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.
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