The First Day After The Last Day

Oh, hello there. 

Let me give a special shout out to all the friends, Romans, robots, and strangers out there. How the hell are ya? When the hell are you? From my perspective, it is November the 27th, 2024, the day before the first Thanksgiving without my father, and the third without my mother or my baby sister. Circle unbroken? Not quite, my friends, not quite. I know it may not ease your pain or mine, but I am sending my love to all lonely souls today. May you truly find your way to peace. May you truly find your way home. Remember, home is so much more than a place. It's the people you love and the ones who love you. So, what am I doing? Nothing, really. Nothing I can. Here I sit, trying to kill some time. But time seems to be immortal like a monster in any movie that ends in a Roman numeral. I..... Live.... Again! This isn't heaven. It's not even hell. It looks like Earth, but it's damn unfamiliar. I know where I am. I am in Purgatory. The place you go to punish yourself for your own sins, real, perceived, or imagined. Imagine being a prisoner who also happens to be warden, guard, and governor, doing time for wasting time, yet it is time that eventually wastes us all. Time, relentless time. There is plenty of time to write, plenty of time in Purgatory. There is plenty of time to think, too much time to think in this place where the emptiness exists in a dimension others can't see. It has been the longest highway, paved with these words. Time is the troll under the bridge to the past that leads to all I hold dear, to all I have tried to hold onto. Time is the ugliest of all trolls, an unrepentant thief who takes and takes and reminds me of who has gone, threatening all I wish to save from its pitiless grasp. I am looking over my shoulder, looking for you, wishing to see you just one more time. Hello, Universe. I miss you. I certainly wouldn't mind having your council once again. It is the eve of the first big holiday three fifths gone, four fifths missing if you count for circumstance one couldn't really blame anyone for.. It's just the way it is. The way can be lonely sometimes. So, here we are, minus the backbone, minus the glue that held us all together, in a time I knew would come, just not so soon. The time is now. Welcome to the future. I call 2024 the future, even though it will soon be the past. Why? Because I just can't accept it as my present. Three fifths gone, three fifths gone. I knew in the abstract, not so much in reality. The future is now, and this future is kind of a drag and one hell of a bummer. Three fifths gone, three fifths gone. I thought I had years to prepare, but I didn't, and I was not prepared. Three fifths gone, three fifths gone. It's hardly a circle when there are only two points. Merely a tangent, just a straight line, really. No radius. No deflection angle. There is not enough data to calculate. Except in this case, I remember every one, every point, every loved one. You could plot them on the graph of my heart. For that reason, there will always be more to me, more to us than a simple line. It need not be here and now to be real to me. Old souls, new souls, and shooting stars, eight and a half billion points of light. Orbits in the cosmos, order in the chaos, never near, never known, never seen. It is a big enough universe that many orbits never cross. All but a few. Ah, but those few can change the course of a heart and soul, direction, and destiny. A game of pool on a cosmic scale? It's funny how most of the basic necessities of life are within reach with a bit of effort. They may not be exactly what you wanted, but certainly what you needed. Even in these uncertain times, in a land of plenty, most needs are almost guaranteed to be met if we try. Everything, that is, except love. With everything else, one can learn to be happy with what they have. Here, there is no such thing as a little or a lot. Either you have it or you do not. Here you are either fortunate or you are not. Here, you either chose wisely or you did not. When small talk is exhausting, when you can't accept a mere picture and a few words truly represent a human being. When you realize you could get on much better if it were 1985 or so, because this new way is alien, unfamiliar, and intimidating. Then maybe, just maybe, I only now realize I am my own roadblock. It's like looking through these figurative bars at the guard and the warden... Yet seeing my own face staring back at me. Sunday was one of those phantom days I may or not have spoken of. It was a day that mostly didn't exist for me. I guess I didn't exactly exist to the day either as anything more than a sleeping form curled up under the covers. I briefly got up that morning, decided I just didn't feel like dealing, thought I'd take a 'short' nap, and woke up as the sun was going down. I got up for a bit, laid back down, and suddenly, it was Monday morning. My only clear memory of Sunday was dreaming of wandering a barren wasteland, trying to find my way home. Even now, I feel as if I could easily sleep for hours on end. Maybe I'm part bear, and it's just time to hibernate. What's the best nation on Earth? Hibernation. I'm like Rip Van Winkle or Ash from that alternate ending to "Army Of Darkness." I could sleep until the end of time. It seems these days I only wake up when I absolutely have to. My reality seems to be on broken gears of time that keep jumping forward, skipping hours, skipping days, maybe even months or years. It's the only explanation for how it has become so late, so quickly. And if I am never again to wake up next to someone I love, then why should I bother with waking at all? In an ideal world (or with an ideal me), the happiness of the ones I love would be directly proportional to my own. (And it mostly is even with an imperfect me) I guess I just miss them, and maybe my selfish wish is that maybe said happiness involved me. I'm not saying it's right to feel that way, but hey, it's the most human thing of all to be wrong once in a while. And that's why ladies and gentlemen, even at my age, even after suddenly finding myself the patriarch of this family, I am still a work in progress. You know, if someone wants me around, the last thing I would ever want them to feel is that they have to struggle for my presence. Though, yes... Sometimes, I need to unplug, reset, and be alone for a while. Conversely, I never want to be anywhere I feel I am not wanted. Nobody wants to be the "Oh no, it's that guy' --err guy. (or gal or whatever). We want to be wanted, need to be needed, love to be loved, yadda to be Yoda, and Yoda to be yadda. Making sense am I, hmmmm? No? Meditate on this, we must. I may not light up a room like certain people I have had the wonderful fortune to have met in this life. (A beautiful soul outshines everything else) But, I also try my best not to take the light away like a dark cloud either. (Oh, but I'd love to be a ray of sunshine) I try to keep my focus on what I am to myself because worrying about what other people think can really bring you down. I just try to be the best self that I can be. Naturally, I am different things to different people, but I will always cherish those who call me 'friend'. As the years roll by and possibilities fall by the way, one has to find new ways to glean whatever happiness they can, other avenues, other directions, a future, and a legacy. Oh, and definition.. Wow, man... Definition. I once didn't realize how so much of what defined me was a reflection of those that I loved. Then you find yourself on your own, and you've got to relearn the whole idea of who you are or ever really were in the first place. Still, life goes on, and there's never any time to think. You've got to spend most of your life