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 |   All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
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The Idiotic Ideate?? Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.) Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter. if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it. We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.” I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad. The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone. In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted? Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice. Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head. [MY Chorus] In your house, I long to be Room by room, patiently I'll wait for you there, like a stone I'll wait for you there, alone "It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely." "You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself." ![Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
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Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in [Link To Item #2164876] with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!
Rachel *^*Heartv*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Second_Time_Around_Contest-2164963_14.gif)    "...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires. I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD. My recent poetry:
Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on... Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out. I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are. Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life. I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me. A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about... |
| I really, really want to believe I'm smart. My wife keeps telling me I'm the smartest person she knows. I want to believe her, when she's not belittling me for some small detail I fail to pay attention to. I'm always trying to solve the largest puzzles, from shaking down a guy at the dealership for a good price on a vehicle to any provable evidence, say, that the US did NOT land on the moon, like conspiracy theorists say (by the way, I stay away from that crackpot stuff from the world is flat to who shot JFK, not that my wheels haven't spent time on it). I move on. That's the point. But, when I'm daily, routinely, involved with something that doesn't add up, my mind is drawing pictograms and graphs and charts, or whatever, in my head. Something in my psyche needs for things to balance, so the coins on one end of the scale are equal to the gold being assessed for value at the other. Does that make sense, or was that reaching as far as metaphors go? Why should I bother, moving on. I'm confronted with stuff I shouldn't meddle with everyday. I find that my inquiring mind cannot stop, because I know there are motivations on the other end of interactions that affect me that I cannot stop to ponder about. The longer I ponder, the worse it gets. I've learned not to draw attention to myself when thinking aloud, or say, writing my feelings here, for instance. I'm just compelled to pry, poke, prod and do whatever it takes in a sidelong, sidle-up manner to see 'what's the deal with that?' I offend people all the time. It becomes part of who I am that I have to accept. So, I don't even notice when I've done it. Unless, I lay out traps to see who comes to my door. It's as simple as divining from a few words a person's intent, watching their behavior, adding up circumstantial evidence so tedious and boring that even I check out from time to time. Sometimes, I get so distracted, when I get back, I don't remember what I was investigating. Just, some things keep coming back again and again and I can't help start it up all over again. These things take up a lot of my time and energy. Wish I could cut to what I need to do, sip coffee and start the day. I have a lot of time to idle. I'm told I have a big brain. I'm far more learn-ed in the past 15 years than would have expected to be by now. And, I'm not dead. Everyday is just the start of another journey in my head. So many incomplete master-level puzzles in this head that I hope one day to complete one to share with the world. What are they? I don't know. A lot of this computation goes so far into my mind that I can't retrieve what I'm working on until I'm faced with something that becomes the latest obsession. If that seems facetious, take it for what it's worth. I'm not mad at the world, not sharpening my cutlery. Just bored and my mind needs challenges. You could say I don't know how to construct a poem, let alone a metaphor, but know what I'm attempting when I write, like right now...without getting to the point, because I'm rounding a reaaaalllllyyyyy long corner...now and in life. Again, facetious. I get that. Haven't employed it all that much. Give me this one and stop questioning my intentions. It only tells me people who are overprotective have something to hide, instead of engaging me and letting their guard down. Why are people so afraid to approach? And when they do, why are they so intent on controlling the narrative instead of just letting us both vibe and get in sync? I'm down for whatever, even though what you just read might make you think whatever. I'm saying, don't let all the red flags pop up. I read between the lines. I look for evidence to support my theories. I'm drawing out conclusions within hypotheses inside conspiracy theories inside my addled head trying to put it all together. When I say 'addled', I don't mean drooling like a half-wit. You get that, right? There are people in my life that call me a genius one minute and look at me like an idiot the next. I think that says more about them. Did I just use all those words correctly? Probably not. But, I know what I'm saying. How are you? fine. Thank you. Odd. Another day, walks away backwards with finger pistols. Got an axe to grind for my employer tomorrow. 6.26ish, edited 6.30.21 and made public now! Yay!! Facetious. Only as it regard to myself. You get that, right? But, it's a little bit the rest of you. Step up. I won't bite.  Toothy; too toothy.And I'm exhausting, but you people have conversed with Schnujo is Late to Lannister  , right?  Meant in a good way. How you been? |
