Meet The New Dawn Same As The Old Dawn

 Well, hello there, Universe. How are we on this stormy afternoon? Rainy weather is perfect sleeping weather, or would be had I made it home by now. Such are the contradictions of life. Contradictions and ironies, such as I'd rather sleep my remaining time away. Actually, there are few things in my life more blissful or sublime than some deep, unconscious sleep. There are times when being awake can be quite a bummer. There is a reason they say ignorance is bliss. It's a matter of perception, I guess. Every day may be a new dawn. But isn't it something how that same morning sun can seem either harsh or comforting, depending on said morning. I really try to make my best effort to look at life through a positive lens. I must admit to not always being successful. In my more grim pessimistic moments, I look at life as a rocket train to disaster. (Whistle blows) All aboard! Next stop: Tough times, old age, illness, accident, and tragedy in general. We will be departing for disaster and points south as soon as Wile E can get the fuses lit. Brace yourselves and buckle your seat belts because we're gonna leave that roadrunner and even that damn hedgehog in the dust. We'll make the bullet train look like the snail trolley. We will break both the sound and the sanity barriers. Ludicrous Speed Now! That was a very accurate description of how I do not wish to view my life, but all too often do so anyway. See, that kind of thinking just makes me want to sleep my remaining years away. They say that tomorrow is another day, and it is, of course. Still, I have seen so many tomorrows turned into yesterdays, a stack of carbon copies on the desk of my personal history. Tomorrow is indeed another day. However, too many tomorrows might as well have been a repeat of too many yesterdays. It is not enough that tomorrow is another day. It also has to be a day worth waiting for. Of course, attitude and perception factor into this, but so does reality. Some situations suck, no matter how positive a spin we try to put on them. See, I do not believe the law of attraction is the answer to everything. We can't always just Jedi mind trick ourselves into believing things do not freaking blow. Positivity can be helpful with a dash of realism thrown in for good measure. But we shouldn't lift ourselves so damn high as to make the fall fatal. Realism is the palace guard for our sanity. 

I try my best not to think too much. I do wonder, however, if I'm not better off in a permanent delusion. Reality bites the hardest when the spirit within so badly mismatches the reality without. I wonder why the universe won't let me just have this one dream. It does not even have to be real. Even an imaginary home for this old, weary, well traveled old heart. I say even false hope is better than no hope at all. I wonder if that's why so many of my fellow 21st century humans still cling to religion. Maybe that's why I dreamed up Oblivia, the goddess of eternal nothingness and her loving, permanent embrace. The sad thing about oblivion is no love, no happiness, no belonging. The beautiful thing about Oblivia is no more loneliness, no more hopelessness, no more pain, no more mismatching spirit and body. Her embrace will take it all away. There are days when this tired old soul longs for that eternal rest in her arms. Friends, It's been a long road. As it stands right now, I can't see a future that is worthwhile. All I can see in that crystal ball is that things further deteriorate. I see no way to change that. I am knocking on the door of being a half century old. I just don't see things getting better from here. I have got to live an illusion just to feel halfway happy, that I halfway matter in this world anymore. Reality can be stark in contrast and cruel in manifestation. Believe me, I know this better than anything I ever thought I knew. It's like a mess that I keep forgetting to clean up, and therefore keep stumbling over again and again. It's like forgetting about the room as well as the elephant in it. My purpose, reason, and meaning have been diminishing for a long time now. What remains is not even about me anymore. It's about saving my sister's memory. It's about outliving certain jerks who would certainly delight in figuratively living off my corpse should I go before they do. So yes, I do have several valid reasons to live. It kinda sucks that none of these seem to be happy reasons. See why I try not to think too much? Because, when I do, these are the sort of thoughts I get. I don't call them heavy for no reason. This is why I am always searching for distractions. And in that spirit, hey, hey, clean cup move down. Yes, yes, we definitely need to talk about something else. This wasn't going anywhere but south of heaven and down, down, down. 

To be perfectly blunt, I need to be in the sunshine for a while. I'd love to see these depressing feelings burn away like the morning fog. Such as I am, I'm still alive, and damn it, that ought to mean something. I do try to find my own meaning in these little distractions of mine. It's mainly computers and computer stuff, this crazy effort to build and preserve this digital collection, my memory, my sister's memory, for who knows who. Sometimes, my only answer to why is because it's what I do. A rooster crows, fish swim, birds chirp, and I do this. It all makes sense if you keep it vague enough. It's certainly good enough for a distraction. 

Maybe there would be those who would say that this whole express train to disaster view of life is overly pessimistic. I guess it is. Still, all I can see in this crystal ball built solely of logic is growing old and frail and losing more people that I love. What else could there be? Tripping over a suitcase full of money and becoming a billionaire? A courageous Joan Of Arc knight in shining armor dashing to my rescue? Is any of this even remotely realistic? No. The toughest lesson I've had to learn is that some things are just not in the cards for me. As Ben Franklin said, the only certainties are death and taxes. I might also add loss, deterioration, and old age if the former holds off long enough. Loneliness sucks, my friends. Hopelessness and futility blow even harder, hurricane freaking Hoover levels. 

That's why these little 'pointless' distractions are so important. You could say they are life and death. Ever since I lost my sister and my mother, life and death have been very much on my mind. Some of those heavy thoughts have been pretty dark indeed. Only my silly distractions can chase them from my mind. These are the straws I desperately grasp at. This is the life preserver I cling to for dear life. The waters are deep and dark with one hell of an undertow. Standing on solid ground is a long ago memory, faded by distance and time. Once, I thought I was going to live a normal life. I got a job, got a place, got married, became a parent, and everything a normal dude would do. But it all came crashing down. Back then, there was at least the support of the people who loved me the most. I wrongly thought that they would always be there, even if everything else in my life was going to shit. Especially my baby sister, eight years my junior. Isn't it against how the order is supposed to be? Firstborn (That's me) first to go. Born last (that's Marsha), be the last to go. That should be the natural order of the universe. But it's not. I'm still here, it seems. She had a future, you know! She was a college grad about to go back for a masters degree. It seemed that things were finally falling into place for her. And I was as proud of my Sis as I always was. But I guess I am straying topics as I often do when it comes to her. I let my sadness and my anger at her life having been so wrongfully taken from her, of her so wrongfully taken from me, that I ramble away from any subject, no matter how I try. My main point here is that I had wholeheartedly believed that no matter what hell I was going through, Marsha would be just a phone call away. I failed to account for the hell of losing my sister. That was a messed up thought process. I need to talk to Marsha about grieving over Marsha. It's totally illogical, not to mention crazy that I had this impulse to pick up the phone and dial her number, knowing full well she will never be on the other end of the line ever again. That was yet another sign of losing my marbles. It would be a very feeble understatement to say that my attempt at living a normal life has failed miserably. Now, I choose to pursue happiness rather than normality. I say we tried it their way, and their way didn't work at all. Now, for the rest of this messed up game, it's my rules. 

