The Inescapable Box

Magic mirror on the wall, tell me, tell me, do I have any worth beyond what I can do, or what I can give? And tell me, tell me, if you can, "Baby can you dig your man?" Or am I an empty soda can? I just looked around and you were gone. This is most definitely not Sparta, but I could certainly look around and shout, "This is madness!" I just wish I could kick myself into my car and go home. Beam me home, Scotty! I cannaduit! Ya gotta drive! Damn. What do these things have in common? A faded James T. Kirk mask, Molasses on a January day, and this particular June day? Welcome back to what I call Michael Myers time. Why do I call it that? Because it's moving slow and impossible to kill. Where oh where is the good Doctor Loomis when you need him? Maybe he has terrible aim. Eh, what's up, Doc? It's still alive and still moving slow. Maybe you shouldn't lead him so much? Doctor, Doctor, give me the news. He's got a bad case of eluding you. Even imperial storm-troopers would laugh at you. "Hey, TK109, check out this clown! Ahhhh, hahaha!" Great goodness, what's a space cadet to do? Time is driving me crazy. People are driving me bonkers. Angels are putting me in awkward situations. And this place is driving me as mad as a hatter! Oh, and everyone thinks I've got something going on when I actually don't. What's a Cosmic adventurer to do? Go figure. Go fish. I've got nothing. It feels like purgatory around here, more like a sentence than anything else. You gotta do what you've gotta do. But it is rough when you've figuratively speaking, got Michael Myers staring at you from the clock. Menacingly! So, I'm (also speaking figuratively), just taking potshots at the clock and missing with every single one of them. Maybe that ticking in the Halloween Theme song fits properly. No, it's not Sparta, but this is definitely madness. Ah, but how are you, friends, Romans, robots, and strangers? How go the stars and the planets? How fare the galaxies and nebulae, and all of their protons, neutrons, and electrons? Still in orbit or zipping madly across space and time? Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know. Not really, but I'm bored out of my mind, and I indeed have time. I have been on a bit of a ride this week. The highs and lows of late have been quite jarring. I am not completely sure what's behind it all. Doctor Blog-ieo listens, but he never examines or gives feedback. He's unable to call the men in the white coats, although a vacation to the funny farm might actually be nice. I've never been there, but from what I hear, there are hot meals, good drugs, fun activities, and nice quiet rooms. Karen Carpenter's voice over the intercom is quite soothing. Damn. Maybe I should call those guys myself. Would I have to give them a reason? Just read my blog, dude, and I'm sure you'll find several. I am Napoleon, and I demand a room with a view! You know that panicked expression on Wile E Coyote's face when the ACME rocket he's strapped to doesn't take a straight path and just zips and zaps all over the place? That's been me this whole week. No roadrunners for him. No angels for me. Yet we try and try again, no matter how many times or how devastatingly we fail. [Holds up sign] Why me? I, like the fool that I am, have spent too much time in the vortex this week. I really should know better by now. But, yeah. There I went again. Therein, I only found regret again. Therefore, I say I won't again. But I probably will again. As the catch of the day, Admiral Akbar once said, "IT'S A TRAP!" My poor brain can't repel bullshit of that magnitude! Unless it involves bank vaults and the crime of the century, being invisible sucks. Imagine a box in sparkling wrapping, with all the promise of there being something meaningful inside. You open it, but it's completely empty, nothing there, nothing at all. Now imagine never learning. Imagine opening it again and again, finding nothing, learning nothing. That's really me and a certain place... I would be better off if the box produced Pinhead rather than nothing at all. At least he's a guy who would appreciate suffering. And returning again and again to a place where I am unwanted, unloved, and invisible should be a qualifying level of pain. This damn box! My own folly that never seems to go away... To keep looking in the same place, to keep doing the same thing, yet expecting a different result. Someone once defined such folly as the very definition of insanity. And from where I stand, I can't say I disagree. I was always taught (quite correctly) that it's a hard old world, and you've got to be tough. And it's not as if I don't understand. Believe me, after all these years, especially these last few, I do. And while I would be the last to ask for special treatment, I still kinda wish that the world (Or at least some of the people) would go a bit easier on me on these days like these last few. Because you see, not all moments are over when they're over. Sometimes, they linger. That's why we don't always find peace in a quiet room when the situation is long over. Sometimes, I feel my mind is in a downhill race with this body. Sometimes, I wish I didn't have to stick around until we have a winner in that race. Either way, I will be the one losing. Now, that's not something I really want to see. So, fellow travelers, do you ever get tired of this nonsense? Do you ever get tired of feeling so hopelessly empty and lonely? Do you ever think of [forbidden word that triggers robots and meaningless soulless intervention]? I do. As I have said many times, this is my note. And I am not joking when I say this is nothing less than THE NOTE. And could anyone with knowledge of this life blame me for considering it? (Even if I am helpless to do anything but keep writing this note?) Life is not supposed to be fair. I get it. I got it! But, Damn it! Why? I have all the struggles of any other human being. I just have nobody to come home to or to take rest with. Tell me, dear geniuses out there, just what in the hell makes facing another day of this emptiness worthwhile? Because right now, I can't think of any. All I can think about are obligations, duty, and keeping a promise to my kids (even if grown now) that I would never be the one to leave. That is a hurt