Hello, Universe.
It's me again. Hello, it's me. The day is ready for me, but am I ready for the day? I'll get back to you when I am awake enough to answer that question. It's another day. Round and round the same old wheel, same old grind, yadda yadda Yoda poor head exploda. Same, same, same, despite the truth in how they say that you don't know what tomorrow will bring. Still, it means that I'm doing okay. See, while on one hand, it seems that each day is just a carbon copy of the last, just the same old situation driving me Nutso The Clown, I guess it also means nothing bad has happened either, so there's that. There's nothing like a major tragedy to break up the monotony, so I guess I should be happy with the same old grind. The only tragedy in the monotony are the echos of the past, memories that will never go away. Other than that, I would much prefer this day to day ho humdrum to a thousand earth-shattering shocks that my heart just couldn't withstand. I have had enough loss for a lifetime already. I don't want to lose anymore, neither anything nor anyone else ever again. In fact.... I would like to win and to gain for a change. I am ready for something wonderful and new. There's even a corner of my mind where I almost know exactly what, and even who I would like to be there to witness, better yet, by my side and a part of my world. Yes, yes, silly, aren't I? These hopes, wishes, and dreams. Every once in a while I get a vision in my head, a beautiful dream, a fantasy of the most remote possibility of saying good morning and goodnight to someone besides myself, to fall asleep next to, and wake up beside, more than just my collection of way too many pillows. Ah, heartbeats and lullabies. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side, and it is so easy to idealize and romanticize. I try to be realistic, to know that nothing is perfect, that no person is either. Still, I'll bet it beats the heck out of being lonely. Still, I've got to get out of the habit of projecting a certain beautiful set of eyes, a certain lovely smile, and a certain beautiful soul onto my dreams of that sort. How in the hell I let my heart run away from me is beyond my understanding. There is no point denying how I feel, but there's also no point in having my head in the clouds or living in a dream world either. Now, if the feelings were mutual, I would be free to step lightly or even fly, but reality and stuff. Damn it. Reality. Which takes me back to this present moment of morning fog. I find myself in a bit of a haze, and the reason alludes me. It can't be for a lack of sleep. I hibernated like a bear deep in a dark cave on a cold winter's night. I should be well rested, but I'm not exactly feeling that way. In fact, I could literally sleep for days. The waking world isn't always all that inspiring. Though it does beat the nightmares. I'd rather dream of Freddy Kruger than of my ex, but that's another story. My mother's birthday is on the 20th. She would have been 76. It's not falling on President's Day as it sometimes does. Momma used to joke that they'd have parades for her every few birthdays. Of course, Valentines Day will happen, too. Are you wearing your Super Dupid Anti-Cupid armor, guaranteed to deflect slings, arrows, and troublesome cherubs? There have certainly been times I wished I had been wearing mine. Remember, ladies and gentlemen, safety first. I wish I could wear mine, but it's a bit too late for that. I've done fallen like Rome in 476. "Great, Scott, Marty, she blinded me with science!" Well, Doc, at least you might find your way out of this with logic and reason. Not so, if she blinded you with love, huh? Especially if you, in fact, have blinded yourself and blamed in on da gal, right? What in the name of Sir Issac H. Newton is going on here? Damn it. Let it go, heart. Let her go. My special friend, my dear one, my love, you wonder why I seem so down. Nothing much. It's only that I wish I were yours. I only wish that you would claim me. I know well that this is impossible, so I do not say, no matter how much I want to tell you. Misery may love company, but it is not my wish to drag you down here with me. Why? It's simple. I love you. And when you truly love someone, you want them to be happy and not come down with a case of these all too contagious blues. I think that I have already written a bit too extensively about that subject too. What else should I talk about? Surely, such a dashing daring space cadet such as I can think of something. Ground Control to Major Tom? It's not "Lost In Space", uh-uh, it's lost and spaced. Roger roger bo bodger. Man, what the hell happened to me? Extra spacey perception. Three lightyears from home and still boldly going forward. Extra spacey indeed. Sing with me, "In the year 2025, somehow Cosmic Wie is still alive, though how the hell I survived, I dunno oh oh...." That's a good question, Mr Zagar and Mr Evans, because I'm like quacked if I know either. Speaking of that song, 2525, so set 500 years in the future, will any memory remain of