It is no wonder that people don't want to be around such a dark cloud, buzz kill, party pooper, and an Eeyore on downers. I want to be so much more sunny than this. Still, it's one hell of a downward spiral that's damn hard to break out of. I can't really blame anyone for not sticking around. I wouldn't want to if I were them. We can't be Mr. or Ms. Fix-it for other people. We can only do that for ourselves. There is a bit of irony in that long ago time when I thought I was going to solve all the problems of another person. Surly, marrying her would be the fix of all fixes, right? Boy, was I ignorant! I was the one who wound up unfixed. You can not help anyone who does not make the effort to meet you halfway. You think you can just reach out your hand and pull them up, yet they pull you down, deeper in the abyss than they ever appeared to be. I say appeared because, as Admiral Akbar said, "It's a trap!". Think twice, white knight. We all need to he rescued sometimes. Make sure that sparkly armor and that white horse travel on two-way streets. I have never been in one, but I would believe an ideal relationship is two people who save each other. I guess I'm just too old to even think of such things anymore. Like I said, certain things were never really in the cards for me, and I am of the belief I could be leading a much better life right now had I never pursued them at all. Who knows where and who I'd be today had I focused on the right things when I was young. If time travel existed, we'd certainly find out. Hey, Doc! Set those time circuits for the early 1990s. Or maybe Q will show up and give me a second chance as he gave Picard in the TNG episode, "Tapestry." There are quite a few stupid things from my youth, ranging from minor to major, that I'd love the chance to undo. I'm sure my results would be far better than they were for Jean Luc. It could be anything from taking better care with my appearance, better care of my health, to being a better person to the people who loved me, To focusing on my school work, being a better student, being a better son, a better brother, and yadda yadda Yoda. It would be minor things like recording hours and hours of The Great 108 on cassette tape to hopefully survive to the computer age. It could be as major as applying every lesson I've learned in this near half century. I really believe I could do a whole lot better a second time around. But all this thinking is pointless. In fact, these are the most pointless thoughts I have ever had. There is no going back. There is no take two. There are no second chances. The choices I make today could never change the choices I made so many decades ago. That was a different person. When you go back far enough, that's no longer me. There are so many things I wouldn't even need conscious thought to change. I would do things differently because I am someone else now. Only, it's now being the sole time-frame I have any power over. The past is a long ago scribbling on a moss covered stone. I have no power or control over it. Seems it was a long ago kid and not me who got to make those choices. There is nothing I can do about the 1980s here in the 2020s. As Red in Shawshank once said, that kid is long gone, and this old man is all that's left. 

So, I am left with the same question I've had for quite some time. Where do I go from here? There is no rewind, not even pause, just forward and onward. I can't change the past, and I can't avoid growing older or losing dear ones in the future. All I can do anything about is today, and even the fabric of today has a lot of past and future so deeply woven into it. So there are plenty of things these days that just are, no matter how desperately I wish they weren't. It really is a crazy train with only one exit, with so very little I could ever hope to intervene. My life is pretty much confined to the tracks, stuck on the rails. I see no way to change the course. I guess I should just seek happiness in whatever way I can, little moments, big moments, real moments, and even those distractions.

Isn't it strange that we can have too much time yet not enough time all at the same time? Life sure can be just as confusing as that previous sentence. You only live once, and I'm fairly certain that most of my 'once' is already over. It's just this bit I have left that I should concern myself with. It's all that matters anymore, now, today, the moment. It seems even when the answer to what is all too well known, it's the how and the why that remains an elusive mystery. To be is self evident. How to be, and why be at all, will always be the real question. 

Wednesday Wonderings

 Good morning, Universe. 

I hope your day is playing nice. Mine is not so bad for the most part. I had to give myself a swift kick in the butt to get moving. See, I woke up again missing my Momma and my baby sister. However, that's not all that unusual for me. I've also been thinking some long thoughts of late. My youngest son is about to graduate high school in a few weeks. I find myself in this parental paradox. I'm proud of my grown-up kids, but I miss them being my little ones sometimes. The time will soon come for them to go out into the world and make their own lives. There's going to come a day when I'll rarely see them myself. And of course, I want them to have their own lives and be happy in those lives. Through the many events where various people left us, some by choice, others who had no choice at all, life can be kinda lonely when you're in the position I'm in. Seems I lose people left and right. They say it is a natural part of life, and while I understand, that doesn't make it easy. But the show must go on and I've got a gig to play. (tunes up guitar) Let's rock. This one is dedicated to loved ones and the fullness of time. Give me happy beginnings, happy middles, and happy wherever in the timeline of all history. But endings? I have never seen an ending that was even remotely happy. I have seen the ending of illusions. I have seen the ending of relationships. The only happy ending is when it was something bad that ended. And even then, it took me years to realize that it was for the better. As smart as I am in some ways, I am also one hell of a slow learner in others. That's putting it kindly, as we know we are our own worst critics. I have seen the endings of people dear to my heart. Far worse is the infinity that follows. It's not just that they were gone that day, or the next day, or the day after. It is the fact that so long as I have a heartbeat, I must live without them. The happy times were not at the end. It's moments from the middle that brought happiness. Memories, ancient memories, seeming so mundane and ordinary at the time, but so significant and defining in retrospect. Amid the backdrop of ordinary life, they positively shine. As for the future, I realize that even if I am lucky in all other aspects, there is old age and the consequences I have ahead of me. I have watched this happen to people that I love. The thing about the elderly is that it is the one group of people we will all become one of them if we live long enough. Unless somebody trips over the fountain of youth, it is inevitable. Knowing my luck, I'd probably drown in the damn thing. (Okay, that's my dark humor showing). When you love someone, you want them to be healthy and strong. You want them to be able to enjoy their life and live to the fullest. And for that reason, growing old just plain sucks, for myself and especially for the people I love and want to keep around forever. So, there has to be more in life to look forward to than simply that. I believe that finding happiness (Whatever path that is for you) is the ultimate meaning of life. Life is so damned short. Life is cruelly short. There are so many I know who deserved so much better. Sometimes, I think we barely get enough time to truly know each other before we have to settle for remembering. And happiness needs to manifest itself way before the end. The ending is far too late. Time is the biggest troll of them all, far bigger than even what you might find on the internet. The age-old advice about not feeding the trolls unfortunately does not apply to the time troll. That bastard's gonna eat anyway. Among his favorite dishes are youth, opportunity, loved ones, familiar places, and faces. Nothing seems immune. For me, it seems that the only things that never change are the things I wish would. And it seems so many of these changes are for what and for whom I wish could have stayed the same or stayed around. The only changes I ever wished for those I love were the ones that could have brought them happiness and meaning. Friends, I'm still coming to grips of the ungraspable. There is so much beyond my understanding that I thought I would have figured out by now. I am beginning to realize I may never understand. So the million dollar question seems to be, "What, now?"

