She is the night sky. Not the moon, not the planets, but every single star, every point of light. She is of the universe and one with the universe. Time, the thief of so much, will not take away the clarity of her memory. Never. For want of a nail, for the flip of a coin, for the spin of a proton, for the birth of a universe, go we. Three years, Sis. Just a couple more weeks, and it's gonna be three years. I can still hear your voice in my head. I can still see your face when I close my eyes. The stars still shine in your name. Alpha Centauri still has a solid year to go. I know there is some light of stars, especially galaxies, that is from a time before you, but not one photon from any star (save Sol) is from this dreaded past three years without you. As I said, the stars still shine in your name. It may be a small consolation, but I hold onto whatever I can. For so much more than any one reason, yet for one reason more than any other, I really think January is the ugliest month of the year. If even the most beautiful year has its blemish, it is here, and it is now. Suckuary is my name for it, thirty-one days of suck, with one particular day being the absolute worst day of all. It's cold and bleak, devoid of all life and of any vibrancy. It is lifelessness, it is coldness, and it is death. It is the thief of health, the robber of hope, and I will never forgive or forget how it stole away with my dearest baby sister. If January were a person, it would not be safe in my presence, for I would indeed claim the vengeance that not even a thousand pages of holy text could deny me. I guess I find myself in good fortune in at least that one aspect, as it is just a lousy month and not a vulnerable living creature. My hatred of January, just as my love for my dear ones, this aching compassion for my lost ones, has absolutely nowhere to go. All these feelings, like a homeless drifter, have no place to go. A frozen heart can feel no pain, but there seems to be just enough sun, just enough thaw where I can still feel, just enough realization that I always will. Believe me or don't believe me, but I'm trying my damnedest to keep a positive attitude. It is just not so easy, not right here and not right now. In addition to my thoughts of my sister, my father has been visiting my dreams all week. He's been appearing a lot. What's more, I have a very strong feeling that I know why. Either it is because he wants me to do right by him, or it is my own belief that I should do right by him. Could it be both? Possibly. I can not accept what I can not see. Yet I have seen him in my dreams, not once, not twice, but all week long. I have had this dream of being a teenager again, sitting here in this very house, his house, waiting on my parents to come home, sitting, waiting, watching the sky change as the sun falls below the horizon. He's been appearing in my dreams more than ever before. Probably because my remaining sister and I need to properly put him to rest by our mother's side. It is only right that we do. I understand how everything has been so crazy for us both and how hard it is to get our schedules in sync. But we've got to get this done. It's not her fault. It's not my fault. But every day, he is not where he belongs is an affront to all things decent and right. It is a dignity that I owe, and I just won't feel right until it has been done. Now let me say something that I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to say, because what moment will ever have context? I have seen death personally (as in having been in the room) several times in my life. My grandmother in 1995. My grandfather in 2002. My baby sister... My father.. With Momma, it happened when I stepped outside to calm my anxiety. yet I still saw her fading, and even that was more than I could bear. It was never something I wanted to see, but I had to be there, showing my love until the end. It was my duty to be there, to not turn my back, to not leave them. So, I have learned how to describe death as from the point of view of one still alive. And this I can say. Death is when a person leaves the room. Death is when you no longer see the glimmer of a beautiful soul who you loved, held dear, in the eyes of what was once a living human being. Most of all, death is something I never want to see again. I feel I have seen enough for two lifetimes. I know it far too well. Has a soul ever so longed for ignorance as I have? When you have learned, when you know, there is just no escape from knowledge. Only soap opera characters seem have the fortune of amnesia. Ignorance is bliss and knowledge is pain. Dearest friends, Romans, robots, and strangers: If you are able to take anything from my writings, know this simple fact. There will be things you'll wish you couldn't remember, things you'll wish you never knew. Seek knowledge at your own risk. If I believed in religion, I would point out that knowledge got us kicked out of the garden. It is quite the deity to give us a brain, yet forbid us to use it, but I digress. Oftentimes, knowledge is a trap. And it is so hard to fall out of what is so easy to fall into. It could very well be that there is a possibility of knowing too much. Conversely, I have heard it said that we should forgive ourselves for the times when we were ignorant, when we didn't know better. Still, that conflicts greatly with the times I really feel I should have known better. What about those times when one just simply refuses to open one's eyes to see the truth? Is there still a wolf at the door, when you never actually looked there? And does ignoring him or pretending he does not exist really make him go away? And if not, do you blame the wolf or do you blame yourself? The more you know, the more you see, the more you realize, the more complicated the questions become. Mirrors can cut deeply sometimes. Rarely do they simply tell us what we want to hear. And maybe it takes pain and maybe it takes regret for us to learn and for us to grow. Is there truly such a thing as painless wisdom? If so, then I have not found it yet. I guess we hold ourselves to a higher standard than other people. It seems forgiveness comes easier when it is not for yourself. Meanwhile, we'll spend a lifetime kicking our own asses for who we were what we didn't know and for what we were when we didn't understand. Beyond that, we give the benefit of doubt to others while we have none for ourselves, because there really is little room for doubt of the positive kind. I guess the consolation is in knowing your current self would have done differently.
