Solstice Thoughts IV

Hello, Universe. What is the world up to?
 

Me, I am listening to the planets and getting random texts from restaurants. Okay. Maybe that needs a bit more explanation. I am listening to YouTube videos that take each planet's magnetic field and convert it into sound. I am currently on Saturn. Wait. Don't call the men in the white coats yet. I mean, I am on Earth, currently listening to Saturn. Meanwhile, I just got a text from a steakhouse in Pensacola saying my table will be ready soon? Really? First of all, I am a few hours away. Secondly, I wasn't planning on going. I told you guys I was on Saturn! Hey, we're engaged. See the rings? To think I used to laugh at my own jokes. Wocka wocka wocka. I guess this is going to be one of those blog entries that might require my usual disclaimer. You know, out of my head and onto the page? Yes, exactly. Some of my thoughts will be getting heavy and dark like a storm cloud on the horizon. I guess literal storm clouds are nature's way of venting, and these figurative clouds happen to be my way. And there is a very important reason for that. See, this world would never understand. If I am to remain a functional gear in the machinery of society, I must vent here so as not to vent elsewhere. I must share this part of myself in a place where snap judgments can't so easily be tied to my name. I hope that despite the storm clouds, despite the occasional bolt of lightening, despite the rain, I can still be seen as a gentle human soul with heart, both capable and deserving of love and understanding. The clouds went here, so I can hopefully be brighter elsewhere. Much love, my friends, all of my love. It's way too gloomy today. I really could use some sunshine right about now. True, true, we are all responsible for our own happiness or the lack thereof, and of course, the weather is just the weather. Still, a bit of sunshine would make the job of climbing out of this case of dem ol bluez so much easier. Sometimes, it's the tide. Sometimes, it's the circumstances. And it can also be both. This is just one of those things about being human. You know, I'd make an awesome robot, right? Damn, I get so lonely sometimes. I guess I am different enough to be out of phase and old enough to be out of touch. It is a very lonely life. There seems to be no place at all to seek friendship or any kind of human connection. Social media is a waste of time and a one-way ticket to a plethora of mental problems, depression among them. Seeking absolution, validation in a realm of comparison such as that digital abyss will never lead anywhere good. It is the fault of no one, just the nature of the place. And here is how it is a danger to mental health. Comparison, comparison, comparison. What do I see when I go online? The family that can afford to fly halfway across the country for a nice vacation and actually afford to buy gifts for each other. The happy couple, oh, so in love. The fancy houses. The nice cars. The wonderful jobs. Believe me, if I don't have it, it is well on display. It must be nice to be able to afford vacations to exotic locations. It must be nice to live in a nice house, park that brand new car in that fancy garage. It must be nice to keep warm, snuggling up to someone who is so damned perfect and totally in love with you. Me, I have my vehicle, my old house, and my struggle to keep the lights on and food in the fridge, left alone in every conceivable way except for the one way I wish to be. All this while I watch everything fall apart. But on social media, everyone seems to be living the life. Do you want to feel lonely, like a failure, like a loser? Just log in. Social media has all this and more. Yet I know that so much of this online image is illusion. That fancy vacation and those gifts are running up some monstrous credit card debt. That new car and fancy house are just a late payment or three within repossession or foreclosure. That perfect couple could be arguing all the time behind the scenes and / or be running around on each other with multiple partners. And those 'friends' on that list? They're not my friends. At least not by that metric. Real friends are not some list floating on some aging server in a big Impersonal data center. Real friends are what existed long before such a thing as social media was invented. And I can't determine if being old enough to remember that era is a blessing or a curse. Phone calls, hand-written letters, sharing a cup of coffee. It seems things were a bit more real back in the 20th. Maybe that's just me. See, for me, the holidays and January after aren't my best time of the year. If there ever were times I needed a genuine friend, it is now. So many of us, myself included, have trouble finding real human interaction, so we turn to synthetic human interaction. We might as well go full-on and let it be robots programmed to emulate love and affection, to never abandon, never disappoint, and live forever. Ah, robots to care and pay attention, having that special place in their databanks to store the answer to the question, how are you feeling today? It would be light years beyond any of today's mess. Could you imagine being told how beautiful you are with every picture you post, with everything you say from the heart? Would it really matter if it were only some program? This must be one of those hallucinations of the heart that Jewel Kilcher sang about. Truly, truly, goodbye Alice In Wonderland.  

