the time warp again. Everything seems to lead back to the same place.. A model train on a circular track. A planet in orbit. The hands on a clock. And my thoughts, my thoughts. What if infinity is just the illusion of a circle we aimlessly run around the edge, claiming to be boldly going where we've never been before? Like Pac-Man, 

(Wacka wacka wacka wacka eeeewooooowoooowooo plop-plop!) 

Damn! Anybody got a quarter?