me? Will any memory remain of my loved ones? Maybe if M-Disks truly lasts a thousand years or if I ever get my hands on some 5D crystal glass. They say that stuff has the capacity to hold integrity for billions of years. Though Sol becoming a red giant and vaporizing the inner planets might ruin that. Not that long gone me would care by then. Still it's fun to imagine them being in someone's collection on some space station or planet around a far away star, where the mighty space people of the future try to puzzle out my ancient computer stuff. I suppose I've been collecting digital stuff for several decades now, from my first basic program, to my first writings, using a little program called Wordstar, to family photographs, home movies, recordings, to my vast collection of programs, operating systems, ASCII text and HTML, to my damn impressive collection of movies, music, and games. Most of this stuff is stored both optically and magnetically, and maybe someday on the universe withstanding crystal glass. Well, maybe it won't withstand our sun burning up earth, but I'll be long gone by then and probably will no longer care by then. Who knows, maybe it will remain in the hands of my descendants (genetic or spiritual) in orbit around Proxima Centauri or somewhere else in the galaxy, maybe even going intergalactic in some future I can't even imagine. Dear space people of the future, It is I, Cosmic Wie, your ambassador in time! Hello, there! Still, I'm thinking about slowing down a bit. One can't spend their whole life trapped in a screen. With phones, it's not a problem. I am only on mine when I'm away from home and bored out of my mind. With computers, on the other hand, the temptation to be the almighty cyber Merlin, god of the ones, ruler of the zeros (I HAVE THE POWER!) is hard to resist. It has always been my best escape from reality. I have lived a significant portion of my life there, which is why so much of my past is stored on disks. I want to spend a bit less time there for multiple reasons. First of all, it just isn't as immersive or appealing as it used to be. My old games, my favorite movies, even my favorite songs, always having a special place in my heart, are just not drawing me in anymore. It's isn't like I stopped loving them or have lost my special memories of being both somewhere and someone else, but I just can't seem to fade into those realms as easily as I once did. I look around me, and I know I need to change my focus for the sake of my own mental health. Still, they will be there, hopefully for a very long time to help someone else as they've helped me. I can't say it's for being bored or burned out or that maybe I have grown beyond certain things. All I know is that they don't make me feel like they used to. Some may say this is a sign of depression, but it was depression that drove me to desire escape in the first place, so I don't know. The closest thing I can articulate here is that I am changing. For the better? For the worse? Hell, I can't even begin to say. Of course, I will continue to write because I do so in moments I am unable to do anything else. My sessions with Doctor Blog-ieo may not be the most effective therapy, but they do help in organizing my thoughts. I must also admit to having trust issues with real head doctors. It may be irrational, but it is based on real experiences. Yesterday, as I was working in my yard, I kind of had a bit of a flashback. See, as a kid a long time ago, I used my artistic expression to draw a picture of when my father was working out in the front yard, doing basically the same thing. It was a burned out stump, and I drew it, and I thought I did an awesome job. However, the drawing and my passing statement about the tree being dead somehow caught the attention of an overly ambitious school psychologist. Now, I was 6 or 7, so I wouldn't know metaphor had it bitten me on the backside. I was being as literal as a kid would be. It was a Dad burned tree (get it?). However, now that I can speak in metaphor, I will say that despite everything that has happened, the tree is very much alive, and I very much intend to keep it that way. Also, most kids don't get into angsty poetry until their teens. (I should know) I never stopped even to this day. Only it goes here instead. I certainly have my reasons, loneliness, lost family, unrequited love, and on and on. I seem to have no shortage of inspiration. It also seems I understand the sheer intensity of these feelings far more than I ever have. My younger self really didn't have a clue, though I thought so at the time. Experience has a way of teaching the harshest lessons. When you know, you know. For many things, it is the only way. That is why I long for the bliss of ignorance. Ah, to be young and dumb. Time is relentless. It's without any mercy to stop. It destroys worlds. It destroys lives. It takes and it takes away. Time can make a fool of anyone, even the great Cosmic Wie. How about we change the subject, huh? Say it with me, clean cup move down! Mad watch, mad watch! Yep, two