Today, I heard from my baby sister in a sense. A social media memory that just jumped up and took a hold of my heart. A simple post on my page telling me she loved me. Damn it, now I'm crying, and I'm at work. Not the ideal place for an emotional display. It is a volatile mix of being so down over losing her, yet it almost seems she wanted me to hear this today. I love you too, Sis. I always will. Damn I hate the holidays. They bring nothing but pain. I would say I am looking forward to all this Christmas stuff to be over with. But then again, I am not exactly a fan of January either. This was true even before 2022, but only more so since then. Guess I'll set my heart on February 15th, National 50 Percent Priced Candy and Flowers Day. I wonder if I'd get any weird looks if I sent them to myself? Yep, weird looks of jealousy alright. Hey, I wouldn't blame 'em. Getting flowers from such a unique and rare individual is kinda nice. Maybe I'll someday be able to program a robot to send me candy and flowers, and tell me they love me. It's no longer beyond our technology. I'm sure there's some startup out on the net that would be happy to provide me with exactly that, for a price. What a sad existence. I often wonder why I keep on. A good question. As Admiral Akbar would attest, the thing about traps is that they are far easier to fall into than to fall out of. And in this real-world non-fandom human universe, traps can be a whole lot more subtle than an incomplete DeathStar orbiting the forest moon of Endor. And friends, if I ever had my life to live all over again, I would have made several distinctly different choices. And one might be surprised as to which and when. I know part of my endless mantra is my declaring this wish that life were more like a video game, where I could save before every choice, have several save slots to go back to, have cheat codes for money and stuff, and far more importantly, save my sister, make it so she could never die. I would also like the ability to quit and start over. Who knows, I may already have that option. Can you prove to me that one's life does not reset when they die? No, you can't. Now, if there were only a way to send all the wisdom sans the pain into the next loop. If not, a reset would be far worse than trying to stick around. There is no point in starting over if you're just going to make the same painful mistakes again. Give me the loving embrace of Oblivia any eternity over that. Shouldn't I have the freedom to just shout out loud, "To hell with this shit, I quit!"? Good freakin Question. These are heavy thoughts. I manage to fight off again and again, but they come back and back and back again. To think on the border of sleep just how wonderful it would be to never wake up again, to find myself in the arms of Oblivia, or in the presence of my sister. Just what does life and reality have to offer me anymore? I can't think of anything at the moment. I have long ago grown weary of this life. I have merely been going through the motions for years. It is only that bit of my real self that gets to show now and again that gives me the will to stay. This is me, and I really don't care what anybody else thinks. It is only a matter of survival, geography, and biology that keeps me trapped here. But I'm sick of it. I am so damned sick of it. Sometimes, I think that if there really was a grand designer, he must be into sadistic, insensitive, cruel practical jokes, knowing who I was and putting me here anyway. I might not have had this figured out, but for a half decade or so, but I can damn sure remember feeling that something didn't jive long before I knew exactly what it was. Surely, one would have known I was a bad fit for this mold. Look at me. No, really see me for once. Pay some attention to that human being behind the curtain! Okay, okay, okay. I am most likely not making any sense to anyone but myself right now. But in case there is a miracle that I actually am, know dear friend that the struggle is real.  

You know it's quite a bummer to think this is all I'll ever be. Fantasy beats a reality devoid of hope. If all hope is lost for so many things, maybe there is an illusion I can hold onto. All I really need is a bit more cash and an inner sanctum only I can enter. If I could have this impregnable sanctuary, then I could indeed live the dream and actually be happy for a good portion of my remaining years. Think of it as the Batcave, though I'm not exactly Batman as neither statement in said word describes me. Poison ivy without the poison, maybe? Even Bruce Wayne needs a place to go when he gets tired of being Bruce Wayne all the time. I guess the downside of living this illusion would be the sad fact that each year, I'll just continue to get older, and the illusion and the human hiding within it will become more and more pathetic. But what else am I to do? Is there any real way to find fulfillment in reality? Is it even possible? Look, I'm not going to trip over a suitcase full of money. There is no hero on the way to rescue me from this place. And worse? The worst is that while the looking glass has come quite close to the inner soul at times, it will become sadly less and less likely as the years pass. And although I need no recognition from anyone else, I at least need said validation from myself. If I can't have that, I will forever have nothing. And I'm not sure I could bear to live like that. To me, this would be a fate worse than death, no contest at all of being in the loving arms of Oblivia. Why can't I just be myself? I do not wish to bother anyone. All I want to do is to just be me. This does not have to be obnoxiously on display. This does not have to be anything at all. The barriers are numerous. They are financial, temporal, geographical, situational, and biological. In a time