Pouring Out Like Water

Hello, Universe. 

Today, as always, I'm missing you. I still have your number stored in my phone, but I've got a feeling that by now, I'd be ringing up a stranger who would probably be less apt to patiently listen to my venting as you always did. You know? I wish they retired phone numbers like sports jerseys, voicemail intact. Sometimes, just hearing a voice helps the heart, even if it's only an echo from the past. I have learned much about this in the last couple of years. It's not that it ever really goes away. There's no getting over or moving on. You just learn to compartmentalize it, place it in a dusty sock drawer of your mind. That makes it no less still here. You still feel it there, sometimes as intensely as day one. You just learn to live with it because there is but one other choice.  It's not easy. Ad algorithms pick up on this built-in grief and serve me up the dumbest, exploitive shit. Why would I name a single star for someone who deserves a thousand galaxies? Why would I want a memory ring when there is no way in infinity I could ever forget them? Maybe what I think is precious can never be bought or sold. In English? My feelings are not your quick buckazoids, so shut up about memory rings, memorial plaques, or naming stars. Meaningless trinkets and a mark on an unofficial chart can never bring her back. And, if you can not bring her back, then you are wasting my time. My baby sister is worth far more to me than any empty comfort you can conjure. What kind of jackass sees dollar signs in somebody's grief? And a bigger question is why am I reacting this way? I also freaked out at a spammer putting their scam bullshit on something I wrote on another site. I guess I shouldn't expect these jerkwads to respect the dead any more than they respect the living. It was probably one of those bots... I swear they're ruining the internet and I guess there's not much we can do about it right now. My freaking out won't change a thing. If you'll remember. Universe it was you who got me started on the internet a long time ago, and it was a wonderful place. Maybe we still couldn't tell what was real, but chances are it was a human being on the other end of the connection. You don't get some POS peddling their bullshit on a comment about losing my sister. You better believe that... I know getting upset does not stop all these entities that want to (For various reasons) trivialize and vandalize matters of the heart. I know I am taking this far too much to heart like our mother always did, making mountains out of molehills and having trouble letting go. Just as logic fail Sarek when it concerns his son, So does logic fail me when it has anything to do with my baby sister.  I guess it's best that I change the subject, Sis. Not to forget you because I could never do that. Not in an eternity, not in an eternity of eternities. Never! Still, I really do need to change this subject, otherwise it's just that downward emotional spiral I have written about far too many times. I know these spammers and companies aren't deliberately trivializing you. There's no direct malice or ill intent. They're just showcasing the shitty side of the modern day internet.

Remember how Momma was always a big fan of the TV show, M.A.S.H? I wasn't so much as that show didn't know whether to be a comedy or a drama. Come on! Laugh mode or cry mode! Pick one! Then I realize, how very hypocritical of me. Hell that show is a lot like me of late. Or am I a lot like the show? Maybe so, sometimes silly and irreverent, sometimes gloomy and glum. Allen Alda would be very proud of me, wouldn't ya think? She also liked Kojak and Quincy. aka "Who loves ya baby" and "Dat wasn't an accident, it was moyda" respectively. Then the very reason I like the first two seasons of "Miami Vice" to this very day is because Momma used to religiously record it every week on her VCR. She hated "Hogan's Heroes", which I happened to like. Though the Germans in that show were unrealistically easy to trick. I have no doubt Colonel Klink would have been drummed out of the real German army or worse for that level of incompetence. Otherwise I really enjoyed that show. I finally asked Momma why she didn't like Hogan's Heroes. It turns out being the only girl outvoted by three brothers on which channel to have the TV on was her reason for not liking that show. I wonder what was on the other channels? Momma was also a fan of Perry Mason. I never really got into that show. Give me Matlock or Night Court instead. (Look A Cat!) Yep I'm sitting here on my lunch break and a big cat just walked through my work area, paused by my forklift, gave me a sideways glance like, "Wachyu doin' here?" Then proceeded to climb into the racks down the way. I guess we must not have much of a mouse problem around here. I remember last summer we had a seagull in here for a few days. I guess I could have closed my eyes and pretended I was at the beach had I not been in the middle of driving a 10,000-pound forklift. OSHA might have balked at that. Oh well, it's just a random thing to fit in the middle of all my rantings and ramblings. Speaking of which: Here's another. When somebody belches like a Klingon warrior's battle cry, there is enough of highschool me left to be impressed. But middle-aged me wants to say, "Dude, maybe you need to see a doctor?" 

(throws head back) "RRRRAAAAAAAA!!!

