FUN TIMES FORCIBLY OUTDOORS...

      I feel like I should've written about this very soon after it had happened if only for clarity of memory but alas, I did not (also, I seem to be WAY behind posting the very few things I still do write for this blog!)

     Some weeks back, I was asked to come over early on a Friday to babysit Best Friend's daughter and I did, because I love that child dearly. The day looked to be nice weather-wise as well as humidity-wise (and finally too...this Summer had been so brutal!) so we filled up the kiddie pool outside in case the child wanted to play in it (SPOILER ALERT: she totally did want to).

      I was given a list of things to do with her to keep her occupied and told what foods to offer her for lunch when the time came. All was well. The Child wanted to go outside before mommy left and so out we went and naturally, she wanted immediately in the pool so mommy got her bathing suit and into the pool she went!

      Shortly thereafter, mommy had to go and she left me in charge. I kept an eye on her in the pool and when she was done with that, she wanted to play on her swing set/slide. After clearing some ambitious cobwebs and changing her back into her dry clothes (which thankfully she also had outside), I pushed her on the swing for a long time because she just loves chilling on that thing. Not a care in the world, I suppose (although she does demand I push her higher and giggles every time she gets high enough for the chain to go slack and I say, "CHONK!!!" along with the noise that immediately follows)

      Eventually, though, the Child tells me she's hungry and I say, "Okay, let's go inside and get something to eat!" I try the sliding glass door...and it's locked. Mommy absent-mindedly locked the door on us! Undeterred, I took the Child with me around to the front door hoping against hope and, of course, it too had been locked.

     My phone was inside so I wouldn't be able to reach mommy but since this wasn't an emergency, I didn't immediately start going to neighbors' houses in an effort to get them to help us (thank goodness I got my best friend's phone number before I got a cellphone: I still know it by heart!). I leveled with the Child and told her that mommy had locked us out; that we couldn't go inside so we would have to wait for mommy to come home before we could eat.

      She seemed okay with this and I then took it upon myself to let the Child do whatever the fuck she wanted for however long she wanted (obviously nothing that would endanger her!) to keep her mind off the fact we weren't going to be going inside any time soon.

      Some of those things involved (because I'll never understand how a three year old thinks) gathering up the loose asphalt pebbles from her driveway and carrying them over to a planter to deposit them over and over again (repetition, thy name is every fucking child who has ever been :-) ). There's little shade in the front yard and neither of us were wearing sunscreen but whenever I suggested we go back into the backyard to be in shade, she would say flatly in that darling little voice of hers, "No." :-)

     It made me laugh when I'd go to sit on the porch in the shade and she'd get up from her place in the sun to walk over to me, holding out her hand and repeating to me something she probably saw happen in her daycare, "Smile! Don't be upset. Tell me what's wrong! It's going to be alright," like she was a therapist. It was so cute.

     Another was picking leaves off trees so that she could give one to each of her stuffed animal friends. I at least got to show her how to pluck leaves without tearing them (grab the leaf by its stem: the way she repeated "stem" makes me think I had taught her a new word). I also got to carry her for long lengths of time and every time I asked to put her down because my arm was getting tired she would say flatly in that darling little voice of hers, "No." :-)

     I showed her what it looked like over all the tall fences bordering her yard. We chased each other around. We did Spins (where I hold her sideways facing outwards and spin 720 degrees in one direction and then 720 degrees in the other direction so I don't get dizzy) until she tired of it. Then we did "Whee!" whereby I gently toss her up and catch her until I couldn't toss her anymore. We even managed to do a piggyback ride after I figured out how to get her on my shoulders without someone else's help. We chased after a ball together and "somehow" she would always beat me to it at the last dramatic moment. And sometimes she'd give me a break by playing in the pool again.

     Unfortunately I also didn't have my wallet so we couldn't go on an adventure to a local store to buy some food so we were stuck getting hungry together. But when she asked for milk, I had the idea to teach her the age-old rite of passage that is drinking from a garden hose and, to my joy, she loved it and then she played with the garden hose for a while watering various things and whenever I suggested we should turn off the hose so as not to waste water, she would say flatly in the darling little voice of hers, "No." because damn it, this girl was on a mission! What that mission was is anyone's guess and that guess would surely be wrong because who the hell understands the particular curiosities of a three year old? Not me, that's for sure. But it kept her occupied and distracted which was the point :-)

     Periodically she would whimper that she wanted her mommy to come home and one time when I said back, "I know, I wish mommy would come home too," meaning her mother obviously but the child misinterpreted me. She thought I was talking about my mother and incredulously replied, "Your mommy doesn't live here!"

     Some of the neighbor's kids were playing in their backyard. The Child wanted to see them so I held her up high and she shouted to them, "Hi neighbors!" and they didn't reply which, I admit, annoyed me. Who doesn't say hello to a three year old?!

      But after some more leaf gathering and her wanting her mommy, I noticed her yawning and asked if she wanted to lie down. To my surprise, the kid who never wants to nap anymore said yes. Thankfully, her parents have lawn furniture and one of those pieces was a love seat I then cleared leaf debris from and lay on with the child on my chest. I had to drape my legs over the arm rests and they immediately lost circulation. I asked the Child if she was okay and ever-so-cutely told me, "I'm comfortable," and then like a goddamned cat, fell immediately asleep. I am so jealous of her ability to do that!

      I don't know how long we laid there. I almost fell asleep myself before realizing I was supposed to be keeping watch! My neck wasn't doing so great but I was able to move it without waking her. I spent that 30-60 minutes watching the sun dapple through the leaves above and those same leaves sway in the breezes. I listened to bird calls and squirrel noises and the next door neighbor kids playing and then suddenly I felt my chest get very warm, then wet. The Child peed on me in her sleep!

     I woke her up and she did not like that. She wailed for several minutes before I was able to soothe her and then, by dumb luck, I saw movement in her house. Mommy had (finally) come home...and she had brought grandma with her too. The Child and I were both happy to finally get the fuck inside. I told mommy that she had locked us out; that we haven't eaten; and to give the Child whatever she wants (and she got her ravioli and crackers and juice and even cookies to eat for her late lunch) while I cleaned up.

     But I was proud of the Child. She handled this unexpected circumstance with a surprising maturity and poise. For my part, I got only mildly sunburned (somehow: I was expecting way worse) and the most mosquito bites I've gotten in many years. I'm sure I was a veritable buffet holding the child still on my chest in the shade :-)

     Needless to say, I will always be carrying my keys with me henceforth!

I LOVE THE COLD...

     Since and only because I get to come home to a heated box, I love when it finally gets cold out. And for me, cold is any day where the high temperature never goes above freezing. We're getting a string of them right now: the local rivers are already becoming choked with ice. It's wonderful.

     And I love going out in it. Winter is the only time of year I get to feel my body struggle to stay alive. It's invigorating and it reminds me that I still want to be here even though my life affords me precious few days to actually enjoy it.

     The Summer heat saps my will to live. I accept it only because Winter alone would destroy the food chain. The heat of Summer is necessary. I understand that...but with every heatwave, my body is all the more ready to surrender to death. It is only in the bitter, numbing cold that I feel myself remembering I still have things I want to do and that I'm not yet ready to give up on them.

     And yet it is only in the Winter when pity is taken upon me and I find myself being offered more rides both home and to work. I look forward to these chills all year only to have them taken from me by some misplaced kindness. I just want to walk in it. I want to feel my body's aura of heat stripped away. I want to endure the pain of the wind on my face and fingers. I want to feel the cold creeping up my arms and legs. I want the hurt. I want my body to tell me it will not go down without a fight. I want to experience the desire to survive another day. It is the closest I come to knowing meaningful struggle.

     I'm tempted daily to surrender on all fronts and return to the void but Winter reminds me to press on for there may still be a use for my being yet...

     So if you see me walking in the cold and/or in the snow, leave me be. Don't deprive me of one of the few joys that still has not been taken from me...

