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 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...

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...

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...

STARTING TO WONDER IF I SHOULD BE TAKING MY OWN ADVICE...

     I am deliriously unhappy at my job or I'm deliriously unhappy about knowing that I still have around thirty-five years to go before I can collect Social Security or both...

     Over a year ago, I listened to Winwood grow ever more unhappy with her job and once I had heard enough conversations about it, began gently encouraging her to quit for her own mental health. Later on, I dropped the "gently" part.
     Eventually Winwood did quit though I can't say my encouragement had anything to do with it or if total burnout had finally occurred.

     Of course I look at her now, still unemployed and no prospects for future employment ahead...I see her falling deeper into despair and wonder if ultimately my advice was sound or if she'd practically, if not literally, be dead by now had she continued. It remains to be seen but the fact remains that she left her job without first securing a new one. I want to believe she will turn out all right but I do worry about her for the time being.

     As for me, I feel like I should quit my job. Again, I don't really know for what reason. I just feel like I've had enough but I don't know what I've had enough of. It's not like the job is physically demanding or even mentally demanding. It just is. I'm a cashier for the majority of my time there. But the fact is, aside from my friend the Security Guard and the occasional old coin I find in my till, I have nothing to say about my job that suggests I should remain there.
      Years ago I would've recommended anyone work for my company. I thought it a fair place and felt treated well. I can't say with certainty what has changed, only my feelings on it, but now I would not recommend getting a job for that company. I just wish I could remember these things for when I fill out my employee satisfaction surveys each year. I always circle the lowest number for morale but I fail to recall good reasons for it in the space provided. It's not like that survey appears the same day each year. I usually just say that I am made to feel more like a number than a person and that I am viewed as an unwanted expense. That in of itself is pretty harsh but barely gets to the root of my dissatisfaction.

      I have felt pangs of hope before. The Security Guard keeps swearing to take me away from that place but every lead he's had so far over the years has not panned out.

      I've been afraid to just quit. Quitting is not in my nature (cf. any entry about Digby) and it's not like it's easy to be fired from my job since I won't steal (neither time nor money...and besides, doing so deliberately would be a form of quitting) and I don't feel like cursing out management (despite the ever-present temptation to do so with my current overnight manager who has lowered considerably my respect for the company seeing as how he still has a job). I wish I could fall victim to some metric that's mostly out of my control or to a layoff but I'm trapped.

      But I wonder if I should resist that fear? Even overcome it...and just do it already.

      I wonder how long it would take me to decompress? You know I wouldn't even consider looking for work right away. It's been so long since I've been free without guilt (I feel I should add that since the weeks I had between jobs living with my Dad were not meant to be enjoyed since I promised I would find work right away). I think my last guiltless free time was the Summer of 1996 while building up residency in New York to go to college there a year later. I remember unplugging my clock and taping over the VCR's time so that I would just do things as I pleased and more importantly, stop when I pleased rather than because The Simpsons was coming on. Eat when I was hungry and not because it was 6 o'clock. Get up because I was rested and not because the alarm went off or I "should" be up by a certain time. It was wonderful.
      And like Winwood, if I did do this, I would be doing so without a job already lined up which could prove dangerous. I would be poised to immediately eat into my savings and I've stated in a previous entry, I have plenty to live for a while without working.
      But then I wonder if I would ever look for work again. From my perspective right now, I would say no definitively. It's not even a question but I do wonder. How long would it take me to get over this mental fatigue from my current job and get to a point where I'd want to work again?

      Based on my savings, I could go at most six or seven years. Three years before I'd have to cash out IRA accounts. So basically three years, but realistically two because I imagine if I did this I would have no choice but to learn to drive at some point.
      Learning to drive might further the delay in a search for work because I imagine a wanderlust would set in. I'd want to visit people I've been unable to see and perhaps make up for the many times I've had to be that guy who made somebody pick me up to go somewhere.

      I don't know. It's an entertaining fantasy but the fact is, it feels like it has already happened...like I've already reached acceptance in my brain. I feel myself weakening mentally. I find it takes longer and longer to talk myself out of quitting each day...even on my days off. My shift has been over for over four hours now and I'm still thinking about it. The cacophony of "leave" is catching up to the shouts of "stay". They feel almost, if not already, equal now...perhaps the leaves are already louder.

      But what would I do?

      One argument I already envision is people chastising me for doing so when, for years, they've never been happy that I've worked there for so long. These same people feel like I could be doing so much better with my mind than working there and I do foresee them being upset that I had left. Ugh...

      Still...would it be worth it? Should I at least take the rest of the year off or would I become desirous of routine long before that? I never liked having to go back to school each year but then I also didn't like the onset of Summer vacation. Perhaps it was the same thing...I had become routinized to the school year and didn't want to see it end and then later I had become routinized to the carefreeness of Summer vacation and didn't want to see that end.
      How long would it take me to miss the ebb and flow of my workweek?

