New Years Supernova

Well, Happy soon to be 2025. 

It is only a calendar invented by humans. I mean, yes, it takes about 365 and a quarter days for the earth to complete one orbit of the sun. But the year could begin on any one of those days. You know? If I invented the calendar, I would start the year on the first day of spring rather than in bleak winter. But, hey, that's just me. My grandmother, wise woman, that she was in so many ways, had deep superstitions about it being bad luck to do certain household chores on New Years Day. And I will make sure there will be a big pot of black eyed peas and a plate full of spoon bread on the dinner table. They say filling up on them brings wealth and good fortune. I know It's only an arbitrary day we humans long ago chose. But one may find tradition gains so much more meaning when so many are missing. I guess it's one way that I try to honor them. Welcome to the future, science damn it. I just had a heavy thought: 1985 was kind of a banner year of my childhood. Many happy memories of family and good friends. Now it seems I remember in school studying the long ago (ancient to me) history of the second world war, which was 40 years ago back then, black and white photographs from an ancient past. Now, it seems 1985 itself is soon to be 40 years ago. Time gets a bit peculiar as we get older, I guess. Hell, we're a decade past the "future" from Back To The Future II, and I've still not seen Jaws 19! Forget flying cars, Where the heck is Café 80's? Where it is always morning in America, even in the after-n-n-n-noon? I sometimes think that Doc should bump those time circuits up from '15 to '25, pick me up and take me back home. Of course, I'd find myself in a similar situation as the man in the Twilight Zone episode, "Walking Distance." His father told him that it might be time to look ahead, rather than looking behind. I suppose that to be good fatherly advice. Maybe I should try that myself. Still, it's not so easy sometimes. Like in a certain song about time marching on, stars are born and stars burn out. Sometimes into neutron stars or dismal black holes. Though sometimes, we get nebulae of beautiful swirling colors that can be seen for eons and a bit of stardust of literal gold. See, from my understanding, elements heavier than iron took a major cosmic catastrophe to form. If I had the fortune of having married someone who had the tendency to stay and not leave, I would still have a band on my finger that some long ago star had to give up the ghost for. Sadly, it is no longer there and hasn't been for sixteen years. Though it took a long time for the indention where it used to be to go away. Whoa. That's too heavy an element to start with. Let's start with the light stuff. Do you know how in a super massive star that's been around enough to start fusing the heavier elements, the heavy stuff sinks to the core while the lite elements are farther out? This is how I'm going to arrange my thoughts here today. Lite stuff at the top, heavy stuff at the bottom. It's a concept I may use only this time. Or I may adopt it more. Consider this an experiment for science. Great Scott, Marty, she blinded me with science! Okay, okay, lite stuff. I once had someone tell me I listen to "Old people music." Hey, it's not my fault those young whipper snappers can't come up with anything better. Now let me blast my real tunes, Sonny, and get off my lawn. As Grandpa Simpson told Homer, "It'll happen to you!" Remember that newer isn't always better. Just as out of date as my music are my pop culture references. For example, I won't mention by name the Colossal Belch Champion of a certain workplace. I could call him Oger, but who here has seen "Revenge Of The Nerds"? Either way, one has to wonder if that poor dude might need to see a doctor about his inner workings. Unhelpful Tip: Instead of following up that loud belch with "Excuse me", Give them that Gowron Leader Of The Klingon High Council stare and snarl in your most gravelly voice, "This is how a Klingon lures a mate." Now, if you get in trouble, don't blame me. A true warrior must must own up to his actions and face the resulting battles alone. Q'plah! May you belch with honor. 

Well, I got the black eyed peas and the fixings for spoon bread (Dad's recipe). I'm going to have that traditional New Year's dinner, just as if we were all still here. In the fridge are the first brewskis I've bought since before my birthday, last September. On the back porch is a considerable pile of burnable stuff for that New Year's bonfire for a personal tradition of mine. Cold night, cold beer, hot fire, and good tunes. That is, if I can between now and then, get over this damn underwater feeling. I guess I should apologize if I seem to be a grouchy grouch. Getting sick tends to piss me off. I can't help but gripe a bit, so please forgive and indulge me just this once. I haven't slept properly these past couple of nights because it's hard to sleep when you can't breathe worth a shit. Plus, I work for a place that penalizes your holiday pay if you call in the day before or the day after. Christmas was ruined because my parents and my sister are gone. New Year's Eve may be ruined because I'm really too sick to celebrate it. Maybe an evening nap will help. Oh, this freaking body of this biological organism was certainly so perfectly, so grandly designed. That is if by a god with a bit of a sadistic side. Otherwise, it's random chance evolution that's the real demon here. Either way, it sucks not being able to breathe normally. Feeling like my skull is about to dramatically come apart, like in some gross zombie movie, is an extra added bonus. Doesn't life suck enough without this crap? Shouldn't misery have a maximum quota or something? On top of being under the weather, I also find myself once again among the fortunate that have to work today. I really needed to spend today in bed. Still living paycheck to paycheck, needing the money as I do, it's not an entirely bad thing. I need every dime I can scratch out. Those bills don't stop, you know. Besides, this sure beats sitting home, staring at the walls, and thinking of the missing. (Though if I could only sleep!) Otherwise, if I must live with these holiday blues, I might as well be getting paid. Though I spent this past weekend in bed sick, and getting myself out of bed this morning did prove to be an even greater challenge than normal. Beyond feeling under the weather physically, I've just been down and glum the entire holiday season. It is not depression but indifference that scares me in my more lucid moments, this totally not caring whether I wake up or not. I am just tired of all flavors of pain, physical, emotional, and mental. They say tomorrow is always another day. It could always be a better day. This I know. I can't be too old or too late for absolutely everything. Only.... Some things, I guess. Still, those some, those few aren't meaningless and are of a sum far greater than simply nothing. It's getting just a bit lonely around here. I have learned to live with and to live without. That extra straw on this old camel's back is the loss of so many who once loved me unconditionally. This whole season is supposed to be about family, and that's what makes it tough. That there are those no longer here because they can't be, is hard enough. They say life is short. 2022 and 2024 had certainly reinforced that truth with me. I must say I was very disappointed last week. Every Christmas should be important. You only get so many. What would eclipse that importance is beyond me. I guess I'm starting to sound like my parents, aren't I? Maybe that's because after all these years, I finally get it, and I finally understand, despite the slow learner I may have been at times. All I know is that even in my days of being young and dumb, or my days of being worn down by life in later times, I knew it was only right for me to at least spend some of Christmas day with my parents, the very people who gave me life, sustained it for years, took care of me, were always there for me, never left me, thought about me, worried about me, even in the final days of their life. I can't go see them anymore. I can never again sit at their table, but what's your excuse? I may not be much, but I'm still here. I would like to think that maybe I mean something. I treasure my friends, but no buddy, no pal, should be more important on Christmas day. I'm more than a money machine, and even if I were, I should at least be worthy of precious time. There. Okay. This particular rant is over. Clean cup? Move down? Tonight, I am going to review and reflect like I always do. Highs and lows, man, highs, and lows. It is hard to believe those carefree days of 1985 that I remember so well are soon to be 40 years ago. It was one of my best summers, good friends, and wonderful times. Where did it all go? It is also 16 years ago on this very day that I was abandoned, disposed of, forsaken, left in a store parking lot by the ex... I also remember being rescued by my Dad that night. He did not forsake me, and neither did my mother nor my sisters. Looking back, I know they wished they could have taken away the pain, but what was important was that they were there for me, and I didn't have to cry alone. I just wish I still had them here today. I only thought I was alone back then. I wasn't. They were there. The first big deal is that I miss them so much. The second big deal is that I feel more on my own than I have ever before in my life. It's kind of scary to tell you the truth. I guess in the years ahead, in this second quarter of this 21st century, I guess we'll find out whether I am strong enough. They had faith in me. Maybe I should, too. It is just so difficult to see right now. If I could face everything with a clear head, then maybe I would do okay. But that's not so easy. I had so many things to get in order these past few days, but then I just had to come down with the freaking crud. It's hard to think past this undersea feeling. All I feel like doing is to go back home and crawling into my bed. Sometimes, I think it's me versus all of creation. (or all of random chance). I make all this effort to overcome, just to be knocked back on my ass. And it only takes a little while of losing to be tired of the fight. Can't I actually rest in peace before they put me in the ground? Shouldn't I have already done my time? When, when, when will I ever get a real chance to live in peace, to not have to fight tooth and nail for each day? Have I not at least earned something from these years of struggle? Too much of this insanity is a game for the young, and I'm old, much too old. In plain English, I am so sick of this shit. Leave me be, just leave me be. Whoa again... That's too heavy, even for this far down the page, even for me. Sorry about that, folks. I think this crud has put me in a very crappy mood. I'm just ill about being ill. How about we try again? Let us clean cup move down and reboot for a subject change. Wishing everyone a very merry unbirthday. I think my attitude could improve greatly if only I didn't feel so damn lousy. I am so looking forward to my bed. Society has a lot of good points. Law and order, less anarchy. But this barely making it and can't take a day off when I really need to, kinda sucks. It might not make life quite as miserable as would having to fight Lord Humongous style marauders to survive. But this having to keep going when I clearly need to rest, recover, and heal, sure ain't no picnic either. I am not a robot, no matter how much I sometimes wish I were. I am a human being with human needs that are simply not being met. A better society would allow for in times like these a few days' rest to come back strong. One should not have to be filthy freaking rich to have their basic needs met: Food, shelter, transportation, health care, mental and physical, and the necessary recovery time, should all be covered by a 40 hour work week, no matter the job. There is no reason why anybody who works full time should be going without these needs. These are not luxuries. They should be in reach for everyone out there giving their all.

 Anyway, It is so good to be home. I think I'll stay a while. Wishing all friends, Romans, robots, and strangers all the best in 2025. 