Life these days seems to be all about getting through said days, not to mention the nights. The nights are not so bad when I find myself in the loving embrace of sleep. It is those nights when even sleep has forsaken me that are the absolute worst. Too much time to think brings on those heavy thoughts better left in the darkness. Their heaviness weighs down anything and everything. In those times, I'd much rather not think at all. It's another day to get through, another day of hoping to survive the change one more time. Not a single tomorrow has ever been promised. Even so, the days seem to blend. The only differences seem to be what's missing and who's missing, what I miss, and who I miss even more. Just another day before me, another on to make it to the end, from the beep of the alarm to the drifting away to Tarkin or Darth Plaguies... Another day of work and sodas and snacks, of missing Marsha and Momma, of delving into my computer to endlessly try to forget the unforgettable that I feel would be so wrong to forget. 

My days are about as full of contradictions as I am. It seems to be a real-world fact that opposites can both be true at the same time. No wonder the mysteries of this universe are beyond imagination. Perception can be deception. There have been moments that I doubted my own eyes, questioned my own heart, and wondered about my own mind. Emotions can cloud what is real, but emotions themselves are about as real as it gets. They have to be real, even if they are confusing sometimes. There is nothing more real than how you feel. And that is what colors my world, sometimes rose red, sometimes deep blue, sometimes an aquamarine dream. My favorite, actually. It's the same old world. Only the lens of perception changes. Sometimes, I'm okay. Other times, I am far from fine. Sometimes, I've got this. Sometimes, I feel I'm barely holding on. There have been times, especially in this past year, that I felt I was losing my sanity. Why? Because there have been times in the dead of night when I have called out for help to someone who couldn't possibly help me anymore. I don't know why I do this. She was the one who needed help that last year of her life. And now, she certainly can't help me, and worse, I can no longer help her. But on some subconscious level that bypasses logic and thought, I guess the child within me calls for their mother. "Momma, can you help me?" No. she can't, and I wish you would cut this out already. I guess if I really start arguing with myself, you can lock the door and throw away the key. Grief does strange things, man. Once upon a long time ago, I thought grief was only tears, but it is oh so much more than just crying over someone. It messes with both body and mind, physically and mentally. And be it one or the other, the mother and child reunion is only a breakdown away. I never knew I could get on my own damn nerves. In an Ozzy reference, I always knew I was on the crazy train. I just didn't know I was the damn engineer. What was it Anna Nalick sang? We can't jump the tracks? We're like cars on a cable? She was 100% correct. And what was it the Cheshire Cat said? Aren't we all mad here? And speaking of madness and hatters, how about another clean cup move down? Take a seat, I insist. Why, you simply must have a cup of tea! 

 

As much as I hate to say this, there are no magical gateways in life. There are only escapes, some healthier than others. None of them take you very far. Old 3D video games and visual novels were my favorites once I realized drinking and music were not. Music works better for focusing, and drinking these days only makes me think of hangovers. Hank Williams Jr. was right: They hurt more than they used to. So, games it is. In visual novels, I get to romance anime girls. In Doom, I get to fight monsters. Just so long as we don't confuse the two, right? Actually, there is HDoom, and there are monster girls, but never mind that. I also like to edit HTML, build programs in DOSBOX, and things like that. Photography is another hobby of mine. I'm not a professional, but it is something I enjoy sometimes. And that's as close to escaping from this world as I can get, at least for now. I do whatever I can to distract myself and keep the heavy thoughts and the loneliness at bay. See, I often feel as though my life was over except for the actual dying. There is so much around me I wish I could be a part of, but I could never hope to. So much I want to see and be, but it's impossible. Still, when you spend enough time wishing you were somebody else, you kinda find a way. Yes, my hobbies and games and the ways I kill time might seem silly or even stupid, but they are my life raft that keep me above those dark waters of depression. There is more that I really wish I could talk about, but I can't. Not now, not yet. But, suffice to say that my voyage on these waters to try and find my true self is the very reason I did not capsize and sink. They might call me silly. I call myself alive, and that silliness is a good deal why I still am. See, that's the wonderful thing about Doctor Blog-ieo. While I can't say I hold nothing back (because I do hold back on certain subjects), I can say this is a place where I can be totally honest about what I do talk about. And really, everything else is obvious if you know where to look. I'm sure a real mind doctor would figure it out in no time. And sooooo. How about yet another clean cup move down? Why we couldn't possibly have any less tea, right?

