Apples, Trees, And Momma.

Hello, Universe. 

Hello there, Universe Kenobi. Are you truly my only hope? Hi, I miss you. Please send our Momma birthday wishes for me. Meanwhile, here on planet Earth, I find myself in the usual fog. This ball of rock has thereabouts 10 billion people or so, and it can be tough to find a moment of peace. Still, it can be the loneliest place in space. Irony should be right there with gravity, inertia, magnetism, the speed of light, and those weak and strong nuclear forces. It's a law if this universe like any other. So, what's different about today from any other recent day? I got complemented on my appearance. That was most definitely unusual. Dear Diary, take note. Most unexpected, though. While being observant is no doubt a good quality, being observant of me has a way of engendering mixed feelings, really. Or maybe I am just so unused to complements. Am I? Still, I wonder what's next: "Nice underwear you got there?" Hey, complements are complements, right? Should I really be complaining? So somebody said something nice to me. Geesh, am I that difficult to approach? What's wrong with a compliment? Hmmmmm, maybe I'm not so far off in my guessing. I am just not used to receiving them.. I guess that says a lot more about me than it does anyone else. I have been glitched out of the game of life for so long that I no longer know how to act. Ever turn on the "no clip" cheat in an FPS game and find yourself so far beyond the map that you can't find your way back? Well, that's me in a nutshell, and I could indeed proclaim myself the ruler of infinite space. Still, if that space is completely empty, then my reign is meaningless. Tell me, Universe, is Limbo a place or just a state of mind? (Or is it a cool game in Jamaica?) Hey, mon, how low can you go? Seriously, what is Limbo? Is it situational or mental? Is it the absence of hope, or merely a strategic retreat, a place to rest, to heal the heart and get the mind together? I once wrote of a place where up, down, left, or right just didn't matter. It was a silent place, devoid of light, sometimes peaceful, sometimes empty. They say that if a captain's only duty were to keep their ship safe, they would never leave port. But that's not what ships are for, neither the human spirit nor the heart. It is one thing to know this intellectually, but the heart has its own logic and its own direction, unless, of course, it's here in Limbo. I seem to know this place quite well, and yes, I do come here often. (When do I ever leave?) Cruising through Limbo on autopilot, that's me alright. It can be kinda dangerous this time of year. I wonder sometimes if it's a competition between the deer and the humans as to which can drive me more loony in the mornings. One thing I least expect to encounter going to work at this particularly stingy cooperation is big bucks. Well, not the all too elusive green paper, anyway. Not that kind of big bucks, sadly. Those on hooves with big antlers, standing menacingly on the side of the highway, are another matter. Luckily, said big buck, thought better of a mad dash and stayed where he was. Good thing as I was going about 65. The mother and child reunion is only a deer and a dumb decision away. Paul Simon would no doubt phrase that in a better way. Yes, even now, at my age, a bit of that angsty teen from years ago remains. My mother said way back then that my writings were a bit too morbid. I guess I can sorta see her point these days, too. Uh, how about I change the subject? Yeah, let's do that. Dad seems in better health and in somewhat better spirits. He's been getting back into his radio stuff and computer stuff. I spent my last day off figuring out how to bolt his starlink antenna on the right place of his roof. There is only one person still here on Earth I would do such a thing for, and it's my father. I think he's happy with the setup, though I told him we might need me to go back up with better bolts. These thunder boomers around here don't play around, especially in the spring. I used to climb up on that very same roof as a teenager, just for the hell of it. But, two things have changed since then. First, the roof is now made of slick metal. And me, I am now made of old bones. You know? While I am not really looking forward to another sweltering summer, I can say I am officially sick of winter. It seems that in my little part of the world, we rarely get a real spring or a real fall. We tend to go from the oven to the deep freeze and vice-versa. Last fall was more real than usual. Maybe there's the same hope for this spring. Give me 70 degree days and 50 degree nights, Fahrenheit, of course. Celsius would be way too hot, and Kelvin would be way too cold. Give me real April showers, beautiful May flowers, and a real spring, pretty and green. Reassure me I am still among the living and not of the walking dead. Or is it the living impaired pedestrians? I can't keep up with 21st-century speak, I, born in the 1900s. And now that we are twenty-four years into this brave new century, and I was born in the 1970s, pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my age. Let's just say that I am old enough to have a skeleton that complains more loudly about the winter than even I do. Sadly, it seems the spring chicken I once was is long gone. Though it's not that that good ship sailed yesterday or even left port the day before. That damned thing is probably docking in Singapore by now, having been on a fantastic voyage already, loaded down with pirate treasure and gold doubloons , yarrrr! Arrrr, but none for me, me hearties! I guess I shouldn't have been goofing off at the airport, huh?

