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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've bored people with my basketball stories in blog in the past. Let's do it again! I haven't been sharing much about my basketball life. I should have an entire blog devoted to my current exploits. One little game a few guys at the gym enjoy, crow about, involves their 3-point shooting ability. I'm no slouch. In fact, because I'm much older than these guys about the age of my oldest (21), I should be at a disadvantage. The game is called 2-ball. I watched them one day about a year ago. Four shooters formed two teams. One acted as rebounder and passer to the three-point shooter attempting to go around the world. That's five made shots around the court perimeter (shoot until you make from each spot, like NBA 3-point shooting contest, but with one ball, one make). When you hit all five, the rebounder becomes shooter and vice versa and he must reverse his way back to the start. Each team starts on opposite sides and cross paths in this quest. They try to be fair and not get in way of shooter or passer, except for a few hijinks, if they need a little edge. So, the person who seems to instigate most of these contests graduated with the same class as my son. His name is Jayden. He can be described in many ways, but mostly feeds off a basketball/sports mentality with boasting, manipulating, a bit of a cheater, will talk you up, but a good baller for someone overweight (looks more like a football lineman). He's acknowledged my shooting ability in pickup games. We feed off each other at times. He let me in on their games. It always comes after we've run pick-up games (at least 2 hours). Sometimes, it's 21, a game that would take a lot of explaining, but basically a free for all. I've grown to love it, but am enjoying 2-ball more. I've teamed with different people. It usually doesn't matter. But I see strategies forming now within these games. And by playing these games, I've improved as a shooter, rebounder and especially passer. It all came together this week. I had some back problems and had seen my chiropracter a second time when a kid named Anthony needed a partner and chose me to pair up against Jayden, and a good shooter, Dom. Before I knew it, we won two games to start. Little did I know it would be a marathon. I'd been in the gym for hours when these games started. Jayden just kept saying, "Let's go again." He never walked off the court without winning, having the edge, or just not acknowledge when he was beaten. It turned into a seven game series. I could tell my legs were weak from the back. My only fortune, I put on bio-freeze and my back was as warm as laying on a heating pad. Between games, I stretched as much as I could. We won four games to three. I thought a game of 21 might break out when Jayden wanted more games. He said we were wiping slate clean. I didn't know it would be another seven games series. I had a few bouts with a few spots around the perimeter when I realized being the first to go was better than being a finisher. I'd press too much if might legs got tight. It took only six games for us to win four. And it ended. It reminded that Jayden often mentally bullied Anthony, a small, scrappy kid I've often rooted for, looked out for. He was really rooting for me when we were winning these games, finally bonded over it. We had some pick up games again after that and all I did was launch a bunch of incredibly long three-pointers with confidence. It was an amazing spectacle, to at least me. You could have collected four people in that room who couldn't add up to my age. Running with teens at the end. Just another feather in my cap. I guess I don't do the story justice. No true details of how those 2-ball games played out. I just know that my shooting stroke and ability to grab and pass a ball get better every day, especially now that I have full use of my left side, thanks to rotator cuff surgery, almost two years ago. It's been a game changer. okay, enough, 4.21.22 |
| How to get to know me, realizing some narcissist/sociopath can use this to manipulate me (justify reasons why): https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/where-science-meets-the-steps/201403/are... People see my behavioral tendencies as unexamined reasons to label me ‘bad’. I own it, as the article says. Must be some relationship forged in hell. I wear the guilt and shame others should feel. When things are good, subconsciously, I must do something to provoke their untowardness. Upside or downside, I’ll never apologize for how I act, when I feel treatment unjust. Again, not the problem of indifferent, but triggered, tormentors. In my head, I always act as if I’ve won. Might have to re-examine that last bit. Part of my process. A very busy process. |
