Particularly Human

The genie had a couple of quid pro quos. He couldn't bring people back from the dead, and he couldn't make anyone fall in love with you. Bummer, really, because that would be my first two wishes. Oh well, then it doesn't matter that I never found the lamp. Regardless, I am writing these particular words on August 11, the 11th anniversary of the loss of Robin Williams. Great comedian, but I always liked his serious roles even more. Bicentennial Man was extremely underrated. His portrayal of Andrew Martin has always gotten me by the heart strings. Though he was the least robotic of all robots in cinematic history. Andrew Martin was as human as any of us could ever be. I, myself have been one mess of a human. I've been just down with the blues and I can't seem to drag myself out of them. Loneliness on a planet of billions makes no sense, does it? Unless that is you've been there too. While I know I am not the center of the universe. I don't necessarily need to be. But please don't leave me here in darkness. Can I at least be in some sort of orbit? Can I have some sort of connection? It's lonely out here on the edge. Hello? Do you read me Ground Control? I know I shouldn't want more than I already have, but I do. I really do. Can I blame the world for lacking any true depth of understanding? Should I be surprised to rarely be seen, and heard even less often? Is that really the fault of the world? Or is it my own expectations that simply go too far? I am well aware that there's never been a guarantee of being loved by everyone. I know what I feel, but I don't know what to say. It could be for that reason, radio silence should be the order of the day. Radio silence, if I can maintain it. Radio silence everywhere, except on this particular frequency where I tell all, or at least that which I can articulate. The English language is a wonderful invention, but all languages are of a lower resolution than these thoughts and these feelings. That is why I have such difficulty finding the right words. So much can be misinterpreted. So much can be misunderstood. Only someone on this exact wavelength wouldn't need words at all. Ah, but I have yet to find them, and I may very well be the only one. And I'll be damned to hell if I'm going to talk to a robot that could never possibly understand. This is a human thing. It's not like I hate all robots. Robo Bridget has been reading fanfictions for me for well over a decade. I have another bot that I sometimes play cooperative Doom with. And the macros I use in UltraEdit can reduce hours of work to just a few minutes. And I use that program for writing BASIC, editing web pages, and a thousand other things. So I have no problem with robots so long as they are the tool behind the human's final touches. I get a problem when people and companies start thinking their robots are some new breed of human or even some sort of god. There should always be a human in the loop. Robots can be stupid sometimes and there needs to be a human to catch problems before they worsen. No, I do not want your damn AI. I swear they try to force it on us with every website I go to. You can't even get a real human being on the phone anymore. We are at the beginning of the true robot apocalypse. My intense dislike for clankers comes honestly and is well justified. Goddamn robots. I remember the trouble I had with AT&T, and their 50,000 dollar charge for the worst week of internet I ever had in my life.... They kept punting me to their damn stupid robot. Even when I went in person to the damned store, they dialed the robot on my phone. I swear they must have thought they'd invented Robo Jesus Christ who came to save them.... From doing any customer service at all. So no... No robots for me. Though I sometimes wish I were one. It sucks being human sometimes. In those times, I am Reverse Tin Man for I wish I didn't have a heart. The damn thing keeps breaking anyway. I wish I could switch off my emotion chip like Mr Data. Though I do wonder how he deals with that unrequited love for Tasha Yar. I know exactly. He just turns off that damnable emotion chip. A serious part of being a human being is this need for others. We are indeed a social species, creatures that need connection to others like them. And as wonderful as technology is in many ways it's suffocating us. Or at least it feels that way to me. I take it for granted that life was physically harder, 100, 200, a thousand years ago. How would I have fared in ancient Rome? I guess it depends of whether I was a wealthy senator or a poor citizen on the streets. Emperor Wieus. Glory to the empire. Long live Rome. But, here in 21st Century America, I don't know. I have a home and a job. I may live paycheck to paycheck, but I don't go hungry. No doubt, materially, there are people out there who struggle far more than I do. Still, I'm at the mercy of the almighty dollar, and unless some sort of miracle happens, I'll be working until I drop dead. And though my material needs seem to be satisfactory met, it's these intangible but human needs that are not being met at all. I wish that this need for connection to others was not built-in to me. I could fare so much better. I could involve myself and my spare time into hobbies and the world be damned if it doesn't want me around. But... I am this human being after all. And I can't exactly escape my humanity. A lack of technological progress and a lack of funds on my part means I'll never see my consciousness transferred into a robot. So a human being I must be until the end. I need connection. I need others. I am lonely. There is no connection to be seen really, except for the immediate world around me. This, more than anything, is something I need to make myself understand. There is only here and now. There is nothing beyond. If it's not in the moment. If they're not in the flesh. Then they're not real. And nothing seems to be real at all, not now, not anymore. Can I really convey this feeling into words? Can I truly describe how I feel? And can I plainly speak what is in my heart and still keep a shred of dignity? It is not only God who knows what I would be without you. For I am without you, and I know what I am. And I can't even say I am very happy about it. Ah, but it's life, I guess. We can't expect perfection can we? And if what I truly wanted was before my eyes, I would not need