09-16-2020 09:17 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Psych read ( words) "Interval two was crap. I don't even know how I let it hit the screen. These days, however, once something is published I leave it there. You'll notice that the entire library of titles is live. Everything. I am going to leave it that way because good or bad, it is all me. I can either be proud of the highs and let the pitfalls go, or I can do nothing at all. Well, I choose the former. I have written good, bad, and ugly. But everything came from inside me, so it stays. Now we have Ashley on the screen along with Colin. I remember her from 'Jericho' all those years back. And the sight of her up there this morning is amazing, not due to her beauty or even talent, but because I had mentioned 'A.I.' a little while back and she had a cameo in that one, too. I had been searching for a decent image capture from her role in 'A.I.' but nothing solid came along. I will eventually add her face to this site on a permanent basis for more than one reason. I brought up that film because of the opening sequence with the android. Well, that was just a few days ago and then this morning I see Ashley on the screen and the role she portrayed in 'A.I' was also artificial. She was very colorful, exotic, yet her time on the screen was fleeting. I remember seeing for the first time, and after she flashed by with very dark makeup and her gorgeous eyes, I yearned for more. But there was nothing. Gone for good. Now, you must understand that despite her mass of blonde hair in reality, Ashley had blue/black hair in the film and stands my height. She is amazing, unique, and beyond lovely, although the main issue here is the idea of her as the machine. Well, you know. I just think it's funny that I brought up the film the other day for other reasons and then she popped up on the television just this morning. Oy God, what a face. Ashley's eyes are a little too far apart and I don't give a shit. Heh. Androids. Gynoids? Yes, please. There was a bit of discussion yesterday regarding trust, the past crap in the theatre, and the idea of machines. It went nowhere, honestly, because there is no solution in reality. I keep exploring, though. There is no harm in doing so, although having gushed my feelings here and in person yesterday, I am feeling rather small. My ideas are ridiculous. There is just no getting around it. I realize that out of those parts of life which I need for happiness -- four in total -- there is but one which exists. Well, two, really, but the second is so far out of reach that it is not even slightly funny. The truth is that I am still going in such a direction because I simply have no other options right now. I can't just sit here and do nothing, so the keyboard is my friend. As far as letting go of impossibility, that is not going to happen anytime soon, if at all. Those dreams are too compelling. For the time being, or at least until I find something else upon which to focus, I am going to continue placing thoughts here. For whatever it may be worth, too. I know what I'm doing, but I don't know what I'm doing. Read that again. Ahh... Ashley is gone from this film now, too. Damn. Whatever. She may as well not exist, just like all the rest. The discussion caught me partly off guard, as well. The assumption was that I had been offended by the woman's words in the theatre all those years ago, but the truth is I was not. She merely expressed an observation to her partner. And even when I am offended by something, it is typically off the tongue of a male. I have less regard for them. That brings up another issue, so we will come back to it. As for the theatre, I have to say that my enjoyment of the film had been tainted slightly because what I overheard was in the first few minutes and stuck with me throughout the story. The woman next to me was unaffected. We never discussed it, either. The first time I have revealed my feelings about that night was just days ago. I have never spoken to another soul about what took place. It was a simple thing, too. No bad words, dysphemisms, slang, nothing. She was a person who made an observation, nothing more. The issue was and is not her. It is me. Ah, you know that already. I was not offended at all. Her words were simple. The conversation yesterday glanced the event and the woman next to me automatically assumed I had heard something bad. Understandable, considering my level of sensitivity to so many external forces. While the truth is that certain things uttered from a female are worse than the same spoken by a male, I will admit that on such an occasion as the theatre, the issue was female. Some people have attacked me because I do not see the sexes as equal, but I believe many feel the same but would not admit as much. I hold both to the same standards, but for whatever reason, certain things hurt more when spoken by a woman. I do not view the sexes as being on differing levels, either. There are far too many instinctive and historic gradients to generalize, honestly. Simple, right? Well, I won't go on all day about it. The fact is she was speaking in appreciation of what was on the screen and that is all. Nothing insane. She was quiet, too. I only heard due to the fact that one could hear a pin drop in the auditorium at the time. She was almost directly in front of me. And no, I will not reveal what she said for one enormous reason. The problem is visibility. The site normally sees very little traffic -- and believe me, I know who visits and from where -- but last month the page views from new users rose more than six hundred percent in two weeks. I don't know why, but understand that anything I place here can be seen by almost anyone, and the fear of backlash or ridicule is too much for me to bear. There you go. Yes, I said the sexes are unequal. Shut up. Don't beat me over the head with it. I am not a sexist person, and