I guess it says something about this person I have become when I second guess myself with questions like, am I overreacting? Am I being petty? Am I being immature? To feel a certain way. Then I realize that my feelings are more there than right or wrong. They're simply there. So, if I feel a bit hurt, I just do. There is no right or wrong in our feelings. It's what we do with them. I think if Momma could read these words, she'd be proud of me. I sure miss you, Momma. So, what am I yammering about? Way back in the year 1977, four years even before my dear baby sister was born, Momma, my other sister, and I had pictures taken. There were three pictures taken: I, by myself, my sister, by herself, and the three of us together. Now, the latter has been put on social media several times with myself apparently cropped out. What am I, an embarrassment? Why crop me out? Why? It hurts me very deeply to see this again and again and again. And so, am I overreacting? Am I being petty? Regardless of right or wrong, I feel hurt. It may too be totally innocent. Maybe the whole picture couldn't scan, I don't know. I only know there is no ambivalence in the way it makes me feel to be excluded, even if symbolically, even if inadvertently. But I can't really do anything about it, can I? Just take the pain as I've had to do in all other things. What's worse, actually being an embarrassment or being made to feel you are an embarrassment? How does it feel to know you were there, yet finding yourself erased, excluded, removed? Ever wonder what you mean to someone else? Symbols are important. They can speak louder than words, can declare in a voice of thunder how you feel about someone. (Or how they feel about you) Some things send a very clear message, even when you know they were never meant in that way. I guess, just as I look a lot like my Dad on the outside, to the point he certainly couldn't deny me, my personality is so much like Momma's that neither could she. I swear I see her in my actions and emotions just as much as I see my father in the mirror. Just like my mother, I can make mountains out of mole hills. I used to get so aggravated with her over that, only to find myself doing the exact same thing. That is the thing about gravity, whether it happened to Newton or not: Apple don't fall far from their trees. I am no doubt, her child. I always will be. As I am writing this, today is her birthday. It will probably be well past her birthday by the time this will be published, but from where I am sitting, it's her birthday. Happy birthday, Momma. I miss you. I still get reminders every day that I am indeed yours. Despite how crazy we drove each other, I can attest before my very soul, upon all that I am and ever will be, that there was never a moment of my life that you were not there for me. You were always there for me. You always did the best you could for me. Even today, you are in my thoughts, even in my dreams. The last time I saw you in said dreams, you looked happy. And happiness always looked good on you. Happiness always gave you that special light. This is the way I wish I could remember you, Momma, happy, healthy, back with your artistic endeavors, all the things that made you happy. That is what I'd like to see. Just you being happy and yourself once again. Sorry for being so damned gloomy. There are too many birthdays, too many death days. Too many everythings. There is too much time and not enough space anymore. How can the walls of such an empty place be closing in? Too much to remind me of all who have gone before. Will I ever be right again? Was I ever right at all. Limbo, limbo, limbo, welcome to the void, that empty place left behind in the shape of someone I loved, someone I will always love. Momma. Marsha. I just don't know, Universe. I don't know what to think or how to feel, much less what to do, or even how I should go about it. It's completely normal, all messed up. But all is not lost. 

 

Seems I still have one parent of two. Seems I still have one sister of two. 

Both, I'd very much like to keep.

The other two? 

Well, I sure wish I had them back.

 