Life needs to be about so much more than meaninglessly going through the motions. That's perfectly okay for robots and drones, but certainly beneath we humans. Our minds are much more than simple computers. We are heart, spirit, and soul. We are not simple calculators. We are beings, entities. We are more than the sum of our grey matter. We are more than the creatures we appear to be. The fact that we live, that we ever lived, should mean something. Living life just to stay alive was a task of our ancestors. We need so much more than that. I need so much more than that. The Martian's advice to Colonel Wilder (The Martian Chonicals 1980) about life being its own answer is just not enough for me. The reason for living has to be so much more than simply remaining alive. How is this better than Oblivia's loving embrace? Have I mentioned her before? She's just a symbol, Goddess of Eternal Oblivion. I figure, depending on which is true, whether or not there is life beyond, I'll either find myself in the presence of my baby sister or in the realm of Oblivia. While I'd prefer the former, either would mean the end of my struggle, the end of pain. Infinity has its downside, you know. Endings are never happy, but they can be releasing, freeing, the lifting of a long-held burden. This is better understood by a heavy heart and a fatigued mind. I guess every season has its reason, which brings me back to the topic of time between now and then. I need better reasons, my friends. The Martian's advice is not enough. Religion has never been an answer either. Besides, I get tired of hearing how bad we supposedly are for merely being human beings. My friends, do you blame the watch, or do you blame the watch maker? Oh well, that's one of the subjects I avoid for good reason. Clean cup move down? It's a bit of a comfort in knowing that I have no exclusive copyright on madness. Look around. It's not just here, but almost everywhere. There is something to be said about logic and reason. However, when have we ever been very logical or reasonable? We are creatures of emotion trying to be logical. It's like skates on a non skater on a frozen lake. It's gonna be a wild and crazy ride. Especially for me as I am from the deep south where lakes do not freeze. Think Wile E Coyote on fast forward, brought to you by the ACME corporation, earthquake pills, batman suits, and rocket powered roller skates. This is definitely not Sparta. Therefore, it must be madness. 

The Clouds That Get In The Way

 (Marsha was a major Joni Mitchell fan)

 Well, hello again, Universe. How is time and space, and do we have enough time and space? Actually, from my point of view, there is never enough. I'd be happy with my own little corner, maybe a pocket dimension, so long as the noise and the stress could never enter that domain. I'd love a place where the pause button was perpetually on, where you could close your eyes for as long as you want, and nothing would ever change or be out of place. Just flowers, trees, sun, and shade. Maybe an old moss covered rock wall and a nice comfortable bench for sleeping. That certainly sounds like a utopia to me. Imagine just closing your eyes to the sound of the birds, the feel of a gentle breeze, the patterns of sun and shade dancing across your eyelids... Imagine a paradise where time could never harm you, could never steal your loved ones away, could never gradually make you old and weak... Imagine a place where happiness, love, and belonging are forever. Aside from destroying a planet to get to the nexus, Doctor Soran was absolutely right. Time takes its time, but it is inevitable and unstoppable. The older I get, the more I see. Time takes away a lot more than some people think. I see more, and I know less than I ever did. My grandmother (my momma's momma) said it best. It is amazing what you learn after you know everything. 

Truth seems so subjective these days. I have seen a lot of click-baity headlines and titles of late, some that if true would have meant the world ended five minutes ago and would have had at least merited a passing mention on the network news. Man, the tabloids of old have nothing on this insanity. So before I put on my tinfoil hat and bow low before the almighty lizard people, let me just say that I never get my news and entertainment from the same place. I watched some sketchy videos on YouTube last night about supposed evidence of parallel universes. Now, I, for one, believe they do exist. In fact, it is my belief that they have to exist and that this is a multiverse and not a universe. However, I didn't believe the particular stories cited as 'proof' in that video. There is this story about a young lady who got in an automobile accident while texting and did not survive it. People even remembered attending the funeral. Yet later, she was just back as if the wreck had never happened. I guess they supposedly jumped some quantum divide to a universe where she didn't make that terrible mistake? Her close family had no memories of the accident or the funeral. She was just suddenly back and okay and living her life. Now, beyond my not believing this story would be true is (if I did believe it) my anger and jealousy on my sister's behalf. If the universe could bring this stranger back, it could damn well bring her back, too. But, since I don't believe it, I guess it's a mute point. Still, it did add another spoke to my wheel of thoughts. They, along with my writings, seem disjointed today, jumping from topic to topic in this disconnected way. I guess that Deejay and his turntables are back again, scratching away on my heart and mind as though they were records. One (rip rip rip) One Two Three. They like their Fruity Pebbles in a major way. Friends, It's gonna be a long, long day. It's like being in a zombie movie, fearfully looking around for the zombies, only to realize you're one of them. Pardon me, but do you have any grey matter poupon?  

Meanwhile, and totally off-topic, this damn pollen is driving me totally, Nutso The Freakin Clown! Does anybody have a flamethrower and some agent orange?  Ah, Agent Orange and nuclear tests: Two reasons why we should absolutely trust the government. (Yes, I'm being sarcastic) I believe a trustworthy large corporation was also involved in the former. (still being sarcastic). I disagree with Roger Waters on a lot of things, but I am wholeheartedly with his silent reply of "No fucking way" to his own lyric "Mother should I trust the government?"  But it seems I am straying into things out of the scope of these letters to my missing universe. There are plenty of others sounding off on things like that, But I am the only one of myself that I know of. The thoughts remain just as heavy, and I'd rather write them down than carry them around. In reality, I do both, but I'm clinging to the illusion that on to the page really does mean out of my head. In many ways, Doctor Blog-ieo is the only friend I have. 

