My Dearest Universe,
If these words can pass through the great dimensional divide, I hope they find you, and that they find you well, happy, and with everything you ever dared dream, fulfilled, true, wonderful, and right before those new eyes from which you can now see. And if you can still see me, just know that I'm okay. It has been a long time, and time has not been so easy. There has been a lot of regret, a lot of wishing I had been just a bit more, a lot of pretending, smiling through the pain. Still, I am alright. The cruelest aspect of time is its direction. Still, what is time beyond the clock, beyond the hands, the pendulum, and the gears? What is it beyond the fading shadow on a sundial, beyond that last grain of sand that happened to fall? What is time when there are places in the universe where it will never exist again. Time shall someday bring a day when it will have power over us no more, the very day we meet again. Time is a hell of a thing. To me, the present day is not the present day at all. I often feel that this is the future, that I'm trapped here, and I need to get back to 1985 with all my knowledge and wisdom, and without the burden of what might have been. That was actually a nice year if I remember right, yet I can hardly believe it was four decades ago. I was young then. It may be hard to believe, but there once was a time when I was young and still had my biggest decisions all ahead of me, when I still had a chance. But I was ignorant. I knew everything but didn't know jack shit. It's no good to hate my past self for not knowing, but still, I cringe. I am so very embarrassed of how I could so blatantly 'know' yet not know a damn thing. Yet, now that I have learned, now that I clearly know what I should have done and should not have done, I really feel I've gone far enough in this practice run. I'm ready for the real deal now. What do you mean this was the real deal? Surely you don't take a messed up human soul like mine and not give them a practice life first! Oh, I see. Well, your system sucks! What is the point of learning when you never get a second chance? This better not be a simulation, or I'm finding a way out of this computer, and you're gonna see one nerd lay the smackdown on another nerd. It's gonna be high school all over again, and I'll be like that dumb jock with the letterman jacket, all the luck, and the whole faculty behind them. That's right, programmer, I'm gonna take you to school. Whether I am blood, flesh, and bone, or a million lines of code, I'm somebody you don't want to mess with. Okay... I need to talk about something a bit lighter now. Hobbies again? Why the hell not? I like computer games, mainly old ones, but a few new ones too. My main thing about games is this. The only time when the internet should be involved is when I get the game in the first place. No phoning home. No having to connect at all. See, I am old enough to have bought my first games on CD. I am the same way about other things, too. I stream absolutely nothing. None of this always online BS either. I will never buy anything on Steam. See, I am also old enough to remember how we once connected to the internet to check email, browse, yadda Yoda, then disconnect, and still use the computer. I will not be required to have to prove what is mine. And when it's mine, it is on my own disks, not sitting on some remote server where they can take it away. Besides, the bandwidth is not all that great where I live. I save everything, heck even web pages that I like. Some have since disappeared without a trace, not to be seen even on the internet archive. The internet has always been about here today and gone tomorrow. If I like something, I save it. There is none of this leaving it to float around online to either survive or not. I am a digital pack rat, and I am not ashamed to admit it. There are several hard drives and hundreds of M-Disks to prove it. I am willing to buy stuff so long as it becomes my stuff. Otherwise, no deal. That goes for games or any other media. They can stream THIS. They can Steam THIS. I purchase. I do not rent. No DRM allowed. That is the only way I fork over the cashola. Otherwise, I'll see ya around the cape, me hearties. Okay, my sense of humor is on a wavelength that most people don't pick up on. Yes, my wavelength is just out of band for most peoples tuners. Well, at least it's on a less crowded frequency, and I have never been much for crowds. I guess it makes me a bit unique, and I like being different anyway. So, if this makes you laugh, welcome brother or sister. Let's take over the world! Okay here goes: Just as I would pay William Shatner to do a spoken word version of "Come Sail Away" and Grand Funk Railroad's "Closer To Home", so would I pay Patrick Stewart to say, "I am Locutus Of Borg." Then turn to the camera, saying with a wink, "And, ladies, I am also Le Cutest Of Borg, so subspace me maybe?" Yes? No? Clean cup? Move down? Access granted. I have to admit to being a bit weirded out by my own words sometimes when I read back over them. But, isn't that the point of this? That's the purpose of these sessions. It is getting all these emotional extremities out in these words here, so I don't go crazy elsewhere, right? Even if I sound like a drama queen sometimes. Well, this isn't exactly acting. It's venting. Acting is what I must do in the real world, so I don't sound so dramatic.... Or queenly. There is no acting here in Blog-ieo Land. You're getting the real deal. Though I must admit there's a bit of a magnifying effect with what leaves my brain (not to mention my heart) and enters these pages. When it seems bad, it is, but not that bad. I am