Ahem.... So, I can see right now that it's time for another one of my world-famous subject changes. Random thought: So, what your inner Muppet? Mine cross between Cookie Monster and Animal. Me Hungry Monster! It only 9 AM and me already raid lunchbox. Hungry Monster hungry! Good thing I bring extra food today. (What is it with me at work?) (I swear clocking in gets the ol tummy in gear here) so much for losing weight, I guess. That's me of late, hungry, and sleepy, drained and exhausted. If I am part bear and this is the hibernation instinct, it is starting a bit late, isn't it? Is the bear equivalent of having stayed up too late. Lately, I've been crashing over like a giant redwood when I get home.. I'm not a bear, nor a tree, hey, I'm just me. Man, I just feel so out of sorts today. You know, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, I am as about as far from the military type as one can get (I love my long flowing hair thank-ya-very-much) but still I'll borrow the jargon, SNAFU. It fits. It totally fits. It fits with (Dare I say) military precision. It's most decidedly not a military life with me dressing, looking, acting like everyone else (because that would be Hell) still.... The situation is totally normal, absolutely flarked up. Now, on top of everything else, I'm getting old. Ain't that something? The punishment for surviving enough of this life is to become old. I think of my father, a good man, who did right by my Momma and we kids. Now my Dad is old, and even his remaining kids are starting to get that way themselves. I am now 2 3rds his age. (He was half my current age when I was born) Isn't that the irony. Being old is our comeuppance for surviving and not giving up. My father deserves to keep his strength, to live a good life for having done right by us. I know that losing Marsha and Momma was tough for him, too. The man has paid far too many dues to be put in misery now. 

And now we change the subject again with my response to more dogmatic bullshit being posted on social media. How can following your heart be wrong? Nonsense! Why should I deny myself for this (As George Carlin put it) office temp with a bad attitude. See from where I'm sitting, looking to the past, I see not one single atrocity caused by following one's heart, or thinking for oneself. Blindly following somebody else's rules is another matter. Plenty of examples there. Mao, Stalin, The dark ages, the inquisition, the Salem witch trials, not to mention the nazis and their horrors. They even threatened to punish Galileo for daring to speak the truth he saw though his own telescope. See these cults that claim to be religions have a reason for this whole sheep metaphor. They want mindless followers who never think for themselves. What in hell is wrong with following your heart or using your own brain? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Human history might well have taken a better course if more of us did so. And yes, be true to yourself. Never live a lie for anyone, no matter who they claim to be. It's not who you are but what you do. It seems that the difference between a cult and a religion is the number of people they have duped by their dogma. Still, it's just a very large cult in my opinion. While they go around quoting verses as to why I should not follow my heart, seek happiness or be myself, I too shall quote a verse by the right Reverend MC Hawking. "On blind faith they place reliance. What we need more of is science!" I used to wonder why Richard Dawkins was such an asshole. Now I'm starting to get it. Okay enough of my soapbox speech. People pushing their dogma on others just has a way of annoying the hell out of me. They buy into ancient superstitions, then dare tell other people what to think, how to feel, or even who they are. Ignorant of astronomy, ignorant of biology, of the varied states of the very human brain they are so commanded not to use, and most of all, ignorant of the people around them. They dare tell others who they're supposed to be, but have no clue what they're talking about. They talk about the inner spirit but are always judging people by the superficial outward appearance. How can you know who she is? How can you know who he is? How can you know who I am? You are not her. You are not him, and you're damned well not me. By all means, preach to the choir, but not to me, pal, not to me. The only Reverend I follow is Dan Barker because he finally saw the light. Beliefs are like certain appendages. Yes, by all means, be proud, but not everybody wants them waved in their face. Okay, rant over. How about yet another subject change? Clean cup, baby. Move it on down.

I  am almost finished reorganizing my digital collection. By removing obsolete and duplicate files, it looks like I have saved at least a terabyte. I won't know exactly until I finish completely, but if so, this means I can back up my stuff quite a few multiple times. I admit to being a bit obsessive about preserving it. I'm not sure of all the reasons why, but it is a feeling I have chosen to just go with. It gives me a purpose when I would otherwise feel without one. The next step will be going back over my files to be sure none of them are messed up and replace them if they are. You know, basic computer nerd stuff. Well, I guess I ran out of things to say on that rather quickly, didn't I? Well, let me just return a bit to the previous subject but in a more positive light. You are under no obligation to anybody but yourself. Now, what do I mean by that? Am I saying it's alright to be a selfish jerk? No! Because what you owe it to yourself is the be the best you can be at whatever you are. If you're a parent, be the best parent you can be. If you are a son or a daughter, be the best you can be. If you are a wife or husband be the best you can be. You should be the kind of person that makes it easier to face the mirror. Pleasing others is just a damn waste of time, especially if they're not your friends, not your loved ones. They will always want more and more and more. Extra credit does not work with strangers or bare acquaintances. It will never be of any benefit. Be polite. Be kind. Do your best to be understanding. But do not sacrifice your sanity on the alter of pleasing others. If you don't set these boundaries, people will cross them without the slightest guilt or shame.  You can't take the entire world on your shoulders, nor should you be expected to.  Don't stress out because you are not able. You know what energy you have left, how low your battery can get sometimes, they don't and they won't. Looking out for number one does not mean you are a selfish asshole. It means looking after your own health, physical and mental. What good could you possibly do for someone else if you have a complete breakdown, and why? Because you gave too much of your life force? This will not make you more loved. The first step to being loved is having some of that love for yourself and your own well-being, for your own peace of mind. This is not being selfish, understand? It's being practical. Love that human being in the mirror. They are just as worthy of your love, understanding, and forgiveness as anyone. I know all this talk you may hear from people about boundaries may sound pedantic at first... But boundaries are indeed essential for one's mental health. Yes, it is important to think of others, to be giving, to have empathy. But, human nature is a bit messed up, as your limits can be difficult to see from another set of eyes. I see it as this metaphor: You're at the hospital donating your very life's blood, but you've overdid it a bit and you feel the world graying around you. Still, people are giving you hell because there is one more patient who absolutely needs your remaining supply. There's a problem with that. Can you see it?I believe in giving in the best way you can. I don't believe in severely damaging yourself in the process. If you need time, take it. If you need space, take that too. Anybody who has a problem with this is obviously NOT YOUR FRIEND.