NO SENSE OF BELONGING...

     Lately I've been wondering if a belief in God (or Gods)...religion basically, is tied to one's sense of belonging. Like, did I lose my faith in God and slip into nihilism because I grew up feeling like an outsider to my family and schoolmates? If I had a sense of being included, would I have not skipped out on Confirmation in 7th grade? Would I have had friends? a girlfriend? the wherewithal to remain in college and see it through to graduation? connections? a decent job resulting from those connections?

     I don't know...

     But I think about two particular groups and their stereotyped behavior: Born-Again Christians and Atheists.

     Both groups are notorious for having overly enthusiastic participants eager to get others to join or to attack when their efforts are challenged.
     It seems to me that both those groups have only recently discovered a sense of belonging and in the one sense, it delights them to realize they are no longer alone but then I also think it makes them wish to confront those who had isolated them for so long. They want to know, once and for all, who their real friends are so they proselytize and it should come as no surprise that people who already belong to another group are not particularly interested in throwing all that away.

     And the resistance of others strengthens their bond with their new friends, making them spiral inward to ever tighter and stubborn orbits. Where once they felt judged, now they are able to judge others knowing they have a community willing to back them perhaps for the first time in their lives.

     And if there's any truth to that, it makes me feel even sadder that I never even found an Atheist group to feel like a part of. Talk about isolation! And in that isolation, I sunk to the even-lower level of nihilism: a belief in the utter purposeless of everything. It was the only thing left to rationalize my existence and its suckitude: life is not unfair, because fairness and unfairness are human constructs. No, life is a selfish attempt at perpetuation and the universe is indifferent to it all. Purpose is something we create, not something which is given. You are because you were born and you will die for the same reason. You will suffer the whole way through until you can bear the burdens of living and existence no longer...and my life's burdens are not offset by its joys.

     Nihilism is the Atheist's atheist. I don't know...that made sense before I wrote.

     I write this still never feeling like I've ever belonged. I never thought I had wanted all that much and it bothers me that I can't even have that...

NO ONE TELLS ME WHAT TO DO...NOT EVEN ME

     I hate that I have to state this outright because people can be fucking idiots but I'm not suicidal, not even when I'm low. I don't actually want to die no matter how annoyed I get at circumstances. I'd be perfectly content with immortality coupled with invincibility (and then making damn sure I keep out of cities and caves): I sincerely believe I have the kind of mindset one would need to tolerate immortality.

    However, I know I'm going to die and in those moments of moriturism, I get frustrated. There's no joy in ellipsism nor is there in coming to terms with all of my being coming to naught. While some may escape into religious promises of an eternal afterlife, for a long time I've not been able to justify my fear of not existing in that manner and yet, despite that indescribable sadness that my borrowed time must some day be repaid, I'm reminded that I really do hate being told what to do and dying really seems like the ultimate form of that...at least when it's allowed to play out on its own.

     Because some day my body WILL betray me and I will die. It could be sudden or it could be a long-term thing like cancer, but regardless of the form it shall take, death will become me and I will have no say in the matter.

     Unless...

     And then I thought how suicide is a curious solution to this dilemma absent me actually having been born a god and not having realized that yet. Suicide is the both the ultimate expression of wrath as well as a personal statement to the universe itself saying that, while I must die, I will not do so on your terms!

    And I admit...I kinda like that.

    Now if only I had a clue as to when my body planned on making its exit...

DIDN'T QUIT WHILE I WAS AHEAD...

     Two Sundays ago I went gambling for the first time in my life. My cousin and his wife invited me to go to Atlantic City for the day. I took the night off work leading me to tell my coworkers that my gambling goal would be to win my lost wages. The trip down was disappointing in that it's very boring. I had no idea New Jersey has so many trees. The parkway is just an unbroken line of trees on one side and another unbroken line of trees on the other. It was only shortly before our destination that it opened up into what looked like salt marshes and a bay with electricity-generating giant windmills.

A FAREWELL TO YOUTH...

     She was there. She spoke to me briefly. She gave me a polite hug and kiss on the cheek. :-)

     I never thought I would see The First One again with my own eyes or hear her voice and although my shitty memory dooms me to have already forgotten both, it did happen. She wasn't supposed to be there. I was prepared for that disappointment but for the first time in a while, my pessimism was wrong. I got to see, hear, and be near her one last time. Nothing would come of it, as expected, so I can only conclude that God does not me to believe in Him that badly. ;-)

     It was my high school class's 20th reunion. There were more people there than I had thought were coming (I can't be bothered to come up with one-time nicknames - some are in the pictures I've downloaded, others with have to suffice with initials like RD (who brought The First One), AC, AT, RJ, KS, CM, MC, CN, MW, SG, and even JS (my brother's other crush) et al....I'm not even sure if these initials will help...probably have duplicates). I didn't get to say hello to them all. Unfortunately several were not present, including Patient Zero, whom I would really like to have seen again. She was always nice to me. The last person who saw me from my class (at work), EE, did not show nor did Smokeychick as she had business to attend to with her new home.
     The four hours went by far too quickly and once again I found myself ruminating on what I didn't say and what I should've said because my happiness has never been permitted to last long. I took my friend, The Security Guard, with me because he is naturally more social than I am. I thought he would be able to help sell me better. Unfortunately, he was extra tired that day so he kept mostly to himself forcing me to do what I could to socialize on my own. I'm not mad though I'm curious how (and assuming it were possible to pull off - impossible now as her license has been suspended a second time for DWI) Winwood would have managed in that environment...especially with The First One there.

     Still...it felt good. It has been a long time since I had last been steeped in such familiarity even if only from the recognition of faces last seen long ago.
     I got an "award" for Person Who Has Changed Least Since High School. I don't normally say I deserve things, but I deserved that one. The First One got an "award" for Having Had the Most Work Done, haha.

     Everyone there who spoke to me spoke to me kindly, some thanking me for my uploads to the event's Facebook page or just my posts in general. But no one except DOB lingered for any length of time with me...just like high school.

     Overall, and perhaps because I've never felt much of a connection to my classmates (my fault...really. No...really), the event had the feeling of a wake. Hell, there were even photo collages and memorabilia! It was as though we had all come together one last time, in a spirit of obligation, to honor the memory of our deceased youth both literally in those classmates of ours who have since passed and metaphorically for those who could not be there with us that night.
     Perhaps it's a twisted way of looking at such things but what else were we celebrating? Certainly not a future in which we would again be together. We would part ways that night, having left something behind and only taking that which we had brought with us. I don't suspect I will ever see any of them ever again with my own eyes aside from some rare random encounter...most likely at work. They were family to me in the same sense of my blood family: people brought and kept together by circumstance rather than choice.

     I'm going to miss them. Really. And though last night was a step closer to the abyss which awaits us all, it was fun and most of all, it felt good, even if only for a little while...

MISERY STREET...

     Sometimes I wonder if the reason I'm unhappy with working is not because I have to have a job in order to survive but that I'm largely constrained into having the same job in order to survive...

     I find that I get bored easily with both people and things. It is rare that I find a person or subject constantly interesting. I don't see why a job would be any different. Some people need constant novelty in their life experiences and I need constant novelty in my mental ones.

     The trouble is, while working multiple jobs is indeed possible, it would monumentally unwise to do so without a significant cash cushion as different jobs pay differently, if at all...and assuming you can even find one in a timely manner to begin with.

     I find I'm happiest when I am free to pursue my interests at will and without outside constraint on the speed and manner in which I tackle it. Life largely does not afford such opportunities to me, if it does at all. I'm so introverted that going to work counts as going out/socializing so my time off each day and on weekends is largely spent indoors not talking to anybody in order to simply recharge.
     And it's never quite enough. I only just start feeling recharged on the day I have to go back to work. I haven't quite gotten there yet but I suppose it's the mental equivalent of using duct tape to mend a broken pipe: serviceable, but hardly a true fix.
     It is only when I'm on vacation for an entire week that I actually have a few days (three, to be precise) where I'm fully recharged and more like myself again. I've been working so long at my place of employment that I have maxed out on my vacations. I get four weeks which means I get a total of twelve days a year where I feel like myself again. That's all I get. As you can imagine, I guard those days jealously.