stable, even if my words can sound a bit unhinged. I'm fine, totally fine. Do you hear me, nice young men with their clean white coats and the good drugs? There's no need to cart me off to the funny farm, not just yet anyway. Although a full day of arts and crafts, three square meals, fellow patients to befriend, and some enhancements to calm these nerves kinda sounds appealing right now. Too bad I've got responsibilities, huh? I've got things to do and a whole world to keep from falling apart, so Wonderland will just have to wait. Bummer, dude. I wish I could live happily in madness. I would fit in among the Mad Hatter and the March Hare far better than I will ever fit in with this bunch around me now. This place is most certainly not home. Am I really such a drama queen? Nobody seems to be bowing. The one deck of cards I have is not the best royal guards money can buy. But, it does seem that when I write about feelings here (that I suppress elsewhere), they do come out in an extremely intense way. Can you tell? You can see it in my frustrations with things, situations, and people. And in my apparently deep feelings of affection for a certain individual. I probably sound as despondent as Romeo when he thought Juliet was dead rather than just sleeping. (Those two needed better communication!) I won't say any of these aren't my true feelings because there's more truth written here than I have ever expressed anywhere else, but this magnifying effect... Goodness. It sure makes me seem a bit crazy. Not that I deny this, either. It's just that (in the real world) I know how to fake sanity quite well. This is just where I channel my full range of emotions, yadda yadda Yoda. Hmmmmm! A poor Jedi, I would make! That is why I am known in some circles as Darth Wieis The Wise. And if you wish to know the tragedy of Darth Wieis The Wise, ladies and gentlemen, you have come to the right blog. Welcome. Buckle your seat belts, space cadets! This ain't the Enterprise, but we're boldly going crazy. This is where we shunt the excess antimatter from the warp core to keep the old gal from exploding, and I'm giving it all she's got, Captain! (ship shaking and sparks flying) I'll try to hold her together as long as I can, but I think ya be pushing the engines a bit too hard. Some might wonder why I would choose to put this online for the whole world to see. Well, what would be the point if I didn't, It would be meaningless without a tiny chance someone may actually find these words. Besides, and believe it or not, this is the 'edited for television' version. For those who really want truths that I can't share elsewhere, they'd have to find my backups or my latest M-Disk. Yes, there is even more to the great Cosmic Wie than I share even here. That's saying something. Even so, there are times when I feel I'm expressing a bit too much. But, I figured what the hell. I have long ago concluded that I am done pretending to be someone I'm not, and that somewhere I need to be myself, the good, the bad, and the fugly, (figuratively speaking) warts and all, ribbit ribbit! I may sound a little crazy, but I have never dealt in falsehoods here. I write a lot. That's how I deal. I have never written anything I didn't believe to be true. Granted, different lenses, different perspectives, high tide, low tide, different emotions can cast the objective in many shades of subjectivity. As I say now and again, the glass is half empty, half full, or shattered on the kitchen floor. It is the same damn glass. Different shades show it differently, that's all. It's not just what we see, but how we see it. Despite how illogical they may be, feelings are never wrong, even when they are. They just speak a different truth. That's why they can be so hard to resolve. From my sincere love for a special friend, to my frustration and even anger at situations I find myself powerless to change and even certain people who I feel powerless to even explain myself to, those better than thou power trippers who are 'always right' and 'never wrong'. Oh, and so full of themselves. There is just no reasoning with closed mindedness. Frustration and anger are hard enough, but there is something burning me so much worse from the inside out. This love, this beautiful yet so painful feeling. Love is the most difficult emotion of all. It's a powerful river, and I'm supposed to be a damn dam. From experience, I can tell you that it is a thousand times harder to hold back genuine love. It cuts deeper than any anger ever has. And I know anger quite well. There are some alive today mainly because one couldn't raise three children to adulthood from the penitentiary or the grave. Granted I am beyond and totally over such thoughts today, mainly because I have let go of such anger a long time ago and karma continues to act on my behalf and on behalf of the once vulnerable others that certain horrible people dared to hurt or dared to allow it to happen. But, yes, I've let go of my anger. It can be done. But love (except in that previous case) is so much harder to dismiss. For the record, Karma makes for a far better mafia contract dude. It beats being a cell mate's special friend for the rest of my life. Not to priss and prance here, but I'm way too pretty for the bighouse. I'd be too popular. Anyway, this was just to make a point that I have found letting go of anger to be far easier than suppressing genuine love. It hurts so much more to hold unexpressed love inside. Rage like all fires eventually quits burning after enough time. Love only seems to burn hotter and brighter with time. As for my past, I want to put it behind me. I don't even want to talk about it anymore. There is no