that already seems long ago, this mindset gave me hope and a reason. Now, this impossibility of fruition is what really brings me so down. So again, the question is, what should I do now? Everything has come full circle and I find myself in this same desolate place. What should I do now? Should I give up and pretend I never tried? I don't see how I could do that. When I long ago realized that the mold was not my soul, I could no longer just ignore and accept. It was just not possible anymore. I may not have told the world, but I allowed my heart to be, and that is something I could never go back on. There were too many things in my life past and present that didn't make sense and suddenly did. It is awful hard to unlearn what took so long to realize. It would be a major step backward, and I just don't think it's possible. I am who I am. While it is still my choice as to what kind of person to be, I can not change the core of my being. Any attempt to do so would be a transparent lie. I am who I am, and I could never be someone or something else. This is me, ladies and gentlemen. Call me silly if you want to. Call me crazy, and who knows? Maybe I am. If this is what madness is, then I accept that I am mad indeed. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have earned every quirk and quark. Let's have a cup of tea, shall we? With any luck, the door mouse will give us a rhyme. I really do feel trapped in this situation, place and time, where and when aside from a miracle, there really is but one escape, merely one way out in that great reset. And even with this, I just don't know. All I really know is that I am just ignorant enough about it to still fear it. The more I learn, the less I really know. I guess there comes a time in this life when one must determine which hell is the lesser one, whether oblivion is the new heaven, and whether those that I held so dear is waiting, whether she is waiting, whether my true soul awaits as well. I am tired, Sis. I'm so tired. Everybody is too busy dealing with their own lives, too absorbed in their own problems to care. Is any of this their fault? Of course not. I have nobody to blame but myself and my own bad decisions. Marsha, I just don't know what to do. I guess if I just keep toughing it out, there will come a day when the choice will be taken out of my hands. Wouldn't it be ironic to consider myself to be punished by a long life when part of this pain and guilt is over the fact that you were taken from me way too soon? How did Tom Hanks put it about being infected with life? Could I really stand to live as long as our grandpa did, possibly finding myself completely alone? Then again, how could this feeling be any more complete than it already is now? If it can, then I most certainly don't want to know. Well, maybe now you see why I started this blog entry with my little disclaimer. Was I right or wrong about my thoughts getting heavy and dark? The thing is if I do not truly share the depth of my feelings, then writing wouldn't help me at all. Trust me that I do feel better for a good while after a bare my soul. Do you know what I like most about my blog here? Even though I have linked it on my social media pages, nobody there ever really reads it. Nobody's going to go through all that trouble or reading for little 'ol me. Yet, I am happy about that. Why? Because I can really be myself here. I am safely behind a great wall of text, so far one megabyte strong. Damn, That's a lot of text! And you, dear reader, are prithy to several of my greatest secrets. It is true that I hold back on a couple of things even here, but even those things are still quite clear between the lines. At least it seems to me I have practically been shouting them out loud. You know, dear reader, don't you? Still, I am not quite ready to take that final step just yet. Maybe in time, I will develop the courage or the madness to spell it out for the whole world to see in so many words. Meanwhile, I can vent here to Doctor Blog-ieo. It's cheap therapy, and you can't beat the price. Does it help? I think it does. I say a lot here, I wish I could say elsewhere. No doubt I would have freaked out already had I not had at least someplace to say it. I've got to be functional enough to fake it. The world gets the fakeness. You get the realness here. I can't really know if anybody out there really wants it but here it is, nonetheless, if for nothing but posterity. It's like that graffiti saying I was here, with a bit more explanation. There is also that freedom Janis Joplin sang about having nothing (or not much) left to lose. When I reach the point when I feel that way, I might as well hold nothing back in these words. I might as well be known as who I really am. But for now, Doctor Blog-ieo it is. Only he (And you my fair reader) need know just how far I've gone. Oh I'm harmless as can be, but totally out of my head. Like I said, I have earned every quirk and quark and bleep and blip. If anybody has ever earned it honestly, it was me. And I'll tell you something, dear reader. A full day of drawing, coloring, basket weaving, three square meals, and no worries is starting to sound pretty damn good to me. Hell, maybe I'd even make some friends. We can all sit on the lawn and laugh at all the crazy people on the outside. Look at all those people with their jobs and their relationships and their mortgages! Harr Harr Harr! I guess, I am talking a bit weird here. I have just had a lot on my mind of late. Sometimes these heavy thoughts get in the way of the words. And the words themselves get in the way of explanation. It is something I'll try again and again and again, until there is no longer any need. In the meantime, all of my love to anywhere it may be needed. I well understand that need. It's like the warm sunshine on a cold day.