      It would be a bad idea but I think I should do it. I promised Twin I would work for her this coming Monday and Tuesday, my usual nights off so I definitely have to keep it together long enough for that. My coworker is on vacation for another two weeks but then I have reached the point where I don't give a shit about hurting the store.

      I'll have to see how I feel Tuesday.

      Maybe this is none of those instances I should talk it over with my Best Friend first and especially Winwood since this whole scenario is reminiscent of her own...


The Cars: Door to Door, 1st song - "Leave or Stay"

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...

THE PANIC OF HAPPINESS...

     I was rereading (after having been reminded of it) this Cracked article by John Cheese on the "5 Stupidest Habits You Develop Growing Up Poor" and the thought just occurred to me...I want to spend any and all happiness I acquire right goddamned now!

     In the article Mr. Cheese says:

When a windfall check is dropped in your lap, you don't know how to handle it. Instead of thinking, "This will cover our rent and bills for half a year," you immediately jump to all the things you've been meaning to get, but couldn't afford on your regular income. If you don't buy it right now, you know that the money will slowly bleed away to everyday life over the course of the next few months, leaving you with nothing to show for it. Don't misunderstand me here, it's never a "greed" thing. It's a panic thing. "We have to spend this before it disappears."

     I think that's how I've come to look at my happiness too. I'm usually feeling anywhere from neutral to lonely so when a windfall opportunity for happiness gets dropped on my figurative lap, I feel the same way about it. I don't want to ration it or save it for the future because even though I know that would be a good idea and that I will surely need this happiness then, I'm afraid it will be bled out by my life's everyday circumstances before I ever get a chance to properly experience it.

     What ends up happening is my normally patient self gets overwhelmed by this desire to spend my happiness right fucking now and that usually results in that opportunity being squandered. It sucks and I really don't know how to not do that.

      I've been fortunate these past two weeks. I've met a girl at work - a customer of mine. We've been talking. We've even met up already. I want to see her, like, all the time. I want to rush through the opening stages of this potential relationship to get to the middle part already: I want the foundation already laid. That part where we already know we like each other and already know we want to be together...that part where we're building on that foundation.

       I hate being this impatient and wanting to move things along even more rapidly than I am comfortable with. I hate what it reveals about me and what it suggests about me. But I also don't want to fuck it up, so I'm being patient...

COGITO ERGO SUM ERGO MORIAR...

     I've been reading a book by Jim Holt called Why Does the World Exist?. It's been an interesting romp through various philosophers and thinkers over the ages from the Greeks to today concerning the question. The book, of course, does not resolve the issue. No, it's a series of interviews and explorations of man's attempts to resolve this question. Along the way, you will find yourself falling into one camp or another or some mixture thereof.

     He ends the book reflecting on the essence of self. It got me to thinking (once again) about how existence itself is the ultimate joke. It makes me wonder if the Watchmen's Comedian would have agreed?

     How is it a joke? Well...you didn't ask for your existence, but you were given it anyway, and it will be taken away from you whether you like it or not. Our lives, at least when compared to the eons that the universe has existed, are likenable to the quantum foam. As quantum physics points out, space is not really empty. Even in the vacuum, at the tiniest of levels, particle pairs emerge from spacetime itself but only fleetingly.
     Their existence, like ours, is on borrowed time and they will soon return to the nothingness whence they came. It happens all around us all the time and all the while not violating physical principles.

     The universe is what, about fourteen billion years old?, and it will continue for an untold amount of eons. And do we get? If we're lucky, about eighty years. Eighty years versus fourteen billion.
     And it's a wonderful thing too. Even if your life is shitty, existence is still the most fucking amazingly amazing thing ever in all of ever...but it's not yours to keep. You get a piece of it and then you lose it...forever.  Sure, non-existence could be likened to the billions of years you didn't exist and thought of as not such a big deal to return to but that doesn't bring me any comfort...at least not after learning what existence has to offer.

      The thing is, when I was born, I didn't know what I had been missing out on. I also couldn't know what I had been missing out on. I had to figure it all out (or at least a portion of it). But when it comes to dying, you know know damn well what you're going to be missing out on (or at least that you're going to be missing out). It's so impishly cruel to do to someone.
     Either way, I assure you I will be kicking and screaming like a little bitch when my time comes. I will hold on to reality for as long as I can muster.

     Are suitably arranged brains required for consciousness or do the particles themselves comprising the universe come ready-made with such an endowment? It makes me wonder of life's other forms. Are insects aware of their existence? Do they have a sense of self? Do trees? How about slime molds, or even bacteria? How many animals are born only to die within minutes of their birth? How many seeds sprout only to grow a few leaves before dying? And even with humanity, after watching a documentary on World War II from Japan's point of view, there were babies suffocated by their mothers in caves under orders by their military to prevent their location from being discovered by the Americans. Those babies had only a few months of existence before they were returned to the void. It just seems so ridiculously pointless.
     I guess...take existence while you can and make of it what you will for surely it shall soon be gone is all that can be said.