Endless Limbo

 This day seems like it could go on forever. The minutes and hours of it seem to be of the Michael Myers variety, almost impossible to end. They just get back up and they keep on ticking. Just like him. Just like me, I guess. Being Doctor Loomis failed miserably, let's give Doctor Blog-ieo a try. I see a lot of people had the luxury of taking today off. Not me, though. I need every dime. You gotta do what you gotta do. I'm just sitting here in silence. She's by my side but not by my side. It's kind of a dimensional blend, as I can't help but think how things could be. For want of a nail go we. She's in my head, in my heart, in my memories. It's reality versus the way I wish it to be. And if there were ever a time I needed it so, it is now. My thoughts turn to many things, but also to a few special people who I can't help but love, to departed loved ones, to absent friends. To the meaning of life... And of love... Of time and of space, separation along dimensional lines. To everyone and everything my heart simply can't let go of. Where the hell am I? When the hell am I? And the greater question: Why? Welcome to the future, space cadet. You are now its prisoner. Though a quarter of this 21st century is soon to be gone, with many too young to remember the last, I remember well the 20th. Now, there was a time to be alive. While the 1970s were a bit hazy because I was very young, the 1980s and 1990s are quite sharp, very clear in my mind. They could have been yesterday. This future of present day feels like an involuntary exile from a time when things made sense. Nonetheless, that time was long ago. I know I must live in now. 2025 draws near. Another year draws to a close. I am so ready to put this one behind me. After all, this one took my Dad from me. At least 2023 gave me a break from losing people. 2022 just sucked in that regard. And now? I am resolved to nothing. I just want it over with. I kinda feel like I've been scammed, like some shady crook switched my gold for fake tinsel. I've never really been one for New Years resolutions. Not for myself. I do not depend on the calendar to make changes when I know I need to. I just want 2025 itself to resolve to quit taking my beloved. They get fewer and fewer as it is... Not so many left to take... Those three, Momma, Dad, and Marsha, were more in my corner than most, throughout the many rough times I went through... Until the rough times became about losing them. 2024 also was the first year I have moved in 22 years. Now I'm back in the house I grew up in. I moved out for the final time 28 years ago... Now I'm back. I'm in what was my parent's room, surrounded by photographs of them and Marsha, by not only my possessions but by things that used to belong to them. That is where I sleep these days. I remember being in despair over the poor state of my house a year ago. It's not a problem now. You could say that mine was an expensive house. It did not directly cost me a lot of money. Instead, it cost me my father. I would gladly go back to dealing with the faulty wiring, the crappy plumbing, the poor insulation, and a place that was literally falling down around me, If I could just have him back. It was his many years of work that made this place, not mine. I guess my work will be what holds it together from now on... Though I am under no illusion that my turn here will be any more permanent than his was. I guess I need to be thinking about how I want this to go to my boys when it comes my time to go. And I can't really base that on anything, can I? My grandmother (his mother) lived five years longer than him. And my Grandpa lived almost exactly 20 years longer than him. Basically, if I could base my lifespan on Dad's, I've got just shy of 25 years left. But so many things could happen. Car wrecks, heart attacks, god knows what else. The mother and child reunion, father and son, sister and brother, is only a random misfortune away. I guess I really need to be figuring out how I want this to go to my sons. My grandpa bought the first half in 1940, the second half in 1942. My Mom and Dad had the house built in 1979, and we moved in in early 1980. I moved out at age 23, and now I'm back. And now I guess it is my plan to live the rest of my life where I spent the majority of my youth. Still... It reminds me how some places are separated by time rather than space. I hope to have the same good fortune as my father to never have to leave this place until my last day here. I hope to keep things together for just a little while longer. Well, I had to get ready for work in the dark this morning... Someone out on the highway took out a power pole and thus the power. I heard the guy walked away, okay... Power poles are notorious for not getting out of the way... Considering that, even when second guessing whether I buttoned my shirt right in the dark, I suppose my morning is still going better than who that poor soul was. I do believe this is going to be a long day. I was talking to a friend this morning about how booze just ain't a thing for everyone. These days, I'm not really into it, myself. It wasn't always the case. Pun intended. A long time ago, if I had anything less than a 12-pack in the fridge, there was going to be a trip to the beer store. Then, along came marriage, and kids soon after. More and more beer money became diaper money and formula money. When one becomes responsible for more lives than just their own, then growing up and making changes is just what we do. My father was far from rich, but I never went without a single need as a child. Who would I be to not follow his example?Then when the mother of my children left us, I basically quit altogether for a long time. As the one parent that stuck around, I could not be absent in that presence. By the time these kids got older, I guess I had been out of the habit long enough where I just don't see the appeal anymore. I look at a drink, and my first thought is the possible hangover. Not even a taste, and I already need an aspirin. What the hell, man? I guess I've also gotten used to having clarity of mind, and I've found healthier ways of escaping reality, games and hobbies, and such. Ten years ago, I bought my Dad a bottle of bourbon that he never broke the seal on. I still have it, never opened. Maybe someday I'll open it and have a drink. Or maybe if they ever have that Smirnoff pink lemonade in stores again, I'll pick up some for myself. Or maybe some of that really good high-end beer, especially draft, straight from the tap. Ah, it's been a long time. I guess as my desire has lessened, my taste has gotten more expensive. Other than that, I just don't really feel all that inclined anymore. I long ago fell out of the habit, and I really don't have much desire for going back. It certainly saves me money, and as low as my tolerance must be by now, I think I'd get a lot more bang for my buck. even with the expensive stuff. I am not sure if this is a result of getting older or getting wiser. I am not sure if this is just a result of random chance over the course of my life. Maybe people change and grow? I guess one can fall out of habits, too. I guess for want of a nail goes I. If alternate universes exist, I wonder if so does the old version? If I could invent a dimensional slider, what worlds and versions of me would I see? Still for me, there is only this universe, this dimension, this reality. I never stopped trying to escape it. I just found alternatives... Because it sure gets lonely sometimes. As I have spoken before, the universe and Bigfoot are kindred spirits, big, a little scary, and.... lonely. Does Bigfoot ever sit on a log deep in the forest and just put his head in his hands to cry? If so, then I just may understand him. We each wander the wilderness, except maybe he's not lost, but I feel as though I am. Bigfoot is a solitary creature. Hugs and being held with love don't seem to be a prospect of his future, does it. What separates a soul worthy of love from one unworthy? I wonder as I wander this wilderness of my own. Loneliness is not a sudden sharp pain of physical injury. It is an ever present ache that speaks loudly in the silence of solitude. Grief on the other hand was sharp and sudden, and what they never tell you is that it can become physical. I can't stress enough the physical blow it can be. It was like coming down with the worst kind of flu but also getting beat up by a thug. I guess over time, it does kind of fade into the loneliness that was already there, though it sometimes jumps out from behind and kicks my butt all over again when I least expect it. If loneliness is the wilderness, then grief would be the vicious beasts that inhabit it, watching, waiting, stalking. And while Bigfoot may be a most formidable creature, I am far from being the meanest SOB in the valley. Sometimes life can be much meaner. Still I plug along. I just can't understand how or why sometimes. I guess some days the sun shines and on other days it does not. The glass can be half full and still catch the light, half empty in the shadows, or shattered on the kitchen floor. All this figurative rambling boils down to the simple fact that I have my good days and bad days. Many times, I don't know which it's going to be when I wake up. Some days, I have a hopeful outlook. Some days, not so much. High tide, low tide. That's my life these days. A lot of this pours out here. Cheap therapy with the good Doctor Blog-ieo, where I go crazy here so I can fake sanity elsewhere. You, dear reader, will be the only one to know. It's our little secret. It is also the reason I write this under the alias of the great Cosmic Wie instead of my real name. Still, this is the most of my true self the world will ever see. Funny how I link to here from my social media pages that are in my real name. But, it seems to be a bit of a ghost town over there. Nobody over there seems to care enough to desire to know more about me. People not caring is not the worst thing in the world. You might think it is, but it's not. Worse would be if everyone hated me. They don't. To them I'm at the periphery, if visible at all. I feel neither loved nor hated. Not in heaven, not in hell, more like purgatory, limbo. This is where I seem to be. I'm not a pariah, not a scourge, just invisible. It's not the worst thing, but it could be better. Limbo is a lonely place. I am not an angel, righteous or fallen. I am not a demon. I'm just a human, a biological organism with just enough brain matter to ask the big questions.

General Disorder Addresses The Legions

General Confusion Sir? This is Major Disaster sitting here or standing near with all my gear, waiting and I know why, to catch that eye just one more time. I miss that good queen who needed no jewels to shine. But then was then and now is now, and it's too late for me my son. I was once the great and powerful Oz. Pay no attention to that man, behind that curtain. Why? Because even I'm uncertain. All I know is that the time has come for the great Oz to embark on a great adventure and for for all good walruses and for all good carpenters to rally to the defense of their country: Fly, my pretties, fly. There will be nothing to stop us this time. V for victory. All for the glory, and for Alice, Queen of red, and Queen of white. Out on the chessboard with that backwards knight. Fight, fight fight until broad daylight. Wonderland's taking over tonight. Tell me what do I do when the time is gone but there's still ages, when the story is over but there's still pages? And then on the day after the day it was all over, does the show still go on? Tell me once more does the show really go on? Tell me because I need to know. Is the last one standing among the ruins, among the missing, truly the winner? Because, ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Emerald City, People of Oz, denizens of wonderland, and loyal members of the mad tea party... If these are the rules of the game, then they are more confusing then a game of croquet that includes flamingos and hedgehogs. And what more can I say? Clean Cup move down! We've glitched out of the game, fell out of the story, between the pictures and the words, unsaid, unheard. It's sad to say there will be no more tales of glory. Imagine (if you will) a spaceship with thrusters but no landing gear. So long as it is on the ground near it can stay earthbound here, but what goes up can't come down here, can't turn around I fear, won't be found here. Like the wizard in his balloon, I wouldn't even try. Captain Kirk bravado to light up the sky clear to the stratosphere. Hey, I didn't make these rules, no, not I. I didn't decide these things, neither directly nor correctly. I can't quite speak to my own light, but name a shooting star that ever decided its own course through the night? Right? Outta sight. You can change my purpose, change my name, But I'm still me and the reason remains the same. You could put your dreams on a shelf, but you'll never escape yourself. The soul and the self like the song.... Remain.

Surly you've met some who have never been wrong in their life. Arguments with anyone who is right all the time, or never wrong, or says they're Napoleon Bonaparte.... Is a waste of time, energy, and sanity. Your desire to show them whatever light is no match for their determination to remain in whatever darkness. Someone who is never wrong will never be... At least in their own eyes... Step back, my friend and take a day off from teaching and let cold hard reality be the substitute teacher for the day. They're a mean one. Only the wise and the open minded know we are all teachers and we are all students, learning from one another. Ah, friendship... The eighth wonder of the world. Often imitated, rarely duplicated, and rarely initiated by me. For me, every genuine bond is a miracle and a treasure. Not everyone you see, meet, talk to, or even proclaims to be, can truly be counted as a genuine friend. Hold onto those who are real. There are some I truly miss. I find myself slowly coming out of autopilot mode... I could be on a sleeper ship, bound in deep hibernation, until I reach a distant planet, waking up in an unfamiliar place with everyone and everything I have ever loved a figment of the distant past. It kinda feels like that sometimes. Welcome to the future, space cadet. And between you (whoever you may be) and me, I am not a fan of this future. Science damn it. So much of my life seems to be just going through the motions. Once again, sleep was feeling way too wonderful to want to quit just yet. Time is relentless, though, especially those early hours. I think society has us running crazy in this unnatural trap of a treadmill. Night is for sleepy, day is for wakey. That's the way we were made, just not the way we actually live. I could drift away on a cloud for a thousand years. Sometimes, it's hard to separate these various flavors of fatigue, physical, mental, and spiritual. Sleep doesn't always help, but it is sure one beautiful escape sometimes. Sleep is the new party. Boogie down, baby, boogie down. It is amazingly unnerving just how quickly my life is passing me by, or that part of me would be quite willing to sleep the rest of this one away. The anticipated events of each day just don't inspire much enthusiasm for waking up. Just working, paying bills, and dealing with things I'd much rather forget. Next to that blissful fading away to a world of dreams, it seems to be a bit disappointing to wake up. Sometimes, I have even gotten visits there from the people I love. What does the waking world have to compare with that? Not only that, but I have often felt free of the confines of this body and of waking reality. One does not get unused to feeling free of them. Not when we are shown the vastness of the gulf between how things are and the way things should be. When a soul grows, it is hard to go back to the box of confinement, conformity, and category. I may be many things, but I am not a check-box. I am so much more. We can not go back to our old shells when we no longer fit. Therefore, here I am, just as uncertain as anyone else as to what I should do about it. Still, I've got to be myself in some way, form, or fashion. Otherwise, I'm going to lose my mind. Guess, I've got to find balance in the force, between holding back too much, or going too far, much too far. This may not be the 1940s and 50s of old style insane asylums, straight jackets and shock therapy, but even the present day stigma can be oppressive. Not everybody is so adept at putting themselves in another person's shoes, much less another's mind. Most of reality, what is real, are things we can all objectively agree on, but not everything. Just because it's all in your head does not make it any less real to you. It's not always that they see things or hear things... They feel and they perceive. Not that simply thinking you're Napoleon makes you Napoleon. If it did, there would be a lot of competition for the imperial throne of the French. Still, you can't completely separate reality from the mind that perceives it. The mind is the lens that colors our world. I'm talking about every mind that ever existed. I see, I hear, and I feel, all real things, no blue smurfs or green leprechauns. No being a super spy or having a best friend you thought you met in college but conjured him up there instead. Nope... I'm just a former surveyor and current forklift driver with a high school diploma and a vocational certificate. Bit of anxiety here. Bit of depression there... Maybe a touch of the post traumatic... Oh and one more thing, the one thing I have to leave between the lines, the one thing that weighs a bit heavier on me, more than mere perception, but my reality. Let me ask you this: If I were to say that I perceived myself in a slightly different way.... Who would be more likely to be correct? Am I more qualified or less qualified to define this particular soul because I just so happen to be that soul? Should I tell you who I am or should you tell me? Wouldn't I be more likely to know myself and therefore just who and what I am? I think we should all have our own definition. It's not about what we are but what we show. The choice is beyond who to be. Only how much we let them see. It is not creation, but observation of what has always been there. That is what so many can't (or won't) understand. And still, I don't want to get involved in all the insanity out there... Every time I make my way on this super disinformation highway I get bombarded by the insanity they try to sell me: Their products, their services, there politics and their religion. Man, I don't even want to be part of the discourse, much less part of any wars. No war for me, cultural or otherwise. Just leave me alone and let me be. Live, let live and leave alone. Make it mutual and that's my philosophy. It is a fairly big world, though for some, it's not big enough apparently. And sometimes there is just no going back.

