Levels Of Reality

Hello, Universe.

One with the universe, one with memory, one with thoughts, one with feeling, one and never zero, one with time, one with infinity, one with an eternal apartment in this heart. Would it be a surprise for me to say I'm missing you today? For the one human being who knew me best, I would imagine you wouldn't be surprised at all. It has always been like the tide, high and low and high and low. But the seas have been a bit rough these last couple of years. High tide, low tide, and the storm, and also the rain. I never seem to know what that biggest wave is going to bring, just what is going to roll in on the breeze or how much the sky might fall. Still, there's really nothing I can do, nowhere I can go. To keep this metaphor going, this is most certainly no day at the beach. Maybe that scene from Nightmare IV? Looks like Freddy forgot the sunblock. Have I ever told you how, in retrospect, the main character Alice Johnson, the hero of that movie, reminds me so much of you? Especially when she charges in and tells Freddy, "Leave him alone, you SOB!" She was ready to kick some butt to save the people she loved. That was you, Sis. My warrior. The entire Klingon high council would declare your birthday a holiday of the empire. That's a few months away, yet. That's a tough one for me, not as bad as January, but still tough. I guess I have lost my way in these words. Sometimes, my thoughts get a bit hazy. Though you would still know what I'm trying to say here. I miss you, and I always will. I guess I need to change the subject, so I will. 

I guess it is far better to talk to an empty room than to never speak at all. We all need to express ourselves sometimes, and words spoken are most certainly words spoken, even if the only replies are empty echoes in the void. It is lonely to be my true self, for I feel I have nobody who can relate. Still, it must be better than pretending to be somebody I'm not, if even to maybe make a few friends. Still, the silence really does get to me sometimes. I wish I could find myself in a place where I could have love, friendship, and belonging, all while being the person I know myself to be. Misunderstanding, skewed perceptions, heck all these things are even more common in this century than even the last. It seems the world is picking teams in a game that I simply don't want to play. It is so difficult when you simply can't fit the mold anymore. Are you on the red team, or are you on the blue team? Be you a Hatfield or be you a McCoy? And what if I am neither? Why do I have to pick anything? I am myself. I am who and what I am, despite what the world thinks. They may insist I'm wrong about a lot of things, but I am fairly certain I am more knowledgeable of myself than they are. Again: I know who I am. I know what I am. They, on the other hand, do not. I am not the mold. I am not the role. I am myself. I do not claim perfection, but I will cling to my own authenticity. It is all I really have left. If I want to see facades, falsehoods, personas, and general fakery, I'll go online. Social media confounds and confuses me. From the politics, the religion, the commercialism, to the lovey-dovey couples who change partners faster than a square dance. How do they do that? See, the way I feel (one way or the other) ain't a toggle switch. Sadly, this made 2009 and even the early 2010s a tough time for me. Despite the circumstances, it took a year or three for a certain connection to finally burn itself completely out. And so, I could never understand this trading "soulmates" like cars every few years. Besides, one doesn't find a classic like me at the dealership. If this brave new world has taught me anything, it is the cardboard cutout superfluousness of it all. For those who don't like big words, I'm basically saying this is bullshit. Especially on social media. If any of this harvested data from these sites ends up on a thousand year disk or maybe a 13 billion year shard of glass, then whatever alien race finds and decodes it can see for themselves, an hour by hour timeline of the downfall of humanity. They'll no doubt probably roll their insect eyes and shake their oversized heads, "Foolish, foolish humans, what in the hell were they thinking?" Once upon a time, John Lennon wrote about Strawberry Fields where nothing is real. Now, we have social media. Nothing is real there, either. Yet I find myself returning all too often. Of course, the next time will be like the last time and the time before. There is nothing there. If I am going to dwell in a land of fantasy, I would much prefer Wonderland. At least I could be myself in Wonderland. Damn, I'm overdue for a long Face-cation. When you feel that