      I will return to the void neither silently nor with begrudging acceptance. I will return with a "Fuck you!" on my lips. How dare "you", whoever "you" are, tease me with such wonders only to capriciously take them away!!! I guess what bugs me most, is like those particle pairs mentioned above, the choice to exist and to cease to exist were never mine to make. Stupid random chance...

      In the meantime, I shall live and enjoy myself :-)

'TIL DEATH DO US PART...

     Someone I am trying to get to know had this to say recently when someone close to her died: "I am convinced that when someone you are close to dies, a part of that person then becomes a part of you."

     It makes me think she and I have fundamentally different ways of looking at the world. Another example before commenting on the original point was when she said she loved performing on stage because it was only in front of so many people that she felt she could finally be herself.
     I responded that I had felt oppositely; that one could only truly be themselves when alone. The very existence of another person causes you necessarily to react to that person and that reaction causes you to filter your thoughts and actions. The more people you are around, the more generic (in a sense) you become (and thus, less like yourself).
     She found my explanation rational even if she herself did not subscribe to the notion. It makes me feel she would respond similarly to my thoughts on the death of a person close to you.

     I wrote long ago about the death of someone I had barely known and how acutely I had felt it simply because her presence in my life was so limited. I had never written about how the death of someone I knew on far greater levels affects me and my perceptions of that kind of death.

     So no, I don't feel that when someone you are close to dies that they become a part of you. I feel instead like a part of me is lost...like my soul (my sense of self, my memories/experiences, etc.) has had a piece of itself forcibly removed leaving behind this sucking void, however tiny, which can never be refilled because there will never again be a piece exactly like the one taken to fill in what has been lost. Sure (to stick with the analogy), it could be covered either entirely or partially obstructed, but never completely. There will always be some kind of gap...some kind of hissing sound. Perhaps we die, if not felled by sickness or injury, when simply too much of ourselves has been lost and we surrender to despair.

     You might say I have a Tolkien-esque view of the human soul or perhaps a variation on that idea. For me, so long as a person is alive, their soul - their essence of being if you will - is an abstraction. It permeates all those things around them and all the lives they touch while alive. I guess you could say life is not so much defined by its presence, but by its absence. Life is nebulous. It is temporary. It is a chaos. It is a possibility.
     But death...death is far from abstract. It is concrete. It is a returning to the lifelessness whence you came. Existence is ultimately a loan and a loan which will be repaid.

     It is through death that the flow of existence is suddenly crystallized. Now that this individual has left this world, it puts an end to how they might have further influenced it. In some cases, like with painters, it's easy to see the crystallization. Their souls are crystallized in the paintings they have left behind and should a painting of theirs be lost, what remains of their existence is diminished and can never be replaced. For others, the objects remaining can be comparatively simple or even non-sequitur like.
    
     A person lives on in our memories until we too pass on, further taking from this world what little of them still remains.

     At least, that's how I see things...

The crystallization of a soul, fixing itself in those people and things which it had touched and created...or the shattering of the Shikon Jewel by Kagome in episode 2 of Inuyasha, I'm not sure which ;-)

THOUGHTS I NORMALLY KEEP IN MY HEAD, part XIX

     The essence of conservativism is the desire to return to a previous state of being. I think we all "suffer" from this longing, do we not? Is there no time in your life that you wish could be again? The internet fans the flames of nostalgia daily and I will admit that I find myself longing at times to return to periods like the 1980s and 1990s...those "simpler" times...those "better" times. But were they? And at what cost?

     The 1980s is simple. I was a child. So saying I wish to return to the '80s is merely a wish to relive my childhood. A life of simple schooling, playing outside, Atari & Nintendo, boredom, Cartoon Express & Nickelodeon, train sets, and general goofing off. The real world was shielded from me by my parents. No real work because it was being done by my parents. Food and snacks were always around. Good times paid for out of ignorance.

     The 1990s were my teenage years. Saying I wish to return to those years is a reflection of my desire to feel infatuation again for the first time; to explore more sophisticated forms of creativity like drawing, computer programming, and making up languages; to hear the music of "my era" as it was being made rather than as the poseur I am now (I do like the music of the 1990s, but I shunned it at the time in favor of the 1970s and 1980s music that my parents listened to...I blame it on a lack of peer pressure and friends); to relive college and get it "right" this time; to take part in the emerging internet as it happened; and again, to live in a time where I didn't have to work and keep house. My "job" was school and my willful ignorance kept me largely unaware of the world around me.