Bummer Conundrum

Man, is it Kermit the froggy out there this morning, monster movie fog one would expect the great Lon Cheney Jr. to be walking out of. It was a hell of a struggle just getting to work today, but hey, I made it. Between that heavy fog, slow poke chowderheads, and time being the sadistic troll it usually is, It was a proper challenge, to say the least. I'm kinda feeling like a run-down clock, but I'm still ticking, if a bit slowly. The covers were soft and warm, and the sleep was particularly feeling good... I'm already missing my bed. It's my only escape these days. I remember long ago at the end of the day, I used to look forward to playing some games, watching some TV, or grooving on some good tunes. Now, I just think about sleeping. I guess sleep is the new party, huh? If that's the case, I am sure looking forward to party time. Gonna get my sleep on, harrrooo! When did I stop being young? When the kids were born? When the ex left? When I lost Marsha, Momma, Dad? When did I stop being young? That's a damn good question. I'm not sure if there's a type of survey instrument where you use stars as references, zero on one, and turn to the other. But I had a dream last night of my Dad showing me how to set such an instrument up. (Did you know there is no such thing as a fixed point in space?) Ah, space bends, and so does time. (Just not enough) You know, I think an interesting project would be laying out the Martian grid. North pole to South Pole, around the equator, then go from there. There is no line to cut, clear line of sight... But if you want GPS, better launch a bunch of satellites. Yep, I have weird dreams and an even weirder imagination. My Dad has been showing up in my dreams a significant number of times of late. It makes sense. After all, I am in his room in his house... Technically, mine. but it will always be his and Momma's house to me. There was another dream where I was driving with him, and he was trying to give directions, but I couldn't understand what he meant. The symbology isn't really that hard to decode, is it? Everything is now up to me, but I am kinda old, and I'm kinda tired, and really, I don't know exactly what I should be doing. Still, life goes on, and we've all got to keep up with the machinery lest we get caught up in it. It's life, and it's the way of the force. At least nobody ever said we have to like it. I don't mean to be belly aching here, but... Hmmmm, actually, Damn. Got one hell of a tummy ache. Feels like I've got an alien on board. Congratulations, it's an alien. I've had no change in my diet today, so I have no clue why. No encounters with face huggers either. Those Alien movies are a no-no for me. I can watch Jason, Freddy, Pennywise, Michael, Chucky, and (most but not all of) Pinhead... But aliens jumping out of tummies is where I draw the line. I can't do zombie movies either. Not even the original in black and white. I can deal with scary, but I can't deal with gross and gory. That's just not my cup O tea. Oh, don't trouble your pretty little head, dear. I'll get it. Clean cup move down? Well, here I am, another day in a not so perfect world, just killing time like always, wondering if maybe I should try something new. I've been going through the motions, drifting through the day by day, alive but aware only sometimes. Autopilot used to just be a morning thing, but I spend a lot of time these days living in my head while I just let this body do what people expect it to do. This disconnect has always been a thing, just not as usually pronounced like it has been of late. The world around can be a blurry haze, just scenery and people passing by. It's my home planet and my hometown, but it can seem so alien sometimes. Or maybe I am the alien? I can't say I know what is what, much less why. All I know is here I am, and here I'm not. My uniqueness goes far beyond my outer appearance. I would imagine anyone brave enough to read these ramblings would know this. The real kicker is there is more, so much more that I wish I could tell you about myself, things I must at least for now leave between the lines. Though I guess I'm not too subtle for the savvy. Remember: Nobody outside of you is qualified to tell you who you are or who you aren't. They lack both the knowledge and the right. I think it is totally wrong for them to butt into what should be your own personal business. On the other side of that equation, be real and don't be obnoxious. Everything has a proper context, a proper time, and a proper way. The only limit to freedom is that you shouldn't push your beliefs on others. They're free to disagree. Live and let live, my friends, but I know just who and what I am. You can't change that. Hell, I can't change that either. I am more than just some simple biological organism. I have a soul, and I know that soul, for I am that soul. I know my own aura. I know my own light. I know the colors. I know the frequency. Who are you to tell me who I am or who I am not? How can you know when you have never been me? You can't know. Not for sure. Really, it took a lot of soul searching for even I to truly understand. It is not about questioning my core truth, which has never changed, only about what I should or shouldn't do about it. My answer has been a pragmatic one, considering the imperfect world I live in. I have to find happiness within myself, even if I can't go about it exactly in the way I wish. Small affirmations here and a little reassurance there, not to mention a lot of the symbolic things that I do these days. They're not much, but they keep me going. I may not rock the boat, but make no mistake: I am the captain of my own ship, and I will decorate my quarters the way I want to. Let's fly the Jolly Roger high, mateys, Yarrrrrr! (And boldly go) There has been so much of the tried and true that has fallen by the way. And as much as I want to keep things simple, they're a bit complicated. I almost wish I were as simple as the person the ad algorithm thinks I am. I won't say I am totally different from the person you may know me to be... I am that person and then some. I am me and more. And this is not a new development. It has always been so. The only things that have changed is my life situation, my thoughts about the future, and my inner debate about exactly where the point of no return is, just where does the land drop away. Falling or flying... I guess it really depends on the trajectory. All I know is I can't figuratively stay where I am. I have been saying this for a long time, but it has not changed. Something's gotta give. I look at the last time I was able to climb out of the depths of depression, and I well remember how I did it and how it made me feel. And I have decided that it is exactly what I need again now. It has to be. There is no other way. I must have something to strive for, something to look forward to, a reason to live. And we all need that, right? There's no logic in criticizing the things we do to stay alive. It's more than survival. It is sanity, or at least a close approximation thereof, far closer than I would otherwise be. Maybe we need our quirks, quarks, and Captain Kirks. If it keeps your head above those dark waters, then by all means, do it! Life is short, and we waste too much time worrying about what other people think. You're the one who has to live your life, all the joy and all the sorrow, all the pleasure and all the pain. I'd say hold onto whatever happiness, love, and belonging that you can. That is the real treasure. We need it intensely and immensely. That is the difference between living and existing as if you were the walking dead. We are creatures of light, and we starve in darkness. Most of all, we need love. What is life without it? My heart aches for it, pines for it, starves for it, and needs it so badly. I am not exactly a fan of my own species, not exactly crazy about we humans, but it turns out I need at least one human being to love. It's crazy, huh? It is, and maybe so am I, to be so willing to sacrifice absolutely everything just to have that love. What's worse is that I already love someone. Do you know what is the hardest thing to do with the love you feel? Absolutely nothing, as if you didn't feel it. How am I supposed to pretend that I don't care when I do? I can't help these feelings that intersect the very core of my being. How does one fake indifference? Holding back on love is quite the hell on earth. Love is damn hard to hide. I would give her absolutely everything I have and all that I am if it meant she'd love me too. Still, love only means something if it's mutual. Without that, it is just a feeling, something one must learn to live with. Reality bites hard, man. It really does, that I could fall so far without a net. It's been over a year now, and I still can't shake this feeling. It drives me crazy. I get annoyed, not at her because it's not her fault, but at myself because I am the only one to blame. I guess we can't help or change our feelings, but damn. All this time trying to speak reason to my own heart, yet this deep love, admiration, and adoration I feel for her have not faded but have just become more defined and stronger. What happens when you meet someone who just becomes more and more endearing with every new thing you learn about them? How does one ever get over such feelings? Damn it. Here I go again. You know, there are a million beautiful faces, an endless array of captivating eyes, an infinity of smiles to launch an infinity of ships. You can put them all on the wheel of random chance, and every number would be a winner, all beautiful, but all the same. But what of the heart, what of a beautiful soul? And that's why for some there can never be another. There may be a billion fish in the sea, but they're not a fish. They're a treasure shining below the water, beyond the sand, far past that brilliant sparkle. They're an uncharted island of wonder. That is where they differ from all other treasure. Money can be replaced. So can a brand new car. Even a house itself is not a home. Not without this. A real, true, rare wonderful soul, can never be truly replaced. Beauty beyond what the eye can see can rarely be found, can never be forgotten. Beautiful brilliance can dazzle the eyes, but it can never erase what the heart can see. If you ever find (Or have found) someone like that, try to keep them if you can. And if your mind ever whispers, if your heart ever speaks.... Listen, my friend. It's the same love confession I keep making over and over again. I love her! If this were a romantic movie or anime, it might have become quite beautiful and wonderful. But this is real life, and real life can blow freaking hard. You can't make somebody love you. And even if I could, it wouldn't feel right anyway. If it is not of her own free will, it would be pointless. To be actually chosen would be the most wonderful feeling. But it's all or nothing in stark reality. You either win or you lose. There are no runners-up or honorable mentions. Random chance can be a real son of a bitch, if you ask me. It can be so harsh, so cruel, very unforgiving to a lonely heart. It's nobody's fault, but it hurts just the same. How can I blame someone for being the wonderful person that they are? That sounds like a me problem. After all, she's not the one hurting me. I am hurting myself over and over again by constantly wanting someone I can never have. I am at fault here. Damn it, I really need to get over these feelings. It is time for some serious self reflection. Some dreams were never meant to be. There is really no right or wrong in feelings, just in what we do (or don't do) with them. Still, holding back love hurts, man, it really hurts. I guess people are more used to hiding negative feelings. When you really love someone, It is so much harder to hold back from holding them, from comforting them, from drying their tears, because empathy says they need this and there seems to be nobody else being that shoulder, being that support you know they need and deserve. Maybe this would be easier if I thought she was truly happy where she is. Though really, it is her choice to be and I should be respectful of that choice. But damn it is so difficult to be sometimes. Let me just go on and admit that part of this could even be my own selfish need, I guess. Maybe also, however, there's a certain dude that needs to step up and be a real man for once in his life. How can the luckiest man on earth be so damn stupid? You have her love, pal. Now be the man she deserves, damn it. Because if I could steal her from you, I damn well would. Grand Theft Girlfriend, Cosmic City. In a heartbeat! So, If you love her, start acting like you do. Be kind, have tenderness, show love. Her pain is your pain. Her happiness makes you happy. This is what it's supposed to be like when you truly love someone. She needs a partner, not a boss, not a guard, not a warden, someone to build her up, not put her down, to encourage, cheer for her, to celebrate all her victories as your own. This is common sense, not rocket science. If you love her, show it! This is coming from someone who has to hide the very feelings you should be displaying. Make this wonderful woman happy. You don't know how fortunate you are. Somehow, you won her heart. Be worthy of it. End of sermon. And as for me, I need to be moving on from these feelings. More a change in direction rather than giving up. There is no sense in kicking my own heart forever. It is a cruel thing to say get over it, but I know this is what I need to do. I once gave up a long time ago. I think maybe the time has come again. I guess the differences now may be even greater than I once thought. Back then, I still had these rare people who still loved me. Back then as well, I wasn't fighting against my own love for someone. So I guess things now are extremely different. It is the day after a last hope and a last hurrah, the first page beyond the end of the book. It is a change of direction, but it is also giving up. It is closing the door on that ghost of a chance. Part of me wants to scream and shout at myself to hold on for another day, that improbable does not mean impossible, that a wonderful change could be a heartbeat away. Feelings can change, though it seems I can't change mine. I can't help but feel the way I do. And I can't just wait and wither away. I need to blossom, one way or another, within or without, inside or outside, maybe all of the above. I can't go on feeling unattractive, unwanted, or unloved. If I can not have, than I at least want to be. I guess there are no words to make anyone I know understand this. And here lives the struggle and the conundrum. Do I live for others or do I live for myself? I spent many years living for my kids. I was the only one of their parents to see this through. Now, they're grown, I want to pursue my own happiness. I don't know how much time I've got to do this. All I know is that I close my eyes each night and wake up each morning with one less day to make it happen. I am not claiming this universe owes me anything, just wishing and hoping it would be kind, show some love, and grant it to me anyway. Peace, purpose, love, and belonging: That's all I want anymore. If not in the arms of the one I love, then at least somehow, somewhere. In a universe of infinite possibilities, there has to be some small corner meant for me. There has to be. Don't leave me out here alone. Forget me not, abandon me never. Remember me. Guide me to where I need to go, to who I need to be. I'd go anywhere. I'd do just about anything if it meant truly coming home. The moon is beautiful, don't you think? It has been falling for billions of years, for long before my birth, for many times my existence, but it's still up there, beautiful and lighting up the night. It is a fall that won't end soon, for yet another eternity after I am long gone. I found it fascinating when I was a small child. I guess I do still, even now. It is maybe the one thing that has never changed. Spouses leave, kids grow up, loved ones disappear, and I grow older. But the moon is still the same. Couples in love, my parents, grandparents, and on back and back, walked under it, hand in hand, all the ones who led to me, falling still when they were falling in love. Falling on the day of their birth, falling still on the day I lost them. The phase may change, the tide may rise and fall, ebb and flow. Neil Armstrong may have even visited once, but the moon will never change. It may not be forever, but it might as well be when placed next to me. What am I in that light but the blink of an eye? Could I ever be anything more? They say we've got to make our own meaning, but they never show us how, do they? Too many fill in those blanks with religion. And while I won't argue with what gives them happiness and purpose, I know well all the while that it's not going to work for me. Oblivia, goddess of eternal nothingness, is my only imaginary friend. And while her beautiful figurative countenance and figuratively loving arms may be only my dream, she might well be quite real when it comes to literal circumstances. Scientifically speaking, eternal oblivion is just as likely as anything else. I respect those who are able to find religion to be a satisfactory answer. I, however, can not. It's not that I won't. It's just that I can't. Momma always said that can't never could, but I have honestly tried. I know she would be upset that I can not accept what she believed so strongly in. And there are times when I really wish I could. I can't believe in a flat earth sky from which the stars can fall. In the backdrop of the far away galaxies in that needle eye corner of space as seen in the Hubble deep field, there is more infinity out there than be contained in any book. Even beyond all this, though, I'd still like to believe that somewhere in infinity my loved ones still exist. I would be the last to claim any understanding of the metaphysical, or provide any answers. All I know is that it takes neither a genius nor a god to know what love is. Do you know what sucks about the waveform collapsing? All those infinite possibilities go away and then we're down to one: reality. That may be okay if that reality involves winning the billion dollar lottery, or where that wonderful human being you've fallen in love with actually loves you too. Otherwise we have nowhere else to go. In scientific surfer speak, Bummer dude. Bummer conundrum, catch 22 superglue. In other words, oh what a mess. Remember, kiddos, random chance in a blender makes for a roughie, not a smoothie. Serve chilled, adding chaos and pandemonium for that right amount of spice.