     I remember when I first started doing my job that it was actually enjoyable. So long as I still had new things to learn and new routines to figure out, I didn't mind going. It also didn't feel like work. My time off was all I needed to recharge so I still got to feel like myself two days a week. As I maxed out in my experience though, it fell to only one day then only the aforementioned vacation days. My job ceased to challenge me but there was nowhere else I could go which would pay me enough to survive on, let alone live on.
    I was stuck. I've been stuck.

    It made me wonder though, if money wasn't an issue, would I be happier at work? I would be free to quit my job when either I've maxed out what it could teach me or if I were made to feel worthless as a human being...another thing I have to swallow, my need for dignity, because I am still in need of a reliable source of income to survive.

    But I think about that. What if I were free to satisfy my mind's desire for mental novelty? I could work anywhere that would take me for whatever they wished to pay me, if at all as I could just as easily do volunteer work at soup kitchens or animal shelters. Might I encounter new, constantly fascinating subjects that I could explore in great depth? Might I meet new, constantly interesting people to interact with...even love?

    I just hate knowing that I'll never know the answers to those questions...and that I only get four groups of three days to be myself a year. I just finished up my last three days for the year. I don't get to be myself again for another 4½ months. The time in-between vacations feels so long already...not that this weekend has done me any good.
    Four hours to go before I have to get ready to keep doing it all over again.

    No way out...

WANTING RESPECT MEANS YOU'VE GOT NOTHING WORTH HAVING...

     Last Monday, the superintendent came to the door to tell me he had switched my parking space again because he knows I don't have a car and someone else wanted my previous spot because it was closer to their apartment. Fine, whatever. However...

     He also told me that this new spot was still being used by someone else who didn't even rent here because we still have vacant apartments and the super told him he could use the space in the meantime (or some bullshit like that). This is what I get for being honest...

     When I moved here, the lease states we each get an assigned parking space. I filled out the parking space form and indicated (truthfully) that I did not have a car. What I saw my parking space as was both a place I could use to set up my telescope if I wanted to do some late-night observing and as a place I could offer to family and friends (and God-willing, girlfriends). In fact, it seemed to be the only kinda-sorta perk I could offer a girl willing to look past my inability to drive while she dates me: hey, I've got a place for you to park...

     I should've just lied when signing my initial lease and claimed my Best Friend's car to be my own for my space. No one would have checked up on it to verify that I had a license or registration for the vehicle...maybe I would have saved myself these frustrations and disrespect...

     This is also what I get for being nice. It's always a punishment. Sure, I could make a point and have the guy who's (still) parking there towed. But what will that accomplish? The truth is, I rarely do need the spot and there are common areas I can use to set up my telescope if I really insist on using it. Towing anyone who parks there would only make me out as a bad guy regardless of how (technically) in the right I would be to do so.
     It makes me think of when poor folks kill one and other over respect. Respect is pretty much the least valuable thing a person can have. If you've reached a point in your life when you find yourself desiring respect from people, it's a sure sign that you've got nothing else going for you. A person who's got a nice job, a spouse who loves them, children to take care of, a decent house, savings, and so on...that person could give less than a shit about getting respect or even having it because they already have so much more worth having.

     And here I am, entertaining tow fantasies; seething over my honesty getting me abused once again. Have I really reached a point in my life where I have so little?

CELLULAR MARGINALIZATION...

     I've finally pinpointed the time when I first felt decoupled from the world as though no longer a part of it: cellphones. I think cellphones represent a sea change in our culture not so much because of what they are, but what they have enabled. They started proliferating in 1999 and by the advent of smartphones capable of accessing the internet, the change was too far along for me to feel like I could ever be a part of the world again.

     I feel marginalized by them. It's in my nature (or at least I'm well disciplined) to be patient and to delay gratification. I can't imagine answering an unexpected cellphone call nor can I imagine myself responding to a text in public and especially if I'm around friends and/or gathered with family. I thought such behavior was considered rude. Now, it's whatever and I'm the weirdo for sticking to that and now I'm the asshole if I get mad when I'm interrupted because someone couldn't wait to respond to a text.

     When I make plans or agree to the plans of another, I stick to them and budget my time accordingly in order to show up on time and at the agreed-upon place. But if I get mad when plans are changed last minute or when people text to say they're going to be late, again...I'm the asshole. I don't understand when the world became so fly by the seat of one's pants. I don't understand how or why planning has come to be seen as obsolete; how it is in any way more virtuous to alter plans via constant updates, punishing those who would keep them. But now it's considered a punishment to hold others to plans. I don't get it...God forbid we do what we said we were going to do.

     Smartphones have added another element to my feelings of obsolescence. Now the idea of waiting until later to do something has been almost completely taken off the table and for some reason this is celebrated.

     And I say all this as a coward. One would think I would welcome texting over conversation; that I would welcome distractions to avoid interacting with groups of people; that I would welcome popping in earbuds to block out the public world around me...but I don't.
     I don't actually carry my cellphone with me when I leave my apartment (unless I'm going someplace I've never been before since payphones are no longer a thing). Why should I? Growing up, the telephone hung on a wall. Later they became somewhat portable but they were still tied to the home. I've spent more than half my life being comfortable being out of contact and perhaps more so, EXPECTING to be out of contact when I've left my home to run an errand. When people learn of this, they act as if I am mad. And it's not the kids who act that, but the adults. Those same adults who, like me, did not have cellphones growing up.
     I don't listen to music when I'm walking. Not having a car, I'm a professional pedestrian - if such a thing may be said. I know the value of being aware of environmental sounds for my own safety but even outside that. If I'm walking in a park or sightseeing, I don't want to be shut out from it. I don't see the point of going outside to listen to music. It's like people today are afraid of silence and I don't know where that fear came from. In some ways I can understand women doing so...men are proven assholes so providing a visual cue of "Don't talk to me" may have actually proven liberating for women. I wouldn't be surprised if their mp3 players aren't actually on: that it's all an act because men just don't know how to keep to themselves in public.
     I don't like texting. And again, this comes from a coward who avoids talking to people at practically all costs. However, despite that, I feel if I do want to talk to someone that...I should talk to that someone; that even if it's all subconsciously processed, body language and tone of voice is important when getting to know someone. I don't want to hide or avoid that obligation when it comes about.
     I don't mind being bored. I feel no terror when bored yet I swear people do or that they feel boredom is bad for you somehow. I feel no need to fill every waking moment with an activity nor do I feel compelled to respond to texts and phone calls immediately. I'm not a doctor, EMT, police officer, volunteer fireman, etc. whose services may be required at a moment's notice. Whatever it is, it can wait. Good news can wait. Bad news can wait too. And bullshit...bullshit can DEFINITELY wait until later. And if it's really bad news, well...bad news has a way of finding you. Because of that, I feel no need to even look at my phone when out and about.

     When I go out, I'm going out. When I go out with friends, I'm going out to see those friends. When I'm seeing family, I'm there to see my family. I don't think it's wrong to be busy. Likewise, I don't think it's wrong to expect other people to be busy when they're out with their friends too. Phones used to have busy signals. I miss those. Now that I think about it, the introduction of call waiting was a harbinger of things to come. I would never answer call waiting. Why? Because I'm talking to you now. I don't see how it's good psychologically to tell your friend that you have other things you'd rather be doing than talking to them...
     How ironic that putting my friends first while I'm with them in person and believing that others should do the same would make me the impolite one. Sorry that I don't feel it an appropriate time to look at who's texted me...

