A Catch 22

 I know I might seem misanthropic a lot of the time, but the few relationships I have have always been important to me. So much so that I tend to sacrifice my own feelings over them. Now, I am not only talking about relationship- relationships as in what I had with the ex, though that certainly would have been an example. And what an example it was. The way I avoided arguments by sacrificing my own feelings on the alter of that relationship. That is long over, 15 years over to be almost exact. But... I still find myself doing this in other situations. So the question comes to mind. How much sacrifice is too much? When does it become a choice between losing the relationship and losing yourself? And doesn't it just bite that either way, you're out to lose something? This is a choice nobody should ever have to make. One shouldn't find themselves backed into a corner where the only way out is gonna hurt. Friends, I am beginning to think avoidance hurts more in the long run. I hate confrontation. I hate arguing. But, maybe the folks who bicker all the time have a point. It's too bad we can't all be Disney chipper all the time. If I were, I would sing you a song. Disney's Jonathan, coming soon to a theater near you. Rated R. I want to be happy because how else could I unleash my awesome sense o humor. Nonetheless, I'm having a tough week. Please be patient with me. Working on me really is a daily process. I'm just aggravated, frustrated, and stressed out about the futility of even expressing my feelings where and when they actually need to be said. So what should I do instead? Aggressive yard work? Rambo style, bandanna and all, First Grass Part 2, jump out of a helicopter into my own yard, "Hey yo, Grass, I'm coming to mow ya!" Should I walk into the woods, pick a tree, and yell at it? "I'm sick of your BS, Mr. Oak!" Should I immerse myself in a hobby? Read a book, play a game, take a train, ride a bus, skip town, beam my ass to Mars? Should I take a day off and go wherever my remaining gas tank and wallet will let me? I prefer my back to be footprint free, you see. Yeah, footprints are soooooo last year. You won't see them on a Paris Runway. Not with the shoes being new, anyway. I guess the best thing is to go home, take care of the yard, and totally reboot. We'll try again tomorrow. It's awful hard on the inner workings to have to keep silent about something that you feel like shouting at the top of your lungs. Not that it would do any good, really, probably make things worse if anything. A good way to get rid of me is railroading over what should be my lil red wagon. Another? Probably holy water for all I know. That scene from "The Lost Boys" comes to mind. "Gonna have a good time tonight. Rock and roll music gonna play all night." There was one thing I could never stomach about social media: All the damn spampires. Love that movie. Where was I? A wha? These last few days have been very vampire-like in at least one aspect. Dracula, Hoover, and my life of late. Ugh. I guess there are a few things I need to rethink about my future. I know I shouldn't expect my own feelings to be important to anyone besides myself, but damn. It's like they're invisible, and therefore, I am too. I always wanted to see the Pacific Northwest. Probably never will. I've worked my whole life and been broke the whole time. I have rarely had nice things. Hell, it's been a struggle for basic things. I always ask myself, "Can I really afford this?"and answer "no" most every time. Living within your means when you make less than 30 grand a year aint easy. It's not impossible, but it's tough. And I have done so for a long time. The river of money is more like a creek. Though, some could have the Mississippi and still run out of water. But that's not my business. My little world, even if missing a basic necessity or two, is enough for me. I'm not out to mess with anybody. Peace is always what I have sought, especially as I have gotten older. I only wish peace sought me once in a while. I feel tired. I feel old. It's bad when my only remaining dream is to simply be left in peace, and even this might be fated like all the rest. See, I know how to live within my means. Not everybody does. But why the hell should I pay the price when others simply won't. This is bullshit. Am I pissed off? You're damn right I am. Man, there is so much that I just don't feel up to dealing with right now, so far beyond the pale. I guess I am going to have to sooner or later, but damn.. Why in the hell is peace so elusive. All that confrontation that I tried to avoid is going to lead to total ugliness apparently. It looks like confrontation is going to be the only way through this one, and damn do I hate it! Today must be a test. So far, I must be passing. I'm already frustrated and angry over what I'm referencing above when my employer decided for the first fire drill