| With great power there must also come great responsibility to be even more evil, but good like Robin Hood, while demonized without narrative controlled by dystopian giants silently stomping on necks with narcissistic, sociopathic and irrevocable mind words that wind the empty clocks and inspire an ignorant clown with what to lance when among decoy windmills. It's about response to provocation. We make mistakes. We learn. Through repetition, we discover what they exploit: our vulnerability, shame and/or guilt to get us to act poorly, to weaken our position, to dehumanize us and make us compliant and weak. And, if you should withstand the torment of arrogant indifference amid whatever area of life you wander, you'll likely be hurt, feel pain like grief. Perhaps, it's because they see in each of us something unresolved, from childhood, relationships, or just life, that we never overcame. They whisper in your head, intimate in some fashion and know all the while they are pushing your buttons. The more relentless, the more they are the monster. Rest awhile. Don't confront them on their terms. You can use denial just as easily as they do. They do not deserve entry or judgment in souls that desire to soar, feel good. If being good is a part of that aim, we contribute to society. If they are just out to steal souls for their own gain, they create the deficient. It's why as a society we keep losing, keep retreating further back. Don't seek drama. And know, you are entitled to your own drama. I hope you sort it out. I go with the mantras: God decides, thank you God, I'm sorry, as much as I can. Hopefully, one day I will be ready to look fondly on the things I'm thankful for. Not there yet. I could tell you why...that's why some things should remain personal. But know, anything you take to the table, manipulators will use. Just ask them, if you feel smart, 'read any good dystopian books lately?' Though, it's not necessary. I guess we're taught zingers are supposed to be effectual. It might feel good to say. Yet, it won't affect a narcissist/sociopath, who either won't get it or will just deflect...maybe even, throw it back into your court. And, you can always use personal writing (like this) too sort it out. 4.17.22 Part 2 You can get caught in a trap, as an unsuspecting soul with no outward intentions when you cross paths with them. You realize what you seek on your path is blocked by them and it feels unfair. Feeling provoked, you react. But, you're not conditioned for the proper response and what you say or do can fail you. You have no recourse because they know the outcomes, they set the rules, you either play it their way, or give up the game. But then, you think you are clever enough to go around them. You can sense they are upset by this. They want their control back, for whatever reasons. Friends have a hierarchy you're not allowed to subvert or crack. You can get left out. There are cliques at work where you don't fit in and taking one or two people aside can backfire and you are in a bigger hole. It is social order. It can go beyond politics. You're a fish out of water because you are what they labeled as 'goody two shoes' when you were growing up. You hated that and wanted to show them you could do something bad to fit in. And that just got you in more trouble, because, again, you're not good at it. It isn't who you are. But going through life this makes you jaded, cynical and outwardly buffoonish for trying to overcome these traps. But, you can see them for what they are. But, lay down? Let them walk over you? I was told again and again, you can walk away. Find new friends, a new job and hope rolling the dice you'll be satisfied with the next. But, what if there is a target on people like me and I just don't see it. Perhaps, my ignorance trained me to be the person that people want to hate. When my self-esteem got low, I tried to brag and build myself up. Now, I was an ass. It took a lot of years and a lot of cynicism and pushing people away to realize that I should just embrace their stupid games and walk right through the maze. There really are no walls, if you just don't care. It's not walking away. It's walking right past them. I won't say I have friends. I can say I have a job that pays the bills, but no associations have formed there in 10 plus years. the same goes for where I work out, play sports. I can chat a few people up, but I walk out that door just as alone as I did when I walked in. I got used to being alone. I got used to being different. I just didn't know why until I was diagnosed late last year. I'm different. I'm odd. I probably don't make any sense, especially when I'm forced to veil comments in a public forum like this. Just let me have this. Let me have the frustration of having to walk through an ignorant world and be dissatisfied with it. I still find joy in writing and doing and sports and my job and family, if the conditions are right. And when one isn't working, I jump into the other. When I realize I'm boring or annoying people I skip into the next arena and next. But mostly, I spend a lot of time alone with my words, with my thoughts, binge watching shows, sometimes 12 times through, and a huge audiophile. With the internet, it's a limitless world. Learning I don't need friends has made it easy to deal with rude, snobbish people in my walks of life. I've met a lot of sweet people, but I think they're not sure about me. No one just comes right out and asks. So, I assume they just don't give two farts. I guess, what I'm trying to point out, is that it's odd we are so riled up in this world about people's rights and yet we character assassinate people we don't know. Good people. It's dehumanizing to be around people who just see you for your job title, for the one sport you share, a cartoonish parent, or whatever. I