Sleep has been one elusive bastard these last few days. Man, I was so tired when I got home yesterday, I thought I'd soon be out like a light with an off switch. But, no such luck. Sleep is the fugitive I've been chasing with no success, yet another thing I need so badly that has just been eluding me. Just more longing, needing, pining away. Deprivation seems to be a long-running theme of my life. I am not into religion, not at all. In fact, I have become far less apt to buy into that insanity as I have gotten older. Still, there is this one bible verse that runs through my brain now and again about there being a time and a place for everything. I prefer the Byrds version, myself. But, do you know? I've been around for a long time, and I have never seen that wheel come around, not even once. Oh well, I guess one either accepts all or rejects all, and there's nothing in between the former and the latter. And that is a discussion I'd rather avoid for now. I'd rather quote Robert Frost about the woods being lovely, dark, and deep. But I have a sister's memory to guard and an ex that I don't want drawing off my social security for booze and drug money for her shack up partner. Therefore, sticking to Mr Frost's writings, I can not sleep. Not until I have endured and ensured all the above. I just wish I could think of happier reasons to live. I feel like a fish out of water. I feel disconnected, out of my mind, and out of my time. And it is quite a lonely wavelength to be on. The price we pay for being true to ourselves, I guess. The world changes around you. That must be why nobody at work gets my Locutus Of Borg references when talking about those walking around well assimilated in their Bluetooth headsets. Sad, really. Because they also don't get when I say in my best borgified Picard voice, "I am le cutest of Borg" Oh well... That's when I drop it. Because "You will all become one with the Borg" or "Your resistance is hopeless, Number One" might be misinterpreted. They might reply with "Mr Worf, You're Fired ".  See, my little sister would have laughed out loud at this, but nobody else really understood my humor like she did. We were always on a similar frequency, maybe not exact, but close enough to understand. I have probably mentioned this before, but it's one of those recurring themes in the remix of my thoughts. It's the only wheel that actually and faithfully comes around again.  Have you ever fallen asleep on something and woke up with an imprint of it on your skin? I am beginning to believe that long-held emotions are just like that, too. The deap seated impressions they leave are in your very soul. They become the new self. They can't fade or be removed. Therefore, the old self can never be again. This was exactly why I deleted all my words and started over. It's like someone else wrote them, so changed I had become the very instant I knew she had been lost. So deep the mark in my heart, the impression from feeling this way every single day. I'm still here, but I'm not the same. Even when I think I'm okay, it's beneath the surface. All it takes is a song. All it takes is a memory, and suddenly, I am overwhelmed again. She is in my head, in my heart. I couldn't escape her even if I wanted to.

The fact that she was the only person even close to my wavelength is probably one of my more selfish reasons for missing my sister. There are a million more important reasons. The simple reason that she deserved far better being chief among them. Marsha was a wonderful person who deserved a full and happy life. This world lost someone wonderful and is a much darker place without her. Still, the fact that she was the only one who truly understood me makes it hit even harder for me. Being on a different wavelength is like being on one of those out of band CB channels back in the day...  Far less noise... It's a good thing until things get too quiet. (Except for that time, I remember hearing some dude up north and some dude in Panama City threatening each other) (Proof the internet did not give rise to this) But this wavelength difference I'm talking about in particular is not in the 11-meter band. In addition to having started out on a frequency not on the main channels of humanity, I have been drifting farther and farther away, faster and faster in recent years. I'm not a quartz crystal. I'm an old LC circuit with an ancient electrolytic capacitor being the C. Frequency drift, man, frequency drift... I am just a bit more out of band than I used to be, and I honestly like it here, Quieter, more peaceful, maybe a bit lonely. There is nothing that anyone can do about it either. Not anyone's fault, not yours, not mine. You live and you learn and you change. You discover and understand and gain what can't be unlearned. It changes you, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. And maybe in that quiet static, there will be the sound of hope. That is the change within, where the hurt is simply growing pains. Far more painful is the change without, without her. Loss is a whole different ballgame, where the injuries last longer and are no ticket home, when you are on that field for the duration of your life. Despite this, It is only natural to fear the end, right? But do you know? Irony is the realization that simply finding out you're no longer afraid can be the scariest thing of all. It's just something for us all to put in our collective pipes and smoke. (Figuratively speaking, of course). Let me break it down, space cadets. You are no longer afraid.... When...  When you feel you are just wasting your time and that time is what you're stuck with. When you feel like you're just running out the clock and the ballgame has long been over. When you feel their is no point in going through the motions anymore. Then there is no reason to be afraid anymore either.

How will it end?  The ending, whenever, however it may be, I doubt it's gonna be any fun. I am mostly sure it's not something worth looking forward to. Still, I am not afraid. The game's long over, and it sucks that I am not allowed to leave the field. I am tired of the loneliness. At the same time, I want people to leave me the hell alone. Go figure, Go Fish. I understand this about as much as you might. I'm a mystery even to myself. Think I'm being silly? Think I'm a drama queen? Try standing in these shoes for a while. Surely, after that, we can all hold court and play croquet. How do you like your tea, my dear?  Here I am outside of the regular broadcast band, nothing but the quiet static of far away lightening strikes, storms over the gulf. Maybe I could even hear the ocean, if only in a dream. And maybe I can still hear her. Maybe I am finally going down in madness. There are just too many places where the words "If Only" could apply. I am sick of the 'if only's. They only speak of what is lost forever. I need not be reminded. I know all too well. Give me something still here and free of those words. In a time of so much being long over, I need something new. Though, Again, I have no idea of where or what that could be. Well, this subject is not headed in a good direction, so might I suggest a clean cup move down? Would you believe I am truly trying my heart out to keep a positive attitude? I am. It just doesn't always show. These are some serious figurative demons I keep at bay every day. I fight them tooth and nail. And even though my footprint is clearly embedded in those hellish asses, I am not unscathed myself. I fight them with everything I've got. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't. I just miss my guardian sister fighting by my side. We had each other's backs, but in the end, I failed her. And that, my friends, is the meanest demon in the pack. I fight him with my love for her. I fight him with the determination to keep her memory alive. But he knows just how to hit me where it hurts the most. He accusingly points a flaming finger at me, questioning my right to keep fighting. They say even an old style clock is right twice a day, even if broken. Not everything can be dismissed as a lie. 

Being honest with oneself can be painful when you know that maybe you could have done better and could have done more. Sometimes, the excuse of being an imperfect human being is just not enough, especially when dealing with the judge, jury, and bailiff that is yourself. We forgive others but not ourselves. We are demanding, strict, unforgiving, and never cutting the same slack we allow for others. From the dock, I see the dour, stern, angry face of the judge, and the judge is none other than yours truly. It is my own face I see glaring down at me. I find you guilty of failing to look out for our sister, and I sentence you to a lifetime of guilt. Now get him out of my sight! Then the bailiff escorts the mirror out of the courtroom. There is no worse critic than yourself. She would understand, wouldn't blame me, would be upset if she knew I kept kicking my own ass over losing her. She cared for me. My feelings and my happiness mattered to her. They meant something to her. She would want me to be happy. She cared for me, truly loved me as a brother, looked after me, and would not want to see me like this. So maybe I might do for her what I could never do for myself, forgive myself. Maybe understand that I was this imperfect human being, still learning, still working on becoming something better. There was no doubt that I loved her, still love her, will always and forever care very deeply for her. Maybe, just maybe I can do this for her. I could most certainly not do this for myself. And now, if you please, Mr Mad Hatter Sir, how about another clean cup move down?  Man, how did it all get so heavy? I really do try to be light-hearted when I can. It's hard to be light when the thoughts are heavy. What lives within reflects without. Otherwise, I'd be lying. Nobody wants a dark cloud around them. Dark clouds only bring you down. But what do you do when you are that cloud? The rain within reflects without. Heavy thoughts make heavy words. And no bit of sunshine wants to stand in the rain. It's lonely, but could I blame them? No, not when I understand so clearly. I would guess a dark cloud has to rain if it ever hopes to be light and fluffy and sunny once again. It has been raining in this old heart for a long time now. Will the sun ever shine again? I guess I can only say, stay tuned.