     Purely selfish motives. Now in my approaching middle age I might think these eras were also somehow better, or at least more understandable. I know I could certainly navigate technologically better in the 1990s and even more so in the 1980s. Hell, I would appreciate the 1970s for its understandability as well.

     But I guess what keeps me from fulling embracing conservativism is knowing that a return to those simpler times means also a return to times where groups of people are increasingly marginalized by society and with tacit (if not legislative) approval by said society. Going back means turning up the hatred on homosexuals (it's amazing how even revered '80s movies would casually drop fag(got) into the scripts...it's uncomfortable to watch now), decreasing women's rights (or eliminating them if you go back far enough), restoring blacks to second-class citizenry (at best), and so on. As Louis CK joked, going back in time is only good if you're a white male.

     As much as the future can frighten me and as much as I feel the pace of technological and sociological change is increasing faster than I can keep up with it, going back to an earlier era is basically just me (or anyone wishing to do so) being all-too-willing to sacrifice whole groups of people because I fear, what? Obsolescence? Irrelevance? My impending death?

     I guess at best I could become a retired liberal. One day I will simply end my active fighting for progress and instead just passively let it happen because they won't be my generation's battles anymore. I may not be happy about the changes the future will bring, but that doesn't mean I have to oppose them. I figure if you're going to be conservative, be so not in the temporal sense of "the past was better" but that of "let's proceed with caution" or "let's build a consensus before committing to this idea". At least that's how I intend to do it. I'll restrict my "past was better" thinking for fantasy only because condemning whole groups of people and ways of life simply for my comfort seems...just wrong.

MEH...

     I've talked about this to a silly level of detail before and upon thinking about it further, I present the short version of HOW HOT IS SHE? but this time with words.

ALRIGHT: The pros outweigh the cons with an alright girl, but there are definitely cons.

CUTE: An improvement over "alright", but while there's nothing wrong with a cute girl, there's nothing particularly right about her either.

HOT: Me. You. Fuck.

OKAY: Eh, if I have to... Also, the longer the "kay" syllable, the greater the difficulty in accepting the choice.

CONFIDENCE IS BORN OF CHARITY...

     One of the commonest forms of advice anyone (but especially males) will receive for dating will be the stressing of the necessity of expressing confidence. And personally, I get that. I see how that works because like anyone else, I'm impressed by confidence when it is witnessed in others be it for dating, in the arts, standing up for oneself, etc. Confidence is certainly wonderful to be around and influenced by. It is indeed.

      However, where does confidence come from? As I've often stated in the dating game, how am I supposed to be confident around women when women (up until June 24th, 2012 anyway) have always refused to go out with me? I would say confidence comes from victory and without victory, there can be no confidence. And while a date is more an endgame thing, smaller victories exist too leading up to that. Victories like girls you're actually attracted to smiling when you talk to them or those same girls giving you their phone numbers. Victories like girls actually competing for your attention. That, in particular, is a wonderful experience that I personally have only witnessed happening to other men...men who would also be getting the attention of the girls I have liked over the years. O jealousy!

      But it got me thinking. What gets the confidence ball rolling? Some people possess it in spades whereas others, like me, desperately scrape the bottom of my psychology's leaky bucket looking for anything I can use because confidence has long since ceased to be available to me in useful amounts. I feel like the lead Prawn in District 9 patiently trying to distill fuel from scraps of their machinery to power their idle mothership. Here I'm combing through scraps of life experiences hoping to distill enough confidence to take a chance on someone and that the effort won't be wasted because I know it will be a long time before I've distilled enough to try again and in the meantime, I'll've only gotten older.

      But still, where does it start? What is the basis of confidence? And then it hit me...childhood. But more specifically our parents. Our first experiences of confidence were acts of charity by our parents. Do you remember making drawings or picking flowers or singing songs for your mom and/or dad? Maybe you got good grades on your report card... Or at least do you remember watching other kids do the same when you were older? What is the parents' reaction to their child's decidedly crude drawing, hackneyed jokes, presentation of common wildflowers, or off-key singing? It was "beautiful", wasn't it? Much praise was given, was it not? And it was an act of charity on the part of the parents because there is no way in hell I can accept that any parent, no matter how enthralled they are with their own genetic progeny, actually believes that the drawing was beautiful or that the joke was funny or that the flowers were well presented/selected or that the singing was great. We've seen art done by masters; heard songs composed  by The Beatles; seen the brightest, most colorful bouquets; witnessed unparalleled intelligence from scientists and philosophers; and we've all listened to some damn fine comedians over the years too.