they've experienced enough from others. Besides, they may be the only people on this earth who genuinely love me. They may be here because of me, but I am still here because of them. But, otherwise, no, I really have no reason to keep enduring this world and the cruel people who only have an interest in disrespecting me and draining out my last bit of essence and sanity. I know what it is to do all the things you're supposed to do. To force yourself out of bed. To go to work and do your job. To pay your bills. Every day is a struggle, a battle that must be fought and won again and again. Nobody acknowledges you. Nobody gives you even the slightest respect or understanding. They just bellicosly demand more and more. And on the day you drop dead, it will not be profound at all to them, merely a hiccup in their plans. They'll have the slight problem of finding another poor soul to exploit. Is this really the stuff that a life should be made of? If so, this is the most solid proof that God does not exist. What divine plan? This is random chaos, crushing souls under its weight. Go on and prove me wrong, because I would oh so love to be wrong about this. But I seriously doubt I am. This is a total mess. All I am asking for is a single glimmer of hope, a bit of light to follow. Is this really too much? Even false hope will do. Whatever keeps me going so I can do all the things I need to do and to be all the things I need to be. Can't I find a few moments of happiness to make this bullshit crazy ride somehow worthwhile? No more shouting out in the vortex. I have said this to myself many times. It never improves things. It only makes me feel worse by reminding me of just how invisible I am. It reminds me that even on those extremely rare occasions when I actually am seen, I am most often misunderstood anyway... In effect, still invisible even when momentarily glanced upon. I am so sick of feeling this way. I am tired of this heaviness in the pit of my stomach and everywhere in my heart. I am tired of feeling like crying all the time. I am tired of having nobody to talk to or simply to listen. Yes, I have my kids, but I will not lean on them so much. They've got their own lives and their own things they must face. Who am I to be a burden? I would have hoped that by this point in my life, I would have had everything worked out. Not so at all. Most of all, I wish I were loved. I would very much like to feel loved by someone sometime before I die before I become old and helpless. Actually, I would prefer to go all at once than to become weak and helpless in the first place. A sound mind trapped in a useless body would be to me a hell on earth. I think I'd rather just go completely and quickly. No being trapped in this useless flesh. I am in decent health, and it still sucks to be human, this biological organism devoid of needs, physical, emotional, and spiritual. I should be grateful, I guess, that I can still get up and go, that I can still take care of myself. Still, loneliness sucks. It's deep, and it seems it's for the duration. It's far more than the lack of a lover. It's absent loved ones. It's absent friends. I guess I have to admit to there being more than my kids that keep me merely writing the note. If there is any chance that my dear parents, my dearest baby sister, or my dear friends lost to time still somehow exist somewhere in the universe, I know they wouldn't want me to give up. Such an act would hurt them and I would never in a million years want to hurt the very few people who actually loved me, truly cared about me, was always in my corner and truly wanted me to win... I could not let them down. It has been one crazy busy day, but that's been very much a good thing. It's made me feel like I have a purpose, and it's solved the problem of having too much time to think. I am totally exhausted. Yet I also feel much better than I have in several days now. Maybe low tide had to run its course. But it's getting a bit worrisome as to how low my lows have been getting of late. Maybe a bit frightening, too. I can usually convince myself that low tide is not forever and high tide is coming. This time was like wondering in the darkness of 2:00 AM if the sun will ever rise again. I wouldn't rate it as one of my better emotions. Zero stars, ladies and gentlemen, wouldn't recommend it. And maybe, hopefully, I am seeing a hint of sunrise. There are many abilities of a certain android, Data, that I wish I had. Super intelligence, super strength, and super skills with Tasha Yar, but the ability I wish for most is to be able to turn off my emotion chip when pesky feelings get in the way. I think maybe I could have gone much farther in life. While I am no Albert Einstein, I'd like to think I am reasonably intelligent. It's this damn anxiety and dark depression that has held me back and destroyed any confidence I had in myself. I could have been the greatest if only certain things were removed from my brain, namely those particular neurons that love to spark and arc in a discordant way. Still, I have managed to stay a productive member of society, gainfully employed, supporting myself and others for many years now. So, there's at least that. I have the ability to stretch a dollar so far that it looks like poor George Washington is being spaghettified into a supermassive black hole. Which also means that the dear father of my country will no longer have to suffer the ravages of time. I am the king of my own castle thanks to the dear ones before me. I have a job where people mostly leave me alone as long as I do my work. My kids care about me, so there's that, too. Now, if only I could get my angel to love me as I love her, things would be A-okay. Nothing is perfect. Nobody's perfect. But if we could get just a little bit closer. Wouldn't it be wonderful? If only, if only. Those are some harsh words. There's nothing more lonely than if only. It's a real mess when a hungry heart and sore eyes fall in love with a mirage. Is it really just me who can almost see this heavenly glow, this golden aura around her? Surely, this can't be. Certainly others can see what I see. A trick of the light, a twist of a mind, oh how a heart hallucinates. And apparently there's no freaking cure. None, outside of the script