in 2 years and set off that damn horn off that I happened to be standing right under, where I almost lost both my hearing and my shit. I let out a string of curse words that would shame any sailor. My mother would definitely not have approved. Still, that loud ass horn covered my tirade, though. Good thing too, because I was already in a shitty mood, the boss would have otherwise been in earshot, and getting in trouble wouldn't have helped in getting back to a sunny disposition. Damn, I need to get in a better mood. I think if there's no rain this evening, I'm going to start up the old push mower and take my frustration out on my lawn. Between the rain and the depression, I missed it over the weekend. But today, I think I can get it done by dark if I get my Rambo on. Lawnmower II, First Grass. Grass, I'm ya worst nightmare!

The next day:

Well, it took me until almost dark, but Rambo completed his mission. I then spent some time working on me, cleaning up, styling up, yadda yadda yoda, doing what I could to make the looking glass look nice. It's not exactly the way I wish it would be, but it was a lot closer once I was done. It's not like I ever get out aside from work and home, maybe the grocery store, but looking somewhat nice sure helps the 'ol self esteem. I can at least halfway daydream of catching every eye and taking the scene by storm. I know it's an ego trip, but said ego rarely goes anywhere, so a trip every once in a while can't hurt, right? Despite the loneliness, I well know a proper relationship is just not in the cards for me and for several reasons. Introvertedness, things from my past, things in my present, epiphanies and realizations, and avoidance of drama. There are just some things I am way too old for. And once I get back to high tide, it won't bother me at all. Human emotion, or at least my own, is more a cycle than a static state. I have my highs and lows, and while events may bring me up or down, the cycle is always in the background. The sine wave is still there, even if the mid point isn't always zero. Events and my work on myself set that mid point. It has been a while since I was last riding high on the biggest wave. I miss that feeling. Was it ever wonderful? Wonderfully so. Wonderful indeed. But we can't be like that all the time. Nixon said it best when he spoke of peaks and valleys, that you can't really appreciate the mountaintop unless you've spent some time in the valley. Why does that sound sexual? I must have watched too much "Beavis And Butthead" in my younger days. "Uhhh huh huh, climb the mountain, dude." Somehow, I don't think the 37th president of the United States would appreciate such a reference. "That's it, you've just made my list, harooo!"

The Secret Spiral

Friends, Romans, Robots, And Strangers:

Maybe instead of calling all these ramblings my letters to the universe or my sister, or my sessions with Doctor Blog-ieo, or whatever, maybe I should call it the diary of unraveling. Sometimes I wonder if that's what this really is. It would even be ironic. The tapestry of my rationality unraveling as I knit together these words. Sometimes I really have to ask myself, what the hell? I can't point a finger in any specific direction as to why I am in such a messed up state of mind of late. If 2022 was going to drive me insane, I'm sure it already would've. Maybe it did? I guess I would be the last to know, right. The lovely Counselor Troi once said that if you can ask the question, then you're probably not. Of course, Marina Sitris is an actress and not a counselor, so go figure go fish. 