running to keep in place. I understand all too well this motivation by consequence. You've got to keep the wolf away from the door. You've got to get up and go each day because or else this and or else that. You've gotta swim up out of sleep if you want to eat and not see the vehicle, you owe all that money on get towed away. You've got to get up and go if you don't want to sit in the dark. Motivation, by consequence, bad things will happen if you don't do this or that. I well understand this. But what of positive reasons? Shouldn't there be things to both look forward to and work to achieve? Wouldn't that be the difference between rising and shining or crawling out of bed like a zombie from the grave? One is a Disney movie full of song. The other. That's a zombie movie. Full of.... zombies. Wouldn't you prefer a day filled with possibilities, full of hope? Which would you rather be surrounded by? I would rather not think that I'm too old or that it's too late. With a beating heart and some air in my lungs, I'd like to believe there is always possibility, that there is always hope. I go back and forth on whether or not to actually believe in hope. Damn, I hate uncertainty, and I am so tired of worrying. This, I simply can't do anymore. If the other shoe drops, let it drop. If everything's going to hell, let it go. There will be plenty of time to rue, lament, and regret, while I break rocks and shovel coal. Worrying now is not going to take away from it if it's just meant to be. If there is something to be done, let it reveal itself in time. Otherwise, making myself sick with anxiety is not going to help. If bridges burn, let them. I am not the damn fire department. I am tired of hurting myself by carrying burdens that save nothing and serve no purpose but to break me. It is high time I let go of a lot of things. Now, if only I could muster the courage. It is too easy to fall into despair. This feeling that you are outside of everything, a stray asteroid flung from the known galaxy, cast adrift, beyond the notice of anyone. It is too easy to feel like nobody cares, but I would bet that somebody does. And even if we pretend that it's true (and it's not) It wouldn't be a completely bad thing. If they don't care, they're not waiting for you to mess up or hoping for you to fail. And even if you have glitched out of the game and aimlessly wander the matrix, at least that means that the old rules for happiness no longer apply, and maybe you can invent your own happiness. No rules, no restrictions, confined only by the edge of imagination. Maybe you're as free as you will ever be. Let's change the subject. Weird or lighthearted? Let's do both. A video game afterlife. A tale of love, belonging.... And mindless mayhem. Aside from actually getting to be with my loved ones, the 2nd best afterlife would be a game universe. There would be three doors that I would freely be able to walk through, returning when I wish. Door number one would lead to the visual novel universe, where I could be that main protagonist, seeking the interest of anime girls. Door number two would lead to the 3D violence universe, where I would be the terror of all monsters, demons, and aliens that I would vent my frustration and rage to. Door 3? Galgun Double Peace. Judge me if you must. Sometimes, the master of romance in need of love and affection. Sometimes, the Doomslayer in need of good old-fashioned pixilated violence. Woo and romance the anime girls. Fight and defeat the monsters and aliens. Don't get them confused. Although HDoom and Monster Girl Quest 3D tend to blur the lines a bit. I guess there are some people even weirder than I am. Though I admit to having both games saved somewhere. Just preserving early 21st century culture, my friends. Really! It gives a whole new meaning to night at the museum, doesn't it? Actually I play a variety of computer games. They are an escape from my troubles, if only temporary. They are a welcome reprieve from my thoughts. In many games there are save slots, so you never run out of time, and you can always go back and make a better decision. Even the monsters and aliens never truly die. They're always back to fight again when I come back to the game. In that way, my pixilated enemies are actually old friends I have known for most of my life. Those two former humans in E1M1 must really be good sports. I have defeated them many thousands of times in these last 31 years, yet they'll be back when I play again. They help me escape. I really owe those guys a beer, don't you think? It's probably tough to find an open bar on Phobos this time of year. And I better not get started on these well written visual novel characters that I have real life feelings for. There was a long time I thought I would never again feel so deeply or so strongly for a real person again... But I did, didn't I? Yes I did. Sadly, I do not have the skills or the saved games in real life. In the real world, some hearts, no matter how wonderful, no matter how kind, are just not winnable. Here I'm not a main protagonist, just some human in the background. Being once surrounded by family, people who truly loved me, I was a bit insulated from this cold emptiness. Now, not so much. This loneliness really digs in where it hurts the most. If this were a visual novel (Or a universe constructed by a compassionate god) then such a person (who seems written in a way where I can't help but love) would surly be the one to claim me if I were to do and say the right things. Imagine an actual ending, an extended hand to take hold of mine. Imagine the perfect evening sunset and the way the light falls upon us. Yeah... Visual novels have truly destroyed my perception of reality. At least I can fight some monsters when I get home. They'll always be there for me. They may not attack me with love in their hearts or a flower in their mouths, but they're always there for me when I need to put unrequited love, financial troubles, or never-ending grief out of my mind. Hey, is that the blue key I see in that sunlit room? Alright guys, let's rock. 

 And now, the day after the day after... 

Well I managed to successfully cook my very first turkey. I am a proficient cook, but I've never been a fancy one. I can prepare a lot of basic meals, but nothing super complicated. I did okay for my first time. I think Momma would be proud. So it was just my three sons and I, a very surreal Thanksgiving indeed. My sister sent a ton of leftovers later and since then I have been totally pigging out, falling into super deep food comas, waking up and playing some Doom to chase the loneliness away. Perdition's Gate to be exact. Speaking of which, I got totally destroyed by the same Cyberdemon twice. Guess I'm prepared for Cyber Monday, Roooooo! I really need to get myself right. This disconnect sure ain't serving me well.  I hate feeling like there are things in life I really need to survive, but are totally out of my reach. Some of this I admit to at least being partially my own damn fault, bad decisions when I was young and stupid. The rest was circumstance, falling chips, and crumbling cookies. and "Sorry, try again" only works so many times. I pray to the universe that I will have more to live for, more to look forward to than merely old age and death. And failing the universe, I pray to the de facto goddess I call Oblivia to please not be too slow in rescuing me.  As beautiful as she (or the thought of her) is to me, her loving embrace would still not be my first choice. The loving arms of a human being, warm, kind, and wishing to be just as much as I, would be far preferable to the all encompassing embrace of eternity and nothingness.  But either would mean an end to this loneliness.  Help me Universe Kenobi. You are my only hope.