love lost there, but neither is there any hatred. I just want to forget as much as possible. This other, this love I speak of for this dear special friend is not of the past, but very much of the present. I do my best to hide my feelings, but people tell me I am so damn easy to read. I might as well have a big screen teleprompter strapped to my back, flashing my emotions in big bold letters. With the very notable exception that I'll never be over Marsha, Mom, or Dad, It is far easier to put other aspects of the past behind me. My failed marriage is one of them. I have aged far better than my ex, and physically, I got the best years anyway. Now the whole psychopathic, sociopathic part and all the mental and emotional abuse, I could have well done without. I am far better off financially than the ex, due to their poor timing on when to leave. There would be a lot more at stake if we were still together a few years later. I won't say I dodged a bullet because I got hurt really bad, but it didn't kill me and I am beyond it now, even if certain wounds and certain scars remain. Besides, there's someone else with a healing presence who I'd rather give my all to, everything that I have, and all that I am. They just won't take it. Maybe it is for the best. This old heart too often thinks it can just kick my brain out of the drivers seat, and take me on this crazy ride. It seems not to remember how things went the last time I fell in love. Okay, space cadets, something just happened and I'm having a moment here. Without going into details, it's just people being unnecessarily mean again. And you know me. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don't choose to. It's just how I am. It kinda sucks, you know. Sometimes, I wish I were tough in this way, maybe like the way my other sister is. Aside from that one person so frequently I refer to, I really don't have any friends at all. Not anymore. I have none, save for one, and I guess it's not helping that I wish that we were so much more than friends. Yet I do not want to lose the only friend that I have. I know I must sound pathetic right now, and maybe I am. I just feel like crying, but right now I am not exactly in the best location for that. Damn, I am just so lonely. I just wish I could feel something even remotely like actually being loved. It's not being alone that makes me lonely. It's being around so many disingenuous people who just don't give a damn, yet pretending they do. I just want to feel loved. Is that so wrong? I make no claim that I'm perfect, or the greatest person on earth. But is it so bad that it's to the point that I am unlovable? With love behind me, I could fight a thousand demons. I could brave the void. I could power through despite a thousand injuries, If only I were loved. Not by some invisible god, but by another flesh and blood human being. I am so tired of this pain, Sis. I just want to go home. It is a refuge where I could at least cry this all out and maybe feel better. Does anybody really think I'm proud of this? I wish everyone except genuine souls would just leave me alone. If you're going to be fake, if you're going to be an ass, just leave me alone. Go away. I am so tired of people pretending to be my friends. Nothing is real, not anymore. Look at me quietly melting down, falling apart where nobody can or will see. Can a heart be so starved for love and affection that it so desperately reaches out to the one example of genuine kindness in my life? It takes a real soul to know a real soul. And I have never encountered one so beautiful, inside and out. Do I feel this way because I love her, or do I love her because I feel this way? It's an important question. If it's someone I truly love, then I wouldn't want them carrying my baggage or my burdens for me. It wouldn't be fair to them. I would want to give them as much of myself, even more. I would want to be their shelter, not just the other way around. Although the peace that would come from being held, especially in their arms, is something I would give absolutely everything to have. And if this is just some projection of my own loneliness, I still wouldn't wish to burden her. Why? (And here is some circular reasoning for you) Because I love her. I mean, can I feel a certain way for way more than a year and it still just be infatuation? Look, it's not that I am under any illusion or delusion of being able to win that wonderful heart. I am still working on accepting reality, yet knowing that I at least need a friend. Specifically, this one. At the same time, I can't go on denying to myself, my feelings. As Forest Gump once said, "I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is." Why the hell can't I resolve to be logical like Mr. Spock? The only way I'm remotely behaving like Spock is if he's high on spores again. Like I have said before, she could ask me for the moon and I'd be trying to figure out how t steal the damn thing from the sky. Grand Theft Moon. M-O-O-N, that spells moon. I hear myself saying things like this and I think, "Once a fool, forever a fool." But, I can't help it. I can't suppress this nature to love. I've gotta breathe, gotta eat, gotta sleep, and I've gotta love. I just hope a bit of this wisdom has sway with me. Love is a hell of a thing. I'm not even sure even soap opera amnesia could make me forget. I have my memories intact, but I seem to be a slow learner. Clean cup? Move down? Why, it's my unbirthday too! When I'm home on my old computer, the internet offers a lot more choices. I can find more Doom levels, I can browse fanfiction, and I can see what I can find in the wayback machine, and there are many other places I can go. Away