days slow. We simply must have another spot-o-tea. But don't trouble your pretty little head, dear. I'll get it. If this were still the 1990s, I could be an awesome web developer. I know just enough HTML to be dangerous. I have created my own offline home page with all my favorite bookmarks. I have created a page for my animated gifs collection. I've created a tribute page for my baby sister, pictures of her, snippets of conversations we've had, and some things I have written about her. I'm thinking about making a page for my parents too. My gif page starts with, "Welcome to the mind of Wie," with Bruce Campbell's Ash saying, "Buckle up, Bonehead, 'cause you're going for a ride!" Which would most certainly would be the case for anyone entering my mind. There are a megaton of references and more than a few hints as to my inner workings. All my web pages have the Hubble deep field with all those galaxies for a background. Maybe it is a subtle reference to my universe to those I love who are one with the universe, but not even I know for sure. All I know is that the Hubble deep field is one of the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen in my life. That much, I know. One with the universe, eternally beautiful. Sometimes, I can't wait to become one with the universe, too. Miles to go. Lightyears to go... The miles seem so long. Space just goes on and on, infinity, eternity. To look far enough in either space or time, I can see only darkness. Wow, man. Guess it is time for the Mad Hatter and the March Hare to intervene again. Clean cup move down! Wonderland's a much brighter place than that dark void such heavy thoughts lead me to. Really, I should do better to avoid them. It's yet another bit of advice I give to myself that I, too, often ignore, just like a certain character. Except, of course, I am very much real. Maybe a bit too real, as even as I may deny certain truths to the world, there are truths within my very soul that I can no longer ignore, whether or not the world would understand. The world doesn't live in my head, see through my eyes, or feel with my heart. I can't live without these few brilliant sparks of light that brighten an otherwise bleak life. Even false hope is sometimes better than no hope at all. Even an impossible dream is better than a nightmare reality. There has just got to be a better way. Friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, I'm tired. I really feel I have long ago done my time. Now, all I want is a bit of comfort, a little love, and a lot of peace. Surely all these years of struggle should mean something, should have gotten me somewhere, anywhere beyond.... this. I don't ask to be super filthy rich or to live like Hefner in the freaking Playboy mansion. I don't mind working the rest of my life.... I just would like to have someone to come home to at the end of the day, one of billions, even if I still wish it to be a certain one, as crazy as the thought may be. Oh well, there is really no use in going on about it. It's like how Brook Benton sang it. It's life, and you've got to play the game. Still, I would like to win once in a while. Also, myself surrounded by haze seems like an inadequate description of the nature of the universe. Shouldn't there be more there for me? Shouldn't infinity well be able to spare just one little corner for me? Infinity minus a bit of generosity would still be infinity, right? It is not my desire to take away from anything or anyone, just to have what I need in order to validate an existence that occurs whether or not I ever willed it. I'm here, and I want to make the best of it if I can. I am here because I was wanted. Long ago, two wonderful people willed me to exist, so here I am. Yep, still here. How much longer is anybody's guess. Here I am today, doing my best to chase these heavy thoughts away, doing my best to stay. Only to do the same tomorrow and the next day, until a certain day says to me no way. And how, why, or when I can't say. I am here now, and it is my will, even without reason or rhyme. I am here. Shouldn't this be enough? I don't think so. I need more, so much more. Believe it or not, out in the world, I try to be positive in what I say. I try not to talk so much about how down I can feel some days. Why? Because I just don't want to be a buzz kill. I don't want to bring others down. Misery may love company, but I want my friends, especially the ones that I love, to be happy. I want to be a positive influence, not a negative one. Smiles are contagious you know? Now I have a very few bright spots, a very few rays of light in my world that brighten and warm this old heart, keeping my world from being so damn bleak and so damn empty. Don't begrudge me this. It is a crucial lifeline, and I need it. I can't stress how crucial it is. You can take me to task and make me tow the line on a thousand other things, but on this, especially this, I need a bit of slack. I don't think I'm asking too much. In fact, I'm not asking, I'm telling ya. There are just some folks who need