Wolves, Doors, And Uncertainty

Once upon a long time ago, music was my gateway to this fantasy realm where everyone was kind and everything was groovy, dream scenes of watching sunsets and the peace of being truly among friends. No hanging on to yesterday, no worrying about tomorrow, just this constant state of now with the sunlight and shadows being just right in that late evening way that could have been painted on canvas and framed in this serene work of art that could sell for a ransom. A good tune and a good groove would take me away from difficult reality, to a time I only imagined would be long before I was born. Not that the world was ever really like that, not even in the summer of love. Back then, (My then being the late 1980s and early 1990s) music was my drug, and like with all drugs, you can never really equal that first high, aquamarine dreams in technicolor. When you get older, not even your dreams remain the same. Reality is that constant water that slowly erodes the bedrock of those dreams. It has had enough decades, I guess, to do its work on me. It has eroded a part of myself, lost in the river of time, a bit of my core I wish I could recapture. Doctor Soran was right. Time is a predator that never fails. It steals youth, possibility, and imagination. If that wasn't bad enough, time has taken away many of the people I love most. Time is a bastard. I hate to admit a bit of understanding as to why that evil doctor would destroy a planet just to return to the ones he loved. I wish the Nexus were as real as the summer of love, or at least as real as I once believed, the summer of love to be. And that the pathway were before my feet, and the door before my eyes. I would walk through. I would never look back. I, for the first time in my life, would be truly coming home. Television snow, television snow. Ah, the sound of the rain. It is so soothing. I wish it brought me peace like it once did. Ah, beautiful television snow. I wish I could fade into the background as I wished I could have faded into the one that I love. The loneliness here is beyond description. It's hard having so little time to myself, yet way too much time to think. Life is indeed the long strange trip Jerry Garcia sang about. He also sang of a touch of grey and about getting by. How long? How much longer? I wonder in my mind as I wander this earth, or at least the places I have always known. How and when will it end? Will it be in the arms of my loved ones or in the arms of Oblivia where I will never again know pain or anything at all? Or will I be punished because I could not fit this rigid mold, that I never had the chance to apply these painful lessons long ago learned? Will I truly find rest? Will I truly find peace? Tiredness of the body I can do something about. This fatigue of the soul, exhaustion of the heart? Not so much. I'm so tired of everything and everyone depending on me. Can't you see you're killing me? I have done my best for a very long time now. I have had a lot on my shoulders, and I think it's time for me to breathe again. I can't carry the whole damn world forever. I need time, and I need space, and maybe a bit more reason to pull myself out of sleep rather than keeping the wolf away from the door. Can I work toward something positive instead of always working against the negative consequences of keeping the bill collectors and the repo man at bay? Aside from taxes, they really couldn't take my home, but sitting in the dark, forgoing food and human interaction might be hazardous to my physical and mental health. I would like a life worth going through all this effort to sustain. I need the council of my loved ones more than ever. The fact that so many of them are no longer here does not change my need to hear their words. I miss them more and more. This world still has billions, but it feels empty without them. I was never so good at dividing my heart equally, and fate took the ones with the biggest pieces of it. They were also the ones who knew me best, the ones who could see more into my being. Life and the world that we see is a paradox, for our worlds can differ greatly, even though we're all on the same planet. I can't truly know what it's like to be you. You can't truly understand what it's like to be me. Even though we're both human, both alive, both with hopes, dreams, fears, our own struggles, our own pain, and our own comforts. And, yes, even our own reasons for going once more into the breach, once more with feeling, for saying to hell with fear and letting whatever happens happen. And the enduring hope that at the end of the day, there is always home, and that home is never just a place, but a person. And that it is the soul that too needs rest, just as the body. Keeping the defenses up 24-7 drains both energy and sanity. You've got to have that safe harbor to lower your shields, to repair mind, body, and soul. Just a note from one human being to another, with love, with compassion. Understanding is not a requirement, but doesn't it do a heart good when they try? It's strange how foreboding can seep into one's dreams. I'm not sure what's up with me aside from my various worries. Uncertainty and anxiety ain't exactly peanut butter and jelly. It's more like gasoline and matches. Everything seems to be chaos. Damn holidays. This will be the first one spent at home, home being the same place that once held a family of five. Just one sister and I survive for the 2024 holidays. My sister will be with her boyfriend's family... So it's just my boys and I this year. When his parents passed, Dad had Momma and all of us by his side. When my Granny passed, Momma had Dad and all of us by her side. What do I have? That's a good question. I better not answer because I might get bitter. Let's say it seems I've got a lot of people relying on me, and no one to rely on myself. I feel like I'm seen as an endless money supply or an endless supply of the things money buys. Meanwhile, I struggle on. All I know is I have worked continuously since I was 19 years old, aside from 10 months unemployment about 10 years ago. I have no luxury of any choice whether to work or not. It's life, you know? And will there ever come a time when my life is once again my own? If I must live with loneliness, shouldn't I have the freedom that goes along with it? When I say I've done my time, I really have done some heavy time. I spent much of my life with both the downside of being a family man and the downside of being a single man. Because, unlike on TV, and understandable when I put myself in their shoes, Nobody wanted one half of the Brady Bunch. (Besides, unlike me, the Brady's seemed to be well off, financially). Still, I bore no resentment, not to them, anyway. I was the one who stayed, and not merely because it was my responsibility to do so. I wanted to, and it was only right to do the best I could for them. I'll never claim to have been perfect, but I did okay. I don't even know what I'm