and on this damn phone, I am stuck with just a choice between news and social media. Neither are good for my mood. The news is never just news. It's most always propaganda for one side or the other. It's all designed to make you feel this way or that.... Influence, manipulation. And I refuse to be a puppet for either side. My stance on different issues are so scattered across the spectrum that there's something in all of them to piss at least somebody off. Politics is what happens when people use their brains for hat racks and their mouths for what they should be using their butts for instead. I hate it no matter the flavor. It all smells like shit to me. Social media, too, is full of propaganda. There, it is even worse, just a cacophony of noise and nobody listening. I'm not saying I deserve it any more or less than the next soul, but I would like to feel seen, heard, and maybe even understood just a little bit, not drowned out by the noise. Fat chance there, my friend. The propaganda of the social realm is not merely from governments or "news" organizations, but corporations and even individual people. Everybody's talking and nobody's listening. It seems we don't have genuine conversations anymore, oh and especially about the president of these United States. Depending on the narrative, this guy is either the second coming of Jesus Christ or of the devil himself. But, it's just a man, what folks from my neck of the woods back in the day would have called a 'Loudmouth Yankee." That does not make him a bad man, just a man with one big mouth and absolutely no filter. Good? Bad? We'll see how I'm doing in a year. There are things I agree with him on and others that I don't. There is a lot of exaggeration out there in both positive and negative lights. They either downplay the good and enhance the bad or vice-versa. That, my friends is manipulation rather than information, propaganda, rather than news. There seems to be no unbiased truth, just enough spin to make one dizzy duck ready to upchuck. One has to take it all with a grain of salt the size of Mars, and I won't believe a damn word of it (donkey or elephant speak) one way or the other until I see results. And man, am I burned out!! Really, I burned out during the last election cycle. Yet the mouths still run, and the tongues still wag, talking points here and talking points there. Doesn't anybody ever think for themselves anymore? Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, Yoda. Hmmmm! Sick of this political bullshit, I am! Hot air everywhere to turn the turbines and power ten thousand New York Cities. There ya go. Green energy, boogers included. It's time for a headache pill and another clean cup move down. Help me Universe Kenobi. You're my only hope. I am tired, Universe, and I am so beyond what others may or may not think. Do you know the feeling at the end of a long time, that only sleep matters and the world can just fade away? Yeah, it's like that, oh but now on the scale of a lifetime rather than a single day. I think I may have figured out my curse. I am a human being that doesn't like being around other human beings. Then I get lonely. Go figure go fish. Now there are certain people out there that I like, love, trust, or all of the above, and a few not here anymore that I wish were here because damn it I miss them so much. But, yeah, it's an exclusive few that loved me, cared for me, came around because they wanted to, the ones I would have to stop myself from begging not to leave. And it's not that I have a problem with total strangers. If I don't know ya, you're probably alright. It's those that fall between the extremes, those who only think they know me, but don't really. It's the ones that cone around because they want something from me, ie money, work, or my remaining sanity. Or just to mess with me. They're the ones that can go away. The only strangers who bother me are the advertising types, the preaching types, and the propagandists. The ones selling shit. I know it's just the way the system works, but it can sure be a cacophony of noise sometimes. It seems there are a lot of attempts at selling going on. Sometimes it's a product. Sometimes it's a belief, political or otherwise. Now, I am not inclined to buy anything I don't otherwise want or need, nor am I inclined to believe in anything I don't otherwise believe already. Yes, I do have an open mind, but I am also the one who decides for myself, just what (and who) I allow to live there. And for any and all of the above, it is I who will seek council and not the other way around. I may not be the ruler of the world, but you can bet I am the ruler of my own mind, lest a few intrusive thoughts. Wie The Lionhearted, the ruler of infinite space, were it not that I had bad dreams. Hey, Shakespeare wrote heavier stuff than I. That said, are we ready, space cadets? How about another ride on the rocketsled roller-coaster, fellow adventurers, where I crash and burn, but rise from the dead? Does it sound like fun? No? Ah, but it's reality, and it's me, at least of late. Wile E Coyote, super genius. Or at least somebody with similar luck. It is the very war between my two halves, of the many reasons one way or the other, to be or not to be. Here I go. I may mot be as eloquent as the prince of Denmark, but I think I can be concise enough. They say belief or the lack thereof is a choice, but is it really? There are many times I wish I could believe in Heaven and a merciful Almighty God, to believe in a future of kicking back on a cloud with my parents and my baby sister, and with the kind people I once knew in life. It is a beautiful picture, isn't it? Who wouldn't want to