A Distorted Temporal Mirror

Hello Universe. It's me again. 

Another day, a few more thoughts. Have you ever looked at things this way? Souls as flames, they burn high and low? It's pretty apt if you ask me. This old ember's still glowing. Maybe I'm not the point of light I wished to be, but I can still find my way by this bit of illumination. It gets a tad gloomy sometimes but never completely surrenders to darkness. It is a spark that still burns, and I owe it to the ones that brought me here to keep it going. I've got to stay true. I've got to remember. Yet, it can be all so unclear, so uncertain. Which way, old soul? Which way? Oh, Universe, what am I to do? How am I to live? I find myself at a crossroads, yet I seem to be a train on tracks, this course ahead long ago engineered for no deviation, for no escape. Once, the possibilities were as the stars. Now it seems I am caught in the orbit of things to come. It seems I live in my mind and I live in the past, far more than in the reality of the here and now. I call the so called present day the future. Why? Because it so often seems like the days after everything ended. It's like sitting in the cinema after the movie is over. Just me and my jumbled thoughts. Dad's been on my mind a lot of late. Father's Day, and next month being a year since his passing. I have a lot of heavy thoughts about this fast approaching Father's Day, the first without my own father, I would like to talk a bit about him. He began his career as a draftsman in the days before computer aided design. He drew by hand the maps that computers routinely make today. Except that my father had the most beautiful handwriting that a computer could never match. Still, the drafting room was not his destiny. I remember him telling me how they kept bringing him out into the field, learning the trade, building the skills, and that's how he eventually became a registered land surveyor. This man traversed the snakiest swamps, dodged cars on the busiest highways, all just to make sure I had a home, clothes on my back, and that I never had to go hungry. More importantly, this man was there for me for my entire life. Well, for as long as he could be. He didn't stop being my father when I became an adult. He didn't stop looking out for me. There were times even in the last months of his life when I had to reassure him that I'd be okay. I can not express in a few words all he did for me. This year is the first that I can't give him a Father's Day card, the first year I can't go see him, can't sit and talk computers or radios or of the many things we had in common. These words are all I have, and they're not much. What would I tell him besides the obvious fact that I love him and I miss him? I guess I'd say, "I'll be okay, Dad." What more can I do? Honor him by word and example in every day that I have left. As it goes, not every day is the same. I guess I'm getting by okay. Sleep and eat, work, and pay bills. That's life. It gets a bit monotonous sometimes. There are moments when I really feel I'm going out of my head. Mornings like this are a hangover without the fun of drinking the night before. It's amazing that people actually pay money to feel totally out of it. I get that feeling absolutely free of charge. Lucky me. In the wisdom of middle age, I prefer my faculties at full function. I have totally changed my preferred state of mind: Awake and alert. Too bad that same middle age has made it so damn elusive these days. Within the spirit dwell, two cavemen. The first is named Ogg. "Mmmmm, fire pretty..... AHHHHH! FIRE HOT!" And the other caveman is called UGG.... As in, I looked at my beeping alarm clock this morning, and my first thought was, "UGG!" Oh boy, here we go again. Oh well, at least I don't have to go clubbing for breakfast. Civilization, yay! Hold it together there, buddy. I'm neither Mad Max nor am I the Lord Humongous. I would be gravely disappointed if the world were to burn down and we find ourselves out of gasoline. Mohawks, spikes, and leather gear aren't exactly my cup o tea. Some days are harder than others to get my head together. Monster movie fog out on the roads, Sleepy mental haze in my brain. It's a challenge to get my bearings on days like this. It's not impossible, but it does take some work. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? Yeah. With the alarm beeps burning deep in my brain, I find myself back in reality. Another dreaded Monday. Damn it. Such days do not care whether our hearts are in it or not. And mine's definitely not. I could use an eternity more of sleep. I swear my own mind and body could out troll the internet. This damn lack of sleep was not due to a lack of trying. Cosmic Wie OS just absolutely refused to shut down until the wee hours of this morning. It's a bummer, dude. And what sleep I did get was haunted with bad dreams. The past comes back for encore after encore. Grief works the midnight shift. People, places, traumatic events. With me, they happen more than once. My subconscious mind sure believes in reruns. I had THE dream again. The one where I had this final chance to talk to somebody I love, but I am not supposed to tell them it's the last time. So instead, I'm having to explain what is wrong with me and why I am making such a big deal of what should have been a normal parting of ways. Bye for now, see ya later. But there is no later, and I am not allowed to say. It's another example if dream me not being like the real me at all, because know this spacetime continuum: I don't give a damn about stars exploding, galaxies unwhirling, whatever. If that's the cost of speaking up, then I'm speaking up. Count those lucky stars such things only happen in dreams because I would be very selfish in my decision. Universe be damned, I'm saving her. I never claimed to be a hero, just a human being who has never dealt well with loss. Why does this dream recur? Why must I see again and again this bewildered, confused look on her face at my total emotional meltdown at having to say goodbye? Maybe this is just among the myriad of ways I punish myself. It is an effective punishment. It works because it hurts. Hell is more than a place, ladies and gentlemen. It is a state of mind. Sometimes, we go there long before we actually die. Sometimes, I call it Limbo. Sometimes, I call it Purgatory. Sometimes, I call it Hell. There are no cool rock bands or album cover landscapes down here. Only a lot of suffering in silence. They don't call it hell for nothing. There's nothing quite so hellish as being beyond any chance to make things right. Act in haste, repent in leisure, because you've got nothing but time and lamentations. And that my friends is my thesis on the metaphysical. Take it as you will. Also, take a clean cup and could you move down a bit? New subject, please. Can we make it a little less heavy this time? It has been quite the long day today. Time flies when you're having fun. It creeps by painfully slow when you're not. Such is human perception. Such is the way of the force. Patience is the Jedi way. Just call me Darth Wie of the Sith. Good, good, let the boredom flow through you. Meh. They really need to invent the human charger...... Just plug me into the wall. I couldn't produce enough Sith lightening to power a pocket calculator right now. Damn. Sometimes, there's just not enough caffeine in the world. Some days, it's just hard to get moving. Other days, I totally run out of gas. It's like carrying a boulder about the size of a mountain on your back. Have you been living under a rock? Yep. Sure have. And I'm tired of toting that bad boy around. Here, do you want it? Merry Christmas. Ah, but it's June! Okay... Happy early 4th of July. Merry red glaring rockets. Courtesy of the ACME Corporation. Wile E Coyote, super genius. I do like the way that rolls out. Damn it... There's too much workweek at the end of my energy. I really wish I could just go home. That's both possible and impossible, depending on the concept. I find myself separated from certain places by long years instead of long miles. Geographically, I'm living right there. Temporally, I can never truly go home again. That, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers is over, long, long gone. I can already tell which way the wind is blowing and what direction the tide is flowing. It's going to be a very long day, ladies and gentlemen. Bear with me while I get it together. Days like this, it's not so easy. This is when I need reasons and things like that. And can we do positive reinforcement this time? I already have a grim idea of the consequences of telling anyone and everyone to go to hell and taking it to the house. Tell me some good things that will happen if I persevere through these hours. Otherwise, it's damn hard to get motivated about anything. Flark it, we'll do it live! Flarking thing sucks! You know something? If I were an anchor at Inside Edition I wouldn't be bitching and moaning, but hey, that's just me. All you do is read the teleprompter. How hard can that be? Plus I'd be nicer to my coworkers than O'Reilly was. What a dick. Subject change. Clean cup move down! Clean Cup! We'll move it live! Trucking zing trucks! There's just too much going on in this head of mine. There is no such thing as "Only" in your mind. If it's in your mind... If it's on your mind... Then as far as you're concerned, it's EVERYWHERE. Only in your mind has about the same integrity as "Only driven on Sundays" when spoken by that dodgy used car salesman with the raggedy checkered jacket and the big "trust me" smile. Your