trying to say here, except I'd like to actually live before I die, rather than just merely existing and surviving. After all this time, am I really asking too much? Oh well, this is just me getting it out of my head and onto the page. Indeed, sometimes I wonder if my life will ever be my own again. I really feel I've done my time, some heavy time, A family man but a single man, with all the responsibility of the former, and none of the freedom of the latter, yet the struggles and the stress of the former, and the loneliness, emptiness, and self doubt of the latter. One half of the Brady Bunch, except for the paycheck to paycheck life of struggling for every penny. I bear no resentment. Not to the kids anyway. None of this was their doing. If anything, it was my poor decision. I tried to be a white knight, Mr Fixit, and failed. My advice to all would be Mr Fixits is to keep this simple thought in your upstairs brain, and don't fall fool to the other one. Changing yourself is hard enough. Changing someone else is impossible unless they themselves truly want to change. The helping and the healing should be a two-way street. Don't give all of your heart and soul only to find yourself an empty container discarded in the foodmart parking lot. In a grandly designed universe, long years of sacrifice and struggle would mean something. There would be a light at the end of this long dark tunnel that isn't an oncoming train. Still, I fail to see it, and I sure as hell ain't getting any younger. In a glittering ideal world made by the hand of God, I would have earned some peace and maybe a chance to live before I drop dead. Instead, I live in this absolutely real universe of random chance and bad choices, where the crime of falling in love and buying into the lines and the lies, merits a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Will I get a chance to actually feel alive again? If loneliness is what is meant for me, then at least give me the freedom. Why in the hell is it that I am constantly left alone in every way possible, except for the one way I actually want to be left alone? In fact, leave me in peace, but not alone. Damn it, I am tired, so very damn tired. It gets figuratively claustrophobic and quite soul crushing. In space, one can't scream because there's no air, and nobody could hear you anyway. Here on earth, I could scream, but I think it would rather hurt my situation than help it. Well, maybe a vacation in Chattahoochee might actually help, three square meals, good drugs, and people wanting to keep me all calm and chill. I am Napoleon! Okay, even if I'm not quite ready for the nuthouse just yet, I still need to find a place where there are no human ears to hear and let loose with a scream worthy of Captain Kirk or Fay Rey, Just scream out as loud as I can and scare the poor woodland creatures. Failing that chance, I guess the best I can do is write. In many ways, the good Doctor Blog-ieo is all I have left. I hate it when I have a day like this. I can't completely blame it on my surroundings, nor the people I deal with. It's the same world and the same people. Half of my battles will always be inside myself. And some days, quitting time merely means a strategic retreat home and to my bed in the hope that sleep will grant me the chance to try again tomorrow. I have to do the best I can with both body and mind. I can't say I'm happy with either, but what other choice do I have? This is how I am able to keep these thoughts to myself, yes, by expressing them. Counterintuitive, right? Well, very few ever venture into my blog, much less the ones I'm around every day. Besides, here I'm the great Cosmic Wie, and I could be anyone. Nobody, but Uncle Sam knows who I really am. Well, that and anyone who might look closely enough to find the link on my social media pages. Nobody, really. I'm not exactly important enough to spy on. Oh, Hello, Uncle Sam, Please help your extremely broke relative. Send me many pictures of Ben Franklin. I think liberty is something only the rich can afford these days. As my father once told me, we're all enslaved by the almighty dollar. Freedom? That's bullshit. We're all imprisoned by something or someone. The mind is the worst prison of all. One can't really escape. Run as fast and as far as you might, but you'll never get away from yourself. Really, there's got to be a better way, an out that isn't exactly an out. Though I couldn't even hazard a guess as to what that out could be. I just want a lot of peace with some meaning thrown in. I'm sorry if I can't accept those old answers that really are just guesses and always were. I need so much more than faith. I need knowledge. I need an answer that actually makes some sense. It's not that I won't, more that I simply can't accept anything less. Wanting to believe in something, even needing to, is just not the same as actually being able to. It's been one long strange trip. I wonder how much longer it will be. Eternity minus whatever that is will still be eternity. I just wish I could rest in peace, yet still be quite alive and actually living. Existence and survival are not enough for me. I need so much more than that. Where or from whom that may be found, I could not say, but if wishes were answers, I would have exactly one. That's why so many of us spend a lifetime wishing away. People and the encounters I have with them can be so different. I hate to say it, but some have this negative energy that can be so draining. But others don't even have to say a word or really be anybody but themselves for their presence to be soothing and reassuring. Maybe that's why I will always love them like I do, even knowing they could never feel the same. At least I can be in their presence once in a while. I can't say why I find it so healing to be there, but I have to settle for whatever I can get, even if I can't help but wonder how peaceful and safe it would feel to be held by them. Damn it. I'll never know, but I will always wonder. I can't exactly help my feelings. I can control what I do, but I can't change how I feel. As I said, holding back love hurts more than holding onto hatred. It's so hard to bite my tongue instead of expressing my deep adoration and love for what I can never really have. I have encountered many souls in this long trip of a life, but none like this one. I can't exactly put my reasons into words except that that particular soul will always have my love, no matter what. Even if I never see them again. In a grandly designed universe, feelings would be mutual, and everything would be wonderful. Not so much in random chance reality. For want of a nail, for the flip of a coin, for the hit or the miss of an asteroid, go we. That's how we avoided being dino chow, and that's why I'm alive today to contemplate the letters W, T, and F... Oh, and the number 9. What's the special word of the day? I can't say it now, but remember to shout it out loud. I think it was one of those, Mr. Rogers didn't