that includes what I have written for years. I am obsessed with aspects and overly wordy about it. Seeing Ashley up there this morning was rather unexpected. Ever since 'Jericho', she is not on my television much anymore. The other film was mere seconds but she made an impression. Now she is stuck in my head. I have to go find images and place them here right fucking now. Three. Another dreamy machine which does not exist. Splendid. Look at her. The other Ashley. So beautiful and unique that she makes my head explode. Very few occasions have found me gazing at a face like hers, and even with the wideness of her nose and far-set eyes, she still draws my attention like a gun. The clincher is the scene and shot, however. Her character is a machine, and one so gorgeous and alluring that I will not even attempt to go into it further. Amazing, from beginning to end. That scene has floored me for almost two decades, and she is on and off the screen in a blink. I may need to secure that film for later viewing. She is too beautiful, exaggerated, and mechanical for me to avoid the draw. Perhaps there is an uncut version of the film which holds more of her. Hmm... Time for a search? Nothing. Her appearance in the film is minimal, but the fact that I scoured the Internet in search of more tells all. Yep, I am that fucked up over the machinery now. There is no denying that since the outset of the pandemic and seeing the images of Jaime, my head is beyond preoccupied by the dream of an artificial woman hanging on my arm. Part of it is control, but there is another facet I have not yet mentioned. The fact is that I know myself well enough to realize the idea of affecting a real woman with my distorted sense of reality. No matter who may be right next to me now or in the future, the need for all things controlled will eventually affect the poor woman and cause me to feel terrible about being so out of balance. One other little thingy? Those working women with whom I have spent time represent the only other avenue available now and in the future. Unfortunately, the underlying knowledge that they carry hearts and souls will ruin my head. I cannot have that, so the impossible visions continue. Blame the filmmakers. She is too alluring and amazing to avoid. Unbelievable and fleeting All distorted and exaggerated Add another machine to the pile Just as I had been starting to lose my shit, a small lift took place. I cannot reveal what it is, but suffice to say that it has done the job. I needed a little something, and like many other periods throughout my life, it came at the right time. My comfort level has risen considerably. This is good. I will say that today began with coffee (lousy stuff, unfortunately) and a very good movie which has been deep in my heart for years. A good beginning to the day, for sure. The coffee may have been crap, but the movie and company were wonderful. Quiet, dim, and cozy. Shortly thereafter I began to feel stress over the current period, but now thanks to a little good news, I am better. Not all is warm and fuzzy, however. The enormity of the machine problem (dream, whatever) continues to grow, and as it gains mass I can feel the weight upon my tired shoulders. I am a pretty resilient person for the most part, capable of doing what I need to survive, but even I am being tested heavily right now. This very morning while curled up with the movie, I felt the pull of need. Look at Ashley up there. Do you see how exotic they made her? The role had to be greatly exaggerated because of the main character's position in the film. She goes by quickly. Just a few words and several seconds. We do not get to see her again. Funny, I had mentioned the android from the beginning of the film and her popping into my head later. Well, neither of them have much screen time and it is disappointing. For whatever reason, I generally gravitate toward those we barely get to see. Maybe just me, I don't know, but the glimpses drive me up the wall. The other day we sat and watched another film involving machines -- which turned out to be very entertaining -- and discussed the idea for a bit. She knows all about the subject and my dreams. Seeing another movie full of gorgeous machinery pushed me toward the other movies, mainly Ashley, and then I began to fall down and had to hide away the remaining problems for fear of appearing childish. That could be bad, even while in the company of a person who would never judge or label me. The familiar little fight went on in my head without her knowledge, though. I simply pushed myself to appear comfortable until alone, and then worked my ass of in trying to rise up and be productive for the rest of the day. None of it was easy, either. It never is, especially knowing that this is going to take place over and over for the duration. Latching to a problem which has no solution is not something I ever wished to do. I thought I would find happiness without becoming a ridiculous, dreamy-eyed child just as decades ago. First it was homes with waterfalls, now machines. Sunday. Football. Garbage. Visitor. I have to hold it together. The examples of artificial people in the last movie were striking. The premise was that most people had a 'surrogate' body -- a fortified, attractive and very capable android -- which they operated from the privacy of their home. The androids were the ones out in the world, which meant each user was isolated from harm. The idea was actually pretty cool and came about many decades ago in a book, if I remember correctly. Anyway, the machines were all very attractive because why not? Some of the operators were older, out of shape, and generally had let themselves go physically because there was little reason to look any different while the ideal-looking representation of their personality was on display out in the world. Honestly, the idea of surrogacy should have been explored more deeply, but