A Circular Mind

 Well, Hello Universe.


How are all those protons and antiprotons getting along? Ah, not so good, huh? Antimatter can be so rambunctious, can't it? I once read that all the positives and negatives add up to zero.  I'm not saying that's true, just that I read so. It does kinda explain the whole something from nothing theory. After all, it's still zero overall, right? If so, there's got to be an anti universe out there somewhere. What about an anti me and an anti you? And would we be the same or the opposite? Ah, rich, happy, anti me, who probably made better choices. I'd steel those riches, were they not made of antimatter. Touching them might cause a slight problem. Curses, foiled again! You win again this time, Anti Me. Wait. Does that make me the evil counterpart? Like the evil Captain Kirk from 'Mirror Mirror'? Hey, it's not my fault! The Halkans had it coming for not handing over those dilithium crystals to the Terran Empire. Actually, there is this really cool fan made sequel to that episode floating around on the internet called "The Fairest Of Them All." I highly recommend it to any fan of the original series. I kept telling Marsha about it, but I don't think she ever got around to watching it. It's just another bit of unfinished business, I guess. She would have loved it. I know she would have. Damn it. I miss her. See how even my silliest ramblings always come back around to my baby sister again and again and again? And with that, my silly mood vanishes like fog under the midmorning sun. Gone, gone, gone.... Just like her. It is interesting, this mad cocktail of thoughts and emotions swirling around my head. It can be so random, yet themes recur. It's like a remix with some deejay with a double turntable with my heart on the left, my mind on the right, just scratching away. Anyway, after over a year, it looks like Momma's and Marsha's headstones are finally in place. Talk about mixed feelings. The workmanship is beautiful, but it only reminds me of this old and broken heart of mine. Momma's is a double with my Dad's name and birth date on the other side. I'd like to keep my father for as long as I can, so seeing his name on a tombstone is unnerving, to say the least. He's alive, and I want it to stay that way. Marsha and Momma were more than I could stand to lose as it is. Grief really is like a ninja. Sometimes, I think the only reason it eases is so it can jump you from behind again. A couple of weeks ago, It was a song.  Just a random song out of nowhere. Today it was a picture, one I had even been expecting to see. And it is the intensity that always catches me off guard.  Don't expect time to jump in on your side, either. I have learned that time is exactly jack. And you say to yourself, "I'm okay" just before getting your poor behind handed to you again.  I'm kind of a mess tonight for that very reason.  Grief is that ninja. And I understand so much more than I ever thought I did before.  I just wish i could have learned some other way..  Unfortunately, I doubt there are other ways. Some roads are custom made one way streets. You can't just power through them. The best we can do is baby steps. Not that I am even sure I know what I'm talking about anymore. As a side note, I want to reiterate my wholehearted agreement with George Carlin's description of an office temp with a bad attitude when it comes to whatever gods there supposedly are. Very apt indeed. George was, indeed, one of the prophets. Now, this is yet another subject I might want to change before this text turns into a rant: (Feelings never fade, they keep resurfacing) (I'll always love her, I'll always miss her). Clean Cup, clean damn cup, move down, damnit!

Could be that time is even more devious than I thought? It seems we lose a bit of ourselves over the stretch of the years. Or could it just be all of our illusions falling away, one by one? Or maybe this is only in my mind? Could this be one of those Kenobi "point of view" sorta things? I believe that the mind is powerful in shaping our perceived world, but I don't think it's quite THAT powerful. All reality has that basic kernel of the actually observed. I think this is part of that kernel of absolute truth. Thinking is not the sole reason things are so. If it were, then every nuthouse Napoleon would be the real deal. Also, wishes could be granted by simply believing they have already been. If so, those darned leprechauns are late with my pot of gold. You are shameless, Shamus! Where are me gold schillings?! That was one mean leprechaun. Damn, he was one sadistic little bastard, wasn't he? He could peddle the hell out of a tricycle, too. Anyway, getting back on topic, I really feel we lose bits and pieces of ourselves over the course of time. Time's sadism rivals that leprechaun's any day. The only difference? Time kills us much more slowly, even parts of ourselves we never thought could die. We can't really and truly prepare such losses, not even the ones we see coming. I lost my mother bit by bit. Time took her away, little by little. I lost my baby sister all at once in that hospital room. With Momma, I could it see it coming months before it happened. With Marsha, I was blindsided. Both losses were and are extremely painful. But they each hurt differently. I was my mother's firstborn child. She was 24, going on 25, when she gave birth to me. Marsha was her youngest baby, born premature, less than two pounds, filled with determination to win the fight to survive those first few months of her life, a warrior from day one. Marsha was eight years and one week younger than me. I always assumed she'd live at least that much longer than me. Instead, she was 40 when I lost her. Why I'm the one still here baffles the hell out of me. Firstborn, first to go. Youngest, last to go. That should be the natural order. Losing Momma hurts like hell, and I miss her badly. Still, the order of life is that we tend to expect to outlive our parents and for our kids to outlive us, and baby sisters should outlive us too. Momma had the loss of a daughter to bear those last 2 months of her life. I can't imagine what it was like for her, but I well know what it is like for me to have lost them both. Man, why do I find myself here again? It seems that no matter the topic I start with, I find myself back here again. It's like gravity, and even when I try to escape it, even when I am successful, it always pulls me back, forever in orbit. Or maybe I am like Vandal Savage from the Justice League episode, "Hereafter," and I feel I deserve the pain. 30,000 years or one year and nearly three months. Sometimes, I feel like the only one on this planet, and not in any of the good ways. 8 billion others, but I'm the only one. I guess I'm talking in circles again. It also seems that Paul Simon's "Mother And Child Reunion" has taken on a much darker meaning. Maybe because from now on, there is only one way that can happen. Man, the messed-up thoughts that flow through my brain these days. Momma used to say my writings were too morbid when I was a teenager. I wonder what she would say about them now. Would she tell me I need to get on with my life? I think she would indeed. It even sounds like something she would say. I heard that saying about spilled milk a lot when I was a kid. But does that still apply to lost mothers and lost sisters? More milk is only a grocery store away. Momma and Marsha are considerably farther away. They're also right here with me. Never in my life have I had such contradictions in my heart. Not even in 2009, and that was a rough patch in itself, not like 2022, of course, but still pretty bad. I guess fucked up lives make for fucked up minds. My insanity is well earned. I doubt I'll be exiting stage left as the most rational human being that ever lived. Neither Sarek nor Spock would approve. Really, it is my belief that a life totally lived in logic would also be lived in total loneliness. 