teach me. Get it past the censors if you can and have a lovely day in the neighborhood. Perhaps I should elaborate: It never happens anywhere else, but when I type the words, I love you, her name appears. The suggested text on my phone might potentially be a dangerous thing. I guess I must have confessed my feelings somewhere in these long walls of text, maybe last summer. I mean, it's true. I can't help that I feel that way. The better I have gotten to know her over this past year or so, the more endearing she has become. Yes. Both Google and Uncle Sam know that I love you, (name redacted). See, I didn't type her name. Google typed it for me. I know it's true. So does Google. So does Uncle Sam. Hey, NSA, do you have any suggestions as to how to win her heart? No? All that spying, and you still don't know shit. Shouldn't the government know everything? I guess Google only echos the fact of my feelings. It doesn't make it any more possible for her to feel the same way about me. This I have to accept and I have for the most part. It's just a shocker to see her name show up when I speak of love. Though It does make perfect sense. She is one of the most beautiful, interesting, intriguing, intelligent, kind, sweet, lovely, and yes, lovable person I have ever met in my life. I can't make anyone love me. Love can't be forced. Though I would do anything to win her heart, if I could. Heck, I would do most anything within reason even if it wouldn't, just for her asking me. Not because I foolishly think it would make her love me, but just because I love her anyway, and when you love someone, you want to see them happy. (Even when it is breaking your heart) Because she means so much to me, It's hard to say no. I guess I should count myself lucky that I've gone and caught feelings for someone I know in real life, even if she can't return them, than for it to be some romance scammer online determined to fleece me of my last dime. And I'm not one of those crazies giving all their money to some paywalled website. At least, she is a real person. Incidentally, her realness is what I love most about her. In those eyes, there is a beautiful soul that I just can't help but love. I have come to accept that it's not meant to be, and her friendship means everything to me, but I have also accepted the futility in denying to myself, the truth of my feelings. One plus one is two, E is equal to MC squared, and I love her. These are facts. And I must live with facts. Facts can be cruel sometimes. I just wish that if it can never be me, she would at least choose someone who would see her the way I do. Whoever that might be would do whatever it takes to make her happy. And to see my dearest friend happy would take away much of the sadness in myself. Not all, mind you, but most. Part of me can't get past wishing I were hers. Oh, well. That's my story, Uncle Sam and Google. Don't take the book and movie rights. AI could never generate someone so wonderfully real. Maybe imitate but never duplicate. Random chance may not be a god, but it seems to be capable of grand design after all. Maybe it's a devil, too, to create the perfect love of my life, yet make me not be that one. In surfer speak, bummer, dude. What is more important is that my special friend finds happiness and a real chance to shine. Let the world at least see what I see, this wonderful person who deserves to be cherished and maybe realize a dream or two. And like Forest Gump, that's all I got to say about that. Oh, and I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is. And to quote Nazareth, Love hurts. Not only this particular unrequited love, either, but all love that has nowhere to go. This love for my mother and father, this love for my dearest sister. Thanksgiving's gonna suck. Christmas is gonna suck. January 23rd is gonna blow hard. That will make three long years. Do I carry on because she, because they would want me to? How long must one burn in the flames of time to be reduced to the ashes of madness? I guess that depends on whether the flame consumes you or tempers you, whether it takes away your resolve or makes you stronger. Does it make you a winner to be the last one standing? Or does it merely mean the longer you've stood, the more you have had time to lose? And what is strength, anyway? I can be so much stronger for the ones I love than I could ever be for myself. In fact, those who stood with me made me strong. In life, we all win, and we all lose. I would like to do more of one than the other. That is the goal. That, too, is my wish for you. Still, I feel empty without those who once stood with me. It is good to still be standing, but who truly wants to stand alone? Not me. Not anymore. And so, Doctor Blog-ieo, along with whatever friends, Romans, robots, or strangers who might be reading, what do you think of this mess of a mind? Keep in mind I say so much here to keep from blurting it out elsewhere. This keeps me (barely) gainfully employed and out of the nuthouse. I was about to say out of the madhouse, but hell, this whole world is a madhouse anyway. Here I can rant and rave all the live long day and very few will be the wiser. I think I once said that I go insane on these words so I don't go crazy here in reality, not at work, not around my kids or any of the people that I love, not out in public spaces where I may or not get srnt to the funny farm. It's just between the universe, and you (whoever you may be) and me. Here is where I tell most but not all of my secrets. I talk about my outer struggles and financial worries. Here I talk about my inner struggles, anxiety and coming to terms with grief. Here I speak of an unrequited love I just can't help but have in my heart for a certain beautiful soul, despite reality, despite impossibility. I guess when I love you, I just do. Here I tell most but not all of my deepest secrets. Though I may hint about what I don't explicitly say about the rest. Here, one can learn all they need to know about the great Cosmic Wie and maybe then some. Since I'm going on three years, and going on two megabytes, there's probably not much that I haven't said or implied somewhere in these words. I am undiagnosed, unsupervised, and on my own. I would hate to leave this world without leaving behind a record that describes as best I can the person I am. If not for eternity, then maybe for posterity. Maybe these letters will find someone going through the same things. Maybe it will help them to know they're not alone, that somewhere in space and in time, there exists a soul who would understand. I would certainly want this, too. Wouldn't it be wonderful to look into a set of eyes and see a glimmer of understanding, maybe even a bit of yourself? Here in space, here in time, go I, waiting for something within nothing, for that long ago echo to come 'round again. May there be meaning. May there be reasons. May there be light.

If Ya Smell What The Wie Is Cookin'

Lyrical Anniversary Smackdown.