Speech over. All of my love.

E Tu Cupid?

It seems I have once again managed to dodge an arrow, or my Cupid Proof Vest must be working, continuing to protect my heart with the state of the art. The only thing you'll fall in love with and lose your head over is the price. Remember shop smart, Shop S-Mart. You can find them in the sporting goods department. Well, now that I've woken up a bit and have gotten enough food in me to chase the viscous and diabolical Hungry Monster away, maybe I can put two thoughts together. Happy Thursday, folks? Okay, depending on when you're reading this, I've got a one in seven chance of being right. Happy whatever, my dearest friends, robots and strangers. Incidentally, in my dimension of space and time, yesterday was Valentine's Day. Okay, Universe: I like roses, lilies, daffodils, and chocolate bunnies. Wait: wrong holiday. Gimmie a heart-shaped box full of chocolate covered cherries. And make it snappy, for goodness sake! I mean, you're already a day late, right? Oh well, unless you're trying really hard to woo me, The oversized teddy bear and brightly colored heart-shaped balloons are completely optional. Hell, write me a flowery love letter. I was once skilled at that sorta thing a long time ago. Oh, go on, woo me with your declarations of looooooove! Okay, I'm kidding, ha! ...Or am I? Serious disclaimer: Seriously, I am joking. Though some of these items just might be on my Friday after Valentine's discount shopping list. I love discounted candy in heart-shaped boxes 😀 Of course, it will be way after the 14th by the time this will be published, so the point is probably moot. This has always been about what I was thinking last week or the week before. Delayed reaction, I guess. Beyond singleness awareness day, here is another weird thing to have stuck in my brain: The whole yamma yamma scene from Police Academy 4. Just a heads up in case I start muttering, "Yamma yamma yamma yaaaaaamaa!" Or something about yaks, hearts, and the brother of Badulla, Y'all know I ain't completely flipped.... only a little. I have got to find crazy things to occupy my mind to get through the workday. You know? Just five minutes, gimmie just five more minutes. Once again, I am suffering from "Just five more minutes" syndrome. I should have learned a long time ago that five minutes is never just five minutes. Made it, though. Never late, just frazzled and rushed and looking like a middle-aged Doctor Emmitt Brown that just got zapped by one of his electrical experiments. Great Scott, Marty! What in the name of Sir Issac H Newton is going on here?! Holy shit! She blinded me with science! Life really keeps us running, and when we're not running, we're worn down, not to mention the times we are worn and running.. It can be very difficult to make time for the ones we love. Still, we should, anyway. Life takes time and energy, but time takes away so much more. Even as someone who has obviously been taught this lesson all too clearly, I still have to remind myself. It's never too late until it suddenly is. I guess inertia is more than a property of motion through space. There is this inertia that we humans have also, and it can be most difficult to break free from. There's no such thing as a fancy meal without the check, no such thing as a good sugar caff-o-tine rush without the crash. What goes up must come down. Therefore, we have human gravity as well as human inertia. What am I trying to say here? While the unknown isn't necessarily bad, it can certainly scare the hell out of some of us, especially me. And don't even get me started on relationships. How wonderful would it be to have the closeness, company, and meaning without all the stress, worry, and drama to go along with it? I guess I wouldn't know much about that, coming out of a bad marriage, rebounding into a relationship with a beautiful woman who only returned the physicality, and sadly none of my feelings. And maybe, I wasn't so clear in that regard myself, this being on the rebound, feeling lost and lonely, reaching out for whatever I could even half perceive as love and belonging. It was a hell of a hell to be in. Nonetheless I think of her every now and then. I honestly hope she has found what it was she was looking for. Depending on how you look at it, the timing of her appearance into my life, was either the absolute best or the absolute worst. Funny how time gives one perspective. Even as I learned to find emotional support in other ways and just did my best to try and forget the physical, which became far easier for me to do since 2019. But that happens to be a rambling for another time. Suffice it to say it is far better to be alone than in a bad relationship. Take it from someone who has been there. It is far lonelier to be with someone who treats you badly, than to be with nobody at all. And this is where I'll clean cup and move down. Subject change and avoid the crazy train.