perfection. I wouldn't need anything or anybody else. I would never need to look to an empty vortex for what is missing in my life. Social media is like that empty well or a bare cupboard I admit to returning to even though I should know there's nothing there. I would rather blame it on my falling into their psychological trap than my just being freaking stupid. Because I really should know better by now. It's all one big bullshit illusion, and by falling into it, I make it my own delusion. I again and again reach out for connection, only to end up feeling invisible and unwanted. It's a trap. It's that vortex I have spoken of, yet again and again, I find myself there, looking for something that deep down I know I will never find, at least not there. Furthermore, the whole thing is better suited to the superficial rather than anything with any real depth. It's not exactly a meeting of the minds, is it? I know this, so why do I so often act as though I don't? Flarked if I know, my friends, flarked if I know. All I know is I am tired of this feeling, and I wish it would just go away and disappear forever. This is not how I wish to feel. This is not the way I wish to see myself. Other than quick glances, I have been making an effort to again stay away from the big vortex these last few days. I have instead spent my weekend bouncing back and forth from yard work and making a new Freedoom demo, though with iD's copyrighted monsters added back. No hate for Freedoom's oversized roaches, but I prefer my chuddies (imps) and my pinkie demons. Doom monsters, pixilated though they may be, are at least honest about being monsters. They never pretend to be anything else. A Doom level is most always a solvable problem with the right strategy. And if you happen to mess up, you can always go back and fix it. Not so much with the real world. Basically, there are two kinds of computer games that are my favorites. Heaven for me would be a room with two doors: One leading to anime bliss and the other leading to a land of 3D Violence where I just so happen to be the meanest son of a bitch in the valley. Romance the anime girls and fight the monsters and aliens. Though certain Doom mods and visual novels would have you do the opposite. Yes, you can date a cacodemon, but why would you want to? So, I escape into my own little world, yet I can never see myself chatting up an AI for any reason. The monsters, aliens, and cute anime girls are fictional diversions. They never cross any lines or pretend to be more. They're not like these real-life robots that try to replace human beings. The human soul can never and will never be duplicated or replaced. And in most situations, there is no substitute for a real human being. You can try your heart out to make believe, but at the end of the day, make-believe is all it is. And while you'd be forever safe from heartbreak and disappointment, you can't be shielded from loneliness and emptiness. If it's not real, then it can never truly satisfy what your heart is crying out for. It is nothing but a dream of ones and zeros, a digital delusion. And there is a big difference between a diversion and a delusion. I try my best to never cross that line. Another thing about that big vortex is that it's just a bragging board, a place to show off that nice house, car, vacation, or that so called 'best friend' partner who is so damned perfect and loving and yadda Yadda Yoda. Bullshit, this is, Hmph! Because I have seen a lot of perfection dramatically disintegrate, almost in real time. I need to remind myself that the whole apparatus does the exact opposite of what I want and expect. It makes me feel isolated rather than connected. It brings me down instead of lifting me up. It is no good. It is poison. Why do I keep going back to what keeps hurting me? Am I such a glutton for punishment? Please kick me harder next time. What the hell, man? I don't know, but it all has to stop. I am not as good at taking this nonsense as I used to be. So. Once again, I will spend my daytime moments here with Doctor Blog-ieo and my nights on Phobos with my pixelated monsters. While they're constantly trying to shoot, scratch, bite, or burn me, at least they're straightforward about it. And of course, it's only my in-game character and not me, really. It's all play rather than reality. And it is a nice escape. It allows me to be somebody else for just a little while. Sometimes, I need that. All of this keeps me from giving myself too much time to think. What is my life right now? What is my future, exactly? I have to find whatever joy in life that I can. Even if what I am doing makes no real sense, as in saving thousands of Doom levels I will never get around to actually playing, songs I may only play once, movies I may never watch again, or games I will never even run for the first time.... It makes no damn sense at all, yet it is one of the things keeping me sane. I don't understand it any more than you do. In a world gone mad, it is the straws of sanity that I grasp, hoping they will be enough to keep me from falling into the abyss. If I give myself too much time to think, I fear I would go down in madness. I write in an effort to make sense of it all, but I fear there is no sense to be found. There is only me. There is only my life. There is only the time that I have left. I wish it could mean something. I wish I could mean something. If wishes were horses, I could equip two westerns and the Kentucky Derby. No need to walk, pilgrims. Today, we'll all ride. I can not be thinking so much. The thoughts are too heavy to carry. It would be far better to fill my head with trivial things, with the best routes to finish a level, with the lyrics of a song, with the plot of a movie or game. I am tired of heavy thoughts of pondering the universe with its many questions of why and what for. I don't know how old my soul may be, but I do know the years I have lived on this planet, and that both body and soul are so very tired and in need of some real rest, some real peace. Will there ever come a time when I have paid all of my dues, or are such things infinite and forever? Will I ever see peace that does not involve my grave? Do I really have to die to rest in peace? I hope not. I honestly hope there will be a peace that I will live to enjoy and enjoy living. That, dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, is what I need.