I have no idea of how many days, months, and years I may have ahead of me. I just have a vague impression of what they're going to be like. It does not bode well, especially on this down point on the 'ol sine-wave of life. I know I'll be much more optimistic when said wave is peaking, but for now.... Man, I just don't know. The kids are grown, and I don't see myself in some future romantic relationship. I am not sure I would even want such a thing. It's been 15 years since the divorce, and while I have healed, I sure don't want a repeat. I am just too damned old for mind games. Plus, I have never been so great at meeting people. The ex? She was the former girlfriend that just kinda showed up on my doorstep, and I let her in. I've never been so good at pursuing, only at being pursued. You know, wired differently from the average dude? Take that as you will. But, It doesn't take much calculation to know that my remaining years are going to be very lonely indeed. I am too old for stressing or worrying or drama. Worse, I'm too old to even try and be truly myself. And at this point, I am starting to wonder about even this. It is too late for me, my friends, far too late. Why? For the longest time, I was not ready. For the longest time, the world was not ready. And this is a world that with readiness so unevenly defined, and not everywhere at once. Maybe at another point in spacetime, I could have awakened into my dream, That beautiful dream of the looking glass rarely glimpsed but clearly seen. And how I wanted so much to be there. It's not the big moments, good or bad. It's not so much the sudden changes that each have brought. Good or bad, moments end. What doesn't end, at least not yet, are the days and weeks, months and years beyond those moments, when one realizes there is no going back. It's not the moment, it's the ever after. It is the echo of those moments and the silence of a voice. It is the reminder of memory and the confusion of dreams. Hereafter, hereafter, hereafter. Evermore. It's kicking the raven out of your room, out into the darkness of the night's plutonian shore, merely for speaking the truth. I know I haven't been very visible (IRL) of late. It's that familiar talk of how it's my own mess. The whole "It's not you, It's me" sorta thing... I have seen it before and it will no doubt pass. It's the tide, and the low tide is always proceeded and succeeded by the high tide.. Meanwhile, it's a matter of waiting it out... I just haven't been feeling all that good. But, I promise I'll be back like Armhold Musclehuggah. I know the possibility seems remote when I feel like this, but I am also familiar with the pattern. I'm just at low tide, that's all. My mind knows. I only wish my heart did, too. It's not really my desire to close myself off from the world. And I'm awfully lonely. It's just that I feel so damned drained and exhausted. Socializing just takes a lot out of me. It is one hell of a catch 22. Leave me alone, but please don't leave me alone. I don't understand any better than you might. I'm lonely as hell, but I'm just not up to dealing with people. What exactly do I want? I wish I knew. To fall into a pair of understanding arms who don't expect an explanation? I can't do words right now, but I could be held and be at peace for the duration. Could there even be such a thing? Just hold me.. Not exactly something I can ask of a stranger, is it? It's not exactly something I could ask of anyone I know. And the real kicker is I only feel this way at times like these. If I were at high tide, I would be content to be along with all these superficial hobbies of mine, my digital museum in honor of my digital life, my digital pyramid in honor of my sister. I am quite content at being alone when I'm figuratively surfing in on the tide. It's when that wave crashes, and so do I that loneliness starts to hurt again. I can't do like some poor souls do, giving everything I have for some online scam. Besides, it takes far more than a pretty picture to capture my soul. I can't understand giving everything you have to an illusion. Though my ex, real and in the flesh, was mostly illusion too, and I certainly gave most of what I had at the time to her. But that's a subject I am not up to talking about right now. I need a new north star. I really do. And no, that star cannot be religion. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I need the real universe. I need a real guiding star, not an illusion. I need a new north star. I need a new compass. I need a new direction. In short, I need a new reason to live.

I wish I could fill my head with better things to think about. The problem is I have little control of where my mind wanders or how it wonders. I want better memories at the forefront and dreaded hospital rooms and painful goodbyes stored in the dusty darkness. But, human memory ain't exactly like computer memory. It's a bummer, really. There are so many memories I'd like to save a thousand times. There are others I'd love to permanently delete and defrag my braindrive just to be sure they're gone forever. There are people I want to remember, happy and healthy, laughing and smiling, all the things that made them so wonderful.... beautiful. In short, I'd love to keep the good memories, delete the bad ones, and totally purge the traumatic. Some say we need the bad. I say ignorance is bliss. Another thing is replaceable memory cards, since I am about as forgetful and absent-minded as Professor Farnsworth. A-wha? Yes, my brain has been quite fuzzy wuzzy of late. Between the heat and the worry, I think my old cpu has been running a bit too heavy of late. I think I need a serious reboot. My body, too, must think it's time to hibernate. But, see what I mean? I could sleep and sleep and sleep, and it never seems to be enough. Deep sleeping and strange dreams right on, like weird software running in the background. One of them was about nothing but cleaning. I must have swept and mopped and scrubbed all night. It was not even my own house but some store. Grocery store, maybe? I can't even remember if I got finished with it. It was like a compulsion. Mopping, scrubbing, taking out the trash. Wash, rinse, repeat. Strangest dream I've had in a while. Meanwhile, every day this week has been about passing out when I get home well before the sun goes down, yet still having one hell of a time waking up in the morning. Somebody's found my off switch again. I can't understand how I can sleep so much and still be this damn tired. Maybe it's this crushing heat. It's been one hell of a summer. I dread the electric bill. I know it's gonna be a doozy, as will the next few. I've been running the AC like crazy... And maybe that's why... That cool AC and that fan are like Mike Tyson: They knock me out almost instantly. 