      These parents are bullshitting their children, but for a good reason. Harsh criticism early on will destroy their desire to create and stand out. The charitable confidence given to them in the beginning encourages them to continue because yes, having an audience matters.
      I've tried to tell myself over the years that the approval of others isn't necessary and to a certain extent that is true because I worked on my language for a good eight years without anyone cheering me on to do so. But to a further extent, it is also a lie. I would argue that the energy/inspiration necessary to create this language derived from my crush on The First One, from learning how other languages worked, and perhaps additionally from whatever well of prior confidence in my abilities I had had from earlier periods in my life when crude gestures/attempts could still garner praise. But then, that language has lain largely dormant for over ten years now. Imagine how much closer to completion it would be today if I had someone (or several someones) supporting me in my quest either through praise, encouragement, or even simple curiosity on their part?

       Eventually these kids will go to school and have friends who will not give them praise just because. Suddenly they will find themselves challenged to earn their praise. Here, those children who have had much charitable confidence put in their psychological buckets will find themselves able to weather these storms. They will get better at drawing; better at writing; better at singing; better at joke telling; better at their particular sport; better at school; etc. and earn praise that way. They will turn their charitable confidence into plain old confidence and with that confidence, they will get the girls they like because they will be projecting the air girls find attractive.
       As for everyone else, barring acts of charity anew, we are lost. As for dating, Winwood was the one who charitably donated confidence to me that girls might actually want to date me. I fear over a year later that it has worn off. I'm tired and finding myself not wishing to try anymore. I feel myself missing my time to work on my own shit again. I feel myself wanting to pull back. I wonder if I should? But then I realize I'm fast staring down the barrel of middle age and if I truly do not wish to die alone, I cannot stop...

      Confidence may be born of charity, but it is sustained by skill and damn it, I need skills...

STARTED WITH THE INTENT OF BEING AN ASSHOLE...ENDED UP CONTEMPLATIVE

     I've got myself reading comments on a post related to autism. I tell you, if you've ever needed help understanding what denial is and/or looked like, read a forum for parents of children with autism.

     Right away you're assaulted with corruptions of the English language: "My son is not autistic, he HAS autism..." said one mother who clearly doesn't understand that many nouns have adjectival forms and that the -ic suffix does in fact mean "having, showing, or affected by" among its several related definitions.
      Another mother put it this way, "I think a better way to say this is that you have autism. If you say you are autistic that means thats is [sic] all you are" - I find posts like this somewhat ironic as it seems parents with autistic kids make sure you know this fact, even if you didn't ask. It's like the old joke about "How can you tell if someone is a vegetarian? Don't worry, they'll tell you." And God forbid you're not 100% completely on their side of thinking. Oh, the hell that will rain down upon you. They're perfect little angels who, unlike typical children, need excessively costly care and limitless attention from one-on-one aides devoted to their "special needs", another term that bugs the shit out of me for being too vague and ultimately dishonest. These parents go way the fuck out of their way to delude themselves into thinking these kids can be just like typical kids; that all we need to do is understand they're just different. Different being a hell of a loaded word. Yes, autistics come with a range of misbehaviors. My Best Friend worked with them so I've got the stories ranging from ones who are otherwise alright except in certain circumstances - meaning they're fairly trainable - to ones which are so lost that they can't even speak at eight years old, still wear diapers, and have no clue whatsoever just how strong they are.

      As far as I can tell, there's no cure for autism and the cure, if one can be found, will likely be like those for cancer, a range of remedies. Or no cure will be found because a prenatal test will finally be developed to detect the gene or genes responsible for autism and their prevalence in the population, like that of Down Syndrome, will drop precipitously. I'm suspecting the latter will be what ultimately happens.
      More denial here: "I also agree with others who've pointed out that this is not an autistic child, but a child with autism. This is an important distinction in advocacy efforts to educate the public and educators that our children are not broken, not defective and not defined by their diagnosis." --- If they are not broken, defective, or otherwise defined by their diagnosis, then why all the advocacy? I feel like they want it both ways. They're not defective, but they need special-this and special-that. They're not defined by their diagnosis until the school refuses to treat them any different than a typical student in which case these children have special needs which must be addressed by the school system. Huh? That's like saying a blind person isn't defined by their diagnosis. Yeah, they pretty much are and compared to sighted people, their eyes/optic nerves are quite defective indeed, even broken. Yet analogizing this woman's sentences, she would likely claim that a person who's blind is no different from you and me but he needs special books printed in braille and seeing-eye dogs when out in public, but no different. Nope, not at all.

      They of course despise the adjective normal and will be quick to scold you for using the term because they feel this stigmatizes their autistic children as abnormal. They'll use the word "typical" or "regular" (and yes, the words will often appear enclosed within begrudging quotation marks) instead for describing children exhibiting expected behaviors not that I understand how the logical following that your autistic child is "atypical" or "irregular" is any less stigmatizing but whatever. "Some children's needs can't be met in a 'typical' classroom. That is why we have special education classes and teachers."