No, it is not good or necessarily right to make snap judgments about people you barely know. Still, quite contrary and quite conversely, my gut feeling has never been wrong when it's told me to be wary. That instinct you feel is actually that you sense something subconsciously. Listen to it. Smart people trust their intuition, especially when it comes to other people, even as they give the benefit of doubt. Now, if you really want to make a smart person dumb, just let them fall in love. I, myself, don't claim to be Einstein, and I'm hopefully not Forest Gump either. Ah, but I know what love is. And even he somehow won the heart of the girl he loved. To me, that's a bigger accomplishment than meeting three presidents, being a millionaire, or winning the congressional medal of honor. I could really do without everything else but that whole heart winning thing and be just hunky dorey. Ah, reality... It kinda stings the eyes. But yes, love can make us dumb. Cupid can make us stupid. Dude, watch where you're aiming that damn thing. Achtung! Get those anti cherub missiles ready. We are at DEFCON 2, repeat DEFCON 2. It's the end of the world as we know it, and I don't exactly feel fine. Ah, but how is your day going? Love has made me make some unsound decisions. Rose colored glasses might as well be opaque in some circumstances. When they fall from your eyes and you see once again, Oh, boy. Oh, but enough about that. Clean cup move down. I do need to get better at staying away from the social media vortex. This is not a New Year's resolution, just something I really need to do. It's just bad for some of us mentally. There's still a subconscious part of myself that thinks I'll find the connection, absolution, and belonging that I need (or think I need). But the reality is very different. As I may or may not have said already, it's like going to the desert for water or to the moon for air. Can I really think of a time that logging in actually made me feel any better? No. Never. In fact, it has often made me feel worse. It's all an illusion anyway. Rarely does one find anything or anyone real there. It is a dopamine trap for the brain. It's like a drug. It's like poison. A happy soul is not a profitable product. It takes a lonely soul forever, feeling inadequate, feeling less than who they truly are. It takes a beautiful soul wrongfully, thinking they're ugly. It takes a wonderful heart forever, second-guessing, forever wondering what is wrong with them. Only then can they sell you their products and their politics. A complete human being would be of no use to them. They want you to feel like there's something missing that only they could provide. But there's nothing left out of you. There never was. They want you to engage, no matter if it's because you are sad, lonely, angry, or offended. Their goal has never been your happiness or well-being. Never but never my friend should you ever feel unworthy of love. You are. I just don't believe this is the right place to find it. Well, we're getting far enough into Suckuary to be starting a Ballz Von Frozemov week. I know I have already expressed just how hate this goddamn month. But it bears being said again. Suckuary, especially the 23rd, can go to hell. It is a bleak miserable lousy month. And it took my baby sister from me. In short, I'll be glad when it's over. I am not a fan. Okay, I promise to change the subject. Clean cup, move down, and to hell with January. Don't get me wrong. It is so much more than this dreaded month that makes me feel this way. To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly happy with myself either. I guess I will never be. I know self reflection is a good thing, a healthy thing, a very necessary thing to learn and grow and to become more, to somehow get closer to the person we wish we could be. I also know we can often be our own worst critics, can be damn harsh, actually. Then again, when you're looking into your own soul, you really see everything. Of all the people on Earth, you are the only person you'll ever be able to see completely through. Everything, man, everything. Some things you're proud of. Other things you're okay with. Then there are things that make you really not like yourself very much. We all want to be beautiful inside and out. We all want to see the things we want to see. And yes, We do learn, and we do grow, but even then, it can be so hard to let ourselves off the hook for all that came before we knew or understood. If ignorance is truly bliss, it would seem that knowledge and understanding can be painful. I guess to be old and wise, one must first be young and stupid. I still say that life needs a trial run, let's go on and make our dumb ass mistakes, learn a few things the hard way, act a fool, Yadda Yoda. And then? Okay, now let's do this for real. We need a practice life first, the absolute perfect gift for any perfectionist. In the absence of that, I guess we just do the best we can, using the sting of those harsh lessons as motivation and thanking whatever higher power for those rare chances to apply them. You can't keep kicking yourself forever, man. Everything and everyone should have their time, their place, and there should be a certain dignity to it. The heart needs a home, and a soul needs peace. Am I making sense? I hope I am. Though when it really comes down to it, I really don't know anything at all. It's a lot of best guesses, really. For some, I hope I'm right. For some, I hope I'm wrong. I've been flying blind for a long time now. Random chance or Wile E Coyote, I guess I'll never know. I wish I could have a chance to live my whole life over again with the knowledge and wisdom I have gained. Maybe I could be closer to being someone I would be proud of, someone lacking the ache of so many regrets. In this coldness, in this bleakness, it is just so hard for me to see. I so need the warmth of the sun. I so need some light in my heart. I lost my sister in the bitter cold of January. I lost my father in the blistering heat of July. Sometimes, it feels like I've lost myself, too. As for what love I have in my heart, it either goes out to either those who are no longer here to receive it or to those still here who seem to not particularly want it. This old heart of mine has never been very good at listening to logic, reason, or rhyme. I just wish it were better at letting go. I know one should not expect fairness in life. Still, I think it's sad that many a lonely soul is denied what they long for through reasons that are beyond their control. I refuse to believe in a grandly designed universe, when children go hungry and hearts go lonely, when some of the fortunate others take for granted or even misuse an abundance of what so many have longed for for so long. Random chance is not a conscious living being and therefore can not be responsible or take blame. On the other hand, a grand designer of this particular universe would have a lot to answer for. Belief is one thing. Observation with eyes and mind open? That's another. One can not help but see. One can not help but know. It is hard to ignore what is right in front of you. Another thing? When the body gets tired, there is always rest eventually. When it comes to heart, mind, spirit and soul, that flavor of fatigue does not always have a cure. A lifetime has a way of wearing on all. I think it is the latter that truly makes one old.
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