     But that's not how the world works anymore. I can lament it. I can wish it weren't so or that it would go back to the way it was...but that won't happen. Regardless of whether my positions are better or saner is irrelevant because they're obsolete. I'm obsolete. I don't foresee me ever fitting in with this brave new world of what I perceive to be rudeness, impulsiveness, and impatience. I just fade. For all the good cellphones can and do do, the shitty behaviors they've liberated from their users are alien to me. It's not something I can ever in good faith join.
     I'm not saying I don't ever feel the temptation nor do I wish to imply that I myself have never engaged in such behaviors. Besides, one doesn't need a cellphone to be rude and I've been rude in my day. I wasted many weekends playing videogames, listening to music, and watching TV shows nonstop (sometimes just to watch something...anything. I wasn't even all that into a lot of shows I watched as a kid) when maybe my Mom or Dad would have rather me spent some time with them. Looking back on it, I'm not proud. I could've been...should've been...a better son. The point is, I'm certainly not innocent. Maybe it's just all too new so a culture and its associated rules haven't been established yet. Maybe in the coming decades, I'll feel a part of this world again as people temper their behavior in light of what these machines are capable of doing to us. But I don't know, the drug of now is most addicting.

     Even television's not the same. VCRs in a way started it, but their capacity was limited so the idea of binge-watching an entire season wasn't exactly a thing. VCRs allowed a person who would otherwise be left out join in the conversation. Television used to be a cultural thing. Sure, there were repeats in the Summer but otherwise you had to watch the show when it aired or risk being left out. There were no high-capacity DVRs or on-demand online video feeds.
     It's more minor than the points above but it's still a thing now that you can't expect the people you're talking to to have seen a show's episode the day it aired...or even at all. Cable's proliferation has fragmented audiences to a considerable degree. It's not all bad but at times I think there are too many channels...too many options. The old cable boxes used to only have 36 channels and the first 12 were broadcast and local access leaving you with 24 cable channels and HBO.
     It's all so alienating...

     My world is gone...or at least, the world I understood is. It's ironic that I should feel so disconnected when the people of this world have never been more connected to each other.

50% OBSOLETE...

     When I was younger I could never understand why anyone would want to die. Life is beyond cool. There's always something new and amazing to discover about it no matter how small or large a life you live. Existence has much to offer anywhere from the human scale all the way down to elementary particles and all the up to vast superclusters of galaxies. It's practically impossible to be bored and even when you are, boredom can prove to be a wellspring of creativity allowing for even greater enjoyment of life. So why would anyone want to leave it behind?

     And to be clear for a moment, I'm not talking about obvious kinds of suffering like cancer or neverending pain; no, I'm talking about how when people get old that they eventually come to terms with their mortality and even embrace it with a smile. How does that happen?

     Personally, I suspect obsolescence...

     I feel like I've crossed sometime in the past few years a critical point in one's life: the 50/50 point. I feel slightly more than 50% obsolete; like I'm no longer on the "winning" side.

     It makes me think of senior citizens, especially those who have made it to an advanced age. Think of how different their world is from when they were young in terms of technology, culture, their place in the world, etc. It must be tough and psychologically draining over time to endure. I think of the theme song to All in the Family. It's pretty much an ode to a lost way of life and though that way of life was clearly better for some (read: straight white male) folks than for others, it captures that feeling of the past is gone and we, the current generation, will never be relevant again.

     It's not necessarily the end of the world...just the end of your world. Things need to change if they are to both survive and improve. It's the very mantra of evolution: adapt or die. In a sense that's what's going on psychologically. Society is constantly changing and you have to either adapt to its changes or become irrelevant.

     The thing is...adapting is stressful. I suppose it's easier to do when one is young and still figuring shit out but I've found over the years that I'd like to enjoy the fruits of my labor but life insists upon going on. It'd be nice if technology could maybe slow its progress for a little while that we might enjoy and master the changes wrought but the next version/update is always around the corner.
     Culturally it'd be nice if things were still like they were in the 1990's. Things felt more understandable then. The younger generation's ways are definitely not my own. It'd be wrong to begrudge the advances made in women's and gay rights but I will admit it's frustrating to have to adapt a language I've been using most my life...which is a stupid criticism, yes. It demands defensive posturing when being told how your way of thinking reflects a life led in Easy Mode (aka: privilege) and that the power I never knew I had needed to be shared. Our fellow citizens deserve their rights, yes. But still annoying, though...and strange to think one's been wrong all this time.
     It's not like mine's the only paradigm shift.

     But I feel increasingly obsolete and that obsolescence is slowly taking its toll. I'm sure I have a long way to go; decades, no doubt. Yet I feel as time marches on, I will feel increasingly comfortable letting go of my hold on this world because it will simply take too much to keep fighting it to maintain my sense of normalcy.
     Maybe that's why I dream I'm the villain in any daydream involving the supernatural. Using my power to hold the world to my will rather than accepting it. I always identify with the villain who wants to know how the story ends or wants things to be the way they used to be or put some drag on the pace of change or to otherwise preserve what's been.

    It's weird to think that when my time has come, provided I'm not to be taken prematurely, that I will actually be willing to go; be willing to lay down the burden of living and have it carried by the next generation. It still sounds so far-fetched but surely it will happen, no?

    Weird...

WEARINESS...

     One thing I've noticed about me is that going to work counts as going out. I guess I'm just that introverted which sucks because I would like to go out more but I just don't want to after a week's work. I want to recharge and recoup and by the time I'm feeling like I might want to go out, it's already the start of my workweek again.

     I don't have this problem on vacations. By Wednesday I'm done spending time inside and away from people and ready to go out and explore or whatever. It's fun and I like getting to do those things, but I don't like having to wait three months until my next week off to do so.

     Another reason I wish I could quit working altogether. That I don't have enough money saved to purchase my freedom is another reason my life sucks. I just don't see a victory scenario. It actually makes me wish I could have a mild, totally survivable heart-attack so I could justify quitting on the grounds that, having been given a taste of my own mortality, I no longer wish to put off the life I have been suppressing all these years just so I could work at a job I don't like for not enough money to enjoy life on.

     I think the source of that unhappiness is in my very nature. I read recently in Scientific American a reference to a book by Donald Stokes called Pasteur's Quadrant. He had this idea that there are three types of research which he separated into quadrants he named using epitomizing examples: Bohr, Edison, and Pasteur.

     The Bohr Quadrant, named after physicist Niels Bohr, exemplified pure basic research, which might be thought of as seeking answers for their own sake with no particular goal in mind. Such research is not concerned with how the knowledge gained might be used by others.
     The Edison Quadrant, named after inventor Thomas Edison, exemplified applied research, which could be thought of as a striving to produce a specific product in response to a problem. Such research is a quest for an invention or a method and might be thought of as profit-driven research; their interest is ultimately in utility.
     The Pasteur Quadrant, named after researcher Louis Pasteur, exemplifies a middle ground between the two: a quest for knowledge and its application to benefit humanity. Pasteur's specific example would include Germ Theory which sought to not only understood what germs/disease were and how they spread, but also how to use this knowledge to keep people healthy.

     I find that I don't like being caged into any one particular thing. I dislike specialization. I would say I fit most comfortably into the Bohr Quadrant. I am curious about the world, reality, existence, etc. but while I am interested in learning how it works, I show almost zero interest in doing anything with this knowledge, content to leave it to others to exploit.
     I guess most of the big stuff has been found out already making me moot. To learn more about reality requires one to delve deeply into the kinds of mathematics I can't even hope to comprehend: I just don't have the discipline for that.
     I find my mind wanders a lot. I am the typical example of "Jack of all trades; master of none." I know a little bit about a lot of things, perhaps in order to cast the widest possible net in a desperate attempt to be loved. I suppose this is why my personality type is flagged for leadership roles: I'd be a natural delegator, able to recognize who's good at what so that they may be in the right positions when they are most needed. If only I liked leading. I despise it and resent whenever I'm forced to take up the reins. Then again, that may be another reason I would make a good leader: I don't want the power. I've heard it said that those who want power are the ones who least deserve it. It's just sometimes...sometimes, I wish I had someone I could focus on. Someone who could give me purpose. Maybe I've been intellectually wandering for too long now and wish to limit my subjects to the benefit of someone whom I care about deeply or to someone whom I believe in. I certainly don't get that from my job and my life is as lonely as ever.