      Another common thread I take from these discussions are that these kids with autism are "not my (the parents') problem: they're your problem and you have to pay for it!" I find frequent appeals to government laws like IDEA (Individuals with Disabilities Education Act) and threats to sue in open court. Never mind that I have no idea where this money is supposed to come should the parents win their cases no matter how meritorious the filing.
      I also see many references to all children having a right to an education. Again, it's not my problem, it's yours. Yes, but what rarely goes addressed is what to do if they are uneducatable? One commenter wrote the following:

What's the answer? I love how people bitch about education, but there are no solutions offered. Serious questions: 1) Is it fair to put special needs kids in a school with other kids? 2) Is it right for a teacher to spend 90% of their time on 10% of the kids? 3) Would there be objection to segmenting schools to where kids were sent to teachers who are equipped to teach different levels of learning? 4) Autism comes in many forms. If a child is non-verbal, yet superior at electronic learning, and another autistic child lashes out (Aspergers), would you put them in the same class due to Autism?

He followed up in response to another commenter who said that we (teachers) have to try to reach them all...

I agree that you try to reach them all, but at what point do you realize you can't? Being a little selfish here, but why should my child be told to read the book while you spend your time with the children who need the special attention? If it truly is an equal education, why is it that kids who take time from the rest of the class consistently [are] not removed and better place in classes with teachers who are better equipped to teach special needs children? If it is the social aspect that we are trying to give these kids, isn't that what recess, lunch, electives are for?

     He was treated well though such comments can often lead to flame wars.

      I know there are no simple solutions to this problem that's not a problem until you decide it's not a problem because then it most assuredly is. Personally, I'm an advocate for euthanasia for anyone who cannot be made to independently and lawfully participate in society. It seems the only humane thing to do. Yeah, I know it's not their fault they turned out this way. I also really don't believe George wanted to kill Lenny. From a resources point of view, it seems so entirely wasteful. All this investment with zero potential for positive overall returns. For every successfully trained autistic who makes the covers of magazines and gets interviewed on television for the public to praise, how many spend their lives in institutions in abysmal conditions just because we can't bring ourselves to give them an injection of euthasol (assuming it works the same on humans)? What is the success rate of education and training of individuals with autism? Does it even approach that of high school graduation rates or are they marvels of wasteful inefficiency? What is the cost/benefit analysis? I know from a parental point of view, their child is of course perfectly precious but what do the numbers say? I suppose for my own curiosity's sake, what is the cost/benefit analysis of the average human? I might be unpleasantly surprised to know the results.

      I hate these entries because they never go anywhere...

YOUR FAULT OR MY FAULT OR A BIT OF BOTH?

     Is it still considered cyberstalking if you're only passively using the internet to keep an occasional eye on someone? I don't know. Usually when I hear the term I associate it with attempts to crack passwords or creating sock-puppet accounts to surreptitiously follow a person on social networking sites...shit like that.

     But what is it when it's passively done? Y'know, like with no attempts to communicate or harass? Like the girl I had a crush on in high school. We went to the same school...even had some of the same classes, so of course I saw her most days of any given week and would pay attention to her and get to know things about her through observation and overhearing things about her and on rare occasion by her. But I wouldn't bother her. I wasn't trying to use her friends to get to her. Okay, I did steal a picture of her once and followed her home this one time.
      Now I know that sounds bad, especially the latter one, but both were done opportunistically. In the latter case, it's not like I was waiting for her to leave at school and following a safe distance behind (or ahead as was my case). If I had done that, then yes...total psycho-stalker creep. The reality was that I just happened to notice she was walking about a block behind me. I ended up going out of my way, curious to where she was gonna turn. But it was just that one day and time. I even found out totally by chance later on, that that wasn't even where she lived. I dunno, maybe she was babysitting there or something. No, a mutual friend was bringing us home one day (school project...different story) and dropped her off first. So now I knew where she lived...but not because I had TRIED. And I didn't do anything about it. It became something I just knew.

      Anyways, my point is that. Because the internet is the thing these days. What if your cyberstalking is exclusively a passive activity? That is, you're just taking advantage of the person's lax security settings like you're a friend of a friend on Facebook and all the settings on the photos are viewable by "Friends of Friends" or they have a public Twitter feed or a public Instagram/Photobucket/Flickr account? Does that count or is that more like the equivalent of finding a phone number and address in an old phone book?
      Is searching on Google or Bing an e-mail address considered stalking or is that again, like looking someone up in a phone book?