vortex pulling at your mental health, you know it's time. It's an abyss in which they fool you into thinking there's going to be something worthwhile to see if you look into it just one more time. Do you want to feel lonely, irrelevant, unloved, and/or unwanted? That good ship to the bottom is your one-way ticket. They have their little ways of holding us in that place. They probably hire the same rogue head shrinkers that do the same thing for casinos. Remember, the big guys are in that game for money, and happy people just aren't all that profitable. It's all the same, be it with social media or gambling casinos. They do their damnedest to keep your expectations high until the inevitable crash. A good analogy would be Freddy Kruger. They gain power when they have your soul, it's all a nightmare in the end, and they probably don't give a flip what anyone thinks. One goes there for friendship, for understanding, but it is just not there. I wonder if between the politics the posing and the bullshit peddling, if there is anything genuine. Is anything real at all? I wonder if even one in ten people who share that meme, "Be kind for everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about," can even grasp its meaning. It's all a sham, a charade, all a show to put on, an image to project. It is a digital fun-house, an endless sea of distorted views. Nothing there is real. It is not only difficult to find meaning in such a place, it's impossible. Surely, there are better uses of my time. Besides, It is just a sad fact but also a true fact that people online or not just don't get me. Or maybe I'm just not around the people who would. I mean nothing bad by this, really. These people are friendly, kind, and nice for the most part. They just don't understand. It's neither their fault nor mine. Life is just a roll of the dice as to where we end up, who we're around, and who we become. My doubts are not as to who I am, just in how much or how little I should present this to the world. In a world that could never understand, prancing out and saying, "Hey there, here I am!" is probably not exactly the best idea. People are good and kind for the most part, but misunderstanding can conjure monsters, figuratively speaking, of course. It's a messed up world of distorted perceptions, images in a fun-house mirror, twisted for politics, inverted for religion, corrupted, and wrong. One word can provoke snap judgments and wrong images and place a whole lot of thinking, feeling, human beings into some category they never belonged in. How well do we know each other, really? What are those dividing lines between friendship, acquaintances, and strangers? How well do we know the people we say we know? Sometimes, I feel that every mind in every brain is a mystery. Nobody knows me, really. Not anymore. There are a lot of times when I wonder if I even know myself. Yes, yes, I know who I am, but it's the whole iceberg thing. Even I can't see all there is of me. I guess that's the other reason I write. Not only is it cheap therapy, but it is also a monumental effort to understand myself. 1.2 megabytes later, I'm still trying with no end in sight. It's been one crazy peculiar journey, a long strange trip, in the words of the Grateful Dead. I guess it's not over yet, for here I am, still trying to wrap my mind around well.... me. So, if I can't completely know myself, then what hope or chances could any other human being have? Due to our similar wiring, my baby sister probably knew me best. Well, that, plus I confided quite a bit to her, I dared not tell others. After all, I'm not going to the funny farm unless I'm ready to go there, myself. Then, I can be the committed individual the world wanted me to be. Hey, they said I could be whoever I wanted to be, and so..... I am Napoleon! Ha! This is what absolutely destroys that theory about thoughts creating reality. If that were so, then everybody who thinks they're Napoleon would, in fact, be the real Napoleon. And, this mistreatment of such a renowned world leader is just reprehensible! Expect an angry call from the French embassy, you ingrates! If thought really did make reality, there would be this loud [POOF!], and I would have some serious explaining to do. It wouldn't be Napoleon. It would instead be the one person they least expected: Me! Talk about blowing minds and shattering expectations. Then maybe, maybe? Someone might actually get me, might even want to understand? I guess since thought, in fact, does not create reality, I'll probably never know. It does, however, create quite a lovely picture in my mind, beautiful enough to even make me smile. Anything that can or anybody who can, must have some power and sway. 