 I guess I have some crazy hopes, dreams, and goals. Or do I really? They do happen to be based on some very universal human wants and needs. It seems quite normal to me if I'm the right one to ask about that sort of thing. Normality, however, is a waste of a unique existence, in my little opinion. That's what I say. And even if it is supposedly pointless, it gets me through my days, and isn't that point enough? It's crazy enough being brought about as this biological creature with cpu in enough excess of basic survival that I am able to ponder the universe and wonder exactly what in the hell am I doing here. Sometimes, I wonder if it would be a mercy if I could only focus on those basic things. We humans tend to be crazy complicated in our ways of going about even those basics. Civilization beats anarchy, though, no matter how screwed up it is. Sometimes, I wonder about its most insane aspects. Politics especially. Maybe we'd be better off mauling each other like lions. Roar, baby, roar. I'm that big bad lion you've heard so much about. Oh, do settle down, chaps. I won't bite. Why, we hardly know each other! So, what do you think of my jungle? I know, I know, I'm trying to redecorate, but it's hard to get good help out this far these days. Roar, roar, baby, roar.

There are days, this one included, when the world and everything in it seems far away. I am most likely correctly assuming that it is I and not the world that is distant and detached. How can I describe this feeling? Surrounded by a cocoon of invisible static? Covered in a blanket of television snow? Body present, but heart and mind asleep at the wheel? Well, I suppose I'm still here, or at least within arm's reach of here. These are the days when I wish I could coast through on muscle memory and autopilot, dividing the ol brain into two parts: The robot that does my work and the true self and soul living in a dream, thinking random thoughts and yadda yadda Yoda. It's great when I can focus on monotonous, repetitive tasks, but not so good when the higher-ups want to talk shop. As Han Solo once said, "boring conversation anyway."  I live in my head a lot. I have so for all my life, even as a child.  I remember my first grade teacher not liking that very much. Boring conversation indeed, little dreamer meets the real world. I had a serious lack of understanding back then. Maybe in some ways I still do. Maybe that's why I prefer knowing a job well enough to get into what I call the zone, letting the humanoid robot do the work while my mind remains free. When I'm in the zone, I can get some serious work done, rockin' and rollin' the whole day long. I know I have fewer years behind me than I have ahead of me.  I would like to be happy for at least some of that time. Speaking of the whole happiness goal, I have been having this debate within myself whether or not I should give up on certain things. It seems the answer is no, I should not. I may sound dramatic with my reasoning why I shouldn't give it up at all, especially when I think back to some dark moments. See, in many ways, this 'silly' aspect is all I really have left anymore. There have been many days when it has been my only source of happiness (or anything resembling it).  I remember many a bleak morning, sitting in my car, wondering the worth of going on. This 'silliness' was my only motivation for giving such days a try. It's just as messed up and crazy as I myself am, I guess. It is the validation I find within myself that I could never get from the world. If I could step through that looking glass and turn it all upside down and inside out, I most certainly would. As crazy and silly as it may seem, it also seems absolutely correct and feels right in a world full of wrongs. Maybe it's just a state of mind and nothing more, just a mindset that gets me through my days.  Maybe it's an impossible goal, always on the horizon but never closer. Maybe it's just a daydream that I could actually be this person in any aspect besides within my heart and soul. Could it all be an impossible dream? If so, why do I hold onto it with such fierce tenacity? Why do I feel that letting go would mean a slow death of sorts? I tell myself it's silly and impossible, but I can't let it go. I do not even want to. I close my eyes and clearly see who I am. As much as I tell myself it must be a delusion, It sure does not feel like one, nor do I want it to be one. This is what I have wanted for so long.  Another thing I tell myself is I am just too damn old. Maybe, Had I came to this realization when I was much younger, I could have become that person in time. But, now it is far too late to even dream. However, in a life when I honestly feel I have given up on way too many dreams, it seems my heart can't bear the loss of even one more. Why do I live?  Why do I breathe? Why does my heart still beat? And would I really be still living at all, or would I just be this living body walking around when every other aspect of my being has long since shuffled off this living, breathing, walking core? You know, like a zombie without the oozing grossness or the brain diet, yet still quite literally, the walking dead? See the rock and the hard place I find myself in?  And is there any real solution to this predicament? If I were to give up on this 'silly delusion', then there would be very little left to stem the tide of depression.  I don't like my own thoughts when I am in such a state. Don't believe you can frighten yourself? Believe me, when your thoughts get too specific about actually buying the freaking farm,  you can and will scare the hell out of yourself if you have any will to live. And friends, I have that will to live. If nothing more than to make sure my baby sister's memory is preserved digitally for as close to forever as I can save it. That means being around to someday transfer it all to 5D crystal glass. I have a mission to complete before I leave here. It may be my only reason anymore, but one reason is all it takes. Maybe in time there will be more. It could be even that little aspects of the impossible dream turn out to be not so impossible. Like I said, I've been flying blind for a long time now. Who knows how many cliff faces I've narrowly avoided, yet never even knew? Maybe nothing is impossible, but a lot of things are highly unlikely, to say the very least.