You Know? I am really on a wavelength of my own, I think. My sense of humor is so far out in left field that it probably makes no sense to anyone but myself. I have beliefs all over the spectrum, conservative in some ways, liberal in others, guaranteed to make both left and right angry if I were to speak my mind. Including my belief that election 2024 is just a case of dumb vs dumber. One idiot wants to mess with my rights, and the other idiot is absolutely killing my bottom line, all while spouting nonsense that everything is better. I have never seen a shitshow quite like this.  But, I digress, I guess. What I am trying to say here is that I am a curious creature, no doubt. I guess I speak my own language. I take being yourself and following your heart to the extreme sometimes. I think the world is big enough for all of us. I do not base my friendships on politics. If I like you, I like you. If that is what weird is,then I proudly proclaim it. Nanoo Nanoo. And those folks on social media? They're only getting the Stars And Stripes version of events. You guys and my dearest Universe, you're getting the full-on Walter Cronkite version. Yep, yep, that's the way it is. Speaking of social media, I think I've figured out this whole targeted ad thing. When I get ads for fast cars, expensive wine, some of them entirely in French, they're targeting manic me. When I get ads for hard booze and happy pills, they're targeting depressive me. When I get ads for skin care products, fancy perfume, and certain clothes, hmmmmmm. Ever see a 1990s TV show on FOX called "Herman's Head"? Well, well, on behalf of us all, I salute you for your inclusiveness. At least they no longer think I'm some geezer obsessed with pills. I have my own obsessions, damn it! Nope, not THOSE kinds of pills. I have a litany of reasons why I don't want em and don't need em. Maybe someday I'll make a top 10 list, David Letterman style. But for now, that goes far beyond even Cronkite. Though, this,  too, is the way it is. For now, anyway, for now. I am so glad that dreaded January is almost over. Maybe I will someday some way be able to turn my thoughts into something else. Ah, February. Valentine's and President's Day. Then there's Momma's birthday, of course. She would have been 75. While I'll no doubt think of her and be out of sorts that day, it still has nothing on January 23rd. Otherwise, the focus of the outer world seems to be on Cupid. Not that it matters much to perpetually single me. Still, my social media feed is full of Valentine's related ads about nice gifts for my significant other. Then I realized that I AM my significant other. And we have sooooo much in common. So, I think maybe flowers, candy, dinner, and a movie. And cool computer stuff. Yes, cool computer stuff. I always know just what to buy myself. You know, I am really beginning to think that I'm "The One". I need a new escape. Once upon a time, it was movies and music. Later, it was games on old consoles and on MS-DOS computers. Then came Wolf And Doom And Duke.. Later came visual novels and the captivating ways they had of taking me to other places, and of letting me be somebody else. Then there were games where I created my own characters, curious reflections not of the looking glass, but of my very soul. Those were the best escapes of all. How wonderful was it to run around on a brightly sunlit beach as myself, even while January coldness and bleakness reigned supreme in my real life. How beautiful, how wonderful all these escapes were. It's just that they lose their magic over time. I need something new, maybe something more permanent. Basically, I just need to get the hell outta here. Sometimes, reality just sucks. Tired, lonely, no real future, and damned if I'm not getting old, too. When people conclusively prove they're not my friends, I guess I shouldn't get upset. It just goes to show I could do far better than them. It's not like they know what I'm about anyway. If anything, it makes me appreciate those rare souls, those awesome people that I call REAL friends. As for the others, who the hell needs you anyway. I have known some beautiful souls in my time, and I have learned how rare and wonderful they are. I would walk a mile for them. But as for this loudmouthed holier than thou you know what, My ass might as well be glued to my chair. Respect is a two-way street. Respect is about more than just who you are, but what you do. And really, what one does shows who they are far more than what they say. Talk is cheap, right? Well, it depends on the person I'm listening to. For some people, it is my very pleasure to listen to for hours on end. Others, I just want them to shut the hell up right now. Some souls are awesome, and you can hear their beauty in their words. Others are rotten, corrupted to their very core, their voices atrocious, and their words even uglier. I have realized that it's not that I want to be alone. I just want the right people around me. 