What good is any lesson for which one never gets the chance to apply what was learned? And isn't it a mess that by the time we finally gain wisdom, we find ourselves kinda on the old side? We are all born ignorant of everything. In our youth, we are still ignorant of many things. Even in adulthood, there is still so much to learn. Heck, even now. Still, aren't we our own worst critics? I know I'm certainly mine. Nothing would make my imaginary lawyer facepalm and say, "Oh, this doesn't bode well." More than Judge Me and a jury of Myselfs. Imagine a courtroom where the judge, jury, the accused, the prosecution, and the defense all share the same face. Matlock and Perry Mason ain't got nothing on this. Even so, even so, how would such a trial go? There have been a few things I have been kicking myself around for. And young me certainly deserves a few swift kicks to the backside. But it's like how Red in the Shawshank Redemption put it. I want to talk to that younger, foolish, wrong version of myself. Basically, I want to knock some sense into them. But I can't. That kid is long gone, and I am all that's left. And yes. It is something I am going to have to live with. There is no escaping yourself, even if that self has not been you for the longest time. People may talk and talk and talk about second chances, but there is really no such thing. Religious people seek forgiveness from god. But it is forgiveness of self that's the tough part. There is something so far out of reach, far beyond my present control. I am a better human being from all that I have learned, but I should have been that from the beginning. There is nothing I can do to change this. We truly get just one chance. That is one of the heaviest truths of all. And do you know? It feels like somebody else got that chance and messed it up, though that someone was an extremely obsolete version of me. It sure does not seem to be me at all, because it's not me, and will never be me, can't be me, for they were all the things I am not, all the things I swear never to be ever. What more can I do? As far as that dire judge of the mirror and those jurors with faces I know well, nothing I could do can ever be enough. Heavy truths, man, heavy truths. And there is nothing I can do but continue to kick my own ass. Lawnmower Man is in your head now, Jake. There is no escape. The past can never be changed, but how about today? There is a song by Steppenwolf, "It's Never Too Late," but I always add the line, ".....Until it is." Beautiful song, but I know the bitter truth, for such a day is inevitable, the day after possibly ends. I was going through some old photos, and I was reminded of this one person in the family who used to take pictures of people in their caskets. Geesh! I never understood this. That's not the way I would want to remember someone. I would have absolutely not done so with Momma or my baby sister. I am having a difficult enough time trying to forget that too small hospital room in Tallahassee as it is. Now, I don't know how things are gonna go with me, but if you're gonna snap a picture of this lovely face o mine, better do so while I'm alive, else I'm gonna haunt your house, and I'm the ghost with the most, babes. I think people make way too much of the physical grave anyway. My loved ones are not there. They are somewhere in the multiverse, be it heaven, with my Angel, Oblivia, or hopefully someplace even more beautiful. But they're not in the grave. I have visited, and I do not feel their presence there. And wouldn't that be a terrible place to spend forever? I was asked about visiting Marsha's grave, and I was like, why? She's not there. She deserves far better than to be underground. My dearest sister, my guardian warrior angel, is absolutely NOT underground! She deserves the stars and all the beautiful places that ever will exist. Do not confine her there! I will not hear of it. I hope she has found happiness and peace. She deserves all the beauty and wonder that ever was. She is alive in my memory, and I refuse to confine her to that nightmare of darkness. She deserves light. I am not the elder brother of the house of Usher. If I thought there were even the slightest chance, I would destroy every obstacle in her path. I would fight for her as she fought for me. The house and the storm be damned. Let it fall down around me. And if the message is that it is my time, then so be it. Quite frankly, I'm tired of this shit anyway. 

