Life is a cycle. At least my life. A cycle of extremes. Between not having enough time to catch my breath and having way too much time to think. And no, unlike that religious meme floating around in my social media feed, there are no angels here to comfort me. I just looked out the window, and no, not an angel in sight. I guess that must be a perk for the prophets. My Dear Guardian, one with the universe: There is nothing that can bring her back. My wonderful life bringers, they're not coming back either. Oh and my beautiful earthly angel? There's nothing to be done at all. Feelings can not be helped. Feelings can not be changed. I am alone. Worst of all, It's January again. I don't know which future year it will be, but I have a sneaking sinking feeling it will be this dreaded month that will kill me too. I guess the upside is that when that dreaded month comes, years or decades from now, I'll never have to live through another January again. And that can't possibly be a bad thing. Escpecially since there are no angels in sight. Since I am no prophet at all. This isn't exactly holy text. Friends, I am tired. I say so all the time, but the full truth of this feeling can never be expressed. I am so tired. I wonder if there will ever come a day when I have said absolutely everything I needed to say. And if so, what then? Or might it merely be the day I can no longer speak for the words will have failed me one last time? Yet the question remains: if so, what then? Or might it be the day when I feel the empty room has heard enough? Where even the walls are bored of me? Still, I must ask, If so, what then? What is the meaning? Do words carry through the universe, or do they echo in the void? Can something have meaning without definition? Without contrast? Without context? More concernedly: Can I? Hello there. Help me Universe Kenobi. You are my only hope. If they ever actually decide to send an angel, please let it be you. I don't care what people say or believe. None of the others would understand me like you did. I will say it again and again and again: I miss you, universe. You know, Sis? For originating in this mass of neurons, this biological creature, this whatever it is... The mind is quite the realm. Just seeing the vast sunlit consciousness that covers many a mile is one thing. But they should really take a look underground, shouldn't they? There, they'll find both heaven and hell. They'd see the spirit and the heart. They'd find the soul. I have no clue why I am here. Aside from that long, long ago, two very special people wanted me to be here. And so I am. And..... That, my Dearest Universe, is why I stay. Well, that, And I know that you would want me to stay, too. It is the coldest day of the winter so far. It is a day of the week that I would normally have off and still be warm under my covers. No such luck today. I need the money. But sleep was just feeling so good. I hated to leave it behind. Even an average bear like me knows that the coldest, bleakest day of the year is a perfect time for hibernation. I'd maul anyone who disagrees. Grrrrr! Hibernation is The Best Nation on Earth. I don't like this time of the year very much. It's not just the cold, but more on that later... Plenty more. Let me speak of the creatures in the corridors of my mind: Monsters exist in many forms. Of course, the most frightening are the human ones. Yet, while they may be the worst, they're not the only monsters that exist. Some are in the form of traumatic memories, painful thoughts, and the way we sometimes kick ourselves for not having the foresight or the wisdom, for not having known the things we could not have known. These monsters do not hide in closets or under beds.... They hide behind everything that reminds us. These creatures can not be slain. They can't be bargained with. The best we can do is just to not give them power, to keep them in exile beyond the perimeter of our consciousness. For me, the particular beast I have been fighting of late is a bitter creature of winter, of cold wind and a bleak sky, of a time when most everything is dead and dry, when the dirt under my feet is as cold as death. And I feel that coldness in my bones. The temperature is cold, and the wind is brutal. None of this defies expectations. Not for this lowest point of the year. Not for this lowest point of my spirit. Not for these dark winter days. See, the problem is that the bleakness is not just outside, but inside me, too. My heart is heavy, frozen. My spirit is broken. And it's just so hard to paint anything in a positive light. Not in such darkness. Not in such emptiness. I miss you, Universe. Of course, you're always in my thoughts, always in my heart... But I wish they wouldn't combine this time of year with too much time to think... To brood or to dwell as some might say. This last hour is dragging by like an eternity... And I can't help but think of you. I honestly wish I could rip January from the calendar and skip it every year. And no, it's not just the miserable weather. The 23rd is drawing near.... Too near. I wish I could skip it somehow. Don't ever let them tell you it gets any easier. It doesn't. You only come to realize that you must live, even with what you never planned on having to live with, even without those you never wanted to live without, even on the days that you will passionately despise until your own dying day. And the 23rd can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. The worst day of my life was the last day of hers. The bitter coldness outside matches the bitterness in my heart. I will not apologize for my bitterness. I will not apologize for my hatred of all the things that took her from me. To hell with the 23rd. To