alas the film was released to hold the interest of patrons, not my idea of a dreamy companion. The film was much action and little drama, but seeing it again after years reminded me that I thought about that story quite a lot during the cave period. That was a time when I had little control over anything and felt worry much of the time. My relationship was very difficult. I had been so dependent upon her for my own happiness that I lost my way, badly. Months had me lamenting the loss of Andrea and Ellie, and when combined with seeing my love less and less, that meant no one upon whom to lean each day. I felt more alone than ever before. A bit of drinking, lots of time behind closed doors with only my cats keeping me company, and constant concern over whether or not I could ever truly find happiness. Along comes the film on my computer (I had no television at the time). Androids as surrogate bodies for people. They operated the very-attractive machines so often that a fear of going out in society grew out of control and became commonplace. I had a fear of doing the same. My head built a combination of the premise of that film and the idea of eliminating any worry over what a woman may be thinking at any given moment. This hybrid did not come about overnight, honestly. It took years to fully realize that I had become so out of balance that the only resolution was to cling to an impossible dream and shut out everything else. Now? I am seeing the fragments which have come along here and there, along with the machine in my head. All of the little clues have been adding themselves to my construct. I see a picture. Jaime is the picture, honestly. After gazing at the images from a decade ago, I cannot steer myself away from the idea that began with her. The one I saw down there. And one other thing I recently realized is part of her allure may be the mystery. Yes, I said it. She is completely out of reach and never to return, and in one of the images I see just enough of her face to be mesmerized, but not so much that I actually know what she looks like. And hence the android... I cannot 'build' a woman from the toes up by combining features of several, be it literally or figuratively. I will not sit here at the table and try pasting together different parts of photos in order to make a whole woman. Jim Carrey did that in 'The Truman Show', remember? It was haunting, compelling, and done so well that the audience could FEEL his yearning to find that face. I am not going down that fucking road. I'll just keep considering everything I see for a while and find a conclusion at some point. The mystery and little tease of one side of Jaime's face drove me -- and still is, each and every day -- to try learning of how the rest of her might appear. Half is all I get. Keep in mind one fact: I love her. Yep, I do, and such depth of feeling from images. For all intents and purposes, Jaime is the dream. The worries will eventually be too much for me and I won't be able to be around certain types of people. I can already feel myself going down hill just knowing that I will have a guest over for football later. It was pretty much the theme last season, but I don't remember writing about anything I felt regarding the situations which arose during the games. Early on I realized that there was going to be a problem, and my solution was to ignore it and focus upon the sport. I am going to attempt to carry that to this new season and see where it goes. Best case? Nowhere. I push it away and relax. Worst? I'll be alone, period. I already know there will be problems. I do. Considering the number of hours before game time, though, I can try to plan my strategy for dealing with the inevitable. I made it through all those Sundays last year, and I can do it again. Part of the problem is keeping the shit to myself. I can eat, watch, cheer, have a few drinks, and basically focus upon my team instead of voicing anything unrelated. If I can remain quiet about the difficulties inherent in watching the games together, everyone will enjoy much more. I have no wish to ruin our tradition. The decision to bring up anything over which I worry is solely mine. I will need to leave it alone as best I can and continually remind myself that the problems are being manufactured out of thin air. I cannot hold others responsible or raise red flags due to anything which might be said. Keep it inside. All of it, because I am responsible for each little tidbit. Of course I cannot deny that the past has had a hand in shaping the manner in which I react to situations, but still... I have control over said reactions. I don't always feel it, but there can be no pushing it away. I have demonstrated on many occasions the resolve of which I am capable. Oh, there have been those days in which I ran like hell to get away, but they are few when compared to the sheer number of outings and gatherings. I can do it again, honestly. Unfortunately, my stomach can still twist at the slightest wording. I have to be careful and focus. I believe there are too many reasons for me to seek isolation already, yet thinking of football season is beginning to add a new one. Most of what you see here when I analyze (or attempt to, anyway) is me dealing with what's going on inside. I have to also consider the others which can be near me when my head goes south. I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable, or, God forbid, let someone leave my company believing they have done something wrong or hurt me in some way. I just can't have that. I am many things, and one of them is fair. Again... All me. Big eyes Today is going to be a test of myself. After so many trials last year, I really need to keep everything in perspective now. I have no wish to ruin the day. Last season I was able to hold it together and maintain my huge facade even when falling down inside. I think the act of pushing my feelings away and