try to take writing seriously. But, I'm just wasting time writing poetry. But, I'm not wasting time inside my mind. I'm learning new things every day and understanding more. It's ramped up since my new medication and therapy. I leave it with this. Guys at the gym. Greedy SOBs that don't want to share the court, keep others off. If you're old, you don't catch the ball. You get yelled at if you make one mistake by these superstars that take 20 shots to make five. But, it's not about me. What made me cry the other day is a sweet, young man named Ethan. I've seem him come to the gym for years. He was a little slow, like to talk about where he shops for high tops and buys sports drinks and was atheletic enough and could shoot well enough to play. I don't know his story personally, but since the pandemic, he's come back to the gym. He's much slower, like someone who suffered a stroke. He moves slowly but is still so sweet. He wanted to play a game. It was his turn. I watched them turn him away by saying 'you got next' which the greedy ones will do when they only want certain people on the court. Against Y rules. Everyone looked away. I kept saying Ethan should be in. I told Ethan, you didn't play yet, you're in. But no one acknowledged, which is usual, because all ignore and too many voices. Ethan came back to play again and I was supposed to play and I saw no one was going to let him in. I turned to him and said, "You play for me. Everybody, Ethan's taking my spot." I love to play, but I hate injustice more. Ethan is black and so were over half the guys at the gym. I was sad at how he was treated. He loves basketball. I watched him play. I rooted for him from the sideline when I started to cry. I cried because sweet people are shoved aside in this world. Sweet people who just want to be a part of something, enjoy the game. Ethan has done nothing wrong. He has physical limitations now. Who knows, some help and encouragement, he could play like he once did. I don't know if can be rehabilitated. I don't know who to ask, if anyone has bothered to learn. This is where my anger comes from, my contempt. I have deep pockets of empathy and have cried over stuff like this before, but never at the gym. I hid my tears. I looked up at the lights. I tried not to be jaded about it. I wanted to have a natural, human response to the situation. I feel helpless, because it's at my core. It's being different and not being accepted when you try to be a part of something where you're not wanted. Ethan is too sweet to get frustrated, to become passive aggressive, to write missives to the world and no one about how ignorant we are today. We don't fight for human rights. We're a bunch of machines with triggers for hot button topics. We don't talk, we posture, we feel hate easier than we feel love. And I'm tired of writing complete sentences and just want to run on. But for what? This is for Ethan, world. I would do anything in my power, and we know how limited that is. Greedy people fix the game. They win. I just won't tell them no mas to their faces, to appease them. They can shun me, stab me where it hurts most, it doesn't matter anymore. I'll just keep writing and ranting and continuing to seek avenues to find a way to write myself out of this mess of a world and enlighten others somehow along the way. Use a metaphor here for a fat chance in... 4.19.22 I'll probably have a part three after I edit part two, which was unplanned. Maybe, next will be about how God seems to tip the scales in my favor and let's me see things normal people don't. Who the fixers are, what their game is, just puts something right in front of me at the oddest hour and wonder how divine it is to have such serendipity to enlighten me and expose the manipulation and flaws in other people's deceit. Though, I never do anything with it but sit on it, tell my wife, try to make sense of it. Like, I don't have power to do anything, as I've said. Things happen all the time that are out of our control, but who wants to be the one labeled an idiot, step up and admit that you did that. Lots of people want to point out that they’re better, hindsight, would’ve done things differently. But they don’t allow you to access that hypothetical ability to perceive the future and react accordingly, correctly, not trusting you’ll get it right the next time, like a baby. you can only defer and deflect so much, before you realize your only recourse is to own it before anyone else can say some thing. And you have to play to the few who are least likely to judge and hope that it plays out fair. But, not knowing what you’re up against, the mindsets of those around you, especially if they keep changing, rearranging, and never extending a hand to you, you decide defer, retract, deny. That’s where I take my lumps. That’s why I feel alone. No one else wants to be human with me. All are superior. I will never put myself in the position of acting like I’m better than someone else. It’s not only what I’ve been taught, but what someone with empathy feels. And until someone realizes that I am a real person, stops dehumanizing, stops hating before asking questions, I’ll just wear ‘my disguise’. This is about my real life, you know? |
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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! 