hell with this shitty month. To hell with that little room. To hell with masks. To hell with that all over suit. And I curse myself too. For not understanding, for not realizing just how dire the situation was. For standing there and watching you leave me and not being able to do a damn thing about it! Dad was elderly. He too was hospitilized. He survived it. But my 40 year old sister didn't? It makes no sense! Hell, it was the day I was picking him up from the hospital that it happened to you. He recovered. But you didn't? You did all the right things as far as this goddamn government was concerned. You wore the masks. You got the shots. One even made you break out. I remember that. Yet it still killed you? And that is why I will go off on anyone, government or not, who speaks that bullshit again. That nonsense did not save my baby sister. So if anyone is averse to having a mask shoved down their freaking windpipe, they'd better not speak that harmful drivel to me. Ever! (Yes... I am still angry four years on) (And at myself too) And these four long years have done absolutely nothing to ease the pain. They just prove the world didn't end when it should have. I hate this month. I wish it were already over. I realize Marsha's no less gone the other 364 days and the other eleven months. But January 23rd blatantly throws that loss in my face. Fuck January! Fuck this cursed month! Damn you! Go to hell! There. Janu-rant over. Okay, boys and girls, let's move on to other things. I do believe the most elaborate mind tricks I have ever played upon myself have been the very fabric of my own hopes and dreams. One pictures just how wonderful life could be, if only, if only, if only... But "if" is never only. It is a parallel universe beyond all reach. I know there is no real way to picture possibilities that never materialize. Would it really be so wonderful? Yet a dreamer such as myself is not much into doubting. Of course it would be wonderful. The sun would shine and the birds would sing. And I too, would shine and sing. The world would fade into a blissful golden haze, and the credits would roll. But this isn't a movie, this isn't a book or a visual novel. I am not a protagonist, not a main character. I simply exist. I look around to see that the world does too. Ah, but not the dream. Never the dream. Not the cast of characters. There are only human beings all around. And they have their own scripts to follow. Some of us are islands, surrounded from horizon to horizon by a vast ocean, an endless gulf, an unimaginable void. We dwell beyond the line of sight, beyond the range of sound, beyond the realm of notice. The reason why scatters like light upon the water, like thoughts within a restless mind, until there is no blame to go around. For disbelief in the ocean shields no one from getting soaked should they fall into it. For like the ocean, reality just is. Unlike the ocean, you can not escape it by leaving the shore miles behind. John Donne once said no man can be an island unto himself. But I say it happens, sometimes, to the ones who have no choice but to be just that. There are some of us simultaneously within the borders of civilization, yet exiled without. Not all islands are equal. Some are a bit of heaven, of lush, peaceful forests, and lots of shade to sleep in. Some are hell, with no shelter in sight. You can't build a cabin from sand. You can't build bridges from wishes. Hope generates no wings. Even the supposed ship of dreams has been dwelling in darkness for more than a century. That, too, is a lonely place. So much depends on what we allow ourselves to see.... Especially in the mirror. Is there hope? Is it real? You decide. Epic Blog-ieos of history! My sleep has been heavy, and my dreams have been insane. I was wandering another maze. This time with Doom monsters. But I was only armed with a water hose with a spray nozzle. Still, it worked... Kinda.... When fighting a group of Cacodemons, I felt like I was washing off some giant tomatoes. Episode 7: Hell In The Produce Section. John Romero should totally make that one. I think my mental state is a lot like this old denim jacket of mine. Frayed in some places. Coming apart in others. But it still does the job it's supposed to do. Actually, it's a very comfortable jacket. It does the job quite well. Its quarks, quirks, and Captain Kirks do not impede the functionality one bit. They just give it a unique flavor. That's my jacket and I. We are a matching set. Although I must confess there have been little moments (little lapses) that I sometimes worry about a bit. If rational thoughts are a strong radio signal, mine are as strong as ever. But the background static has increased noticeably. Those quirks and quarks and Captain Kirks have been increasing. As Scotty might say, I'm still holding her together, but I'm not sure how much longer I can. That subspace interference just keeps increasing. My goal is to be like Scotty. The energizers may be bypassed like a Christmas tree. The phase inducers may be sparking and arcing all over the place just a wee bit, lads and lasses. And don't get me started on the duatronic enhancers! Yet every day when I feel I cannaduit. I do it anyway. If you could see inside my mind, you might see I am quite the miracle worker, indeed. Because it's a wonder she doesn't fly apart! It's a constant panic here in main engineering. Jim Kirk up there on the bridge has no idea. Yet, another day gets done, and another light year gets covered. He gets all the babes and all the glory. I do all the work. Bummer, lads! You know their should be a tier list for the things people wish for, based on probability and possibility. Though I don't know which is high or