Milestones And Intergalactic Beacons

Hello, Universe.

I've been thinking about you as always. Here I am, way down in December, another year here and gone. It's soon to be another January. Three years, Sis, three years. How can this be? You were and are most of the inspiration behind these long ramblings, my letters to you. You were also why I deleted all my old writings and started fresh three years ago. I was just embarrassed that my day to day problems at the time seemed so big.... And then I lost you. I guess I've gotten back to talking about those things again, just in the proper perspective of knowing that thoughts of you will always be in the background, when not in the foreground. See, once upon a time, even when I was at my loneliest, you were only a phone call away. Now, these ramblings are the only way. I have no way of knowing if through space, time, or dimensional drift, these letters will ever reach you. But I would like to have hope. Better they reach you than the dudes in the white coats and the good drugs. Then again, three meals and a bed in a low stress environment where I can draw, color, and paint is actually starting to sound kinda nice. Still, I have a responsibility to this family, don't I? Yes, your nephews are grown, but there is the matter of managing the home-place and these kids of mine still haven't quite got their own shit together yet. I guess I'm in a sort of limbo until they do, and all of this responsibility must remain in my hands. Still, I am tired. And as old as I am, I still don't feel ready for this. I thought I'd be able to keep Dad around for at least another decade. And damn this Christmas stuff. I don't exactly feel jolly these days. Maybe I will in Christmas future, but there are too many ghosts of Christmas past haunting me now, happy memories of better times when we five were all still here, and traumatic memories of losing you, Momma and Dad. No, jolly just ain't happening in 2024, no way. I'll be lucky to get through holidays, birthdays, and death days without needing that vacation in the loony bin. Mentally, I am not doing so well, Sis, no not at all. I guess these ramblings beyond being my letters to you are also my sessions with Doctor Blog-ieo, a psychoanalyst I invented since writing is the only therapy I can afford. He would look exactly like Sigmund Freud and talk like him, too. He doesn't give much input, but you can't beat the price. In other ways, I guess these are also prayers to the goddess Oblivia Eternal, someone I made up, but might exist in a figurative sense. I picture her as someone compassionate and wise, who takes away all of our pain with her eternal arms. Though I would much rather it be that I see you again. I would rather you be somewhere out there, happy and loved, with all your dreams made true and right, than to be blissfully unaware of a universe of time stretching to infinity. I guess the only point of that would to not be hurting anymore. But I would much rather it be joy and happiness for you, not merely the absence of pain. You deserved-- You deserve so much better. If anyone knows this more than I do, then let them speak. I often wish human memory were like a computer's hard drive. I would have a choice of what files to keep and which files to delete. Oh, there's a lot of memories I want to keep. I have beautiful, happy memories of the people I love that I want to keep forever, just as I wish I could have kept said people forever, but I also have certain memories I sure don't want or need anymore. Sometimes they replay when I need it the least and when they hurt me the most. Spicy Deja Vu? That's pretty damn apt. I'd like to simply delete them forever. I am so tired of hurting myself, of bad memories stealing whatever peace I may have left in the present. There were stressful times from my younger days that do not serve me well to live through again. There are also my very last memories of my baby sister, of my mother and father that I wish I could remove from my brain. I want to remember them when they were happy, not their last dying moments. I needed to be there to show them love, but I want my memories of them to be from better times. The next thing I want to be able to delete are these feelings of grief and hopelessness. It helps neither the living nor the dead. And these feelings just keep on hurting me. Then there is a certain unrequited love I also need to delete from my heart as well. This feeling does me no favors, and it does her no favors. It is pointless and just needs to stop. I wish I could keep the friendship but delete this love I feel that goes infinitely beyond that friendship. It does nothing for her, and it is only hurting me. I guess feelings can not be helped. Sometimes the heart can override the brain, love, and yes I admit it: A bit of jealousy. No, not the insane obsessive jealousy of simply wanting what someone else has. It's more about the frustration of watching them have so little appreciation for what I would have given my whole world for. Maybe I just want her to be happy, even if not with me? I suppose it's just my perspective of these past 16 years, but some folks have it made and still complain. It's hard enough to not belong. It's even tougher watching someone else having the keys to her heart and totally trashing the place. I just want to say for the record one more time and for all time to come: I love you. I'll say it and I'll try to forget it. And we all know how successful I will be at that. I swear, every time I try to snuff out these feelings, they keep flaring back up and brighter than before. It is one thing for the mind to know it's no good. It's quite another for the heart to not give a damn whether it's good or not. That I love her is an objective fact, subjective though love may be. Like it or not, I must learn to live with these feelings. Grief, loss, hopelessness, guilt, and yes, even unrequited love. Sometimes I wish I could be more like Mr. Spock. Feelings are illogical, indeed. I wish I could go to Vulcan and purge them all. That said and in the spirit of my overall theme and my overall life, I think I might begin with a sort of science fiction story. In a remote corner of a distant galaxy, The great Cosmic Wie got separated from the fleet when an unexpected gravitational field threw the ship out of light speed and hopelessly off course. Damaged though the spaceship was, I still made it to this uninhabited planet.. Now, this planet had everything necessary for physical survival, plenty of good air to breathe, plenty of fresh fruit on the trees, not too cold, not too hot. Everything necessary for mere physical survival. But is that really enough? At first, I set up my emergency beacon, and had hope of rescue, despite the remoteness of this planet. Time did its slow crawl, days, weeks, years, and I had finally given up. I had decided to make a life here and be as happy as I can. And so I did. I knew there were those back on Earth who would not understand, but this deep space separation seemed to make it not matter so much. Every time I could look through the ripples of that crystal pond and truly see myself, I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe this was, maybe I was meant to be. Between those beautiful days and those nights of brilliant stars, I thought maybe I would be alright. Then, a summer or so ago I saw something in that night sky that changed everything. How can a star be more beautiful than all the rest? Was it a star? Could it be the rescue ship I had long ago given up on? Was this truly a way for me to finally have a real home after all these years. Night after night I watched this beautiful light get closer and closer. I had even started gathering up my few possessions, convinced more and more that my ship would be here any minute now. I cared less and less about the image beyond the ripples of crystal and blue, for I just knew my rescue was on its way and I had a new definition of being part of something wonderful. Then one night I noticed the light was not quite so bright. Could it be moving away? Night after night, I held out hope. Maybe it was a trick of distance, of space or of time. Still, as the weeks and months rolled by, it became more and more impossible to deny. This rescue was an illusion, a mere trick of the mind, where I had superimposed my hopes, dreams, and my longing on the brightest light in the night sky. So here I am, still in my exile, still glitched out of the game if being that heroic space cadet. I am marooned on this planet and there's but one way off of it. So, I have spent a lot of time, these weeks and months, just trying to understand, doing my best to decide on what I should do. I think of that idealistic young space cadet I used to be, and I want to laugh, and I want to curl into a ball and cry. My heart was in the right place, in the only place it could be, but my brain wasn't exactly in the game, was it? So I stand here in this clearing under that beautiful night sky, wondering, wondering what I should do now. Then I think back to when I first crash landed here, when I had first glitched out of the cosmic game. And I remember exactly what I did. I remember how it made me happy despite how everything else in my life was going to hell. I would wake up. wishing I could have slept forever and just feeling like crying. But then I would see and I would feel and I would know. Then I would finally feel like smiling, happy and energetic for a mystery future on this mystery planet. As I stand here, looking up at these distant stars, I know I want to feel that way again. I need the rush of hope flowing through me, I need to feel that wonderful pain of growth and change. I need this feeling. It once gave me a new reason to be alive. I know it can again. It seems to me a no brainer decision.. There is just one catch, that one line of fine print in the devil's contract... And that fine print says that this time there is no going back. A rescue ship could land right in front of me, but I would never be able to climb aboard. If I wait another day, and a ship appears, I could easily walk up those steps. But if there is no ship and no hope, I really don't feel I could wait another night. I am just so tired of waiting. Perhaps the biggest tragedy of all would have that ship land, months, years, or even a single day after I commit to this path. Even a million light years away, love is a hell of a thing, my fellow space cadets. And as we rejoin this adventure of the great Cosmic Wie, the scene is sunset, just me sitting next to my broken spaceship watching the day's end. I'm waiting for full darkness this time. I've got my rocket fuel, and random debris from around my little camp.. Sitting, watching, waiting. Soon my past, my ship, rescue beacon and all is going to disappear into the particular brightness of this particular night. Tonight I shall be reborn, a new creature, not of your world but of mine. It's high time this space cadet lived again. To live is to love, and I have so much in my soul. In all my Intergalactic travels I have never seen such light in any other soul. It was almost like I already knew you, maybe in another time, maybe in another life. Or maybe it's all in this spaced out mind of a very lonely astronaut... Maybe it doesn't really matter what is real or a dream anyway, not when the