world and reality are within and without. That is why it is so important and should not be pushed aside. If it's on your mind then it's important. How do I deal with it? Right here with the good Doctor Blog-ieo. He's not much on advice, but you can't beat the price. Ah, Doom and Doctor Blog-ieo. What a combination when it comes to treatment. I'd be the first to admit I've got problems. Try living my life unscathed. Try walking through these last several years with me and see if you too don't have a few loose marbles rolling around. My games actually make great therapy. They present me with solvable problems. Doom Imps (Chuddies) can be defeated, bearing rockets or not. So many other things I am dealing with can not. If this is a war of attrition, I am going to lose. I no longer have anybody to depend on for support. Instead, I've been the one who has to be supportive, financially and otherwise. I can't even save a damn dime. I've got a lot on me these days and nobody's helping me. If I don't come up with ways, nobody else will. It's time to find out whether I am a true survivor, or if I have just been spared so far. The true test is now. Wish me luck. Holding it together ain't as easy as I make it look. I'm like Montgomery Scott and I'm giving it all she's got. And I don't know how much longer I can. One day at a time. Even hours sometimes. Each square on the calendar is a new challenge. It often feels like swimming against a very strong current, one that seems to like the blackness of the abyss. I have to fight hard and never waver. The strength of entropy is that it never stops. The only way to fight it is (you guessed it) to never stop either. The difference? Entropy does not need willpower to keep going. Human beings do. And that's why entropy so often wins in the end. To quote MC Hawking, what is entropy? I hear the people asking me. Let me explain it in layman's terms. Entropy is the grass and the weeds that are constantly growing just as soon as you mow the lawn. Entropy is why rooms get messier rather than cleaner over time if you don't intervene. Entropy is why things break but never mend on their own. Entropy is fading organic dye causing bit by bit to go bad on the CD-ROM's authored by my father and my baby sister, if I don't recopy them on more permanent media. Entropy is why you don't perpetually have nice things if you don't put in the work to maintain them. Entropy is why pictures and memories fade unless you fight to preserve them. And it was entropy my mother spoke of even though neither one of us knew at the time. This is true for more than mere things, but for relationships, careers, anything you build. Everything needs maintenance. That includes the human spirit as well. The body, too. Entropy will make us old and weak. But I guess we can only slow down that deterioration by staying active and eating healthy. I hope I fare better than my parents did, but who knows? I am of them, and I am by them. My genetics are their genetics. I wouldn't want to be any other way. Still, I don't think retirement was kind to them at all. Maybe it still would have happened had they not. I don't know. But it makes me a little afraid of retiring myself. You've gotta keep moving, not even slow down. I guess we're not promised a certain number of years. Grandpa lived to be 95, but Marsha was only 40. It's not that I am even afraid of dying. Quite frankly I am tired, man. Oblivion sounds rather nice. However my fear is specifically of dying before I've done all the things I need to do. Besides, I'm not yet convinced that my grown children would be ready to survive and thrive without me. It may sound conceited, but I seem to be the only one in this bunch with a paycheck and a job. I think I need a little help here. It's not going to happen so I'd better keep rockin' on. Clean cup move down.... It's yet another year that I'm glad I don't live in California. Be it actual fires or riots, LA has been burning on and off for longer than I've been alive, indeed for the better part of this past century seemed to be always on the verge of bursting into flames. A common thread is that some don't seem to get the difference between protesting or rioting and looting. They seem to think that it depends on ones political beliefs, whether they are a rioter or a protestor. I hate politics, and there should be certain things that transcend political beliefs. Let me break it down. It should be simple: Disagree with the policies, and still love the country. Have issues with the government, and still love the county. Protesting is when you march, carry signs, and shout slogans for your cause. Rioting is when you burn stuff, steal stuff, damage property, disrupt traffic, and threaten the safety of both citizens and law enforcement officers. Protesting