to straight up leave me the hell alone. If all you're going to give me is static, then fade the fuck away. Don't mess with me. Even if it is all I have, even if it's not so much, I will have this and I will fight tooth and nail for this. Logical or not, these are my thoughts. These are my feelings. There's no right or wrong in them. They're just there, they're just me. Right or wrong only depends on how we act on them. Truth and reality are more open to interpretation than most people think. When they say it's only in your mind, it might as well be everywhere in the universe. Just know that your truth is most likely not the only truth. No doubt through three years and two megabytes, one would find different truths, different views, and even contradictions here in my own words, in my own being, never static and always dynamic. You might say I evolve. Many things about us, many aspects of our present day being, even at our very core, were born long after the children we once were. Just as a laser burns knowledge into a blank CD, so does life experiences burn hard lessons into our souls. Are we live, or are we Memorex? I am still here, but I'm not the same. I just know that if I were a CD, I wish I had been pre-recorded with all the right tracks back at the factory. It might have saved me a lot of pain and a lot of regret. I would get to play my song for everyone I love and have lost. It would be something I would want them to hear. Here I am, but not the same, hopefully with some wisdom, hopefully the best version of myself so far. I can't change the past, and I can never really know about the future. It is only in the present, in the here and now that I have any sway or say... And even now, I can't say I have full control over everything that is happening, only myself and my reaction. And even then, I sometimes have but one option before me. It seems that I am not a god. There are some for which I would work every miracle, and there are others who'd better be damn glad I am not a god, for there would be some sure enough old testament style righting of wrongs. Behold Mofos, for The Wie hath returned among the people and unto this land and my justice shalt be done. By Grabthar's Hammer, you shall be avenged. Wait... That's Galaxy Quest. Ah, but I am just a mortal human being, and my mother used to tell me that two wrongs do not make right. I guess there is a reason I do not possess godlike powers because I would certainly use them. The temptation to return the kindness of others and to smite the hell out of those who badly deserve it would be much too great. So maybe the universe was wise to make me a mere mortal human being. Therefore I sayeth unto you, Clean cup, moveth down. There is something of a conflict or maybe a discrepancy within myself about certain states of the human condition that I am still trying to reconcile. Why is it that there are certain aspects of my inner being that seem not only reasonable, but necessary for my own sanity to at least display subtlety, that look totally freaking ridiculous when certain other people put on display? Maybe because their way is overblown, or maybe they're simply not being respectful to the premise. I guess so. Being loud and obnoxious does not make it real. Besides, this is not how I feel about absolutely everyone. There are a very few of wonderful elegance who seem to have been very much meant to be. Maybe it is more about how and why, and if there is true authenticity in what they're doing. I don't know. This world has too many clowns masquerading as something else. It makes them Ronald, not The Burger King, and certainly not Wendy. As Yoda said, do or do not. There is no try. Therefore, this is how I resolve it, at least for now. I embrace subtle nuances that only draw attention to those who might truly want to know. This is not a joke. And such things are not funny when they become you. Still, there is a fine tightrope line between being authentic and being ridiculous. Oh, and no net. So, this is a line I indeed walk very carefully. In this tough old world one does have to be careful. Things are just as not as simple as we wish them to be. When I cringe at some of these people, I ask myself if I am being hypocritical. I conclude that I am not, for I feel I'm taking myself far more seriously. Furthermore I feel they damage the more genuine among us, the ones who see this as a spiritual journey of discovery, of seeking truth and recognition fromn within, more than without. Because, in the end, it is what we believe in our own heart that really matters. Not some check-box. Not some propaganda clown show. To be, simply to be. Your not going to convince the whole world. When you become a clown, you'll be stuck in the circus forever. However, if you become yourself, there is hope for the ones who truly matter. As for the rest, take an example from Freddy Kruger when he said to Zsa Zsa Gabor, "Who gives a fuck what you think?!" Besides the five on his glove, Freddy has a point, don't you think? Okay... Moving right along, next subject? Some