course of reality never comes close to that particular wishing star. And maybe it's childish for me to have envy or jealousy for the ones who have your love but never seem to appreciate it. How can this be? I would straight up sell my soul to a thousand demons if it would mean having you feel the same love that I do. How can one be so dismissive of something so wonderful? I'd face an alien armada with a single ship, I would move a thousand stars. I would give all that I have and all that I am. So you might see why it just does not compute. If I had you, dear angel, doing all for me what you do for them, I would be more grateful than I could ever express with these words. My only complaint would be that you need rest, too. Take a day off, take a minute, take an hour... Just to have you by my side would mean more to me than anyone could possibly know. Take a break, my love, and just be the wonderful human being that I know you are. Happiness looks so good on you. It really makes you shine so brightly. It's just another reason I wish I belonged to you. In that dream world, I guess this old heart will dwell until the end of my days... For you, my love, my door and my heart will always be open, and for you the light will always be on. If there ever comes a day, dear love, when you need me, I will be right here. You can't blame a heart for loving or a soul for trying. Okay: Enough daydreaming. Back to reality. Damn, it's cold! Freezing! It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass bull elephant this morning. I am so glad I remembered my jacket. That, two shirts, and one more article underneath. Oh, how I both love and hate the winter at the same time. The cold bites, but layers can be quite liberating. Hey, it is one small way to stem the depression that often comes with the season. I am continuing yet another long December, just like the song. And maybe indeed, next year will be better. That grim reaper needs to take a several decade spanning vacation. I'm quite tired of losing people I love. No more death. Take your robe and sickle and hit the freaking road, Jack. A long December indeed. I suppose it is the time of the year to mark time a bit. I won't go in any particular order. Dad's been gone for 5 months now. In January (Marsha), in March, (Momma) three years gone. My oldest properly captured webpages are now a decade old, as are my first visual novels. Though there are some sites I saved by browser 17 or so years ago. My Illusionsoft ISO's rescued from Treasure Island are now 11. My oldest preserved personally created computer files (Wordstar and BASIC), and the last remaining recorded cassette (1990) are all 34 years old. My oldest Doom demo recordings will be 27 years old in April. I can still watch my younger self not be as good at Doom as I am. My old files make for quite the window to my past. I wrote a lot back then, too, just as I do now, hopefully just not as dark and gloomy as before. I would like to think I have a little more positivity, even in these desolate times. Then there are pictures and home movies, memories of the people I love. They tell quite a story, and sometimes it's like yesterday. Though it also seems like a lifetime ago. My oldest M-Disk will be a decade old in March, but many of the files on that and subsequent M's are way older than the disk itself. My kids are all three old enough to go out and buy me a beer. And I? Never mind my age, pal. I seem to be in good health, though, at least physically. I got a good report at the doctor's office. I seem to still be among the living. To quote Bad Ash from "The Army Of Darkness," I..... Live.... Again! Now, where is that Necronomicon? Klatu Berata Nikto. Doc doesn't exactly have the full story, but I do. In some ways, maybe you do, too, if you're following these rantings, ramblings, and ravings along. And in that particular spirit, I have made a decision to bring a part of myself back from the figurative grave. I have carefully weighed all the pros and cons, and I have decided that my own everyday happiness has to take priority. And since I found once myself in a similar abyss, from which I escaped by this very means, the choice is obvious. It may forever seal my fate in some ways, but that's still better than waiting forever for something that is very unlikely to ever happen. We have to find our joy in the here and now, gleaning whatever happiness we can. There is no more reason to delay. And, baby, I am ready Freddy for primetime. Let's not simply break the mold. Let us totally decimate and destroy it. Operation Thunder Rocking Debris, comence. The time has come. I look forward to feeling again, to being myself, of having that special reason to smile, even when things aren't exactly going my way. I look forward to progress and changes, of little things here and there to move me along. I look forward to seeing again, to being again, the very person I have always been. I have greatly missed me, and the estrangement has been far too long and oh so complete. Acquaintances may forget and move on, but I should never have forgotten. The doorway to my heart and my life is open and free for others to walk into or out of, but make up your mind what it's gonna be. It's not nice to hover or lurk in doorways. Momma always said that was rude. I know what I want, and I know who I am. It's not what or who that perplexes me: It's how and why. Sometimes, the best answer is to forget the question in the first place. I only have so much time. I might as well be happy, right? It's gonna be little things, mostly symbolic. But that's all right and quite enough for me. I don't need to reinvent the wheel, just be myself. That is the direction and the goal. If I must be an island, then I get to be as tropical as I want to be. What should it matter? Why should it matter to strangers? It's my beach, my lawn chair, and my umbrella drinkies, and I seem to be the only one out here. When opportunity knocks (the others out), then we play said game my way. Sing it with me, Sinatra style, "I'll do it my waaaaaay", the style of Frank with an aquamarine persuasion in that oh so perfect light, this time I get to live. (I hope) In whatever light, I want to be my true self and work on caring a lot less about what others think. This race we're running should only be against old versions of ourselves. We've got to stop comparing apples to oranges. We are not all the same. The starting line and the finish line could be in a million different places for a million different people. The worst devil in this matter is social media. I'm telling ya, dudes and dudettes, it's a bad scene, and it's absolutely no good. Maybe it's good for keeping up with family and the few genuine friends we have, but there's a lot of bullshit and fakeness out there. Whatever you do, don't let the distortion fool you. The road to hell has gone digital, and it's paved with comparison. And, comparison is a road to your own personal hell that social media thrives on. It is so much easier to be fake online than it ever was in real life. Many gates look from the outside as if they lead to heaven. It only becomes an obvious hell when those gates close behind you. It remains the mental health vortex it has been. It doesn't make them money to make you feel good about yourself or your life because you might go out and be with friends, making real connections instead. No, they want to make you feel isolated, lacking, insecure, and envious. It's not only a trap, but the whole damn clown show is just an illusion. When you see expensive and fancy things, somebody is running up debt. When you see that happy lovey-dovey couple, know it's probably not so blissful behind the scenes. Things are rarely what they seem. Realness is so much more than a picture and a few lines of text. Friendship is so much more than a list. And if I count you as a friend, then it has absolutely nothing to do with a website. I often prefer and totally miss the old ways of making friends. The mind has this weird way of coloring the strangest things with layers of nostalgia. I miss the personal touch of cards and handwritten letters. It is sad that many these days will never know the joy of finding them in the mailbox. Ah, some things can never be the same, can they? Technology may change, but the importance of human connection does not abate with that change. There really is no substitute. Many lonely hearts, many longing souls can be led astray by the illusion. The world may change, but friendship, love, and belonging will always be a genuine need. I once thought myself an island, but the meaning turns out to be far more subjective than I ever thought it would be. We need realness, and we each other. It is the most human thing ever. It took me a lifetime, but I've finally gotten the point. It is also human to wish mind, body, and soul to be a matching set. And unlike that song by Meatloaf, two out of three can still be pretty bad and kinda sad. And nobody would choose things to be this way. You can change your mind, you can change your attitude, but you can never change the very essence of your soul. Deep down, we are who we are, were and will always be. One can not escape what is woven so deeply into the tapestry of the heart. To erase that would be to erase the self, and I could never do that. I am what I am. I can't change what is my very core being. I could never be somebody else, only just fake it, and I am just so tired of faking it. It takes way too much energy, and acting on a stage was my baby sister's gift, not mine. It invigorated and energized her, but it only drains me. I am so tired of having to play a role instead of being myself. I guess it's the same long story, but this is one of the ways I deal with it. The good Doctor Blog-ieo, and all you, my friends, Romans, robots, and strangers are among the very few to know the truth. The way it's cutting through all these layers, maybe the cold knows, too. Otherwise I do my best to stay out of people's way. It is not about forcing my view on others as much as keeping others from forcing their views on me. The borders of freedom are that delicate balance where we can live without infringing on the freedom of others. Believe the way you want to, live the way you want to, but don't expect the whole world to feel or think like you do. Freedom should be live and let live, and there is a difference between being expressive and being obnoxious. I am who I am, and I feel the way I do. I don't expect the whole planet to agree. Still, we can think differently, yet leave each other in peace. There are a lot of commonalities, even among the differences. Not every belief should be a prelude to war. Life is way too short for ugly arguments that accomplish absolutely nothing. I have only so much time left. That hourglass is running out of sand. And I would like to be happy. Live, let live, and leave me in peace. It's all I'm asking. What is important is that you see your world and I see mine. Just as the Martian said to Colonel Wilder. That is the secret of life that never was a secret in the first place. Anyone with eyes can see. Anyone with intelligence can know. And maybe we'll all have more wisdom than those earthlings in that particular TV miniseries, solving our problems here as well as reaching for the stars. One can hope. One can reach. One can dream.

