Wouldn't it be lovely to be young again with the wisdom of all these decades? Think of all the good I could do, of all the love and appreciation I could show, of all the foolish bone headed mistakes I would avoid, of all those wasted minutes, hours, and years, that I could get back. Just one more go, just one more chance, just one more game, now that I oh so clearly know what I should have done. Unlimited power. They give you the knowledge about the same time they take away your power to use it. What year would I go back to? And is there any usefulness in having these kind of thoughts? Maybe it is just to explore how present day Cosmic Wie would have made a lot of different choices. While the space cadet I used to be was far from evil, far from being the devil himself, they still left much to be desired in my present day opinion. Young Wie was ignorant of many things and while a few of those ignorances could be forgiven and excused, there were also some where I most definitely should have known better, and damn sure should have made the effort to have known better. To be ignorant is one thing. To have not made any genuine effort to open my eyes to reality is quite another. To only see yourself from your own point of view is to be blind to reality. To learn and to grow requires one to reflect and see the things we don't really want to see. You've got to be an investigative reporter, not a propaganda minister. Then we can work in being a better human being, right? Oh, Universe, I've been thinking. It's not always the smartest thing to do. Would we call this a paradox? Not necessarily. There is productive thought where important conclusions are reached. Then there is my running around that same old circular track in my brain, round and round, down and down. A train of thought that goes absolutely nowhere is no good to anybody. There is reminiscing and ruminating. Then there's brooding and dwelling. And while there are things beyond my control, there are other things well within it. When I ask myself, just what can I do? It is not always rhetorical, and sometimes, there are answers. Just maybe not the answers I want to hear. My thoughts in January can be as bleak and as gloomy as the weather. The closer the 23rd gets, the more my thoughts focus on my baby sister and that terrible day in 2022. Now, I know I am far from the only one to have gone through this. We all do. It is just as human an experience as can be. Do not let anyone deceive you: Time does not really heal loss. It doesn't really take away the pain. However, it seems that maybe time has made me better at carrying it. Like the mountain, the valley, or the ocean, it is simply there. Like the beating of my heart, it is in the background of everything I do, everything I say. My only real outlet is to honor the people that I love. It is not the beginning of a cure, but it really does help. My father once told me that what we call ghosts are merely afterimages in our minds, impressions, and reflections of the people we knew and loved. He worded it differently, far more succinctly than I could. He told me about driving past a certain field and seeing (for a split second) my great grandfather out there working. Nothing supernatural, just a fleeting moment of memory visiting the here and now. Now, living where I live, everywhere I look is a memory. Still, it's been more of a heavy sense of deja vu than an image. I guess there was that one time I was out mowing last summer and had this sort of flashback, "Good job, son, but how about we take a break and have a cold beer." It was more the voice of memory than a vision. It seems that where these "ghosts" really have their staying power with me is in my dreams. They've all visited me there. And lately, it has been his turn. One recurring theme is how he's here walking around like he always was, that he's still alive, that we're only treating him like he's gone. Yet in those dreams, he's still here, taking note of all the changes, and we strangely still acknowledge his presence. He seems to be content, no longer struggling so much to get around. He seems like the same man I have known all my life. I hope he is out there somewhere, happy, by my mother's side, and in Marsha's presence. I hope they all know that I think of them every single day of this life that has somehow lasted beyond time. I would almost sell my soul to be sent back to the year 1985. To me that is the present. 2025 is the future and this future sucks. In some ways, it might as well be Hell. Meanwhile, it seems I find myself in the crossfire of mandatory overtime and catching sick again. Damn it. I'd be home if I could. Man, I feel awful, like I have just had my butt handed to me. It's going to be a long day, but if I make it, my bed is waiting, and I will hibernate like a bear. Great goodness I know nobody's gonna baby me, but this is one of those rare times I kinda wish somebody would. Sometimes, being the grown-up is not worth it at all. Ah, but I am. Ah, but I will. Ya gotta do what you gotta do. Nobody ever said we have to like it. (Time Skip) Time keeps on slipping... Day, night, waking, dreams, a few encore appearances. This has been a most peculiar weekend. Aside from brief moments when I absolutely had to, I have not left this bed since Friday afternoon when I finally made it home, fell over like a redwood, and totally passed out. Since then, reality and consciousness have come and gone, drifting in and out of me. It's been a bit on the trippy side if you ask me. Silly rabbit, trips are for trix. I can't exactly say it's been fun, just weird... It's like that ancient game show, "This is your life," if directed in 1967 by somebody obviously altered by certain chemical compounds. Not exactly the way of the modern-day Cosmic Wie. What's more trippy has been this feeling I am not alone, but in good company, even if in this lousy condition. The good news is I woke up this morning feeling a good deal better, almost human. (Another Time Skip) It is now a few more days later, and I'm almost myself again. When everything is totally depending on me, I have to be up to the task. There is no rest for even the wicked, much less for the wretched or the weary. The world around me, its people, governments, and corporate entities with their hands out for my9 money, time, energy, even my sanity, could care less about what I've been going through. The world is beautiful, but it can also have a cruel lack of understanding. It is odd how, aside from random chance, some god, or myself, there is truly nobody to blame. I guess there is only so much. Modern-day civilization may have its flaws, but It will always be better than the chaos of anarchy. They say it is better to be alive. Maybe it is, but the longer I live, the more people I lose. To live is to feel pain. To be alive is to learn how to bear that pain, to understand that there are still things to do, and (as Robert Frost wrote) still miles to go. The reason it is better to be alive is there is still time to complete this task before me, this task of my forefathers that I must continue until I know my children are ready to take over the reigns, and it seems to me that none of them are ready. It is simply my turn at the head of the table. It is no more permanent than my father's or my grandfather's. With each day approaches the fullness of time. Nothing is forever. Certainly not I.