     Still...it would be nice to not have to work anymore. I'm tired of it. The thought of having to do this for thirty more years is practically intolerable. I yearn to be free. I want to be free...

THAT'S SO RAVEN

     I think we all at some point in our lives give thoughts to what our superpowers might be if we could have them whether it be something as simple as the ability to fly or turn invisible or superstrength or whatnot. It seems the difficulty is avoiding taking on too many powers lest one become a kind of Mary Sue to his/her own private universe (or fictional universe one would wish to inhabit) and not something so awesomely impractical that it wouldn't have much use in one's superheroics or villainy (if that be your inclination).

     I find whenever my thinking takes me in such directions that my powers, while vaguely defined, frequently are associated with wind and shadows. I take my greatest (plagiaristic) inspirations for how these powers might manifest from the homunculus Pride in Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood and Aang, an airbender from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

     Imagery I associate with these thoughts feels typically defensive. I don't envision myself as strong but rather as nimble, defensive, versatile, and quiet. I see a lot of curves too rather than sharp angles. I guess wind would erode features so smooth structures would feel more fitting and less resistant.

     I see the substantiated shadows I employ as my primary, or at least my go-to (or crutch), power. I don't understand how they would work in real life. Cartoons have black shadows so it's easier to see them becoming solid. One thing that is always true is that, like shadows, I never see the points from me where this power emerges. It's always behind me (though it can quickly creep in front of me), emerging bubble-like if it comes out quickly or in a creeping fashion if I'm able to do so at my leisure. I can see it wrapping around me to act like an armor or to be conceal me in dark places or to even be employed as a crude shape-shifting ability. I suppose, if manifested properly, the shadows could also act as pseudo-telekinesis. That is, I could lift someone up or otherwise restrain them with fully substantiated (i.e. solid) tendrils of shadow.
     I guess, like Pride, places which are truly dark would upset this power. I would need a source of light to get it started and perhaps also to maintain it. I assume, also like the anime, it has upper and lower limits. Too dark and it cannot emerge; too light and it is overwhelmed and destroyed.
     Even though I could fashion the shadows into temporary cutting or stabbing weapons, I don't regularly envision myself doing that except when cornered. Either it takes a lot of effort to use them offensively (something I suspect) or I am simply uncomfortable employing them in that fashion.

     Honestly I see the shadowy aspect as a means for intimidation, like the way an animal raises its fur to give off the impression that it is larger than it really is, especially my real body is never seen by my target. I have the substantiation aspect in case that fails but I'm guessing, like a skunk's stinky spray, I would rather not use it. [ASIDE: if I recall correctly, the skunk's spray takes a few days to fully reload after using it so it would much rather use its warning colors than its weapon and face the coming days knowing it is ultimately defenseless if attacked]

     In that respect that is what I see my, for lack of a better term, airbending as too: an effort-driven manifestation that I would rather not have to use. On the surface I may use control over the gases around me as another form of intimidation, creating breezes where no breezes ought to be...or outright murder someone by emptying the air in a sphere around their bodies to suffocate them (or oppositely, filling them up like balloons 'til they burst). I feel I must also have control over the air because I typically envision myself in cold places. Whether that's because I've manipulated the temperature around me or that I've based myself in a cold place for comfort is unknown. I don't see why I shouldn't be able to manipulate the temperature of the air, at least to a limited degree, as changes in pressure affect temperature. But then that might be one power too many so I don't know.

     I primarily envision its use to forcefully push back anyone who's gotten too close to me. Again, a last ditch move and I always feel like it takes a lot out of me to do so. If able to concentrate I can see me summoning great vortices of air to act as a wall while leaving the area within such a vortex calm and breezeless. It might be possible to use the wind power for limited flight or, more likely, to enhance jumps both vertically and horizontally. It might also allow me to fall from great heights without dying by using blasts of wind at the last moments to slow my descent. Curiously I only ever see the vortices moving counterclockwise: I'm not sure what that means. Ultimately, though, the air manipulation ability may be more of a weakness, acting as a tell of my emotional state.

     I associate the air more with my anger than any other emotion and the shadows, with dominance. They could be used both for good or for evil, depending on which allegiance I would hold in whatever comic-book world I might find myself in. I find I'm attracted to these powers as they do not restrict my freedom of movement and as such, when my ability to move is threatened, it is then that they manifest most offensively.

     Additionally, the wind I've noticed is used to "inflate" the growing shadow behind me like a cobra's hood providing an area for stabbing tendrils to emerge and/or to protectively cloak me. Also, the shadow appears to be my animus because once emerged, I've noticed my body tends to remain in place as though it can no longer move. I guess like Pride, my body is my shadow's container and if my container were lost, my shadow self (my real self?) would die, thus its protective cloaking.

     My emotional state might also affect how the powers are used. That is, if I'm calm, that would be when I have the power over my shadow and when stressed, it would be the wind. Perhaps never both at the same time. In other words, if I'm using wind, I cannot employ my shadows and vice-versa. That actually might make a weird sort of sense, especially since it would weaken me (can't have a hero/villain that's too powerful now!) and cause me to consider strategy as well as for my opponents to consider their plans of attack since if I feel forced to use wind, my substantiated shadows would retract within me. The delay, that is while waiting for the shadows to fully retract since it would not be instantaneous, could also be something an opponent could exploit.
     Come to think of it, I don't ever envision myself using both powers simultaneously (although a blast of wind followed by a quickly manifested spear of shadow could result in an effective 1-2 combination).

     I think I also prefer not to act offensively because when I envision me taking such actions, they're never particularly accurate. There's either a swirling blast of wind hitting at everything in a ring around me (that's rarely ever taller than I am - the attacks are barely three dimensional) attempting to knock people off their feet or its multiple spears of shadow going only in the general direction of the target. Maybe since the shadows emerge behind me it's difficult to aim them? It could also be a lack of training...it's not like there are classes one could take to learn how to use such powers.

     I guess I would most likely be neutral, or attempt to be so, in such comic-book worlds because the powers do little to enhance my physical strength. It wouldn't make much sense to try and go up against a Superman, a Green Lantern, or a Batman. Given my mental state in life, I suppose the temptation to use these powers for evil would be ever-present. I think, if a villain, I would not be the actual supervillain but a top henchman, an emissary of the supervillain. And again, if a hero, I'd probably be the sidekick aiding the actual hero in realizing his/her vision. Regardless of allegiance, I'm not sure if I would ever find myself bound permanently to a side as my desire for freedom may prove overwhelming so attempts to box me in would only make me slip away...

     That in of itself is kinda weird. It's my own fantasy and I don't even give myself top billing :-)

     Okay, I'm done with my incoherent babbling. At least for today...

TO CONTINUE...

     Gandalf's description of how the One Ring grants its bearer immortality feels like such an apt description for much else in life.

Like the other Great Rings of Power, [the One Ring] would extend the lifespan of its owner indefinitely, but that person...would not grow or obtain more life, but would merely continue, until every minute was an unbearable weariness.