Cosmic Drift: The Ramblings Of A Tortured Soul

Hello, ladies, gentlemen, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers. 

 

How beith things? Bodacious and not bogus, I hope. I wish you nothing less than totally gnarly, dudes, and dudettes. As for me? Well, well, not so well. Not exactly triumphant. Surfs down man, low tide, low tide, no awesome waves, man. Bummer, dude. You know, not everybody appreciates the classics: Not the cars, not the rock and roll, or even me for that matter. Oh, well. I guess a sophisticated discerning taste is not a flower that grows in every garden. Well, I would hope a few out there will know what I mean. They don't make em like us anymore, do they? Oh, so what now? What, now, indeed. Do you remember my little disclaimer that I go crazy in these words in order to better fake sanity elsewhere? Yeah, I'm going to be doing that today. When it comes to my energy and my sanity, I am like the Kelvin scale. There are no negative numbers. My zero is absolute, as low as one can go. When it's gone, it is gone. There is no deriving from me something I do not have left to give. When it's gone, it is gone. When it's lost, it is lost. There is no negative one. Only zero. I am not quite at zero yet, but I am getting closer and closer, lower and lower. There is no endless expanse below, only the bottom, only zero. Fall as I might, I can't fall any further than zero. But, zero is not a place I want to be. And boy, do I have a lot to get out of my head before I go out of my mind. I am at like Napoleon Level 3. Glory to France, my friends. Pay? Buddy? Excusez moi, monsure! But, of course, she's wanted you fool! By a-me! Marquis De Knable? Za guillotine avaits! And, I would have given you chocolates. Oh, and that damn Christmas music they're playing around here? Just make it stop, please. Don't try to drive me crazy when I feel like I am already well on my way there. It's a short freaking drive as it is without you reminding me to be freaking jolly when my dear parents and dear sister are gone. Just shut up, please. I am about as far from jolly as one could possibly get. If jolly is the north pole, then I'm at the fucking equator. Just stop it, make it stop already. That or be boiled in your own damn pudding. Bah Freakin Humbug does not even begin to describe my feelings. These folks are driving me so damn psycho that it makes Norman Bates look like Mister Rogers. Can you say leave me alone, boys and girls? Good. Very good. Now, go away. What was that saying? Life's a bitch and then you die? I always wondered if the latter is insult to injury, or an actual saving grace. Oblivia, Oblivia, Oblivia. Dearest beautiful goddess I made up who could actually be real in a figurative sense. Eternal oblivion. What will it be like? Nothing, I assume, nothing at all. No comfort, but no pain. No laughter but no tears. It may not be the Ritz, but it beats Hell and perdition, right? Right? Right? What's it gonna be, him or me? Damn it, I hate Mondays. Just like a certain orange cat, I especially loathe this particular Monday. It has been a total clown show from the start. Heeeey, Kids! Quiet, Binky! Why again does Garfield hate Mondays anyway? If I was able to watch TV, eat lasagna, and sleep all day, Mondays might actually be okay by me. But yeah, this current Monday is blowing as hard as a freaking hurricane. Grouchy Grouch seems to be on the warpath today... Yellow Alert! We are at DEFCON 3. All crew to battle stations! Prepare to defend! And I hope I can keep away from Grouchy Grouch because I probably shouldn't demonstrate the fact that I can most certainly be Grouchier Grouch today. Mutually assured annoyance, and that big blinking red button is right in reach of my middle finger. For, I, too, have been being a bit of a grouch, hopefully towards no one but myself, but a grouch nonetheless. I am trying my damndest to get myself out of grouch mode, despite today's god awful start, even though I live in a much better place than Oscar does. And even Oscar would tell me to lighten up a bit...Will do. Just need a bit of quiet time, pizza in my tummy, and a sufficient level of Caffotine running through my veins... Then I promise to behave. It was just a bad start this morning. Couldn't sleep last night until I slept through the loudest alarm clock ever... So rush like a maniac and be 15 minutes late. Not good, man, not good at all. Then a surprise truck showed up full to the brim with no warning at all, so I am basically running full speed trying to get everything done and still catching static. Man, what a messed up load of crap to deal with for so little pay. Wanna bother me while I'm working? Yeah, about that: that will cost ya extra. Call it the annoy me fee. On the bright side, Something did kinda warm this old heart this morning. I didn't think anyone would notice my brief absence, but they did. I know I shouldn't read into it so much, not in this reality, but it still makes me happy to know I cross her mind now and then. I do love this person after all, and I can't really change the way I feel, but oh well. At least it makes me a little less of a grouch. Should I envy Oscar, or should he envy me? That poor grouch lives in a garbage can, but he loves it, and he loves to be grouchy. He just wants to be left alone to play with his wonderful trash. I, of the better living situation, just want to be left alone with my own thoughts, my heavy thoughts about life, death, mortality, and the worth of it all. Emotions are like the tide you know, high and low, and this low tide is only for now. The objective truth is that high tide will happen again. It's also objectively true that I am in serious need of some heavy duty sleep, a complete power down, and a reboot. I really try to step out of my own feelings and be my own Mr. Spock type observer. I am behaving most illogically. Therefore, it would be most prudent for me to go home, get some sleep, and wake up on the correct side of the bed. Otherwise, there is no cure. No doubt Freud would say I'm a very interesting case. No, the only real cure at this point would be a totally new life, maybe a hard reset instead of a soft reset. (This is my low tide speaking here) As Pinhead so eloquently put it, Welcome to the worst nightmare of all: Reality. I don't want to downplay the hell and the misery of physical pain, something I try to avoid. But mentally and emotionally, I can't even begin to describe the hopelessness I often feel. Look, I don't want to be a drag, a buzz kill, or a party pooper. I don't want to crash any party or drain any good moods. Nobody wants somebody like that around. I truly understand. Such gloominess is contagious and will drag the whole scene down. So, I try to be the person I used to be, the one of the offbeat but fun personality and the wacky sense of humor. That's me too, you know? At least it used to be. Are they even alive anymore? There seem to be a few glitches in the software of this biological robot. Most of all, I am just tired. Mere sleep just takes the edge off of this fatigue. This is a different kind of tiredness. Man, what the hell is it with this week? Yet another day I had one hell of a time waking up, but I did so just in time. That was until I happened upon a big ass tree across the road. There's no room on my road to turn around, so my only option was to back up. Now in the dark and in the heavy rain, that was no fun at all. I couldn't see a damn thing. But I finally made it back to my house. I tried to call work to let them know what was going on, but my phone picked this very morning to pull its rare bullshit of forgetting I had service until being rebooted to get back out of stupid mode. By this time, I was quite irate. My life is like totally FOOBARed enough without this insanity stressing me out even more. I mean, what the hell, man? What a load of shit. I guess resting in peace is not an option so long as I'm still alive, is it? Once upon a time, the lines were defined. The picture was clarity in shadows of black and white. Then came the haze of knowledge and the fog of understanding. It's so peculiar just how defined and real the signal can seem until it begins to fade, slowly infiltrated by blips of uncertainty. An artifact here, a mismatched pixel there. We never notice until the blizzard begins. Drifting away, fading into television snow. Did you ever notice how soothing the static can be? Freedom can be so bittersweet, nothing left to hold you down, yet nothing left to hold onto. Freedom without direction is just a fancy way of saying you're lost. In the absence of any point of reference, sometimes you have to define for yourself where the circle begins and go from there.You may have to redefine it again and again. And why not when it's something only you can know? It can be so lonely on this committee of one, a ruler of a thousand definitions no one else can see. One wonders the meaning of what no other eyes could see. Have I gone insane? Possibly. It can be difficult to know when you're the only one to define its meaning. This coldness has narrowed my goal to just feeling warm again. In these later and later hours of my life, it is the only value worth striving for, just to be warm again. It is not funny, but quite ironic just how the figurative and the literal can combine for that genuine below zero experience. Damn, I feel so cold. There are people out there needing shelter so badly they must invent and imagine it. Sometimes, I wish I could share that ability, but I simply can't. I indeed need shelter from this storm, now more than ever before, but it has to be real. I am incapable of inventing an imaginary friend who promises to make everything right. I need an imperfect but real human being for that sort of thing. Have you ever heard of that perfect imperfection of both finding shelter from, yet being shelter for, someone who both seeks and can provide the very shelter they're searchinCosmic Drift: The Ramblings Of A Tortured Soulg for? Yeah, that. I need that. Your invisible friend? Sorry, but I can not take shelter from what I can neither see nor feel. This is not a choice I can deliberately make. I am simply not able. I need realness. I need presence of mind, body, and soul. Nothing less can keep the cold at bay. There are some who the whole world thinks they know, but in reality, they don't. Just the surface, nothing of the person beyond the persona. With someone like me, the world is more consistent: They don't know, nor do they pretend to know. Still, I think I am the fortunate one. I never need to question the realness of anyone who's far enough off the map to encounter someone like me... Verily I tell you, no one doth findeth the Wie without seeking The Wie. They seeketh the Wie while I seeketh the why. And why is indeed the question. Why am I the one who is still alive? Though I feel like I am an accident of random chance, deep down, I know I wasn't. Long long ago in the time of " I am not a crook, haroooo!" There lived two people who both wanted me to exist. They weren't perfect (neither am I), but I know their hearts were in the right place. I was wanted, loved, and needed. I never knew just how rare it was to be. They shielded and sheltered me from the coldness of this world. This soul of mine was not an accident of random chance. Just this life and this body and the decades beyond. I was meant to be, but many things about me were left to random chance. One roll of the dice I won was to be born to two loving parents who did the best they could for me. There were a few other rolls of the dice I wish fell differently in the genetics department. God (or whoever) great, good, or whatever you believe still makes for a lousy casting director. A quick look into my heart and soul shows I was made for a much different role. I have my father's looks and quirky sense of humor. I have my mother's tender heart and every bit of her anxiety. I call it the Barney curse, in 'honor' of her biological father, a stranger to us both. What would I have done in the thick of battle on a South Pacific island? I can't really know