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.
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