      I feel like these attempts at justification answer my own question and that is, "Of course they are!...but I understand." What compels me to look in the first place? It's that feeling alone which poisons the activity no matter how benign. But still...it feels different. It's more like gathering intelligence and again, it's all passive. It's not like I'm using keyloggers or surreptitiously photographing at a distance or harassing their family/friends/coworkers so what exactly is IT that I am speaking of?
       A slightly different scenario. A girl shared several nude photos of herself with me a couple of years back all linked to a Photobucket account. The folder those pictures were in was marked private. However, the files were either unchanged default names (like IMG_0014 - put that in a Google Image Search and see what comes up! For additional fun, put MVI_00## in a YouTube search and see what comes up) or simple words like "pink", "me", or "silly". Now, you can't see the album, but if you have a direct link you can see the picture so on some bored nights I would try and guess file names and would occasionally succeed. Now that is tougher to justify. In fact, I can't. I think that actually counts as cyberstalking as I was taking advantage of a site vulnerability (since corrected by Photobucket...unfortunately) and not lax security protocol on the part of the user. I remember MySpace having a few exploits as well though the picture ones were fixed (unfortunately) before I ever got an account.
      Facebook offers a questionable example. Back in 2009 I believe, they changed their security settings and defaulted everything on everyone's profile to "Friends of Friends" unless you changed it. I was still reading Gawker at the time and was immediately aware of it and fixed my settings immediately. Not everyone did, including one of my crushes. She eventually did fix it but only after Facebook made it much easier to do so (I'm gonna take it she's not very computer savvy). Its current privacy screw-over is that all cover photos and all new profile photos are Public by default. You can change the profile picture setting, but not the cover photo. She hasn't noticed this...yet. But is that a site vulnerability issue making it thus cyberstalking or is that a user issue making her responsibility and thus I am merely seeing what anyone is allowed to see?

     It's such a confusing thing...

The first six unfiltered Bing Image Search results for IMG_0014:

IMG_0014 collage

MVI_0014 on YouTube

THESE DARK THOUGHTS I HAVE...

TRIGGER WARNING:

Below the cut I will be asking rhetorical questions and writing conceptually about the nature sexual assault and/or violence which may be triggering to survivors. The descriptions themselves will not be graphic in nature but I thought I should include this warning as a courtesy.

A TOMB OF ICE...

     Winter finally has come to my part of the country. We had our first cold snap yesterday and it will continue throughout the week.

     I pass by a corporate pond on the way to work. Walking home I noticed the ice was unusually reflective. I figure it must've frozen over very quickly giving the surface a rather glassy appearance. Normally the winds in the area cause the ice to pile up on one side, slowly moving the other edge by the end of the night giving the ice a choppy, white, and certainly unreflective appearance.

     I  went in for a closer look and it was definitely one of those moments I wish I had had my camera. It was bitter cold and my hands would certainly have paid dearly in numbness for the exposure (and who knows how long my camera's battery would've lasted) but there were some neat effects I would have loved to have shared. Maybe tomorrow if the pond remains free of skaters.

     Right at the edge where it is shallowest, it must have been frozen solid. Beneath the clear ice, you could see the decaying leaves which had settled on the bottom. They were eerie looking. Stuck in place, they appeared to have frost on them somehow. Very ghostly looking and surreal. It was like looking into an artsy paperweight.

     Looking over and into the ice at the deeper parts of the pond, you could see the ice had not touched bottom yet, but it was not immediate obvious from my first vantage point. It was only when I stopped to look at it...stare at it...that you could see it moving. Gas bubbles trapped beneath the ice and not yet frozen in place would swirl beneath their cap of clear ice. I don't know what was making them move. The pond overflows into a brook, but no water flows into it. It's at the mercy of the rain. The small fish that live in the pond perhaps?

      Further along the pond's edge came another point where gas bubbles had been rising to the surface perhaps from the leaves seen before. But this time, they did not swirl. On closer inspection, you could see they were frozen in place, not at one level, but at several. I suppose as the ice thickened, it trapped another layer of bubbles until the next set formed beneath it before they too were encased. Again, a neat effect that I'm not sure if a photo could properly capture, but I wished I could have tried.

      Near the pond's other edge the ice had some fractures. My guess is that since water expands when freezing, the whole pond cannot freeze over without exerting pressure on some points. Since the concrete walls bordering it certainly won't give, it must've squeezed the ice sheet itself to break at those points. I didn't see any evidence of water having oozed out and refrozen. Maybe it oozed slowly enough that it froze before reaching the surface of the ice sheet?

      The trailing edge was much like the leading edge. It too appeared frozen solid with ghostly leaves and branches entombed beneath the glassy ice.

      I will bring my camera tomorrow. With luck, the surface will have remained unmolested and I will share some shots here if they come out acceptably. Time to charge the camera's battery!

ADDENDUM:

Entombed leaves with one on the left side sticking above the frozen surface

The largest of the cracks up close

Cracks along the surface and more ghostly leaves

Photos of the gas bubbles frozen at ever greater depths

There was no more motion visible beneath the ice when I took these photos. The pond had frozen too thickly by this point. There's definitely a recovery time that needs to be factored in when exposing one's hands in temperatures like these.