There is this meme going around about always being tired and broke when all you do is work and sleep. I totally resemble that remark. As Smoky sang, I second that emotion. That's the majority of my life, working and sleeping, and I'm probably dreaming of work while I'm sleeping. Not to mention dreaming about sleep while I'm working. I fantasize about being able to sleep in the same way I probably long ago thought about sex. Talk about taking the whole idea of sleeping with someone way too literally. Hey baby, wanna konk out for a few hours? There's you a pick-up line. Granted, the right person could still probably keep me awake for a good while. And if memory serves, that particular latter sleep was always the best, most restful sleep ever. A heartbeat makes for the best lullaby. Ah, but that's a long ago story for another time. Ancient history. Kinda like that song by Bob Segar, Night Moves. Second of two, second and last. Wherever in this world she is, I hope she's doing well. As for my 2020s self, I've long ago given up on relationships and yadda yadda Yoda. The second of two will most likely remain the second and last who sure put  the first and first to shame. It was like comparing a stale glass of water to the finest vintage wine. No, they're most definitely not all the same. Ah, the more you know. And when you know, you know. Now, how about another clean cup move down subject change before this gets too awkward? Yeah, maybe that mad hatter is a bit more sane and rational than we all thought. Clean Cup, move down!

Speaking sort of Borg, there is this dude at work I have been starting to refer to as Locutus of Borg. The dude is always connected to the collective via Bluetooth. He's always chatting with his fellow drones. I have a theory when it comes to the Borg. They're just earth people from the future wired in to the iPhone 9000. Sometimes, I have to wonder about our future. I really do. You will all become one with the Borg. You will all become one with the Borg. Your resistance is hopeless, Number One. My response? Mr. Worf, fire! Now, while I must admit to enjoying my computer time, I am nowhere near as wired into my phone as the people around me seem to be borgified into theirs. Maybe it is because I find real computers to be superior. Maybe it is because I believe in real programs and not all these so-called apps. In short, I'm the quintessential old school computer nerd. Most of my favorite programs and games were made for this thing called MS-DOS. The rest? Why Win95 to XP and 7. I just happen to be an old technology rock and roller. I like keyboards and mice, thank-ya-very-much! Keys good, touchscreens bad. Remember the southpark Ice Man from 1996? Yep, that's pretty darned close. I am most certainly a time capsule of some sort. My digital collection, even more so than me. That's right, future space cadets. If you wanna know what cool is, bring some blank memory crystals and come see me. Actually, I hope 5D crystal glass makes its way down to the consumer level before I'm gone from here. Beyond all of that, the cool digital stuff, there are also a lot of important memories I want to be etched for the ages. Consider it also a digital pyramid to honor my sister. Her image, her voice, her writings, her thoughts, and the characters she created for the Sims. All of this etched for the ages, to long outlive me, to hopefully find a new caretaker. Together again, carved in stone, etched in crystal, displaying on a futuristic screen. I know nothing lasts forever, not even a memory. But, you know? I'd love to see this last longer than most. I'll go a lot easier and a lot happier, believing so. Even if this might be the only endeavor of mine not to end in disaster. One pays for all. To come back to the beginning of this wall of text, even with the universe, even with time and space,  it all adds up back to the starting point. It eventually comes back around. If so, I only hope that in whatever alternate realities there may be, I will do better next time. She's counting on you, alternate future me. Don't let her down.

Midnight Thoughts

 I have something in common with my cellphone: Apparently, I Too, will shutdown and reboot unexpectedly. Happened today. Suddenly I felt extremely tired, so much so that I felt sick. The world got a bit fuzzy and I had to make a beeline for my bed. That was today-ish. Now, it's tonight-ish.
Either way it must have been just what I needed. I feel like a million bucks compared to how I've been the last few days. Who knew that JonathanOS would have anything in common with Android?

There are days, even the bright and beautiful days we have seen here of late, where it's just very difficult to climb out of this depression. It's a shame, because the weather has been quite lovely.. It seems the storms within can be just as heavy as the storms without.

Self-doubt is a hell of a thing. And isn't it all a matter of perspective? And, affirmation, reassurance, validation is not something you're going to find on a social media. It is not even something one should expect from others, though it is sure nice when it does happen. I make mental notes to myself to give out whatever reassurance I can for that very reason. Still, we have to find much of that within ourselves.  But it sure ain't easy bein' cheesy.

And grief was something my naive younger self once thought I understood. But I didn't. Not really. Time does very little. I have found out that I have to put in my own effort, and there is a part of me that just doesn't want to. It is like I feel I would be forgetting Momma, Marsha, or my dearest friends I have lost.  It is like I want to hold on to the pain, even though it's not good for me, even though none of them would have wanted me to be in this mess that I'm in.

I walked outside this afternoon and sat in the sunshine for a good while. This is no longer the January sun. It is warmer, brighter, and stronger. Now, If only I could be too. Every year has its seasons. Every life has its seasons, too. There's got to be a few more springs left in this one. I hope so at least. 

I have at least reached the point in life where I mostly know who I am and what I want for however many years I have left. The problem is that knowing what and why does not determine how, and if it is even practical. And nothing is exactly guaranteed to be for the best anyway. I am definitely flying blind here. I can't say whether I am headed for a cliff face or the sky. And I am just getting too damn old to be taking such risks. If I were younger, I would have had plenty of time to rebuild from scratch if my whole life comes crashing down. In fact, There were a couple of times I sort of had to. But this time it could be so much more and I have just dealt with too much loss as it is.  

I have been standing on that figurative edge for several years now, and it just does not get any easier. Part of me wants to fly, and the other is scared shitless. Wouldn't it be breathtaking and beautiful if I could simply put aside my fear? There would be an all too short moment of elation, no doubt, with the rock wall of reality fast approaching. If I could maybe pause time forever. If I had this whole thing to just do over, so many things would be different. I would apply the many lessons I would otherwise never have a chance to. As it is, I guess I'll never know.

 For any who might stumble upon all of this, I thank you for joining me on my journey to find out. It means more to me than anyone will ever know. Sending my love and wishing everyone all the best. May we all find what we're looking for.

 (If possible)