I have heard people talk about the friend zone, maybe the shores or the highlands or the river basin. I, however, live beyond the mountains, across the desert, in a place I call the Outer Mongolia of the Friend Zone. I can almost hear Genghis Khan laughing at me. He was far better at conquering empires than I ever was at conquering hearts. Now, there's nothing wrong with being a good friend, especially to someone you love. There is nothing wrong with wishing them to be happy, even when it means losing them to time and circumstance. Because it seems that their happiness has somehow become more important to you than even your own. Friendship is not a bad thing. It just hurts sometimes. I still believe in the Grand Admiral Thrawn-bot's advice of being the supportive friend and realizing that we can't really make somebody love us the way we can't help but love them. But damn, shouldn't I draw the line somewhere? Shouldn't some things be none of my business? Should I really be part of aspects that don't involve me? If I am not the one, shouldn't the whole idea of romance be in a separate room? I don't mind giving advice when asked. I don't mind talking about my belief as to what love is and what love should be, especially to someone I actually love. I can't say whether my advice has value. If I were the actual love doctor, maybe I wouldn't be out here in the Friend Zone Outback. But still... I know what love is. And it hurts. These slings and arrows of that certain cherub go deep into the heart. I wish I had been wearing my Anti-Cupid armor about a year and a half ago. Falling in love isn't so nice when you're the only one falling. Damn it. Have you ever met someone who becomes more and more endearing with everything you learn about them? Remember how in Futurama Fry wanted to make an opera about Leela's life? My opera would be even better because this particular person's life story is one of overcoming so much and of great courage. Some heroes do not have to be written. They already exist. It is so much more than her physical beauty that has me feeling so strongly, whether I wish to be in love or not. Believe it or not, I make a great effort not to place her on some high pedestal. I am not claiming she's perfect. Just the perfect storm to have conquered this old heart without even meaning to. Even so, I can accept that I am not the one. It's just that I wish to keep the friendship out of certain areas that are painful to me. I do not want to play the role of relationship helper or a matchmaker. It's depressing, heartbreaking, and frankly humiliating. I can do many things for the one I love, just not this. It is just too painful. Does that make me jealous or immature? Maybe. But I never said I was the perfect friend. I know this is my problem alone. I wish I could change these feelings. I don't really understand why I feel this way. Pretty faces and beautiful women are more common in this world than some people think. But it's that one soul, that beautiful soul that I wish could love me too, this one in eight billion, or at least the only one I have ever really found, that I feel so deeply for. This is about spirit far more than anything else. If spirits were all we were, I would still love this particular one. I can't change how I feel, and damn it, I've tried. This is just something I have to learn to live with, just as she is yet someone else I must learn to live without. The difference is that one can't lose what they never truly had. The difference is that there is no logic or reason for these feelings, no explainable connections, no memories of a time truly together. The difference this time is that I only lost a beautiful dream of what might have been in some other reality. Therefore, I lost nothing objectively real. But why does it feel so real despite everything? It is nobody's fault, unless it's my own. Still: I'm not the devil himself, you know? Besides, a being wiser than Daniel would have probably figured this conundrum out. Oh well. Clean cup move down. It seems my second wind for today is about gone now. Heck, it's not for a lack of sleep. I've had plenty, weird dreams included. I guess maybe that still wasn't enough. This crazy schedule and not exactly feeling well for the past week or so in the first place is probably why. Despite my fatigue, I am feeling much better. I can finally breathe again. I may give my past self a lot of hell, but I am certainly glad that I quit smoking all those years ago. It goes to show that maybe not all my decisions were wrong. Even the greatest heroes falter sometimes, even the greatest warriors lose a battle now and then. (And I have never exactly been the greatest) Still, there have been fleeting moments when I have almost beheld what would be (to me) the spinach to Popeye, the yellow sun to Superman (Heck even cappuccino to Beavis) Nothing makes one stronger or more courageous to face the cold, keep up the struggle, or even await yet another tomorrow, like knowing there is such a person or such a place, that the coldness, the cruelness, the struggle and the fight to survive, like all things.... Is not forever. I believe there is nothing more powerful than a warm house on a cold night, a soft place in a hard world, a quiet refuge in the middle of a storm, a peaceful pause in a time of struggle, and a dear friend in a lonely world... The power to build will always be greater than the power to destroy. The power to heal will always be greater than the power to harm. The power to love will always be greater than the power to hate. I've spent some decades being a work in progress. Hopefully I've got some time to go, being the same work (with hopefully more progress). I like to quote a certain coach of the Chicago Bears who said that one is never a loser until they quit trying. (Or better yet Tim Allen in Galaxy Quest) Never give up, never surrender.
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