     The more I read about Tolkien's mythology, the more I find it such a remarkable way of looking at things. Although we are not Valar nor Maiar, I find the idea that we have within us a native strength (or power) which can be spent to our fortune or peril an interesting one.
     The great evil ones, Melkor and Sauron, spent their spirits in envy and hate in their respective attempts to dominate the very matter of Earth and its inhabitants, growing weaker over time. Once mighty and seemingly invincible, they would, over time, lose their ability to shapeshift, no longer be able to create new things to use against the existing order (instead being able to only make parodies and corruptions of works already made), and take on wounds which would no longer heal.
     The great maia, Sauron, would impart much of his remaining native strength into the One Ring so that it would be able to dominate the other nineteen rings of power. When he wore it, the One Ring made him even stronger than before but should the ring be destroyed, it would take with it that native strength Sauron had poured into it so there was a risk involved for any spirit who wished to go against the natural order of things.

     It makes me think of how we live our lives and the values and desires we place in things and in people. I feel like I have invested much of my native strength in the wrong girls and it has left me considerably weaker for my troubles. The last time I felt my native strength increasing was when I was in college back in late 1998/early 1999...but mostly in 1998.
     I had met many new friends (even girls who found me desirable) and for perhaps the only time in my life, had a near-daily exposure to love and acceptance. I felt a part of something bigger than me for the only time in my life.  If I were somehow able to quantify my native strength and add up the percentages of it placed into other people and things and that which is still left in me, the number would be greater than 100% mostly for that time but also for times in my past like it (such as when I started getting to know my Best Friend and other friends both remaining and lost in my life).
     My last happy New Year was the changeover from 1999 to 2000. So far, the 21st century has held little to no happiness for me and as I now find myself well into it. I am also less than ten years away from the pivot point whereby I become a 21st century man (that is, soon I will have existed longer in the 21st century than I did in the 20th...another of my weird thoughts/realizations).

     But I know I squandered a large part of myself in the First One. It felt only natural and I did so out of ignorance. While foolish in retrospect, how was I to know at the time she wasn't "the one"? First love is foolish love much as is all young love. Still...I miss her and the nervous energy she imparted on me that I was then able to transform into creative and artistic pursuits like drawing, poetry, and most proudly, a constructed language.
     The First One would come to be known to me as a personification of idealization. She is what attraction means to me and what it means to be in love. All those who have followed (and even those who preceded) are compared to her, being either greater or lesser. In a mythological sense, she would be the physical manifestation of a god, specifically of Aphrodite. In a different and more modern sense I would describe her as a "genetic attraction", which was most definitely eugenic in nature as I recall myself, even as a young teenager, wanting to merge my DNA with her own as if our respective DNAs would result in a more superior human than she already was. That's a strange thought I admit and to this day, while I would most certainly prefer to do so the, uh..."natural" or "fun" way, I would be happy to have her accept my DNA via artificial insemination just to bring about that genetic fulfillment.

     Smaller parts of me would be invested in nearly a dozen other girls and more still in lost friends, but the next great investment was in Digby, the source of many downer posts in this blog. I saw in her a salvation of sorts. She appeared to me as the actual "one" I had been spending my life looking for (and this time a human right from the start rather than the fleshy goddess that was the First One) as I now had many more years of experience and working knowledge of who I am and what I had wanted. I felt able to see our compatibility but ultimately, I had deceived myself...
     Don't get me wrong. I still believe with all my heart that Digby is right for me. It's just...what I never considered and what would thus be my downfall, was that it never occurred to me just how cruel nature is when it comes to love. I made the mistake of believing, because I had never properly had it contradicted prior, that compatibility is more of a scalar than what it truly is, a vector.
      You see, compatibility has a direction to it: it's not a universal number or quality. Digby is good enough (maybe even ideally so)...but only for me. But I am not perfect for her. It seems an impossible thought but it's sadly so very true.
      For the longest time I went through life believing that if you found a person you were compatible with that it was only natural that they too would be compatible with you. It might take some convincing, but I truly believed compatibility was like an equation. In this case, different sets of numbers that added up to the same result (a simplified example being 4+5 = 108÷12 ...seemingly different in all ways but nevertheless, their underlying nature, that they are both manifestations of 9, is the same). But no, compatibility is not a simple equation...it is a vector. The direction compatibility moves in matters (like how whether a targeted item in a supermarket will appear on the left side or right side of an aisle depends on the direction you enter said aisle) and resultant vectors cannot be found simply by adding two (or more) vectors together.
     The maddening result of all this grief is the knowledge that you can be great for someone but that you, in turn, are not necessarily great for them. It is a seeming defiance of logic but it is most assuredly true and a depressing truth at that. Perhaps if I had learned that lesson at an earlier age...

     Digby would become the personification of desire in many, if not all, of its manifestations and especially representative of my desire to do right by and for a woman; to be her one and only; to be the father, and properly so, to her children; to give of myself that she and my progeny might experience a life most fitting for them. Digby was truly a dream given form...
     Now if only I might find that (as of yet unknown) Third One who is this time as compatible with me as I am with her.

     However, to get back to my opening statements, I feel I have been living a life without purpose and I have been living this way largely for the last three to seven years depending on your reckoning and arguably I have been this way since finding the First One back in 1992 as fulfillment is not something that would ever be known to me.
     Much of my native strength has been spent. It has left me feeling weak and my spirit fragile. It takes so much time now to find even the smallest amount of will to make a move and such strength is all too easily spent resulting in months of recovery from even the slightest of setbacks...time I really don't have anymore as my youth has been gone for some time now.
     For the time being, I find myself bound spiritually to my Best Friend but she is not enough. She is like family and family does not represent the future nor does family represent change, whether the family we're born into or the family we choose. Love must ultimately manifest either literally in the form of children or spiritually in the form of a legacy which will outlive our physical forms. Our genes demand from us immortality. For me personally, that satisfaction requires a yin for my yang to be the means, undeniably female, for manifesting that immortality. But I have been denied such satisfaction...
     And I feel that's what living with purposelessness is: it is merely survival, not life. The food I eat, the water I drink, and the air I breathe extend my life but mere acts of survival do not grow or obtain for me more life. They permit me only to continue and every day the burden of continuing makes me feel heavier and that heaviness is most certainly wearisome. It is not yet unbearable and while I have no intention of "doing" anything about it, it does leave me wondering just how much more my body can handle before it decides it has had enough or will I find my continuance, my merely surviving, to be corrupting like that of Sméagol as he became Gollum under the One Ring's influence and living on only as a shadow of my former, once hopeful, self,

     ...a living mockery of a man...

AHOY ME MATEYS...

     The last time I was at the dentist, I was thinking about all the blood from the cleaning. It was much more than usual. My gums had been bleeding frequently too when brushing my teeth. I joked about it with my hygienist but the more I thought about it, I couldn't think of any substantial sources of vitamin C in my diet.

      For years I would take a juice box with me for my lunch but starting maybe a year or so ago, I started buying styrofoam cups and filling them with water instead. The Hi-C fruit punches advertised a 100% daily supply of vitamin C, something I would thus get five times a week. Now I wasn't getting any. The vegetables I would eat with dinner would have some, but my diet could not give me 100% of that vitamin ever.

      I bought vitamin C supplements and just like that, the bleeding went away. I'm sure my next cleaning will be bloody again because that seems to be the norm now but in my daily life my gums are no longer swelling easily nor are they bleeding.

      I had scurvy, or at least its early stages. Imagine that. That's so 18th century :-)

ABOUT AS MUCH A PROTEST AS BISMUTH-209 IS RADIOACTIVE...

     I decided since neither my store nor my union supported me with my latest run-in with management that I would no longer shop at my store. I figure, I will take their money but I will not give any of it back.

     I was placed on cash control at the end of September. This is one of the drawbacks of lane accountability. While the upside is that I get to go through a hell of a lot more change (my take of 1978-dated coins, especially quarters, has been WAY higher since my store switched over to this new system), the downside is that the screw-ups of those who worked the lane before (and after) me affect us all.