because I've never been in that situation. My best guess is I'd do one of two things: Run toward the enemy or run away from the enemy. I don't think I would hide from them. My fear would demand immediate action. Either an anxiety fueled deathwish charge or a panic driven cowardly run. I don't think I would hide in a cave or behind some bushes. My fear would drive me to take some sort of action. Either toward the enemy or away, I would be running, one direction or another, a hero, a coward, or a damn fool. I just know I couldn't sit still in a situation like that. Beyond that, I wouldn't know. I never had to fear being drafted. The Vietnam War ended the same year I was born, and while I grew up in chaotic times, they were times of relative peace. And, I guess I will never know because now, I am old enough that if they resort to drafting me, we're probably already losing whatever war it is. Now, all I have are rumors and old stories to go on about a missing man, presumed dead long enough for his father to get the telegram and have a heart attack, later found and determined to have gone AWOL. What exactly happened, I don't know. I can't determine whether he lacked the courage to face the enemy. I know well that he lacked the courage to be a real father to my mother. Momma deserved better. But, anyway, I trace these problems genetically back to him. How that man managed in sales boggles my mind. At least I don't love booze quite as much as I heard he did. Admittedly, as a younger man, I did for a while, but booze money became diaper and formula money, and I had to quit altogether when their mother left me. Now that my kids are grown, I'm still broke enough for a cold beer to be a very rare treat. I don't really miss being buzzed so much anymore. These days, I want the full resources of my faculties at my disposal. I found my computer stuff to be a far better escape from reality. In some realms, I am a god on the throne, master if all I survey. Just not in this one, sadly. Oh, if I could be a god for just one day.. There are those I would bless and those I would righteously smite. There are those who I would help, and those who had better be happy that I am just a mortal human and not a god to show them the errors of their ways, the consequences of hurting me, of hurting the ones that I love, when I was less than what I am now. Believe me, it would be justice, and it would be legendary. (Even in hell) Ah, but in this random chance world, people rarely truly get what they deserve, be it good or bad. This is one of the many reasons reality can indeed be the worst nightmare of all. Well said, Mr. Pain, well said. It is a hell I wish I could escape. Sadly, the harsh truth is I am no longer an exact deity even in the computer realm anymore, either. I tried four or five times to make yet another awesome doom demo, but I failed miserably. That last time everything went awesomely in the game, but the file would not play back, just kept crashing the game. I suppose the gods forbid it. So, I switched to playing Heartache 101. Now, there's a game. Long ago, I used to call it electronic crack because I couldn't stop playing it. There is one story-line in the game I like to call "Grand Theft Girlfriend," where your character basically gets to steal a beautiful but quirky girl named Keika from her boyfriend. Hmmmmm. It reminds me of a certain real-life girl who has committed grand theft heart, who I wish I could steal, myself. Sadly, life is not a computer game, is it? No dehacked patches to give me superpowers against monsters. Neither boosting of stats, nor series of choices to transform me into some swashbuckling love bandito, riding out of Dodge City with my woman by my side, a rose in my teeth, and a bottle in my hand. No, none of that. Bummer dude, most non-triumphant. Here I am only me, and I wonder if I'll ever be enough for this hard old world and this thankless life. If it's never meant to be, then dearest Oblivia, please don't be slow. Quite frankly, I am tired of this shit. Wow, man. Okay, Universe, I promise to be better soon. Low tide has made me a bit glum, gloomy, and doomy. Ah, but worry not, dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers: When you're at the bottom of the sine-wave, the only way to go is up, up, and up. I miss my friend. I guess that's not making things any brighter. My friend was always so much better at lighting up a room, at chasing all the gloom and doom away, and indeed making everything brighter, never noticing their own power. Some superheroes never realize their importance, never their brightness, never the joy their mere presence can bring. Great goodness, if I could bottle their powers, I'd be richer than Elon, Bezos, and Bill Gates combined. Strong with the force is this one. Grand Theft Hearto, Cosmic City. How in the hell did this happen? It is quite a sadistic world to deprive me of what I need so badly, yet still show me glimpses and glances of how it might have been. Perhaps I would have been better off never knowing at all. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Which prison would be worse? Opaque gray dreariness where you can never see or transparent clarity so you can see that promised land of beauty you can never touch? I think I'd prefer that guard and that sad old Padre, arm in arm at daybreak. Hell is far worse when you can see Heaven from where you stand. I'd rather be held by Oblivia's loving arms. I want it all or absolutely nothing. Let it all come together or let it all dissolve away into television snow. I no longer care which, just so long as the pain is gone. I would much rather have happiness and meaning restored to my life, but it would seem I'm blind to that possibility or even how I might make it happen. I understand that life was never meant to be fair, but damn it, why can't it be advantage Wie for once? Why shouldn't I have the upper hand? Let me run the show for just one day. I doubt I could do worse. I need more of a reason to keep this old heart beating. Tell me again why I am running and hiding from Oblivia. I would much rather be seeking life than avoiding death. Otherwise what is the point? Truly living could bring me experiences I have long wished for. Death on the other hand is inevitable, not if but when. If my chance to live, love, and to truly belong still exists, I would rather keep on going. If not, then there really is no point. I only wish I knew which. In the meantime, I well know that eternity minus the grains of sand remaining in my hourglass, will still be eternity. Twenty five years, one year, tomorrow, tonight, whatever. It's been a long road and I'm tired, man. I need shelter and rest. I need love. I am completely starving for love. Be it from my life or my love or Oblivia The Eternal, I need it now. I have lived without her for a very long time. I could continue to for longer still had I the will to keep standing here alone. But, why should I? Why? Eternity too, minus wasted time, will still be eternity, just as timeless as it is forever. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have been more. I wish I could have been exactly what you needed. Sadly, I am still the mess I always was. I have fought long battles within and without. I have grappled with my own demons. I have struggled against depression and anxiety, fought them toe to toe, just to be a productive member of society. It has not been pretty, but I have kept my head above these dark waters for a long time, now. But I'm so very tired. Coach Mike Ditka of (Da Bears!) once said that you're never a loser until you quit trying. I know he's right. I guess I should play all four quarters even if the scoreboard totally sucks. Just a one way ticket on a last chance ride, And I still like to pretend I don't know where it's going, or maybe I'm just hoping I'm wrong, that the light at the end of this dark tunnel is not the 3:10 to Yuma that doesn't exactly stop here. Say it with me: Wile E Coyote, super genius. May my luck be better. The ACME corporation needs to start selling happy pills. Meep Meep! Nanoo Nanoo. Houston, we've got problems. Say what you will about that old Coyote. But he never gives up, flattened, beaten, or totally destroyed by rocket powered roller skates, he always gets back up and tries again. I wish I were more like that. It seems I find myself in a similar place mentally as I was at a certain moment in the past. I remember how I made things better then, don't I? Yes I do. I need to do that again, but more, ah so much more. And this time I just might have to come completely out of my shell. Not as a new creature because I have always existed, I have always been me. And I was always so much happier when being myself. It's not that I have a whole lot to lose anymore, anyway. I remember those mornings when I just felt like crying, but I would both see and feel the progress I was making, and I would feel so happy. Then, I gave it up because I fell in love. Maybe if these feelings were mutual, I could have found a new level of joy, and could have lived well enough without it. Instead I wound up here alone, without any recourse, and without my glowing shield that used to chase this pain away. Then financial hardship struck and I couldn't get myself back, even though I wanted to. Now, the time has come and I must make it happen one way or another as though my life depends on it. And it surely seems to me that it does. My dear sleeping princess, my Alice, my queen, my front cover of a romance novel, I think it is more critical now than ever. I must bring AEB back in a major way. Save me, rescue me, and let's slay that dastardly dragon for once and for all. I think this time, I want him gone for good. Just you and I, my love, just you and I. I'm so tired of feeling unloved and unlovable. Most of all, I need to be happy again. If I'm the only one who can make it happen, then I've got to go back to what worked before. I remember smiling. I remember having a spring in my step, even when everything else seemed like it was going to hell. I would look and finally be seeing myself. There was no better feeling than that, except maybe for falling in love. Now, that's a rocketsled to outer space. I only wish it could have had escape velocity. Gravity can be brutal. What goes up must come down. Rocketsleds, the tide, and my emotions. For every high, there is a low. That is one of the first and harshest lessons every space cadet should learn. It will not save you from the pain, but you'll be better prepared for it. Now I wish to reassemble myself. I am retiring from the figurative space program. I'm hanging up my helmet and my heroic flight suit. No more crashing to Earth. Even bones heal far faster than a broken heart. I am returning to base. I can be for myself all that I need, if I were to truly try. And I am damn sure gonna try. Though I suppose I can't help but look up at the stars now and then. They shine so brightly, so beautifully. I think I will miss being among those points of light. In the influence of that dazzling brilliance and in awe of those beautiful colors, It is so easy to forget the darkness in between, to realize only said light is staving off the night. And that, my friends is exactly why forever is a fairytale. Not even space or time can hold out that long. Much less AEB or me. I have only so long before so long. I'm okay with that. It scares me, but it comforts me at the same time. There is always a beginning and an ending, bookends in the fabric of time. Nothing is forever, neither joy nor sadness, neither pleasure nor pain. Someday peace and silence will align. It is not that I want it or don't want it. It is time as described by Doctor Soran in Star Trek Generations. Now, the Nexus would be nice. I could see my loved ones again, and I bet I could totally shine as my true self. Too bad that Nexus was somebody else's writings and not an actual reality somewhere. It would be almost worth the destruction of Veridian III to put myself first, just for once. What would that be like? From what is described, I think I would be really happy there.