I may not be the real Slim Shady, But I'm gonna stand up and I'm gonna lay it down. And friends, it goes a little something like this: We all make mistakes. 26 years ago today, I made a whopper.... And I never worked for Burger King a day in my life. Even though once upon a lifetime ago, I let you have it your way.... If only to keep a fragile peace. And it took a long traverse through a hell on earth to say today, my way or the highway. But not you in any way, stay away. Happy Anniversary, you slime. Sooooo, how did it all work out for you? Did you improve your life by abandoning not only me, but three little children? With some help from people who actually cared, I managed to get them raised. Still, maybe I could've done better with some help from the other person responsible for bringing them into this world. You know, I can forgive what you did to me. Even a heart with the best of intentions can fail at perfection. I know I wasn't perfect, but I remember putting in my best effort, working the craziest of hours, leaving you the car and the checkbook, lunching on the cheap to provide these kids with a decently wonderful Christmas that year. What a SNAFU shitshow that turned out to be! And if all that wasn't enough to make me despise everything you turned out to be, there was all the times you feigned concern for these kids, just to get to me. Is this an empty accusation? Hell no. Our youngest is now 21 years old. Where the hell have you been since he turned 18? Nowhere. Why? Because you'd need no longer deal with me to want a relationship with him or his brothers. And don't say I made them despise you, too. I did nothing of the sort. I never once told my children what to think or how to feel. As Obiwan said to Anakin on Mustafar, You have done that yourself. See, they're not stupid, they're not blind to everything you've done. No, I did not make them hate you. You did that. You are even less of a mother than you ever were a wife. Do you really expect them to feel any other way? I did not keep you from them then, and I won't keep you from them now.... Unless they ask me to intervene. So, if you want to try to build a relationship with any of them, now is the time to get up off that ass and be a decent human being. Ha! You couldn't even fake being a decent person. It was only my stupid naivety, and thinking with the wrong damn brain that allowed me to fool myself oh so long ago. The only good thing that ever came from it was these three young men that are here today. I won't be hurtful to them by saying I wish I never met you. But I will say I wish I had made these boys in a lab with test tubes, beakers, a stack of Playboys, and some eggs from some dumb whore who sold them for beer money for her sleazy boyfriend. At least I would have started off with the knowledge I would have to be both mother and father to these children for the vast majority of their childhood. Maybe I could have been better prepared. I hear it all the time about deadbeat dads. And yes, they do exist. There is indeed good and bad in all buckets of humanity, whether you divide us by gender, race, or any other demographic. I also do not wish to downplay the great sacrifices a woman makes to bring life into this world. Still, biology did not make her love them more, nor does it make me love them less. I can't exactly help that I could not have carried my children, or have experienced the miracle of life within my body. But, damn, I wish with all my heart that I could have. I'm not saying it would be easy. I'm not one for pain, and morning sickness is a hell of a thing. Still, to carry a life within is a beautiful experience that a biological roll of the dice denied me. To have carried my children would have been consistent with basically being both mother and father to them for so much of their lives. Deadbeat mothers exist. I wish the world better understood this very fact. Just because you're not a man does not mean you can't be a shitty parent. Ten years married, sixteen years divorced and a single parent of three. It's been a long road, and I have lost many good people along the way. Oh and one terrible, back stabbing, low down, cheating, double dealing, lying, shitty excuse for both a woman and for a human being. Happy Anniversary, Scumbag. I hope you're proud of yourself. Life is short, you know. We're not getting any younger. I know without a doubt that in the day I may grow old and weak, My children will be by my side because I was with them when they needed their parents. Can you say the same? Whether you believe in Karma or not, you can certainly believe in consequences. Maybe you should consider mending your relationship with them. It may be like trying to reassemble ashes from a bridge long burned, but it is the only hope you have. You know, I hope we both live a long time. I want you to finally see how bad you messed up. I want you to see that these kids should have always been the most important part of our lives, no matter how things may have turned out between you and me. And I want to live long enough that you can never dare draw social security off of me. You have stolen your last damn penny ever generated by my many years of work. I swear I will live two hundred years before I let you touch a freaking dime. You have one last ghost of a chance to try and repair any semblance of a relationship with these three grown kids of ours. I do not know if it's possible at all. But if I were you (and thank the merciful universe I'm not) I would give it the 'ol special ed try. Just leave me out of it. I have no need, want, or desire to ever see or speak to you again, unless it's in Hell. And if so, I will be sitting on the red hot rock as far away from you as possible. Have a nice day. Oh, and happy fucking anniversary. 

Elephants And Donkeys Again

How about a nice clean cup move down subject change, ladies and Gentlemen? What do ya say? Now that I've laid down a few words about one jackass in particular, how about I talk about more generic elephants and donkeys? C'mon, man! Let's get political. Ah, social media: What good is it for anymore? The politics and religion haven't even slowed down. The donkeys are whining. The elephants are gloating. And me? I just want them all to shut the hell up. Being I fall on different sides whether we're speaking foreign policy and social issues, or economics and my bottom line, you could say I both lost and won. Of course, you can't get very intellectual or philosophical when your cupboard is bare. (When Hubbard bent over, the government took over and proved they had a bone of their own) Of course, my own radical belief is that people should be able to make up their own minds. Give them proven facts and watch the miracle that young minds can be. No, there's not much else beyond religion and politics in the land of faces and books anymore. There is this one dude who feels the need to tag me in a hundred posts that don't have a damn thing to do with me. It seems my writings and my photography get buried amongst the noise. I really wonder if it's worth trying anymore. I guess I will. I mean, if I see anything beautiful, I will photograph and share. Mainly sunrises, flowers, and sunsets. And of course I will keep on writing because it is what I do. Words said are words said, even when speaking to an empty room. It at least reminds you that you still have a voice. And it's true: In space, no one can hear you scream, but that's what radios are for. Houston, we have a problem. Lieutenant Dan? Ah, but take heart. If a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear, the Sierra Club is still gonna get annoyed, and the logging company is gonna be aggravated by the apparent lack of progress In short, it's hard to live in the middle when so many live in one extreme or the other. As Ricky Nelson learned at the garden party, you can't please everyone. It's quite lonely here in moderate land. And be it religion or radical thought in the other direction, folks should indoctrinate the children on their