I wonder just how many of we imperfect human beings truly have an objective, absolute view of the reality around us. I also wonder how much that is colored by the lens of the soul is merely point of view, merely our own flavor of reality, and at what point does it become a delusion. And my wondering continues as to just who gets to say where and when that point is. I guess point of view is everything. It all comes down to point of view, Kenobi style. Then I guess numbers also come into play. I suppose if enough people see the same reality or have a similar enough point of view, well, the chances of delusion are fairly low. However, if it's only you or only me, then I suppose some healthy questioning would be in order. I guess the only exception to points of view in great numbers is when it is something only one person knows. And there has to be at least one or two things about ourselves that only we know. It need not be something crazy or controversial, i.e.,'What you did last summer'. It can be quite mundane. The only requirement is that it be something only one person knows. And as far as these things, how can we really tell what is real or not? Maybe real to you or me is real enough. Why not let people be happy? Let's face it, life can sure be a misery sometimes. I say to grab whatever happiness we can and hold onto whatever we can. Why not let people be happy, even if they are deluded from your point of view. If they're not harming anyone, why not leave them alone? I guess what prompted this whole spill was this video I watched where they were berating this poor girl just because she (in their opinion) took this whole Otaku thing too far. So what? Was she ridiculous at times? Yes. Was she harming anyone? No. Did it make her happy? Yes. Then why not leave the poor girl alone and let her be who she wants to be? As I said, life sucks. Why deny anyone their happiness? It just may well be all they have. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things out there that even I don't understand. Furries, for example. Who the hell runs around saying, "I'm a wolf, arooooo!"? Are they deluded? Possibly. But I guess if that's their only source of happiness, then who am I to say they can't? Religious people and all their posts about kneeling before Zod are another example. But if it gives them comfort, then who am I to ruin it for them? If it makes them happy, let them be. They just need to learn to let others be and not push their medieval superstitions on people like me. See, although I am not exactly the son of Jarrell, I won't be kneeling before Zod anytime soon, unless he really does humiliate the president, whichever idiot that wins the election this year. They both need a dose of humility. If he does that, General Zod will be my lord, liege, and king. See, anything can be seen as a delusion by someone. I'm sure a lot of people would call me crazy, but what is real to me is real enough. It's a big universe. There is room for us all. Do what you will but do no harm. And most importantly, be happy, seek happiness. Be yourself. Life is too short to be anyone else. I am who I am. In many ways, I always was. There were just some things that took me some time to realize. It's not always so much that we change. Well, we do change, but it's not always that simple. Sometimes, we simply get tired of pretending to be something we're not. And it's ironic how some get this whole concept totally backwards. Yes, Ironic, a total paradox, really, that the quickest way to be accused of 'pretending' is to finally stop. How very human of us all. If being my true self means I'm weird, crazy, or deluded, or whatever the hell, then so be it. You're not telling me anything I didn't already know. But in the very core of my heart and soul, I know who and what I am. It is real to me, and because it is of me, the only person with the right to determine the realness of my inner self, real to me, is real enough. I am a bit of a mess today, and it seems out of nowhere. Are you still out there somewhere? Can you look back and still see me? Damn... What the hell is life anymore? Do you know what I miss most about being young? Having a potential future in front of me that involved possibilities other than old age, death, and no longer having you in my life. That's not much to look forward to, is it? Maybe death for me won't be so bad. Well, maybe if it involves the goddess Oblivia and her loving embrace, or maybe seeing you, momma, our grandparents, and my dearest friends again. Would it be any worse than running my ass off just to maintain a status quo that I hate? What the hell is the point? And I must ask myself again, what is there left for me but old age and death? I won't say that I am sick and tired of living because I haven't really been living for a long time now. No. I have been merely existing, and I am sick and tired of merely existing. I want to live, but this is not living, friends. Not at all. I do not want to merely exist. Let me live or let me die. Anything else is totally unacceptable. I grow so weary of this existence. If I could have peace in my heart, maybe tranquility in my soul, and better still, something to look forward to, then maybe all this day to day grind would be worthwhile. What is life without the potentiality of anything besides old age and death? What is life without a day to look forward to? I guess the only point in running yourself crazy to maintain a status quo that you totally hate is avoiding a situation far worse. Have you ever fought tooth and nail just to get through a rough patch in your life, finally make it through to the other side, and wonder just why you even bothered? I have been through some heavy shit, made it through a few hard seasons, and I find myself here on the other side of them. In the words of Sam L, I'm still alive, mothalovers! Okay, so what did I win? Just a fight, I guess. I really don't think I have much more than my battle scars to show for it. The Grand Prize showcase shitshow turns out to be the same shit on a different day until I'm dead. Gee, it's good to know all this pain was worthwhile. Yes, I think it's time for another clean cup move down subject change. Otherwise, these thoughts are heading no place good, good, and fast. 

Yes, yes, let find something else to talk about, shall we? Clean cup mooooove down! And a very merry unbirthday to you, my dear. Let's all laugh the day away in the merry ol land of Oz. Wait... Wrong book, wrong movie. Who was the coolest, Alice or Dorothy? Why ask? Alice is always the greatest. There's not mushroom for anyone else in my opinion. Wonderland is better than Oz, my friends. Door mice, Cheshire cats, Mad Hatters, and March Hares. And tea, yes tea, you simply must have another cup of tea. Me? I'll have whatever that caterpillar was on. And this time, we'll make sure that those damn flowers learn a few things from us. If I were Alice... (wow that phrase gives me pause) (Leaving a bit unsaid here) I'd be back with a lawnmower. How dare you call me a weed! That goes too for that bird that called me a snake, and that deck of cards that don't know how to play croquet. Yep... Alice II: Payback Time. In theaters near you. Seriously you may wonder why I lapse into silliness like this, especially on the heels of something on the heavy side of Uranium. It's simple. Sometimes onto the page does not necessarily mean out of my head. This silly talk is my little escape from reality, a much needed bridge over my pain. Maybe you understand. Maybe you don't. Another way to say it is every Alice needs her Wonderland. But, Don't trouble your pretty little head, dear, if you don't get it. Trust me. You will someday. In summary it seems to have worked as my head now seems empty with nothing more to say. Whatever was isn't anymore. It's left me inwardly into these words, and outwards across the universe. How did that Bible verse quoted by The Guess Who in "Hang On To Your Life" go? 

I am poured out like water.