Thoughts Of Mid-July

 

It is my wish to be left alone in the ways I want to be left alone and not in the ways I don't want to be left alone. Am I making sense? Probably not. Ummm. Leave me alone but don't leave me? Nah.. There's got to be a better way to say this. I guess what I am trying to say is I want to rest in peace, but still be alive. Geeeeeeeeesh! Do we really have to wait a whole lifetime for that? I mean is resting in peace literally to die for? Inquiring minds want to know.

 

One week ago was a second ceremony of sorts for my mother. The first was in the month after we lost her. Today was us bringing her to her final resting place. My feelings are all over the place right now, so I guess I should talk about them.
 

Momma, you drove me crazy. I know I drove you crazy. We had our moments, didn't we? Do you remember my smug 16-year-old self declaring that I didn't need to learn how to cook? Do you remember my more humble 40-something self who raised three kids, planned and cooked meals for them, and was so grateful that you taught me how to cook anyway? The same one who would call you on the phone and would be like, "Hey, Momma, what kind of flour for salmon patties? How long should soak the black-eyed peas?"  But do you know what I remember most? You were always there for me, no matter what. The teenager that I was didn't quite understand, but I do. I really do. That teenager didn't think there would come a time when his future grown self would want to run to his mother and cry on her shoulder, but I did.. I remember every time. After my wreck. During my painful divorce. During difficult moments of having to be mother and father to three little ones I wanted so badly to have a normal childhood. I remember it clearly. My Momma was always there for me, never abandoned me, never left me so long as it was within her control. This last time? Well, I know you didn't really have a choice.  
This having occurred so soon after Marsha,  I had a difficult time separating losing her and losing you. Each loss hits differently, but it is also like a remix of two songs... And it's like my mind has weird ways of the remix.... Marsha lives in my dreams, and you, you Momma, are the one I talk to when on the line between awake and asleep.  I have even woke myself up, "Momma?" Then I have to ask myself whether or not I am going crazy.  I don't even know what i am trying to say here, except that I miss you, I love you, and that is one thing I hope that you know to be true.
 

 I have a special talent. What is it? I could start at 3am and still be running in circles like a dazed chicken to get my stuff together for work. This morning, however, was not such an early start. See, I have 2 alarms. Regular and Oh Shit! Sleepy me waited for the Oh Shit! Alarm. Then I realized it was Mr Garbage Man's day to show, and there wasn't anything ready to go to the road. So, I got all that together, packed my lunch, got myself clean and dressed (a very important step), and yadda yadda Yoda and not necessarily in that order. Looked at the clock, and what did I say? OH Shit! Still made it on time but forgot my meds. Note to self, take em when I get home. See, it doesn't seem to matter how many times I tell myself to get all my ducks in a row before I konk out the night before. I seem to have only one thing on my mind when I get home: Sleep. That's the cycle. Nighttime me is too tired to think about it, and morning me has to pick up all the slack. Procrastination: I'm so good at it, I can do it in my sleep. Man, I'm not feeling so well today. Maybe it's this oppressive heat. Or maybe it's the fact I forgot my medicine this morning. All I know is that this world is a bit fuzzy wuzzy today. Although this time it's not for the lack of sleep this time. In fact, I damn near overslept. I'll be so happy to go home, in the air, and under the fan. The air here is so thick with humidity that it's gotta almost be water. I feel like I'm underwater anyway. And last I checked, I'm not a mermaid. Under Da Sea, Under Da Sea. 