own time and on their own dime, not in school. No religion. No politics. Objective facts, not subjective opinions. Opinions should be the domain of the students, based on their own conclusions. No indoctrination of any kind. No radical left. No religious right. Bullshit should be a separate education. It is okay to have a world view. It is not okay to force it on others. Yep. It's a wasteland, devoid of any compromise, any understanding that not everybody's going to think a certain way. It's either think a certain way or you're Satan himself. Hell of a thing, isn't it? Freeze! Thought Police! Hands where I can see them! What's this? An original thought? How dare you stray from the party line! The Red police will call you a commie. The Blue police will call you a nazi. It doesn't matter if you're just an American just trying to survive a rotten economy. These days, sadly, in the eyes of many beholders, original thought might as well be original sin. That's how far we have fallen. How is my only choice between two extremes? It's just insane. And that's why I stayed home on election day. It doesn't matter to me whether they're a woman or a man. It doesn't matter whether their skin tone matches mine. My only question is, can they do the damn job? How do they differentiate themselves from the long string of failed policies of the current idiot. What are they going to do differently? See, back in the day, I didn't care who was "debriefing" President Clinton in the Whitehouse late at night, so long as the economy was roaring along. He's not the first president to be involved in that sort of thing. Hey, they call George Washington, the father of our country, right? Oh, and don't get me started on the Kennedy's and Marilyn Monroe. Bill was just the only one who got caught. I would imagine that the temptation and the influence must be super high. How high? "Hey, baby. I'm the leader of the free world. What do you think of Air Force One and the mile high club?" My point is my bottom line is my main concern. You can see how that might piss off a few people in social land, but my first concern is the ability to provide for myself and my family. When you mess with that by any means, you've lost me. Beyond that focus, I'll say this: You can't be a biological dude in women's sports and call it remotely fair or right. Besides, I never understood this whole transitioning and then getting into sports thing. Seems one would want to be involved in more feminine things. Really, dressing up, shopping, fun things like that. Magical Girl 9000! Why wouldn't someone who identifies that strongly wish to be emitting every bit of bright pink girly power as possible? It would just make sense for someone rejecting their given sex by being as absolutely girly as possible, rather than hypothetically tackling some poor girl on the 50-yard line. That would not make me feel pretty, now would it? Not at all! Let's consult the officials. (throws yellow flag) Penalty! Then again, I never really gave a damn about sports, anyway. But hey, that's just me. I am all about inclusion in many things, but one should be respectful and not force it on others. People have the right to be their true selves. People also have the right to be left the hell alone. And look, there are many things I understand more than most people will ever know. I understand well this need to be your true self, to see your own soul in the mirror. Nothing sucks worse then when they don't match. Still, you've gotta be respectful to that being you're trying to express. I'm not saying that you've got to 100% pass, but one should at least make the effort. I mean, really. What do you truly wish to be? A Marvel supervillain? A dollar store version of The Crow? A cross between Doctor Frankenfurther and Pennywise The Clown? I'm sorry, but walking into the ladies' room looking like Nutso The Clown in a dress with a goatee, ain't gonna make people like you very much. That's just gonna scare people. And scared people react in one of two ways: Flight or fight. With fathers, it's always fight. Either be serous or go home. Highlight and conceal. That's what makeup is for. Do not disespect the gender. Be the gender. Don't dream it. Be it. But do or do not. There is no try. Well, there's at least making a genuine effort and not being a creepo. Still, either you are or you are not. Do not hover. Do not harass. Mind your own damn business. And that should go for everyone in the room. Freedom really is a two-way street. Nobody should feel unsafe, and everyone should have a right to safety and privacy, no matter who they are. It may be a big world, but sometimes plenty of space is necessary to ensure the safety and privacy of everyone. Really, there should be at least one single occupancy restroom. I, myself, really don't like anyone being in the damn bathroom with me, women, men, or aliens from Uranus. Taking a crap should not be a spectator sport. Be you a king or be you a queen, you should be able to rule the throne alone and never be challenged while performing royal duties. See how my opinion would draw the ire of both extremes? Oh, but as Billy Mays used to say, I'm not done yet. Immigration. Now there's a fun topic. And here is my take: Americans are Americans, no matter their race. But there is a difference between Citizens and illegal aliens. How the hell is it racism to want to do something about the border? There are many American citizens of Latin descent. Why did so many of them vote the way they did? Because they're struggling just like the rest of us. Why should all their effort to have become citizens have been for nothing? They struggle with the higher cost of living and this messed up economy, just like many other citizens. They care just as much as the rest of us about safety, security, and prosperity. They are American citizens. It's not about race. It is about following the laws of this country. Geesh! It's time to stop the insanity. Let the illegals actually make the effort of becoming a citizen instead of just showing up and expecting resources that would otherwise go to our own struggling people. There should be a legal path that takes some effort but is achievable for anyone serious about becoming a citizen, not chaos in the border towns. And the parents really should be held accountable for putting their children in that situation, not the country they decided to show up in. Isn't that endangerment? Parents who are citizens here would certainly be in a heap of trouble, so why not those who aren't? There certainly is a double standard going on here. It's not racism to want a secure border. As I have said, Americans are Americans, no matter their race. Unfortunately, we can't fit the whole world here. You know, our own government is partly to blame. All this nation building didn't work. The whole idea of creating mini Americas around the world was a stupid thing to do. The people have to actually want a country in the first place. And they certainly don't want us over there, do they? And now it seems they want payback by nation building in our own backyard. It would be too much to fix their own problems back home. You know, I'd love to just parachute into a beautiful far away place and be declared a citizen upon landing. But, they would deport my butt back to the US of A in an instant. And if they speak a different language than what I know, would it be right for me to refuse to learn the lingo while expecting citizenship? They would most certainly boot me onto a plane back home. Now, why should it be any different when the situation is reversed? But if you stand up and say this is flat out wrong, then you get called a racist. I am for legal immigration all day long. Welcome home, new friends! In fact, the economy needs an inflow of fresh minds to be strong. But this uncontrolled mayhem has to stop. It simply has to. No, you can't exactly please everyone, can you. Just remember that the only time people resort to name calling us when they've hopelessly lost on the facts.