And, well, that was when I realized that maybe, just maybe, it was time for another subject change, clean cup move down. Maybe this little tea party isn't so mad after all. I am under no illusion, but I wish I could be, just for a moment, perchance a dream at least for a while, a certain friend, pretty awesome and awesomely pretty. Nice to know and wonderful to talk to. Ever just meet someone you just instantly connect with? Well, anyway, she's moving on and rightfully so. There's no real future in a place like this. Sadly, there would have been no real future for me anyway, even had she stayed right here. She's taken and there are a thousand reasons on my end, too. Still, I will admit here and only here what I am wise enough not to say. Yes it's true. I do like her in that way, just as I have since the very first day. At least I have been content in this friendship, despite wishing for more, happy just to talk, and laugh, and smile. Damn I'm gonna miss her. I wish her well in her new journey, but I am sad to see her leave. I wish I could keep the illusion shining brightly. I'll take a pleasant dream over reality any day. See, she makes me forget a lot of darkness. Her beautiful smile chases those heavy thoughts away. Still I know it's an illusion. She's real. I'm real. My emotions are real. But there is also so much I know to be only in my mind. Yet the mind is quite an endless only, if you'll pardon one more personal observation. I wish her well. I wish her happiness. May she awaken to her most beautiful dreams, and maybe spare a thought now and again for me. That alone will have to be enough. Man, it's cold today. It's that last little cold snap that always happens just before Easter. What will it be? Zom A or Zom B? Raaaainz! Now, that was a YouTube video where I didn't know whether to laugh my head off, cringe, or just plain hurl. "Why would I partake of bread?" "Raaaaaagh!" [bites Roman soldier] That or the Roman fertility festival. Sadly, I never get invited to that particular party. Rabbits, eggs, what are they symbolic of? You guessed it. Who knows what other pagan traditions have been erased or distorted by the work of Roman propaganda from the day that mighty empire was bitten by the zombie, that virulent apocalypse that continues to this very day. Do not believe in the lies they speak of the Druids. It is, after all, some of my forefathers that they happened to be slandering. Now, excuse me while I don my black robe and hoodie and start my magical chanting. Echo echo echo echo. Seriously, I do wonder just how much human history has been erased beyond recovery. It is a shame, really. Would the temple of Athena still be standing today? But I guess this is one tired horse I should probably let rest. Meanwhile, despite the fast approaching equinox, the lingering cold and my super strong hibernation instinct happen to be sending mixed signals to my brain. I honestly feel I could sleep forever. I am not so certain I would mind so much. Sleep has always been my great escape. Even in my disjointed dreams, I seem better off. I had that recurring dream that I haven't finished school. That is always a weird one. I would guess the symbology is that I don't know everything. I can accept that. It is no doubt true enough. Nobody knows everything. I am not sure if I want to anymore. Ignorance, after all, is bliss. Could it be true that the less we know, the happier we are? I don't know, but I will tell you what I do know. All of my most recent lessons have been in the midst of considerable pain. And there is some knowledge I wish I could purge from my brain. While learning may be hard, forgetting is absolutely impossible. Now, there's a bit of wisdom to impart. You can most certainly quote me, carve it into stone, and place it on my grave. It is difficult enough to learn, but far tougher to forget. Some things get burned into the brain and forever mark the soul, a scar that will never go away, no matter how intensely you plead and beg this of the gods. A lesson that burns is forever learned. You can take that to the bank, my friends. Some things can never be forgotten. 

Could anything I've ever written, not just here but all my life, actually be wrong? Of course it can! The only superior knowledge I might even possess that others lack would be that of myself, of who I am, what I am, and just how it feels to be me. Anything beyond that, who really knows? This is just a window, a glimpse from this mind, heart, and soul. I can count the many times in my life I found myself to be right, yet wishing I had been wrong. I tend to follow my heart, and the religious people would claim that's wrong. Still, I will follow my heart until the grave, right or wrong, be damned. I try to be as true to myself as I possibly can. Again, they say that's wrong, but I will be true, I will be real, no matter how wrong they say it is. These are the same people who say it's wrong to use intellect and reason, the very gray matter their god supposedly gave you. Then what is it for? Filler for the 'ol skull? A spacer between the ears? An elaborate hat rack? I guess when sheep don't think for themselves, they become better at blindly following. Could I be wrong? Anything is possible. I guess we'll find out someday. Until then, I will never ask anyone to blindly follow me. Nor will I tell anyone what to think or what to believe. Look about within and without you will find if not the answer, then at least the question. Is there really a objective reality, or is every existence colored by perception, by the very lens of the soul? I seriously doubt I could be completely objective. I can't simply tell you what I see without also expressing the way it makes me feel. My reality is no doubt subjective. Thoughts do not completely make reality. Thinking you are an emperor does not make you one. But still we could both see the same world, yet my reality will never be your reality. We may agree on a few objective things, but our subjective minds will color the rest. Thought may not completely make reality, but it does fill in a lot of the blanks. And that is why it is so difficult to truly know another. It is also why one can live on a crowded planet, walk a crowded street, enter a crowded room, yet be all alone. That's why the realm of a mind can feel so endless, so lonely, a figurative void of darkness and silence. I don't sound very objective, do I? But this is real. This is reality. Therefore I conclude that reality is indeed subjective.