Do you know? No matter how much we change and grow, no matter how much we improve and mature, it is so very difficult to let go of a past that can never be changed. We often judge ourselves far more harshly for the things from before we were truly ourselves. And believe you me, The most tragic of all trials is the case of "You vs The Person You Once Were." There can be no defense. That person is long gone, yet the burden remains. Friends, there's nothing we can do. Maybe forgiveness is not just for others. Maybe we should save some of that for ourselves. We are all born ignorant of a lot of things. Not knowing, not realizing, it happens to the best of us. Who wouldn't want to jump in a time machine and totally school our past selves? There are so many things I was blind to that I see so clearly now. Are we to blame for not looking or not seeing? Are we to blame for not knowing, not thinking things through? Who the hell knows? Life is a hell of a thing.

Made it into my voicemail for the first time in 5 years. I got rid of all the spam and the calls from the bug lady. So now, people can leave me voicemails again. But let me tell you what I saved: messages from Wesley from before his voice changed, My Dad........ And Momma.  I'd call her back if I could. Sadly, it only saved some of the many messages I had. The birthday messages Marsha left for me appear to have been permanently lost. I would have loved to have heard them again. Thems the breaks, I guess.  I am going to try to find a way to save what I do have to my computer. Verizon can't delete what I save to disk. As it turns out, Bluetooth and Audacity was all I needed. I saved them in three different audio formats, so hopefully that means they'll be preserved for the ages. 

Working On Me

 Well, I had five days off, and I think I made good use of them. I feel I did quite good around the house. Spent Friday catching up clothes, Saturday working in the yard, Sunday cleaning house, Monday on computer stuff, and back in the yard Tuesday. There are several things around there I can't really do anything about, things that really depress me. But.... I was able to take a big bite out of the things that I could actually do something about. Being off all that time gave me the time and energy to accomplish way more than I usually can. I guess I can at least feel good about myself for not wallowing around and squandering that opportunity away. It's still not perfect and can never be. But it sure looks a hell of a lot better. I cut down a decent portion of that backyard jungle, and I got rid of a lot of junk while I was at it. I guess my MO, figuratively and literally speaking, is cleaning up messes. Not to mention this long period of depression and letting things go. That part is pretty much on me and nobody else. Looking around at what I've accomplished, I at least feel better. Regretting, lamenting, mourning doesn't get much done. Maybe I can motivate myself to do better, even when I'm not off work so much. The battle against entropy never ends. And the way I have let go since last year has given it plenty of opportunity to wear on everything. I think the exercise has done me good too. I seem to feel both physically and mentally better than I have in a long time. Here's hoping, anyway. It is way too easy to get discouraged and just give up on life. Grief really messes with the mind. It is the one thing that is not so easy to let go of. Yet it makes it way too easy to let everything else go, your surroundings, yourself. It is a way to make your whole world melt away into entropy and chaos. It is so easy. It is way too easy. It happened during my divorce, too. It was realizing I was the only parent these kids of mine could count on that pulled me out of that disconnect back then. Losing my sister was a far deeper wound. By then, my kids were almost completely grown up and didn't need me in the way they did before. It is taking me far longer, this time. Losing Momma, watching everything around me fall apart, only added to my depression. I have spent a very long escaping reality whenever I can, living on daydreams, losing myself in computer stuff, anything to distract me from the here and the now. I guess I still do that sometimes. Once a dreamer, always a dreamer, I guess. Upon facing up to reality, I am reminded of certain things I am simply powerless to do anything about. Still, there are things, many things that I can make better if I try. Those five days were proof that yes, even I can make a difference. If I can just give myself that same push going forward, I know it can only benefit me, mentally and physically. I can't really do much about getting older, but I can do much to get my body and my mind in better shape. It only takes effort. I really need to put together a plan. 