of a daydream. Meanwhile there is are the highs and lows of reality. The ship is fine but the seas are rough. The depths are dark as always. As the Rolling Stones sang, you can't always get what you want. And what I want is to be lulled to sleep by a heartbeat, comforted by warmth and a breath. They say I won't die without it. I haven't so far. But I wish I could live with it instead. In the end, it is all I ever really wanted from life. I could conquer the planet if only I were loved. There it is again. If only, if only. How I hate those words. They mock and ridicule me. If they were a dude, I would slug him one, a peaceful space cadet, though I may be, proof positive that war is sometimes necessary even for the lovers of peace. There is not much I wouldn't do if I absolutely knew it would bring me into the arms of my angel. Even as a scarecrow, I would face a whole box full of matches if I thought it might change things. But, at the same time, I'm sure not going put myself through anything that I know won't accomplish anything in the end. I don't play any games that I don't feel I have a real chance of winning. And sometimes the only way not to lose is to not play at all. This mouse will not bother with a maze lacking cheese. I'm not Pinky, narf poit egad! I am the brain. There is nothing less than the world worth escaping the lab. What else is a mouse to do? Just squeak by, I guess. Clean cup move down. Twinkle Twinkle little bat. My boys and I keep improving our cooperative gameplay in Doom. We are about halfway through Wraith's Perdition's Gate, and coordinating well against the monsters. It's really enjoyable and it does my heart to know they enjoy helping me fight through those hellish levels. I record the demos so we can go back and watch ourselves kicking some demonic butt. It's making memories they can relive anytime they wish. Even after I'm long gone, they can still watch me play Doom with them. I tend to believe demos could very well hold more substance than just a picture would. But I guess I won't know firsthand. At least I hope I never will. Like Mufasa, The Lion King, I believe in the circle of life. Hopefully, it's a very long time from now, but the circle says me first. Losing Marsha was a serious violation of the circle of life. I was eight years and one week older than her. Early mid 1970s vs. early 1980s, Richard Nixon vs. Ronald Reagan. Pre-disco rock and roll vs. New Wave pop. Eight years is a long time. Still, even though I lived my first eight years without her, and these last four, these four seem much longer than the eight, and you can probably guess which years hurt. Loss hurts enough even in the fullness of time, yet so much more when the circle is broken. Of course I miss my parents, too. I couldn't imagine them getting old, even while it happened before my eyes, and I was angry at time itself for its cruelty to them. All for a lifetime of hard work, of taking care of us, of paying bills, a lifetime of doing their absolute best. Certainly they deserved better than this. It's a hell of a thing to be human and mortal. And I know well my turn is coming. I would be quite foolish to think I am immune or exempt from the things they had to go through. Though I would much rather go all at once.. Hopefully years from now, but all at once... Mind and body until the end. I don't want to fade. Then again, neither did they. I guess I'm just saying what I would choose if I ever have a choice. I still owe Mr. Death an ass kicking, and I would like to pay him in full on my way out. Death is terrible but inevitable. I am no better, no stronger than the ones before me. Time is a sadistic bastard and he will catch up to me eventually. I guess I can be okay with that eventuality, so long as surrounded by the people who love me. Still, the human condition is a hell of a thing. So far, it's been one hell of a ride. And I have no clue at all just how long I have left. My body sure loves reminding me that I'm not the spring chicken I used to be, and the way my mind wanders instead of wonders is getting just a bit concerning. I don't envy my dear mother for what she went through. If I find that same fate befalling me, It might well be the one reason to seal this note and make it official. No human being should ever go through that. And I have pretty much decided that I won't. Of course, I have been a bit absent minded all of my life. I daydream. My thoughts scatter. I sometimes forget what I'm doing in the middle of doing whatever it was. So, maybe this is just classic Cosmic Wie. I couldn't tell you how in the hell I find myself on this particular subject right now. Thinking of making memories, I guess.. But I do have wonderful memories of all my loved ones. My Dad taking me to that ice cream place in Chipley when I was little. They tore it down and built a damn dollar store, the bastards! The world doesn't need another dollar store. It needs more classic ice cream shops for daddies to take their little boys. (Damn that last line is kicking my ass). I have memories like that with my mother, too. Of all five of us. So maybe it was that that brought me here. Aside from the house that I live in, there are many places in those memories that no longer exist. And even the places that have endured can still be separated by time. There is no being on time when the hour is perpetually late. There is no speed to get you there. Two years ago is still soon to be too late. Four years ago is later still. Sometimes I miss being just a little kid. You can't really appreciate being young until you no longer are, much less realize just what you have and who's around, until they're gone. Growing up most always involves learning these things in not the easiest of ways. As with most things in reality, you get the lesson long after the test, long after any opportunity to apply it. It doesn't come with a time machine. I can't understand the purpose. Maybe it makes us into better people? I don't know. I guess that's why it's the old folks who have wisdom. When the tribe calls the wise man to speak, you'll never see a kid or even a middle aged dude. It's always an old man whose rough journey can be seen in his eyes. Chances are he, too, learned it all the hard way. Maybe I am becoming that old man.