is legal and a first amendment right protected by the constitution of the United States. Rioting is not. I don't care which beast they're wandering after, the donkey or the elephant. If they break stuff, If they threaten public safety, they should go to jail. Oh and why are they carrying the flag of a foreign country? If they hate America and love Mexico, why are they here instead of there? It is so exhausting and extremely draining to watch the news anymore. It has been that way for all of this hellish decade. Very few are out to inform. Many are out to manipulate. This decade, actually these last 15 or 16 years, have given me many reasons for me to be upset. I don't need any more. I've got a living to make, bills to pay, and several things I want to accomplish before I die. I don't have the time or the energy for all this nonsense. Leave me alone. You can reload the page a thousand times, be it a "news" site or a social media feed, and you will see the same bullshit. Remember when the internet was a wonderful escape? Not anymore. It's even more corrupted and fake than the rest of the world. It all boils down to people trying to sell you crap you don't need. Products, Scams, Religion, or a political point of view. They're constantly trying to make us feel a certain way or to join their distorted bubble. Life is just too damn short. I've got no time to spare. Whatever you're selling, I ain't buyin'. Leave me alone. Okay... Enough already! Clean Cup, move down! Even sane people would prefer Wonderland to this madhouse. Have you ever seen so much wasted breath and so much wasted time? Can't they see time ticking down? Can't they see they'll never get it back? When it's gone, It's gone! Can't they see it? I guess there was a time when I didn't see it either. Ah, but these last few years have taught me much. I see it all too clearly now. At the end of this day, we will all have one less left. Time is indeed the predator. Doctor Soran was not telling lies. He wanted his loved ones back. So do I. The difference is I wouldn't destroy a planet to make it happen. They would not approve. Yet I understand that particular fictional character's pain and desperation a bit too well for my liking. "You've been looking behind you son. Try looking ahead." That was advice from another father to his son. I think Dad would be telling me the same thing. In life, you don't search for meaning. You have to build it. That is the task before me now. How does one build meaning on the day after everything? I do have many things I need to do with the time I have left. Much work lies ahead. There is my job as a caretaker of sorts, a guardian of memories, of all things analog and digital. That is my job, as the figurative keeper of the lighthouse...... For a time. Today, all is depending on me. No pressure, huh? Very funny. I am the one to guide this ship of family.... For now. Who knows how long I've got, but I've got a job to do. Miles to go, miles to go. Okay, how about something a bit lighter? Clean cup move down? Yeah. Okay... Computer nerd stuff. I know I'm probably talking into the wind here because I doubt very many share my weird hobbies of playing and recording classic Doom demos, but I learned something new today! Demos play differently externally than they do internally. Meaning? If you're having problems with desyncs, be sure to play them externally, using the "-playdemo" command line parameter. It's because of those stupid revenants and their damn rockets. (Another reason to hate 'em) Ah, but now, Doomguy will actually complete the level instead of staggering around like he's drunk on Martian wine. (He challenged Cybie to a drinking contest and lost!) Also! I found out how to use Dosbox X's save state function. Hellooooo Duke Nukem 3D! There's going to be some cool demos out of that deal. I'm already to level 12 in a Doom V1.666 mod known as NastyImp. Those rocket firing Chuddies won't win this time. The beauty of this is I can pick up where I left off in level 12 instead of starting completely over. Though I may start over on a higher skill level. Ultraviolent Chuddies! I'm coming for ya, buddies! These old computer games serve an important purpose. They provide diversion. They provide distraction. And boy, do I need diversion and distraction. It is also a way out of some heavy heavy thoughts. When I'm piddling with my games I'm not thinking as much about these heavy things, all that has changed, all who I have lost. I know I might sound silly, but we seriously need a bit of silliness in our lives. No doubt it has kept me out of the nuthouse, at least so far.... I am Napoleon! Just kidding. Diversions are important so long as they don't keep you from facing the heavy stuff when you need to. It may seem crazy, but it is how I have survived.