WE ALL HAVE OUR JOHN CONNORS...

     If you remember the Terminator franchise (and seriously, if you don't, go the fuck away...like, now), the singular obsession of Skynet was the elimination of the human resistance leader John Connor. In the first film, it went after his mother to eliminate him before he had ever been born. In the second film, it went after him as a child, going after him when he would be vulnerable.
     As far as I am concerned, it ends there but since Terminator 3 exists as does Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, I'll point out that Skynet's mission in part 3 was to eliminate John Connor's lieutenants under the assumption that if you cannot get the main man, eliminate those who have helped him before they become important. In the Sarah Connor Chronicles, its missions become more varied like making sure equipment is in place and eliminating miscellaneous threats to its nascence.

     However, it was in this latter film and television show that a new concept was revealed in terminator programming: When the T-X accidentally encountered John Connor (who had been living "off the grid" for years in the timeline of this film) in a veterinarian's office, the T-X found its mission parameters immediately and irrevocably altered to terminating John Connor.
     This also happens (at least once in the aborted television) series when a terminator on a mission to eliminate someone else is distracted by John who (correctly) assumed that the machine would deviate from its mission to go after him. You see from the machine's point of view, its mission parameter changing to terminating John Connor.

Faced with Bedell's impending termination, John did the only thing he could: he diverted the machine's attention. "Hey! Look over here! It's me, Connor! John Connor!" With a Mission Priority Override, the Terminator abandoned Martin and raced after John.

      Basically, the termination of John Connor is every terminator's primary mission no matter what else they were assigned to do. In the film's universe, since Skynet did not anticipate being destroyed by a human resistance, it did not make any attempts to preserve records when it launched the United States's nuclear armaments against the U.S.S.R. (who in turn launched all of theirs through the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction). Skynet did not know much of John Connor's youth which is why its targeting is as imprecise as it is.
     In the first film, it only knew his mother's name and knew she lived in Los Angeles. This did not bode well for the two other Sarah Connors in the area. I'm not sure under which knowledge it operated for why it sent the T-1000 where (and when) it did in the second film. The third film only became about John Connor for the T-X once she accidentally encountered him otherwise it could have been a completely different film.

     Anyways, what's my point you ask?

     I think we all have our respective John Connors in our lives and I don't mean for termination, I mean that girl (or boy...whichever is appropriate for you) who is no longer in your life but if she were ever to (somehow) come back, you would drop everything to be with her no matter what or either that, the amount of resistance you would need to put up to avoid uprooting your life would be nothing short of Herculean.
     She's your one. She's The One.

     My The One is The First One: my crush from high school. She's not my first crush, but she was my most powerful one in high school and whose influence remained despite the passage of years. Only would Digby challenge her for dominance and she ultimately loses and I'll tell you why.

     The First One and Digby are opposites. The First One is that of light and Digby is that of darkness.

     Simply put, The First One inspired me. I created a coded alphabet to write about her. I created a language in order to have a new way to think about her. I named a made-up planet after her. I've used known information about her to make cheat codes and Easter Eggs in BASIC programs I've written. She inspired poetry from me. She remains the standard candle by which I judge beauty. She is the perfect fantasy...

I heavily manipulated my original 20 year old drawing in an attempt to make it look cooler

     Digby did not ultimately inspire me. She brought out the worst in me. She has no legacy. No poems; no BASIC cheat codes; no planets or moons named after her; she did not revive work on my language...nothing. She inspired only darkness like envy, pride, and wrath.

     I cannot imagine it ever happening, but if somehow someway The First One reappeared in my living life (as opposed to online via Facebook) and offered up a chance to date her, I seriously cannot calculate just how into someone else I would have to be to not immediately dump whom I'm with just for that chance. And I barely know anything about her. She is that powerful a fantasy. She is the one who started it all...my goal of goals.

     Don't tell me you don't have one yourself...

PERMAPUPPIES AND EVERKITTENS

     I wonder if scientists ever will one day engineer dogs and cats which never grow out of their juvenile forms?

     My guess is that they would be lab creations which would be implanted into normal dogs and cats. They would be birthed and just live out their lives in their adorable awkward forms.
     I'm certain there would be moral/ethical objections, but I really can't see there not being a market for such creatures. Perhaps more so with dogs since certain breeds grow a lot more than cats ever do. I think of the difference between my Uncle's golden retriever as a little puppy and this giant hunk of muscle it has since become as a good example.

     This concept could also extend to chickens and ducks which have such adorable juvenile forms but grow up all too fast.

     I guess this could also count as a STEAL THIS IDEA to be used in a movie taking place in the future. Why not?

Try not to love them. Go ahead. I'll wait...