Anxiety (My Greatest Enemy)

Hello, Doctor Blog-ieo. It's me, your favorite patient, and goodness, I have been having trouble of late. So let me lie back on the figurative couch and tell you all about them. Some of my problems are outside of myself, like the one hell of a financial pickle I find myself in. Others are quite internal, not to mention, quite infernal. Anxiety is a hell of its own, undiagnosed, untreated, because I can't afford a real mind doctor. It seems that you, the good Doctor Blog-ieo, are the only therapist I can afford. I have to do what I have learned so many times to do, make do. Still, it's so difficult sometimes. The weekend should be either a time to relax or a time to catch up on things around the house. Either way, it should be a break of some kind. Sadly, when anxiety rears its hideous head, there really can be no peace or rest. Even on a weekend. I can't exactly go into details, but it was a newly discovered worry that triggered this whole mess. It just takes over my mind, and it just won't let go. I tell myself to stop, that one way or another, everything is going to be okay, but that part of me just will not listen. I just can't make it stop. I mean, I am in full-on panic, and I know that can't be good for me. I know everything is going to be okay. I know it is. It has to be. That's what I've got to keep telling myself. I mean, it is true. It must be so. I have to get my head on straight. I can't let this bring me down. I can't let it destroy my will and resolve to keep going. It can be overwhelming to take on all at once. It is a dark and scary forest. I can only face each individual tree. It's like an enormous Doom level. I could never make it to the exit if I had to fight all the demons at once. It is only when I can take them on one by one (ideally) or in smaller groups that I would even have a chance of survival. The same is true for these figurative real-life demons that are plaguing my soul. I have to break it down into manageable bits. Maybe I should make a list of the top ten demons that I need to either vanquish or make them retreat. Then maybe I start with the most troubling monster and hope I have a figurative BFG9000 to blast it with. I can never surrender. I have to fight. Sunday, I felt so depressed. I looked in the mirror, and that didn't help. I was a mess in need of serious self maintenance. At the moment, it seemed like a daunting task that would take all the energy in the world. Still, I made myself do it. And I felt so much better after showering, shaving, and brushing my hair. I really felt good for the first time all weekend. I then got in my car, went to town, and spent $99.77 of the 100 dollar bill I had in my wallet on groceries. I was actually proud of how much I was able to buy for that hundred. I later did a bit of research online and found out that my low income would most likely shield me from what I was particularly worried about. It remains a tree in the scary forest, a demon in a crowded Doom level, a concern on my to-do list, but maybe a pinky or an imp, rather than a Cyberdemon on steroids. Only Doom players will get this. In English, maybe that giant unscalable mountain is just a hill to deal with. Another demon I am dealing with is my increasingly dire financial situation. Here lately, If I actually want to buy silly things like food and gasoline and still pay bills, Health insurance, Car insurance, Electricity, Car payment, Loan payment, internet and the bug man, using the old credit card, then I am putting more on the card than I get from my paycheck to pay it back down. My credit card balance has slowly crept up over these last few months to over 2000 dollars. The limit is only 3000, and besides, I don't need that much debt over my head. So, I am resolved to work on getting these bills lowered. I kicked Amazon Prime to the curb last Friday. I haven't been able to order anything for several months anyway, and that's 15 dollars a month right there. I picked a crappier health plan with Obamacare that will reduce my monthly premium from 170 a month to zero in January. So, that's close to 200 big ones that have been shaved off these bills. It's a start, anyway. So I can say I am doing something about it. I should have a two week vacation check coming next month, That will be a grand I can pay down the credit card with. Maybe with these steps in the right direction, things are going to be okay, and even if not exactly fine and dandy, I hopefully can keep the wolf away from the door for a little while longer. Let's chase old Big Bad away. Tree by tree, I'm clearing the scary forest. I doubt I'll ever clear it all, but such is the way of life. There is only so much within my control. I really need to limit my worrying to the things I have the power to change. I say that, but Mr. Anxiety has a way of overruling me sometimes. Of all my demons, anxiety is the king who would sentence me to hell on earth. It seems to me that my reaction to things can be more trouble to me than whatever I am reacting to. Anxiety in a nutshell? Most of the time, it is not that bad, and I can manage it well by affirmations, grounding, and focusing on my breathing. Friday and Saturday, however, were atypical. It had been a long time since the panic demon last paid me a visit. That sonofabitch made up for lost time, though. He is one hell of a monster. I have to fight this monster. I have to win. I also need to maintain my mind as well as my body. I need to engage my thoughts and focus on more than what troubles me. I need to get back into the things that brought me meaning and joy in the past. I need to reconnect with happy memories and resolve to find ways to build new ones. Life is so full of uncertainty, and the unknown is pretty damned scary. Yet you can't be courageous without fear. There is a big difference between being courageous and being fearless. To me, fearlessness is foolishness. A bit of fear gives one a healthy respect for what they're facing. The future scares me more than Pennywise The Clown on crack. Still, I need to be charging into this battle like Rambo on steroids. Hey yo! To survive a war, you've gotta become war. Death is the only certainty in an uncertain life. That's why I think it takes a hell of a lot more courage to live. And living needs reasons and a direction. I need something to work toward, one major goal divided into many smaller ones. I really do need a plan of some kind. What was that whole saying about nobody planning to fail but failing to plan? I need a real plan, something beyond vague generalities. Maybe Plan Z? I hear it's lemon scented. I wish I could plan like Emperor Palpatine. Now, that was a dude who knew how to make detailed, meticulous plans. Of course, those plans didn't allow for the consequences of messing with Lord Vader's kid, but I digress. See, I don't wish to rule the universe. I just want a contented, quiet life where my work is meaningful and fulfilling, and my home is the perfect refuge and shelter. I shouldn't have to activate order 66 or Zap lightning around for that, right? Surely, someone like me is capable of coming up with a simple plan. I'm not Albert Einstein, but neither am I Forest Gump, and that's all I gotta say about that. Well, 370 big ones later for the electric bills, my card is now at 2400. Man this sucks. My paycheck should hit the bank tonight, so I'm going to put as much towards that balance as I can. Still I fear it won't be enough to stop the balance from creeping higher. Like I said, things just can't keep going on this way. I am not the United States government, after all. 

Okay the election's over. Thank goodness. Sadly, the politicking isn't. And after all this time, I have absolutely had enough. Still, they just won't shut up. Look, I don't care about anything but my bottom line. When everything is inflating except my pay, life is one hell of a struggle. I don't care what the leader looks like. I don't care which equipment they may have downstairs. All I care about is whether they can fix this mess. Anything else is just bullshit. I am going to unfollow a few folks on a certain social media site. I am tired of the obnoxious political bullshit. The election is over, and I'm sick of hearing it. I knew it would either be gloating or whining, depending on which way it went. And I just don't give a shit. Being they won't shut up, I'll just mute them. There's just certain things I'm not going to put up with anymore. I have long since burned out hearing about a process I've been long too disgusted to participate in. I just want them all to leave me alone. I've got enough of my own problems to deal with.  It's all a bunch of hot air from both sides anyway.  And that's the opinion of little 'ol me. Everybody has one. But not everybody forces theirs on others. I once heard it said that religion and politics is a lot like a certain member. It's okay to be proud of it. It is not okay, however, to wave it around and put it in the faces of people who don't want anything to do with it. Only bring it out or up for those interested in that sort of thing. And friends, I am not one of those people.