Otherwise, Universe, how is everything going? I just wrote out my 571st M-Blu-ray. I wrote my first one back in March of 2015. A lot of the stuff I comitted to disk back then was already several years old. I hope I live long enough to see affordable 5D crystal glass data storage. From what I understand, I could fit everything I have 5 or 6 times on a single disk. And I have been saving stuff since 1990. How else are the mighty space people of the future going to know what's cool? I, the ancient one shall be your guide. Actually, I don't know exactly why I do this other than to preserve the memory of people that I love. I'm sure a lot of the other stuff might be findable elsewhere. Still, I have certain webpages and games from long ago that have been gone from the internet for years, not even mirrored in the archives. Who knows? Maybe I saved something interesting. My motto is "See it, like it, save it". I just assume that it's not going to be there forever. I've probably written about this before, so I shall graciously spare you the long rant. 

Soooooo. What else? Modern washing machines are pieces of junk. I wish I could time travel and buy a brand new Whirlpool from the 1970s. Besides that, I can tell I got a bit of sun over those five days, not enough to burn, but enough to redden. Now I'm all itchy and stuff. Ah, the July sun. Absolutely perfect for sunning mattresses, cushions, and whatnot. But don't be out in it for more than a few minutes unless you wanna look like Mr. Krabbs. Solar power at its finest, I'll tell you whut. It will take the dripping wet clothes my crappy washer refuses to spin out and dry them anyway in just a few hours. I can see why certain people worshiped the thing. It can help you, bless you, or smite the damn daylights outta you, depending on the way you use it. I absolutely love that sun smell on my clothes and furniture. My mother used to sun everything in the house at least a couple of times a year, so it brings back childhood memories. Of course I made it a habit to sun all my stuff once in a while since I long ago moved out. Yeah, I know, I know, another riveting topic. Well, in real life, most forms of excitement aren't good. Believe me, I'd much prefer a boring life to an exciting life. In fact the only exciting life I would ever want is the one portrayed in a 1980s beer commercial. And friends, reality is not a beer commercial. I have opened my fair share of beers over the years and not the first beautiful woman has appeared out of the blue. Ah, Jeannie of the beer can. Sadly, Major Anthony Nelson, I am not. I would have retired from NASA and become Sultan of my own island. Wait what? I have totally clean cup moved down again. Oh, Maryanne? Oh Maryannnnnnne? Where the hell are my damn gloves? And what exactly do you mean by "smoke the monster out"? That sounds kinda sexual. Ah, never mind my ravings!

So, what did I do after my first day back? Well, after getting out of the heat, into the AC, and under my fan, I passed out like an unworldly nun who found herself at a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. While it's good to be guided by the light, that particular light was over at the Frankenstein place. Poor Sister Mary Helen. Sensory freaking overload. Too much, too much. Anyway, that was the shortest night ever. One minute I was dozing in the afternoon's fading light, and the next, my alarm was beeping like R2D2 in an episode of The Osbournes. Yep.. Yep... Time to get ready for work again. Damn it. My life consists of alternating bouts of killing time, followed by major time skips. It's like somebody else has the remote and is trolling the hell out of me with it. Time keeps on slipping. Welcome to the future, humans! Somehow I imagined it differently. Now that I have given up on all expectations, floating from moment to moment, I guess what I had expected matters little. Still. It would be nice if this universe made a little sense once in a while. I guess, maybe, we're going down into madness together. It is always nice to have company on these uncertain journeys, isn't it? Okay, subject change? Clean cup move down? How about more randomness? Okay. Not all minutes and seconds are equal, my friends. I seem to be on Michael Myers' time at the moment. What exactly is that? Michael Myers time is like regular time, except it's hard, difficult, and maybe impossible to kill. Every time you try, he's back with a roman numeral behind him. Do you know the saying that time flies when you're having fun? Yeah, the opposite is true. Time is a creeping creeper when you're not having any fun. It is Michael Freakin Myers. Except that it makes molasses in January look like The Enterprise engaging at Warp 9. Boldly going slower than slow. Maybe I need Doctor Loomis instead of Doctor Blog-ieo. Not that he did much better. 

Here's a random enough thought: Any Star Wars fanfiction writer who names a clonetrooper, "Captain Morgan" is obviously a fan of more than Star Wars. Palpatine to the bartender, "Execute Order Drinky Drink." Good, Good, let the spiced rum flow through you. Unlimited Bar Tab! Sorry, Sir, but you've had enough. It's treason, then.