Winter Musings 2024

Hello, Universe. 

How are you? And I? Okay, I guess. I'm just missing you as I always do. My back years would be a life of quiet reflection if it were not that I've got to go out and face the world. It was sure difficult to climb out from under my warm, cozy covers and away from the soft inviting pillows that probably wouldn't have minded had I slept until noon. My loud and obnoxious alarm clock was once again spared from utter destruction simply by being needed again tomorrow. And, damn, it's cold! The covers were warm, and my bed was soft. Outside, it's cold as hell, and life is hard. I tell ya. I could hibernate until spring. Sadly, I'm more human den da average bear, a voo va voo voo! And that means getting up and going to work in the wintertime. I really don't care if the calendar says it's not for another two weeks. Winter is already here. Cold enough for ya? On one hand, I hate the bitter cold of winter just as much as the brutal heat of summer. On the other hand, I can be a bit more myself in winter, and that kinda makes me happy, though I won't explain exactly why. I'll just say that even a symbolic psychological gesture is better than nothing at all. And I can't waste my time seeking understanding or validation anywhere outside of myself. I can't say that even I completely understand myself. Still, I know what makes me happy, and I know what eases my pain. I have to grant myself whatever peace of mind that I can. Yes, dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, these are my actual thoughts. Judge me as you will. Remember Freddy Kruger's wise words to Zsa Zsa Gabor. It is that problem free philosophy one must adapt if they do not wish to melt down from overthinking and worry. And as I have said so many times, if I truly have gone insane, then I have earned every quirk and quark. This is my very own Watergate breakdown, haroooo! Break it on down, Agnew! Errrrrrrr! Boogie down, baby, boogie down. It's another long December, just like in that song by the Counting Crows. Will next year be better? I can't say. This is not a novel. This is not a love story that will necessarily have a happy ending. Though I really wish it were. I would love to be that main character that overcomes all adversity and finds that love and belonging once lost beyond the horizon. But this is only my reality. All this really is, is one human being's thoughts, where I vent with almost no filter, that cheap therapy of the good Doctor Blog-ieo. I can't say my story will ever have a clear beginning, middle, or end. My memory tends to get more hazy the farther I look back in time, finally ending with the abyss. Will it be that way going forward? I just don't know. I have reached the point in this life where I can truly acknowledge a total lack of knowledge. I know nothing. Somewhere out there in Cyberland is a happily ever after, frozen in time. I guess that makes it both never and forever all at the same time. What was it that Yeats wrote and Stephen King repeated? Things fall apart? The center doesn't hold. Still, on a long forgotten server in some vast data center.... Forever still exists. Want to defeat entropy? Press the pause button. Without time, nothing ends. Still, without time, nothing begins. To really live is to truly risk the test of time. And though I don't know the guy, I have to agree with what he said. She is a wonderful person. I well understand the feeling, for those same feelings have been inspired in me. And it seems the more you know, the deeper those feelings will go. I see he did get a lot further down that path than I did. And I also assume that for some reason that their happily ever after fell apart, though I do not presume to know why. As I have said, I don't know everything. Still, when you start buying the rings, things must be pretty serious, and equally serious circumstances must have made things fall apart. Either way, in the way of Yeats, the center did not hold. If I had been in your shoes, it would have been a great tragedy to me. Is it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Or, as in my case, to have loved and to have never had those feelings returned? I suppose it is far better to be me than to have been you. See, one can't lose what they never truly had. But, damn, I'm telling you, dude, just to see my own present day thoughts and feelings articulated so well, seven years before the fact of them is strange, uncanny, and maybe a bit unnerving. We come into each other's lives, but there was a time before, and sadly, there will be a time after. And the real kicker is this: it seems I am not so unique after all, to have seen so many of the same wonders that can only be seen beyond vision. I guess I am not the only one to recognize a beautiful soul when I meet one. You saw this, too. And if I thought I'd have even a ghost of a chance in hell that she would say yes, I would be shopping for those golden rings, too. Sadly it's just not the case, no matter how much I wish it were so. Because, yes, I love her, too. You lost a wonderful treasure, long gone for you. I sought the very same, but it was never a possibility for me either. To quote Zombie Duke Nukem, It's a total bummer, dude, and it is high time I moved on. Besides, my most significant experience of love and loss was not of the romantic kind. Oh I was once married a long time ago, but I had fallen in love with an illusion. What I lost was that illusion. And hindsight has made that abundantly clear. It still hurt me deeply, but nothing compared to losing my dearest sister, my mother, and my father. They were the ones who stood by me. This is a hurt that cuts far deeper than losing that flim-flam scam sham of a wife. Besides, I could well blame myself for not seeing clearly back then. Not all fools remain fools forever. Sometimes, we learn, and we grow. Sometimes, we gain insight and wisdom. It is my very hope that this is the case with me. I have seen a lot of changes over the first half of this decade. At its dawn, I still had both my parents, and they both were themselves. I still had my baby sister and had no reason to think I wouldn't today. I was eight years older than her, after all. My kids were all still in school. I was in my mid forties. I guess the only thing that hasn't changed is that I still have the same job as I did back then. I was single then, too, though that hasn't changed in sixteen years. I guess the first big thing that happened was in July 2021 when my mother's health took a major dive. She went from being herself to not herself. My sisters and I did our best to help Dad with her, but it just became too much. I never wanted her in a rest home, but it got to the point where we really had no choice. Later in October, we three siblings met in Tallahassee to discuss the situation. I didn't know then that it would be the second to last time we three would be together. And I don't want to think about the last time. January 23rd, 2022. Hell is a hospital room with the walls closing in watching her die. To hell with that day. I hate that day. Damn that day. Two months later, in March , Momma's turn. 2023 spared me from seeing any more death. 2024? No. July 21st was Dad's turn. The only saving grace was due to my middle son's help, we never had to put him in a home. When it comes my turn and time, I, too, would rather die in my own house than some strange place, surrounded by strangers. I have been thinking a lot about whether if I will be the next to go. It's a logical possibility. Still, losing Marsha proved the cruelty of fate as well as its lack of logic. The truth is we are not promised the next hour, much tomorrow, next year, or however many decades. If my father's age were any indicator, then I could say I have about 25 years left. But I can't. If I am as fortunate as my grandfather, then I will have another 42 years. Or my heart could mess up, or one of those damn deer could run out in front of me on the highway. The mother and child reunion is only a mishap away. Damn that's a dark thought, isn't it? Dark but true, I guess. Regardless, I plan to live for as long as I can. Eternity minus whatever is still eternity. And please, no reincarnation. I definitely don't want to have to go through all this again. That would suck. Well, unless I have better luck and make better decisions. Then maybe, just maybe. Otherwise, this old soul is tired and in serious need of rest. I am halfway through what has been so far, the shittiest decade of my life. It just sucks. Believe me. I need some serious change. I would like the second half of this otherwise rotten decade to be about life, living, happiness, love and belonging, keeping rather than losing, presence instead of absence, living rather than merely existing. I need the flame of memory to chase away the coldness of growing old. I need the warmth of love to replace the chill of an empty place and an empty heart. I need to know that I matter to someone. I need those who matter most to me to know that I care. Time is a distance greater than space, for space can be overcome, yet time can not. Home is so much more than a place you can go to at the end of the day. Home is the people you love. Without them, without that, it is merely an empty place to hide between battles against the world. The thing about winter is this coldness and emptiness that I feel. It is looking out a window to a lifeless world, devoid of so much. I feel as cold as the frozen ground. I feel as if I can never be warm again. It's plain coldness cutting through my jacket and seeping deep into my bones. Could I ever be warm again? She could make it so. And heck, I'm not specifically talking about sex, though that would be nice too. But wouldn't it be nice to fall asleep next to her, all warm and cozy, with her warmth and her heartbeat as my lullaby. I could happily get by on cuddles and snuggles alone. Sadly, I only get struggles. That's my life in a nutshell: All struggles and no snuggles. It's just me and my army of pillows at the end of the day. Ah, to be warm, comforted, and loved. It would be the absolute closest thing to heaven on earth. It would be my greatest wish after 16 years in an empty bed. I was merely tired of being lonely years ago. And now? I'm just tired of everything. What is this struggle for anymore? Why do I bother? That is the question. I am so tired of coldness. I need to be warm. I need to feel that somebody loves me. I could write a million words but could never explain the depth of this emptiness. It is a persistent pain I try so hard to ignore, but it cuts so deeply. I am so cold. Will I ever be warm again? Death, too, is cold. I can't imagine the arms of Oblivia ever being warm in their embrace. Still, the loneliness will end, and the pain will torment me no more. Still, I should have better things to look forward to than that. Otherwise, why struggle? Why waste energy I could sleep away? I need a real reason. I can't do this merely in the name of absent friends and loved ones long gone. I need a reason in the here and now. I need something to look forward to. And it's got to be something more than old age and death. Oblivia is a patient lady. She is quite willing to bide her time and wait for me. Ah, but can I wait for her? Not without a reason. We need more than the food we eat or the air we breathe. We need a reason. It has to be more than sparing the few that care the pain that I can not spare myself from. It has to be more. Just because you're the last one standing does not mean you win the game. Ah, games. Now that's a subject that lifts my spirits. They are some of my favorite escapes from reality. But unlike these folks buying expensive, overly realistic new stuff, I stick with the classics. I need escape, not realizm. I love my ancient computer games, those that were new when I was young. Some from the 80s, but the 90s were especially awesome. In some ways, I still live there to this very day. Lately, I've been making Doom demos with my special dehacked patch. You see, a long time ago, there was a program called DehackEd where you could edit Doom and basically change all the rules of the game. The patch I made makes Doom extremely easy. Your health can go up to 999. Former human commandos drop BFG's. Regular former humans drop Medikits. There are no more Pain Elementals. My Elementals are Health elementals who spit health powerups at you, boosting you up to 999. Plus, there are special things I make the game story say, my special slang for certain game items, plus I get told I am awesome every time I pick up a health pack. Normally, I am a fairly decent player, but I still like to blaze through a level now and then like John Rambo. Hey, yo, to survive a war, you gotta become war. Still, cyberdemons can be just as dangerous, even with my extra help. The end of my Boom 202 demo run in both Freedoom and Perdition's Gate was done so by a cybie. "Rooooooo! I don't care how awesome you are!" Thank goodness for the re-record function of Prboom Plus. Anyway, so far, I have done Doom 2, Perdition's Gate, Evilution, Plutonia, and Freedoom v07. Next up is Freedoom V13 and maybe V05. The levels are very different in each. Then maybe I'll tackle the rest of the Community Chest series. (Already beat CC4) Then again, I guess I could go back and do Ultimate Doom, but I sure would miss my Health Elementals, and I would be way overpowered in Episode 1. Episode 4 would be a totally different story. It's not that I need it to win the game, but it makes the game a lot more fun. I have made many demos without my special dehacked patch. It's just that while sometimes I want to play by the rules of the game, there are also times I like to make my own rules. Rule Number 1: I get 999 health. Rule 2, I will get reminded of how awesome I am every time that I pick up a medikit, even with my health being way over 100 percent. Rule 3? Let there be Health Elementals! You know I wish I could create a dehacked patch for real life. I'd change all my pennies (actually all pocket change) into 100 dollar bills, give myself 999 number of 9's of money. I'd bring back all my loved ones and give them all 999 health. And I would summon a Health Elemental to give as a pet for each one of them. Feeling ill? Spend some time with your Elemental, and let me know what name you gave them. And... maybe I'd influence through the code and the ones and the zeros to make a certain someone more partial to falling in love with me. Hey, if I long ago glitched out of this game, I might as well not be bound by the rules either. And such is the dream for this daydreamer. The purpose of a game is an escape from reality. I wouldn't want to play them if they were just like reality. That's why I never understood this realistic look of the modern ones. Give me either pixilated love or pixilated violence. Fight the monsters and romance the anime girls. Games are an escape to a world of possibilities, a chance to experience a variety of emotions that are beyond reach otherwise. Whether the pride of conquering a level or the joy of winning a heart. To fly a starship to the other side of the universe, to as they say, boldly go. Imagine a world you get to create rather than merely discover. That is what games are for me. Possibilities, endless possibilities. When all hope is lost in reality, they are a thread you can hang onto. And some days, I feel that games and my other distractions are all I have anymore. It is a hell of a thing to wish to be somewhere else, to be someone else. Then again, this really comes full circle to the root of my problem. The customizable characters I have created in games all have one trait in common, a trait that I sadly lack in real life. See my characters, and you'll quickly understand who I wish to be. Still, that's neither here nor there, nor is it within the scope of these sessions with the good Doctor Blog-ieo. Though I'm sure a real mind doctor would have already figured this out about me. I bare a lot of my soul here, but there are a couple of things I will take with me to my grave. It sometimes feels like I am shouting it out loud, but maybe that's only because it is painfully obvious to me. I keep forgetting how different it must be on the outside looking in. It's only out of the ordinary if you're seeing it that way. From where I stand, it is not only ordinary, but it makes perfect sense. We all live on the same planet, but many of us are in different worlds. I wonder if this was the problem that certain people had? They expected the rest of the world to find their situation as obvious as they themselves did. But it's just not that simple. The lens of the mind makes for a very different point of view. Still... As the Martian said to Colonel Wilder, it only matters that you see your world and that I see mine. The existence of one does not detract from the realness of the other. The universe within is just as vast as the universe without. Within both, there exists possibility. And sometimes, the validation we seek from the outside world can only truly come from within. I don't know. I'm just a simple human being, one of billions. Simple, yet complicated, dealing with a variety of contradictions from within and without. On this compass, there is no objectively true north. You've got to decide where the circle starts at zero and go from there. And that may change over the course of time. It may seem disquieting, but it's okay. We're all allowed to grow, and we're all allowed to change. We are not static beings, frozen in stasis. We are dynamic patterns, and we're all beautiful in our own way, not only in the universe but of the universe, destined to become one with it. These are, after all, my letters to the universe.