In a continuation of what I did with my 30 years worth if Doom levels, I am now doing the same for the rest of my digital collection, sort of a refresh and a reset. Large files I will keep the same, but arranged differently. Smaller files, especially my older ones, I am gathering in groups to compress. I am also going to do my best to eliminate duplicates and yadda yadda Yoda. It is probably time for new hard drives, too. It has been 5 years and that's probably as long as I can trust them to be reliable. I intend to keep the old ones, too, but all the files are going to be refreshed. It may be my weird opinion, but I think having a bunch of small files adds more wear and tear to the drives, so everything is going to be stored in large blocks. Once I am satisfied that every compressed file has been checked for the integrity on the master drive, that's when the copying to drives, both old and new. Between the compression and eliminating duplicate and obsolete files, I should be down from 7.5Tb to just under 6. This should allow me to make many, many backups. This includes every game, every level, every song, every book, every movie, and most importantly, all of my baby sister's digital things like her plays, her game characters, her writings, and of course, her voice. These are things you can't really replace if you lose them. I couldn't save her, but it is my one remaining mission in life to save whatever I can. It is only a small drop of water in this 6 Terabyte sea, but it's the most important part. Beyond Marsha's stuff, I have the family pictures, the voicemails from my mother, all these precious afterimages of the people that I love are the many other things that can not simply be re-downloaded or replaced, old game levels, recordings of the records I used to listen to with my Dad, and thank the merciful stars my father is still here, yet there are still those memories that mean so much to me, that will only become more precious with time. Basicly my digital collection is just about every kind of file format you could think of, audio, video, text, programs, compressed, disk images, emulators, and entire operating systems and virtual computers. Within all these formats, lies a large portion of my life. If I happen to do a Kermit and croak, an old Macdonald and buy the freakin farm, a library book and check out, an actor and exit stage left, I want my one remaining sister, all three of my children, and any of my nieces or nephews who might be interested to have at least one copy. Hopefully somebody will continue where I leave off. You know, despite cutting it so damn close, I started this day surprisingly full of energy, and it was a good thing because I needed to rock and roll (and I did). But now it seems the ol batteries have drained. I'm that fancy 1980s boombox playing special sloooooow remixes of your favorite song... I need a jumpstart, a zap for the zapster, a boostorama, and charge me up like Frankenstein's monster. They've got a forklift charger, but no human chargers. A pity, really. Turn up the voltage, Igor! Zap zap zap zap! He's awake, Igor! He's awake!! 

Momma's birthday is in a week, or is so at this moment I happen to be writing these words. I guess this makes the second since, well, March of 2022. I swear these latter years of my life are so full of birthdays and death days. I want to at least keep the loved ones I still have. Really, I want Momma and Marsha back. But I guess it just doesn't work that way. (later) An interesting thing happened the night after I wrote this. I had a dream about my mother. In it, she was happy, excited about a new job arranging artistic displays. She was into arts and crafts in real life. It was her main hobby. I remember telling her that her new career was very artsy crafty, that it fit her to a T. Even if only in a dream, it did my old heart good to see Momma that happy. You deserve it, Momma. It may well be a figment of my subconscious mind, but at this point, it's too late for anything else, so I'll take whatever comfort and solice I can get. 