of these days are long indeed. I mean it's good to be getting overtime as it is helping me to dig myself out of a mountain of debt. But, man am I tired. Money, energy, and time are the true holy trinity. There is never really enough of any one of them. And it's always a battle royal between the three. Meanwhile, I keep getting older. I guess I am supposed to be the lucky one. I just don't feel so lucky. Getting old is just the side effect of living long enough. My parents were in their 70s, so I guess that counts. My baby sister was only 40, so for her, not so much. I'm still here, still aging, still missing them, still missing her. It's the same song and I know you have heard it many times, but it just won't end until I do. Meanwhile, the fast forward button is still pressed on my life and the years are flying by. It seems sometimes that I am the only one sitting still, even if I've been running myself crazy. Go figure, go fish. It might have been Einstein that discovered how time is different in fact, but in perception, it seems we've always known. Heaven flies by and hell stretches on and on. I am tired, Universe. I can't even have within this loneliness the peace of being left alone. There seems to be no escape. So long as I still breathe, looks like I'm stuck here. And if I'm going to be here for the duration, I am going to need something. I am going to need a bit of comfort, even if I have to Jedi mind trick myself into believing I have it. I don't expect them to have the empathy or the integrity to even try to understand, but they do need to just leave me in peace. Just go away, just go away. Leave me alone. Why must my bit of happiness be such a bother? What does it have to do with the likes of these people? More, why is it their business at all? I can expect and even understand the fact that not everybody cares. That's life and that's this world. But this goes so far beyond simply not caring. It is malicious and sadistic. This is activity pursuing harm. If they didn't care at all, then my little bit of happiness should not be a problem for them. I could live with that. This, on the other hand, is becoming a problem. So, what should I do? What should my goal be? More importantly, how? A direct confrontation is most definitely out. There is no point in arguing with someone who is "never wrong." You can't win and you'll never convince them, not with logic, not with reason, and certainly not with emotional appeal. In any scenario with someone like that, you can never win. They will always be right and you will always be wrong. And why should their opinion matter anyway? I certainly can't recall asking for it. Freddy to Zsa Zsa, remember? So. Nothing direct. How about avoidance? Not for their detriment or benefit, but for my own. And what would be my goal in this? Again, not to convince or change them because they would never listen, but for me. What would be my goal? What would I hope to gain? What problem would it solve? It has to be something within myself, it has to be my own peace of mind. The world won't change and neither will assholes. Being in the disadvantageous position I am, I can not hope to confront them directly. It really is a no win scenario. The only thing I can hope to do for now is to protect my own mental health, knowing the situation won't last forever. My time will come. I need only be patient and be ready for the day of peace I hope to find. It's a goddamn shame that after all I've seen, after all I've been though that I haven't found it yet. There seems to be neither reason nor rhyme, nor any poetry in this universe. Chaos and random chance aren't exactly the best at showing love, are they? Either this, or God is playing one heck of a game of pool. Rack em up! Asteroids crashing, stars exploding, planets flung out of their orbits to either freeze in the coldness of interstellar space, or to be baked in their own stars. Beep beep goes the satellite, beep beep goes the timer. Your planet Soufflé is done, beep beep! Hey, I wanted cheese on mine! What a mess. What a mess. And we've got to make the best of this mess. How? My dearest friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, go figure, go fish. After all my best efforts to make any sense of this, I've got nothing. Yes, Universe, I am tired of fighting this battle alone. There is something more that I need. It is what I get for being a human. If I were a robot, I wouldn't give a shit, would I? Oh, if I only didn't have a heart! Call me Tin Man In Reverse. If you can't mend it, Oz, then just get it out of my way. I am tired of it being broken. I am tired of my love not being able to find its way. I am tired of my beloved ones being taken away from me, either by circumstance, the cold hand of death, or asswipes begrudging me a simple conversation. Hearts don't do so well in this world. They get hurt, they get broken, they get mistreated, either by jerks or worse by fate. No, its the cynical malevolent cretins that do well. It's the manipulators and the liars. Sometimes I think we need not