     Anywho, when placed on cash control, I was given a sheet to sign with several rules regarding how I am supposed to conduct myself and control my cash while under this observation period.
     This was also my first time on cash control ever. Nearly fourteen years I've been there and it's never happened. Yes, I've gotten the occasional write-up for being over/short (almost always over...I seem to be good at convincing customers to walk out without their money) warning me that if it happened again within a certain period I would be placed on cash control. I never was. I'd get a write-up once, sometimes twice, a year.
     Three months into lane accountability and I've been written up three times for shortages. Like the other warnings there is a rollover period where if nothing else happens (I think it's ten days), your reputation is restored...until the next time. The trouble is, this third write-up mentioned that the shortage was excessive so I was placed on CC immediately...

     Right away I got into conflict with my manager. He would refuse to prove my till either having me do it myself or not at all despite the CC guidelines specifically stating the manager has to do it. I had also been directed to not leave my register unattended (the till would have to be placed in a cash control bag, sealed, and locked away before I could leave).
     The second night he insisted I leave my register without securing it first. And when I protested and finally refused, he sent me home for insubordination. Was it insubordination? Yes. Technically.

     It bugged me that he refused to take the thirty or so seconds it would take to lock away my till as directed or that he refused to use another employee who wasn't on cash control...no, it had to be me for some reason. It bothered me that he reprimanded me publicly and in front of other employees (both union no-no's). I was also annoyed that I got sent home for refusing to violate cash control policy and another cashier that same night also refused to do what he told her for the exact same reason and did NOT get sent home. And it irked me that when I returned, he took me aside immediately and insisted I pledge to do whatever he tells me.
     I told him I would do what he said provided it does not violate CC policy. For him, this was a yes or no question. He would not accept my modification and sent me home again, pending a union meeting...also my first in all my years there.
     I made my detailed statement, gave it to the shop steward, and when I finally got my callback, I was told basically "do the crime, snitch later." My union did not side with me at all. My union would not fight to get my lost pay restored for refusing to follow what I felt was an illegal order. And my store felt the same. Insubordination, period. Completely risking my job now if it happens again.

     Now understand, yes...I would've like to have won that battle but that's not really the point as far as I'm concerned. All I needed to hear was the gist of President Luchenko's speech to Sheridan (from Babylon 5) and I would've been fine.
     In Rising Star she told Sheridan that his insurrection against President Clark's dictatorship was probably the right thing to do but that he did it the wrong way, the inconvenient way and thus, even though we viewers saw Sheridan as a hero, he still legitimately faced execution for taking up arms against his own government.
     Now obviously I didn't go THAT far, but it would've been nice to hear from either side that at least someone believed that I was trying to do the right thing but that I was doing it the wrong way...the inconvenient way and thus I still had to be punished. But I would never get such satisfaction.

     Thoroughly demoralized, I knew I couldn't quit my job (I was really, really tempted to). I meant to take a "mental health" day too after that phone call but I ultimately decided not to. The bitch of that decision was when I got into work, I was the only one on my shift who DIDN'T call out. What luck!
     I went into a severe depression that got interrupted, but not aborted. When I get very sad I lose my appetite. This was the first time since 2008 that I had gone the no-eating route. I forgot I had agreed to go to a charity dinner that Friday so I had to eat before I was ready to again. By that point, I had gone thirty hours without a calorie. I gorged at the dinner thus refueling my sadness. After that dinner I went another forty hours without food...a new record. My previous record was thirty-six hours (which is also the longest I've ever gone without sleep) so, uh...yay?
     I've been fine since but I decided I would no longer shop at my store. I imagine this will become difficult after Christmas when I'm staring at all those discounted M&Ms. I'll have to hope my alternate store will have had the same difficulty off-loading their supply as mine always does.

     My alternate store is smaller than my own so its product diversity is not as high. One thing it definitely does not have is my high-fiber Fiber One bread so I've been eating a different brand of ordinary whole-wheat bread.
     Here's the thing. I've had hemorrhoids for a good five years now. My asshole still bleeds occasionally (story's taken a turn now, hasn't it?) but since I've stopped eating the Fiber One bread, my asshole's been getting, well...better. So far, it's the only thing I'm doing differently in my diet. Everything else is the same. My poops are smaller too...easier to pass. Is it possible there is such a thing as "too much fiber"? Perhaps.
      I've had some hints of blood on my wipes, but not as much and many times now, none at all. It's weird those unintended consequences, right? I inconvenience myself to make purchases at another supermarket, a protest which the accountants will never even notice in their weekly sales reports and it results in me discovering that maybe I've been overdoing it with my fiber intake.

     Weird...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

     It's Digby's birthday today. It's been a little over three years since I would last see her somewhat regularly hoping for that chance and never getting it. Yeah, I still kinda miss her. I never said I wasn't pathetic...


     This card is so true :-)

NOTHING LEFT...

     A week ago, my job switched to "lane accountability". Management claimed our supermarket was actually in the minority of stores still not practicing it. While it may be entirely unrelated, our supermarket is also the top one in our area so maybe don't fix what ain't broken?

     I've been through lane accountability before. It's where instead of getting an individual till, you share tills with other employees. The lane itself is proven rather than the individual and if the lane is short/over then those cashiers using the lane go on cash control in an effort to discover the likely culprit which...now that I think about it means the method we had been using all along was like being on permanent cash control and it didn't take two steps to identify the problem.
     But like I said, I've been on this before and I thought it made sense for my department. I was in the Prepared Foods section and there was only one till and I usually manned it as I had prior experience as a cashier. The trouble was, when we had individual tills I had to wait for a coworker to get a till to relieve me for breaks which sometimes never happened. When lane accountability was introduced, I always got my breaks.
     That being said, I think lane accountability makes sense for small stores and small departments within larger stores like my own. Prepared Foods, Pharmacy, and Courtesy would benefit from lane accountability I think whereas the Front End would not. It remains to be seen how this experiment pans out because if too many people end up on cash control, it defeats the point of this practice.

     Normally I wouldn't care about this change but then I really don't like my job anymore. It's been going downhill for a long time now, probably as soon as 2004 when the original owner died leaving his sons fully in charge. I think the father kept his sons' selfishness in check because he built up his empire from the ground, starting as just a fruit stand back in the 1950s. His sons inherited an already successful chain.

     Micromanagement started hitting us almost right away and it became rather apparent by the next contract negotiation when the store was very big on shitting on new hires. This trend has continued and I really cannot recommend working for my supermarket anymore as you are in no way cared about.
     Coupled with the "Great Recession" downturn, it only got worse to work there. I really started feeling like an undesired expense rather than a dedicated asset to the company. I used to care about my company and it has since become clear to me that I have cared about my company long after it had stopped caring about me. I've given a lot of my life to that store that I can't ever get back and the only two things I have ever asked for were to have my hard-work/dedication be recognized by being left alone and by giving me Full Time.

     By left alone, I mean trusted to do my duties because they knew I would not slack off and would commit to my tasks at hand and by having that dedication respected when it came to scheduling. For a long time I got that. My schedule was stable enough that it was like getting a salary and management was happy with my performance. I was rarely sick. I've never been injured. I was happy to come to work. They got good value for my wage. And for ten years, I bid for Full Time. And I wanted Full Time simply to guarantee my hours. As a part-timer, technically I could be cut pretty badly if they wanted to. My seniority will only take me so far but it is that seniority that has kept them from cutting too deeply though cut they have. The past two years have seen an average weekly drop of about 1½ to 2 hours.
     It is only now by looking back on it that I realized I had only begun bidding for Full Time after the original owner had died. It's not possible to prove, but had I started bidding back in 2001 or 2002, would I have received my wish?

     So now we all are increasingly micromanaged, the night shift has to deal with a manager whose continued employment probably counts as a verified miracle leaving him only one more to qualify for sainthood, wages have declined to survival level (not that they were ever fantastic to begin with...I'm still drawing a profit but I don't know how much longer I can keep that up. Last year 98% of my earnings were spoken for before they even got home), workers are made to feel like cogs rather than people, we're judged increasingly on ever less relevant statistics, our union grows weaker each negotiation...it sucks.