Anyway, despite it already being the 15th. I shall now deliver my Valentine's address: Four score and seven years ago, Uhhhh huhuhuhuh, I scored... Wait. I wasn't even born back then! 87 years? I think that was 1927. Even my parents weren't born yet for more than another 20 years. Okay, four score minus a couple decades or so, multiple people scored and so here I am. It is my belief that while we are born physically at the beginning of our lives, the true birth is spiritual, and takes a lifetime to complete. Growing up does not stop at 18. Don't kick yourself so hard for once being young and stupid, of not knowing how to act, of being a jerk that didn't know any better. See, that was an early version who had not yet learned. We are all born ignorant of everything and we tend to make a lot of stupid mistakes in our youth. Damn... I was quite the ignoramus dumbass at 18. Isn't it wonderful that growing up doesn't stop at 18? I thought I knew everything and that everyone else was stupid. Imagine my surprise. I have done just as much growing up since 18 as I ever did before, maybe a whole hell of a lot more. See that earlier version, that person we were is not.... us. If we never grew, if we never changed, would regrets both minor and major even be a thing? See, here is the plot twist: You wouldn't be so down on your former self, had you not become this new creature, this better person. More, it also means you are capable of self-reflection. Fools never doubt themselves, but you, my friend are wise enough to know that nobody is absolutely right all of the time. Not you and certainly not me. This is something to celebrate, not lament! So, when doling out the forgiveness, start with that human in the mirror. I think you're doing great myself. This means you should also respect yourself. Never be somebody's second choice. If they make you feel like they're settling for you, then for goodness sake, don't settle for them. While few things in life should all or nothing, love and respect are two of them.  

A final thought: My Great Aunt had an awesomely unique sense of humor. I remember this decorative ashtray. It had something of a breakup poem written next to a picture of this dude wearing a fancy suit and a top hat apparently flushing himself down the toilet. The words read as follows:

"Goodbye, Cruel World'

"The moon may kiss the stars on high,"

"The stars may kiss the bright blue sky,"

"The dew drops may kiss the grass,"

"But, you, my friend...... Farewell"

The Elusive Self

Hello, Universe. 