low. We'd start with the completely impossible. Superpowers, or having The Force, yadda yadda Yoda. "Hmmmmph! A freaking Jedi, Cosmic Wie is not!" Then we'll get to the highly improbable. Suddenly getting super rich or actually being loved properly. Then we can move down to what is reasonably within reach with a bit of effort. Making it through the month. Getting home safely. Surviving another day. One nice big tier list of wishes. And if wishes were horses, I'd be John Wayne, pilgrims! Sometimes I really feel like I am, overall, losing my freaking mind. Its like baling water out of the Titanic with a single bucket. I'm having to take the whole world on, while not exactly having any real support, and so many unfulfilled needs. Still the show must go on. So, despite how I seem, I have also managed to compartmentalize my most lucid, sane, and rational self, leaving that part of me in charge when it's absolutely critical that I behave normally. Alright, spokesperson, get out there and make it a jolly good show. Cheerios and Post Toasties, my good man! That's mind. How about body? Well, friends, I honestly feel that I have reached a milestone in life where my own body is trolling me more expertly than anyone on the infamous 4-Chan forums ever could. They say don't feed the trolls, but I actually have to feed this particular one in order to live. Bummer, right? Damn straight, it is. I wonder if the shovels at a groundbreaking ceremony aren't each what Madonna claimed to be in a certain song. As in touched for the very first time. (as far as by the politicians and executives in that pose) I also wonder if they had to be told how to hold one. No, no, not like with the interns! Geesh! Put your pants back on! I never understood Popeye and Bluto fighting over Olive Oyl like she was the only girl in the world. Farther onshore, they might have found Betty Boop or Jessica Rabbit. Or if they had anchored at Tokyo Bay, there would have been anime girls galore. Over 9000! Oh, well. It must be da goil's secret charm. These trippy and surreal dreams brought on by damn near comatose sleep have continued into the week: I dreamed I attended a wedding. Whose, what, or why is beyond me. All I know is that the whole family was there, past and present. Also, I got two free vehicles out of the deal. I have no idea the meaning of those particular dreams. That's one for Sigmund Freud. I am a very interesting caze. Do you need more proof? Unexpected, but a welcome thing to be sure. Have you ever heard the story of the entity, the soul, and the animal? I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. So, I will. You can't identify them by appearance alone, for each can live behind any set of eyes. It is not the body but the brain. Only actions will make it crystal clear as to who is in charge. Not all "animals" are bad. Its just that they lack imagination beyond the creatures they are. They just don't think beyond basic survival. They never bother with the abstract, wonderful creatures, though they may be. To each their own, I guess. But it's sad to me. For the abstract is (to me) the only thing worth living for. The forest has gone over that same basic ground for eons. Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my! But now is the time to utilize this wonderful gift of intellect to escape the creatures that gave us rise, leaving them not with contempt, but with genuine gratitude for our existence, and for no other reason that the time has come. What would it be like to be an entity of pure energy that can travel at the speed of light? The universe is ours. Time can't stop or even slow us down. Free of this flesh, no longer trapped in an aging body, no longer trapped in a fading brain, we would discover true freedom for the first time. But, there's always the other side. Imagine the terror at being severed from the only senses you've ever known. Would we mourn the creature? Would we mourn the body? Would we mourn the humanity? I have always believed that immortality was a frightening prospect. I have said again and again that it is not my desire to live forever. I wouldn't mind a few centuries under the right conditions. And a big hell no to everything the way my life is now. Not when it's more like a sentence than a gift. I guess it doesn't matter when we'll never know. Still, it makes me think of being very careful what I wish for. What if we trade in for a brand new robot body instead? Super strength. Rechargeable. Never gets sick. Better yet, you can take any form you wish to be. Hooray!!! Robo Space Cadet 9000, at your service. How may I help you today? DESTROY! DESTROY! Ooops.... Minor side effect... Just a tick. They said it would go away (EXTERMINATE!!!) in a few days. Clean cup. Move down. Does not compute! Subject change! Program change! I am Bender, baby! Please insert liquor! I think I just saw Doctor Blog-ieo gesturing nervously and talking frantically into his office telephone. I do believe it's time to sneek out of here before the guys in white arrive. Not today, Zurg! To infinity and beyond! [flies away] Mars is amazing!!
Somewhere in an alternate universe:
"It's the Kangaroo hunter!" "Crikey! This must be the bloomin captain of all kangaroos!" "Wait a moose?" CRIKEY!!! "Drop ping-pong balls on my head will ya?!"
Meanwhile On The Enterprise-D
Number One, what the hell are you still doing here?
Hell if I know, Captain. Hell if I know.
Oh! I applied for that bartender job on the Planet Of The Alien Babes, and I've never heard back?
I just don't know what to do with you, Will! Maybe you should talk to the Counselor?
With all due respect, Captain, she doesn't know what to do with me, either!
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