| I know I shouldn't say this, but sometimes I just need to get it off my chest. I wish I could get through a day without someone in my family saying or doing something that I will feel bad about. That's about as simplistic as I can put it. When I get up some mornings, fear and flight arrive my mind right away. There can be a cringe if I am not alone. Is she downstairs in a good mood, or bad? If she's got her mind made up to do something, will I be coaxed into not wasting another day. I get that I avoid life; I find distraction. I'm a fairly indulgent person who overdoes something when he finally decides to go after it. I sit in their judgment of my choices. I don't want to deal with this or that, I write, dawdle on the internet. I have designated times I can escape to the gym, usually right after work, or on those wide open days with nothing on my 'planner,' as if that would be utilized. So, I started the practiced of asking each night before bed, any plans for tomorrow. She's usually reluctant to say, grunts this or that like I should know. I want to know what I'm in for. I think she is already insinuating I shouldn't plan on coasting through another day, in her mind. In my mind, I'm uprooting trees, lifting houses and repaving roads. Everything I do feels like I'm tethered about the neck and pulling a combine with my teeth. All of these expressions come from the imagination that lays awake most nights, when the brain finally gives up, shuts off, only to begin again with the first eyelid lift. I'll try to bury my head under a pillow, but it's no use. I roll out, come down to the kitchen. That's when I know, is it safe to come out as me, do what I wish, or will it be lend my hand to a dish? Yuck, poor expression, but it rhymed. I could ramble on in this blog post, like I'm doing, as if I'm clearly relating a point I wanted to make, which was....was...rolls to the top of this entry, rereads. Yes, I feel trapped in my own home as someone who is misunderstood or not tolerated for not having the same approach, values about situation, my situation. And, I'm discovering and learning what it takes to survive in what feels like a war zone. I get that I'm being dramatic; I'm making the situation worse. I overreact; I overcompensate. The only reason I feel like hiding until it's safe to come out is because I do not feel tolerated anywhere I roam. Maybe, I'm making a game out of it to survive? But, I've heard the woman's discontent. Our children echo feelings, not concerns, about my idiosyncrasies as if I'm an upsetting their lives but not conventionally behaving. I just realized, I didn't give much evidence. Hmm. I'll have to consider, unless I'm avoid talking about that in blog because it is too 'traumatizing' to relive and retell it all again. When, I just want to find a little brook in my mind, where I can slip my shoes off and dip my feet in a warm, bathing stream. Dream of koi to nibble my toes, as a gentle breeze tousles my unsheltered hair. Where deer and other wildlife come to lick in that bath, nuzzle my ear. Where I can...sorry, got to go. Just say the car rounding the corner. Got to look like I'm doing something, or still asleep. Whatever. Just another rambling that sort of makes a point, but doesn't strain to create a solid piece of writing to function like a normal topic/dissertation/(word here) for consumptive, illuminating minds to follow the way it should. I'm not even sure what I just typed. Just got to go. |
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In the Falkland Islands, internet is very limited and very expensive. The place I'm currently staying only lets me use it in the middle of the night, so when I have to get up at 3 am to check my texts (no cell service to the US here unless I'm on the internet) or WdC, I don't do nearly as much as I used to. 
I currently have 2 very long emails I still need to get to from several days ago. Anyway, I miss everyone, but I also miss sleep, so there's that. 
Have you spoken to the doctor about your vision problems lately? I know there are special glasses for it because I have to wear them to read much ever since the brain injury. It's part of why I now only listen to audiobooks instead of reading regular books. It took 8 years for anyone to diagnose it because I have a brain injury and while one might think it would be obvious to me that I see double, it wasn't. Partly, my brain does a fair job of compensating. But also, partly, you use your brain to realize and understand that the 2 images you constantly see are double vision and something you should mention to your eye doctor. Since my brain was damaged, even basic things like that can escape me. 
I never once thought to mention it, even with annual eye exams in the Army and an exam every 2 years at the VA. Though, in my defense, since it happens in something like 41% of people with a brain injury, it should have been discovered by an eye doctor much sooner. 
I know doing that activity is a CRAP TON of work. But you made a difference in lives, not just his, but for all the people he's reviewed since. 
Well done! 