It's me as always. Yes, yours truly, your one and only, never imitated, much less duplicated. Yes, me. It's not the word that eludes me, merely the definition. Just what is it to be me? Shouldn't I of all people know? I guess it depends on the aspect we're talking about, doesn't it? As for defining myself, there are several aspects of which I have no doubt. There are many others of which your guesses are about as good as mine, so much in flux, so much not clearly defined. I know the average Joe or Jane would upon finding this blog would say, "What a weirdo!" and I wouldn't argue the point. But, you know? I've never met a normal person in my life. I think that if a normal person exists out there somewhere, they're probably even lonelier than I am and surrounded by weirdos like me. Heck, I know for sure I'm not normal. One could tell from the way I wear my clothes, the way I wear my hair, the things I say, and especially the things I write. And the real kicker is there are quite a few lines of thought I know I'm better off keeping to myself. Trust me, if I say I'm weird, I'm just like this dude, Rufus. I know what I'm talking about. Don't think this weirdness escapes me. I learned a long time ago that it was absolutely vital for me to figuratively step outside of myself and try to observe as if from the outside. It has been a useful mechanism for deciding if I am maybe overreacting or being completely ridiculous. But lately, I have noticed this oscillation between irreverence, humor, dark humor, and just plain darkness. Here you'll see my Anakin Skywalker, My Darth Vader, and even my Jar Jar. Meesa no joking. If I didn't know any better, I might think I had multiple personalities. But nope. It's all me, just different flavors. Taste the freakin rainbow. See, I can't exactly explain what I'm still trying to understand, myself. I sometimes wonder if we are our own gremlins sometimes. No, I don't mean turning green, growing big ears, and having an obsession with microwaves, Snow White, and food..... yum yum! No, I mean the gremlins of old, those creatures of legend, of diabolical sabotage. Do we sabotage ourselves sometimes? And if so, why? Could it be that we fear success? Yep, yep, I am like totally asking for a friend, not me. To quote Austin Powers, that sort of thing is totally not my bag, baby. It's funny how such an interconnected world can seem such a disconnected dystopia. Yes, I could pick up this newfangled device and talk to nearly any human being on the planet. But who? And why? I think it's worse knowing we can do something, but there being no point. Absolution? Validation? We'll never find these in social media land. There is something to be said about real life and real people and real love. Between the advertising, politicizing, prophesying, mesmerizing, and criticizing, I think we have lost so much more than we've ever gained from this. I swear one certain social media site has more scams than a Limewire connection to a New Delhi call center and more spam than the actual Spam factory warehouse. The robots are most certainly taking over. No, not the real world, but that particular place in cyberspace is experiencing one hell of a robot uprising. Fellow real human beings who haven't yet left that place, it's been a good run and darned nice to know ya. How can a universe once so full of possibilities suddenly seem so damned empty? Riddle me this, Riddle me that. Or as I say it, go figure, go fish. It is one hell of an irony, this social media thing. Remember that whole expression about speaking with forked tongue? Yes, people do that. They'll talk and meme about peace, love, and understanding, then through up some of the worst closed-minded hate filled shit you've ever seen. So, which the hell is it? Are you for peace, love, understanding, caring, compassion, human rights, those sorta things? Or are you just going to ridicule and humiliate people for having the bitter misfortune of having been born with the wrong brain? Human rights aren't just for some of us, pal. You know it is one mondo waste of time to live out all your worst what-if's in your head, especially if they never actually happen. So, why don't you stop? Yeah, about that... We can't exactly, can we? Let me allude to one of mine. Imagine finally winning the game after glitching out for so long that you're not even sure how to deal with a win. Irony can pack one hell of a punch. It's probably not happening, though. I'll most likely most figuratively continue glitching through the game until we finally shut this old computer down. Maybe reboots are a real thing. Rebooting can literally fix a glitchy game, or as in my memories of playing Phoenix on the Atari, cause the game to glitch in a favorable way. Why be so afraid of winning? Trust me, even I don't get this. I guess I can truly be a mystery to even myself. I have been around a while and have seen a lot of things. But I have never seen second chances growing on trees. If there were, I'd pick myself a bucketful. You know it's very well understandable that everybody else is far too consumed by their own passions and problems to care about mine or me. It's understandable, no doubt. Still, it's a damned lonely feeling. Nobody gets me anymore. I sure wish I could share these passions and dreams with another human being, but that is seeming less and less likely. It is my hope indeed that somebody finds my digital collection and finds the same joy as I did in putting it together. There's a ton of games and levels and just about any 20th-century media you can think of. (Or at least the awesome side of it) There are the pictures, plays, writings, and game characters that were of my baby sister's creation. I would love for people to get to know her from what I was able to save of her. I want this to outlive me by many, many years. In my deepest daydreams of a future I'll never see, my digital time capsule is what I want to be remembered for, to at least have had a small part in preserving the best of my time. If I could do merely this, I could never consider my life to have been in vain. Maybe this is my purpose and meaning. Hopefully, this is not some delusion of grandeur. After all, a good portion of what we have to this very day began in the humblest of places. Though it is not for myself that I want to be remembered. I have said it many times, remember her, always remember her. Sadly, if I were to get real with myself, I guess all these projects, these things I have poured my heart and soul into, will not be outliving me by very long. I think I could far better accept my mortality if all these things wouldn't simply die with me. Then again, the older I get, the less I fear death. To tell you the truth, I'm pretty damned sick of this shit anyway. If only these things I have created in the digital realm would