     And now to top it all off I have had my identity stripped from me. Like I said, if I were happier in my job, lane accountability would not faze me but I'm not: I'm very unhappy at work. I despise having to go there now. My weekends are no longer enough to recharge me for another workweek. I meet each Wednesday night (my Monday) with dread. The only good about a Wednesday is that the shitty manager is off that night so I at least return to some peace. But it's not enough and I can't afford to take three days off.
     But at least I had a till with my name on it. It was mine. I made it my own. I sorted things the way I like sorting them. It was efficient and orderly. Now I have a till. It is not my till. It belongs to the lane I have been assigned. It has been run through by all those who used it before me. I have to sort now according to a prescription that goes against 13 years of habit. Sure, I'll adapt...but it's like the last straw, y'know?

     I have come to feel like a nothing at my job, as though I were no one. Now I am no one. I am a number when I clock in...not a person. I am a number when I sign in...not a person. I am a part of a whole when proven rather than an individual.

     My job has taken away the fun of working there. It has taken away the sense of satisfaction I once derived from working there. It has taken away my dignity by making me into a series of percentages, ratios, and figures. Now it has taken away my identity.

     I don't know why I continue to work for them...

     Oh, that's right. I know why. It's because I don't have a choice. There are no other jobs near me that will pay a living wage, let alone a survival wage. I am bound to them and they know it and the store shows its contempt for all those whom it employs because it can...because it knows we have no place else to go. Why treat employees with respect when your employees are afraid to lose their jobs? Standing up for myself would be a fool's crusade. Yes sir! No sir! Whatever you say sir! Right away sir!

     I hate my job, but I cannot leave my job. My job owns me. There is no escape and it kills me slowly...

IS THIS ME...OR JUST ME NOW?

     Sometimes I just wish someone I date would take me aside and convincingly tell me in a manner I would no way misinterpret as hurtful that I shouldn't date...that it's not for me because dating/being in a relationship isn't me.

     I want to be told that I am meant to be alone because that is who I am. The intent wouldn't be that of a sad ending, but rather an ending appropriate for a mind like mine. That I'm not meant to be pinned to a single soul. That my duty lies in helping others and that I cannot be that man if I am obligated to another solely. Yes, I will be lonely at times but it will not be for naught. Yes, I will be horny at times but there's a way for dealing with that. Yes, I will long for a human touch but it will turn out it is that yearning which allows me to be at my best. A rationale for my life...

     I'll admit I, at times, wish prostitution were legal and that I would not feel guilty in partaking. I want to believe that at least some of these women are doing it because they genuinely enjoy and are not otherwise trapped in a cycle of despair or abuse from which they cannot escape. It's difficult overlooking the power of reproductive urges. They're so selfish...so needy...so wanting... If I didn't feel them at all, my life would prove much more bearable. I wish it didn't feel so intoxicating, the desire to feel wanted at that raw, animalistic, sexual level...

     I also admit I have a difficult time even imagining being in a relationship. It's weird. I can envision the companionship angle of it...the day-to-day stuff, but not the romance...not the wooing. Those latter aspects feel so unlike me. I love caring for other people in tangible ways but I have no desire to solicit a person to care for.

    Eh, I don't know...

REFLECTIONS...

     Yesterday I learned that Digby has a boyfriend. I also learned that I am in no way happy for her. I never realized that I had actually hated her...

     It's strange getting a glimpse of your soul. Any other of my crushes over the years, if I found out they had a boyfriend or when they announced their engagements, whatever, I was actually pleased. Yes, I wished it could've been me in a more perfect world but nevertheless I was glad to have learned they had found some happiness in life. It is what I had always wanted for them. Again, ideally they would've found that happiness with me, but in this imperfect world I'm still glad they found someone. I really am.

     But not Digby...

     Why the difference, I wonder? She's not the only girl to have hurt me before nor is she the first. Do I really hold such a terrible grudge because she was the last girl I could've introduced to my father before he passed? Was it because she was never straight with me? Was I really so in love that having my heart broken over such a long stretch of time would so thoroughly blacken my soul? I don't know...

     Such invidiousness...

     It's like having a mirror capable of reflecting my soul held up to me. I saw the darkness in my heart for the first time in quite a while. I'm ashamed... I thought I cared about her. That was painful to confront. Strangely, it may prove liberating. I've been pining for this girl since July 2007...a long time indeed...and even after not having seen her with any sense of regularity for almost three years. She's stuck with me. No one has replaced her. I'm not sure I've ever wanted a girl more. I've come to calling her The Omega as though she would be the last of her kind...that my heart could not bear to take up the burden of another infatuation.
     Number Twelve briefly shone after her, but unlike Digby, she was honest with me and her potential for influence over me faded rapidly. I let her go before she became a full-blown crush. I was able to let her go and let her go easily. I've seen her with her boyfriend and how happy she is with him and I, in turn, am happy for her that she has such a man who has stood by her all these years and through the traumas she's had to endure. When the First One finally finds a man, I'm sure I'll feel a little pang of jealousy but I will ultimately be glad she has found someone she has deemed worthy of her. It is, after all, what I have wanted for her since high school.

     Still, this dark jealousy might prove liberating. To see me hate her happiness and feel it so openly only shows me that I could not really have cared for her. To want to destroy this budding love between them in some perverse effort to isolate her that she may find love with only me is insanity. I can't claim feelings of love for her if I wish this upon her in any capacity.

     Knowing this; having confronted this aspect of my soul, maybe I can finally let her go...

NO FAP...

     I tried abstaining from masturbation for the first time back in 2012 but failed after 30 days. I failed both out of frustration and because the girl who would become my girlfriend was a virgin and intended to remain one. It felt pointless to continue and continue, I did not.

     This time it has been different. Though I have yet to see her again (yet...supposed to this Friday), I've been abstaining again from masturbation in the hopes that it is true that I've been overstimulating myself to the point where my penis doesn't function like it's supposed to during sex. Every time I have...those very few times...I've never come. It's always gone soft on me. My spirit was willing but my flesh was weak and all too literally at that.

      I've been really excited about this girl and despite not having seen her for over two months now, we have continued to communicate so I've never lost hope. After getting her phone number I started abstaining. It was difficult at first...I slipped up three times over the first two weeks but since then I have not wavered in my endeavor. I'm up to day 56 now out of a goal time of 90 days. I don't think I've gone this long without coming since I first learned how to do it.

      It definitely feels like it's working. I'm feeling like my penis is returning to life. I just haven't been able to test it out. Perhaps it's been a good thing I have not been able to see this girl for so long. It has allowed me to keep at my goal as well as allowed my body's sensitivity to restore itself. We may have had sex by now had we been able to see each other and I may have failed once again. This time, I feel like I won't fail. I just hope there is a "this time".

       The one thing I'm finding strange though is how easy it's been this go-'round. I mean, I still get urges and I've still been downloading new pornography but I have managed to resist giving in all this time despite setbacks. It's like I'm happy for myself but at the same time I am wondering if this is another manifestation of depression. I mean, I like masturbating. It feels good to orgasm. But since one of the symptoms of depression is stopping doing things which once brought you pleasure, I'm left wondering...

       Still...55 days down and 45 to go for goal and further should I want to. Still, it has been oddly easy... Also, I hope she sticks around long enough for me to have to give her an alias on this blog :-)

ADDENDUM: I've made it to 90 days. And it continues. February 27th will be Day 100. There's no sense in not making it at least that far and since February has but one day left at that point, I may as well finish out February too. I'm setting the "high score" right now. I'll admit I'm kinda sorta proud of myself.
 ADDENDUM II: I put an end to it at 108 days. I have not been good about balancing the masturbation and non-masturbation days since. I never got to test whether or not I had resensitized and now I worry if I have totally undone the work I did...