believe in it? Sadly, I can't. It is not for a lack of wishing I could. I want to believe that religion is more than just the Santa Claus story for adults. Though frankly, if the only reason for being a good person is for reward or to avoid punishment, than that's not exactly being good, is it? The reason to be good to others is because it is the right way to be, and that (when you have a heart) your own conscience will punish you if you are less than good. It will burn away at your soul every single day. Truely evil people it seems can get away with that which is morally wrong yet not illegal, and never be burdened with guilt. That's why this world sucks. I really wish there were a next world where justice and peace reign supreme, where a benevolent God with the biggest heart makes right out of what's wrong. I wish, I wish. But I just can't believe. The best I can hope for is believing that souls live on and this universe is big enough for the possibility. Or, failing that, in oblivion, and my anthropomorphication of it as the beautiful goddess, Oblivia with her open and healing arms, that wonderful spell to help me forget ever having existed. That's it. I can't look at this hell scape of a world, then up to the heavens and entertain even the slightest belief in a god watching over this mess. Sorry. I wish I could. I guess if I am wrong and this condemns me to hell, it would be a most befitting end to a tragic existence. It's not a choice. I just can't. Momma used to always say can't never could. But honestly, I do not see how I can. If there is light to see, then please show it to me. Right now, I just can't see. Damn, I am just so over this world. If I didn't have so much responsibility, so many miles to go, I think I'd just call it quits. It's the survival of the biggest assholes rather than of the fittest. And if being an anal retentive jerkwad is this world's idea of fitfulness, then this world is simply not worthy of me, you see? Unfortunately, I still have work to do before I tell this whole kit and kaboodle, "Go fuck yourself, I'm outta here!" Too bad that I can't. The thought has crossed my mind many times. Those men in the white coats would come running if they knew how many times. At least there are three people that I love that it could no longer hurt, but then there are others it would hurt still, and the last thing I would ever want to do is break any hearts who dared to love me. The problem is that it would bring pain to those who clearly don't deserve it, while not even batting an eye for the ones who absolutely do. This is why I am still here, rather than for any ghost of hope. When hope dies, it leaves no ghost behind. When hope dies, it is dead forever. So what do I do now? Most of the time rather than screaming into the void, I write strongly worded letters to the void instead. There's less chance of being overheard, though after all this time I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Tell me, people, is it possible to be surrounded by people, yet be more alone than when you're actually alone? It's far better to be alone by yourself, than to be alone surrounded by people an infinity away. Solitude is healthy. Suffocation is not. That is today's wisdom. In today's world, we need all the wisdom we can get. I am here because two wonderful people wanted me to be here. No, they can no longer be hurt by my not wishing to be, but even their memory deserves respect. It is the very least I can do. These days, it's probably the most I can do as well. This is not the present day. It is a future beyond all purpose and meaning. It is a future where it seems to be a crime to even show a a shadow of love, the ghist of caring to someone like me. Tell me, oh do tell me, what did she ever do to bring such a grudge from you? What did she ever do but be my friend? How was being the only mercy left to me by this universe such an offense to you? Moreover, how is any of this your business? I don't get it. Maybe it's just the job of demons like yourself to remind me that I'm in hell. There are those with greater sins catching less hell, but I never accused life for being fair in the first place. And no doubt, there are things for which I deserve punishment. I should know, for I've been kicking my own ass for a long time for many of them. I don't claim to be some innocent angel. I'm just a mess of a human soul, flawed and fallible... But with some good qualities too, I hope. Surly there is a significant part of myself well worth redemption, right? Do I really deserve this? Am I truly beyond having just this one saving grace, this one token of mercy, this one beautiful friend? How can the peace and comfort this friendship brings to my heart be any kind of affront to you? There is really only one logical answer. You want me to suffer. You know? It would be actually refreshing if you'd drop the bullshit and just admit that's what you want from me. I guess I just need to lower my expectations for most people. Not everybody is my friend. Not even close. But even among the nameless crowd, I can spot a heart of gold, now and then. It is important to remember that they are the ones who deserve compassion and understanding, that if I ever notice them in need of help, that I should be among the first to offer it. I can't rely on this shitty world to remember their kindness and to show them the same. I have to do this. This world sucks, but maybe there are ways I can make it suck less, if only for those who I really feel deserve a bit more kindness than the world is giving. Hearts of gold are the really treasure. Friends who care are greater still.
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