outlast me by a few centuries, or even a few decades, I could retire to Oblivia's embrace without another thought. I just see no point in anything, nothing to look forward to, no new chapter worth the effort of reading. Geesh, my thoughts are a bit dark this morning. Please don't call the men in white coats just yet. After all, I've been through far heavier shit and managed not to do anything rash. The truth is that I have been feeling this way for a long time now, talking to the equivalent of an empty room, to the void, to the universe, and to nobody at all. I've been down, depressed, and have felt alone for a long time now. My decision of 2019 helped me a lot and probably helped keep me among the living. I can't exactly know for certain if the latter is true. All I know is it gave me hope, at least for a while. That was a good thing because from 2020 onwards, things have just gone more and more to shit. Then, 2022 happened. I lost the one person who might have understood. In the meantime, I have hit a figurative brick wall when it comes to my decision of 2019. I can't exactly go further without broadcasting it to the world, something I am far from ready or prepared to do. I may never be ready for that. Sometimes, I wonder if this megabyte of ramblings is anything at all besides being possibly the longest (word redacted) note in history. No, I'm not saying so here, just considering possibilities. Heck, even if it were the truth, so long as I'm still writing, I guess I'm okay. I'm still here, right? One always writes the note first, and I am obviously not yet finished with writing the note. Okay, it's extremely obvious I need to change this subject. In all honesty, I am not sure why I woke up feeling like this. I mean, I obviously had some nice days off, finished backing up my 30 years' worth of Doom levels. I managed to stock up on groceries Friday, even went over to my father's house and fixed an awesome supper that everybody seemed to like. I then went home, put on some good tunes, and drank a six-pack of my favorite spiked pink lemonade. Saturday was a beautiful day. I got all my clothes washed and dried on the line, and I got more computer stuff done. Sunday, It rained all day, So I did a lot of sleeping. It's rare that I get a chance to let the rain lull me to sleep. Therefore, today, I can't claim to have not slept enough, for I practically hibernated like a bear. I woke up early enough to take my sweet time getting ready for the day. I washed and styled my hair, and took a bit more time, and paid a bit more attention to myself. Too bad there's no real point in dressing up fancy for a place like this. You'd think with all this self care, I would feel better, maybe even be wearing those figurative rose colored glasses, but no. Seems I'm wearing the deep blue shades instead. There are times I couldn't feel lower even if you buried me. Damn, here I go again. Didn't I say something about changing the subject? I do believe I did. Yeah, how about we do that? I guess it's better to be quietly expressing all this negativity here than speaking it out loud. Still, this can't be good for me. Even Doctor Blog-ieo would say so if they were a real doctor and not a figment of my imagination. Still, onto the page and out of my mind, right? Let us hope so anyway. A lot of heavy thoughts have been going through this old brain. Thoughts of so much that's beyond my control, some that always was, and some it's far too late to do anything about. All in all, they're all the same here in 2024. Welcome to the future, fellow former humans. Let's all go to Phobos and take our misery out on Doomguy. Crap, he's got the BFG 9000. Oh, well. It's been a good run, my former, former human friends. Maybe that great Doom Player in the big sky above will restart the game for us all. Shall we gather at the hangar? Whoh! I think it just may be time for one of my world famous subject changes. Who's up for another cup of tea? How about we speak of lighter things? I got to installing Commander Keen addons in my DOSBOX collection last night, just the major full-scale mods. I am just not as into Keen as I am iD's later games such as Doom and Wolfenstein. Still, this was the most enjoyable computer time I have spent in a very long time. Who knows, maybe I'll get back into other computer stuff that I've left untouched since the 1990s. Hello, GWBASIC menu 2024! I swear those old files are one heck of a time capsule of my former self. Am I the only one to create a giant mushroom cloud in GWBASIC? Yes, the war between the faces had a tragically devastating ending my younger, far more cynical self once approved of. Maybe I'll reprogram it where they make peace, hold hands, and sing songs. Nah, there's enough of the old me left to say that the ASCII mushroom cloud looked way too cool. Sadly, the faces are all doomed in Basicland. Oh, well. What else have I got? Oh yeah, It's too bad we can't elect the Governator for president in 2024. I'm sure Ahhhhnold would pump up the economy, crush unemployment, and terminate inflation. He would totally recall our space program and get our azzz ta mhaaaz. I even know his opponent's strategy. They'll just show footage of Los Angeles 2029 from the Terminator movies in their attack ads. But he'd certainly be baaaak in 2028. C'mon, we need to amend the constitution so he can run. Get to the choppa! Do it now! Anything but a repeat of dumb vs dumber! I have decided to stay the hell away from the polls if these two clowns are my only choice. Really, I can think of a hundred better things to do. It is also about time to take a long break from social media. The political bullshit is surely gonna be ramping up. It is probably not so smart of me that whenever social media burns me out as it often does, I retreat to the news pages to see 'who's nuking who' as my former self would put it. Definitely not a place to escape politics, but that's far from my only reason to gripe. I often see more than three articles touting the same headline. Now, while I have often accused myself of having the memory capacity of a freaking goldfish, I exaggerate because it's not that damn bad. Then there's the way they title some of the headlines. I think it's silly how they abbreviate "Supreme Court Of The United States" in news articles as SCOTUS. First of all, there are many people who won't get who the hell they're talking about. Secondly, when I glance too quickly, I often see an 'R' after the 'C', which would imply that all the judges of this highest court of our land are just a bunch of bahhhhlzacks. Oh, well. All my love, happiness, well wishes and good vibes, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers. May the Supreme Court of Bahhhlzackz forever have the balls to rule in your favor. They'd be nuts not to vote your way. Have a wonderful day.