go to Hell to be punished. We are already here. And it seems that every time I reach for a glimmer of heaven, my hand gets slapped away. Yes, Universe I am tired, so damn tired. I need that bit of heaven. I can not go on living in hell without it. I am strong, but I'm not that strong. Everyone has that point of no return. I survive but I am tired of being tested. Enough. Easy, easy, be not afraid. It is one of the main purposes of my sessions here with the good Doctor Blog-ieo. Today I have been significantly upset. Okay I'm angry, freaking livid, totally pissed off. It has not been a very good day at all. Still, I've been calm, quiet, and professional, letting my frustration out by ranting here instead of going all Rocky and Rambo on a well deserving anal retentive bastard. Think of this like a ground fault circuit. Just as said circuit keeps people who live dangerously safe from electrocution, this keeps assholes who are living far more dangerously than they realize, from seeing my inner psycho coming out ready to play. It also keeps me from going to jail. Sooooo, it a win-win in my book. Orange just doesn't look good on me. I prefer blue or green. It highlights my eyes. Did I ever say I have green eyes? I do, but I digress. I will not claim Doctor Blog-ieo to be a superhero, just an old country doctor, So I won't say he's saved any lives other than maybe mine. But he's most definitely saved a few egos and maybe a few faces too. Some of them maybe today. I am not as soft and sweet as some people think I am. I am a nice person, yes. I have empathy, and I try to be kind. I have no malice, harbor no hatred, for anyone usually. Unless they earn it. See, I can only take so much until my evil twin will step up in my defense when given a reason to break out of character. I especially have news for anyone who has ever described me as 'quiet'. I'm not. If I am around people I like, I am just as talkative as anyone else. Oh, and when I love someone, I am a total chatterbox around them. But if I don't say very much, well.... How should I say this? Remember what the guy at the Star Wars bar said to Luke? Yeah, that. "And I don't like you, either!" Guess I'd better steer clear of any old Jedi masters. I prefer my arm to be attached to the rest of me. So, it is thanks to the good Doctor Blog-ieo, nobody in the real world got to see my bad side today. Well not bad, but ready to fight side, the too pissed off to care about consequences side. Bad enough, I guess. Bad enough for anyone who messes with me or the people that I love. I'm not talking about some monster or demon, it's just me, a part of me, like the rest of me, neither good nor bad, just a human being with heavy feelings. And we all have aspects of ourselves that we suppress and repress. Our shadow, as Jung describes it. No, not a monster, not some ugly troll under a bridge, yet still not as pretty or perfect as I wish I could be. It's like the messy room we close off when company comes calling. I don't want to be ugly. I don't want to scream. I don't want to shout. I most certainly don't want to cry. Or at least I don't want to be seen or heard when I absolutely have to. I may not like this unpleasant truth, but recognize you, I do, Dark Yoda. Ah, but control me, you do not. I guess what most keeps me holding on and holding back is the wisdom of my many years telling that no good will ever come from my letting loose my dogs of war, no matter how gravely disappointed I happen to be, and no matter how good it might feel in the moment to strike terror in the wasteland. I mean it didn't really end well for the Lord Humongous, either. So, I guess I will stay civilized for yet another day. They shouldn't push it, though. The Humongous will not be defied forever. Damn, this day seems like these words, still not over and going on and own. It seems I am once again dealing with Michael Myres Time, slow moving and apparently immortal. What else. Are there more clean cups to move down to? Maybe just one more. People who who make fun of Asian accents are a special kind. Number one, it means they know multiple languages and that's pretty darned awesome if you ask me. Also, I bet my attempts to speak their language would sound even weirder to them than they sound to us. So, the lady is beautiful and obviously smart, too. I hear English is a hard language to learn. I mean I don't know firsthand, but we have a few of those weird spellings (They called them snerk words when I was in elementary school) Ph can sound like F, C can sound like S. Then we have all those words that sound the same, but spelled different, and mean different things. So I would be most impressed with someone who can carry on a fluent conversation, even if they don't always form the words perfectly. Multilingual people fascinate me. Maybe because they're miles ahead of me. I know a few words here and there of a couple languages, but I'd be lost if I had to carry on a random conversation, so kudos to them.
Also, you rack disaprin.
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