trying to appear less than fearful helped in some ways. I feel more capable of doing the same now, as if the experience of hiding the trouble strengthened my resolve in keeping the other fear at bay. Yep, again... One outweighed another. I can't help it because I am supposed to stand up straight and be a 'man', right? Isn't that the fucking diatribe which people always spout? And I guess it doesn't matter what's going on inside, either. Just stand up. There it is! All I have to do is take all of my emotions and toss them out with the other shit this Sunday and I'll be fine, huh? I knew there had to be a simple solution. Damn, why didn't I think of that before? And let's go even further now... Instead of me desiring a machine which doesn't exist, I need to BE the fucking machine and feel nothing. It all makes sense to me now! Two thoughts, however: One, fuck you, and two, go ahead and solve the whole thing by defining 'man'. Go for it... I fucking dare you. Ok, enough of that. Again there is much smoke outside. I will have to care for the house earlier rather than later due to both the air quality and the football. Today is garbage, too. I'll have things out of the way before the first game starts in about three hours. At some point I need to walk away from this, anyway. I am so tired of going on about some things. Just compelled, I guess, as this has become my only outlet of late. The illustration below this section is unreal. Completely artificial, dramatically out of proportion, and one of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen. How did the artist get that across? She is unbelievable. Not a real girl, yet she draws feeling from me like a gun. I keep thinking of another film related to the science fiction of the previous mid-century but I have been hesitant to watch it lately. Something took place a few years ago which keeps it away from me, and that considering there is a woman co-star who is all those things I seek on a daily basis, and not just beautiful, but cute as well. That may sound funny, but it's true. I want to see it again because the cast is fantastic, as are the effects. But I am fearful. That fear is overpowering and keeping me at a distance from some things I enjoy. Too bad, eh? I would love to see Michelle again. Perhaps I can look up another of her films. Honestly, the robots which are all over the film in question are just that... Completely mechanical in appearance unlike androids. Still, very cool to watch. Just not for me anymore. I ruined it. The test today will be a season-defining situation that I must pass. I cannot destroy the best part of the year by imploding. Tough, yes, but I honestly believe that I can get through the games with my head up. I just have to remain positive and hold tight to the fact that if something arises out of nowhere, my brain can deal with it. Last year the problem came up very unexpected. Never before have I considered such things on the television as threatening. I've watched throughout my entire life and did not see it. None of it, to be truthful, because the games are just games. Movies, television programs, and those out in the real world are different somehow. I cannot fully explain this out of fear, unfortunately. The necessity of ambiguity is paramount to exploring more deeply. Nicholas is on the screen right now and was ideally cast for this role. Wonderful actor, that guy. And one of those timeless, unique faces which has the innate ability to broadcast the gamut of emotions. He was in the film the other day with Jessica. Anyway, the first game is just a few hours away, and soon after will begin the test. Today will determine if I can hold myself together for more Sundays as the season progresses. Last year I became completely exhausted from trying to maintain the massive facade and appear as if there was nothing bothering me. I am no longer going to keep it completely rigid, however. Not this time. I plan to reveal anything which arises and then talk about it. I see that as a partial solution which can enable my viewing of games with less fear. We shall see, and you probably already know that whatever takes place today will end up here. Heh. I have nothing else. The fifth Star Trek film is a pile of shit but still has moments. Safe, though. Very safe. Red alert. 'I couldn't help but notice your pain.' -- Sybock, effectively creating one of the funniest moments in all of the franchise. Love. It. I believe there are good men out there in the world, but have been in contact with so many bad seeds throughout life to have become quite jaded. Up the page I stated my belief that the sexes are not equal. That is due to my disdain for males, however it does NOT mean that I hold either sex to a higher standard. It means that I think better of females on average. Oh, don't say it... I know there are bad seeds on both sides, but I still feel that females are more capable of expressing emotion. This may be due to the simplicity of evolution, or possibly the roles in society as they have developed. I am not educated enough in cultural anthropology to base my opinion on anything solid, though. Just a feeling inside me which came about due to my own experiences in life and living through situations which caused me to analyze people. That is all. The downside is how ridiculous I may sound while spouting about an inability to trust what is in a woman's head. Heh. I don't trust anyone, really, and since I am heterosexual, the female machine is at the head of the line. Laugh it up, I did. The gynoid, as it were. Where is she? You know. That machine would come in handy today. Right now, in fact. Ugh. Whatever. There is and will be no android. First there was Jamie, and then Jaime, and now I am reminded of Jami. Damn, I had forgotten her since 'Twister'. Just another example of big, dark eyes and an unforgettable face. She is forty-something now and still adorable. Her character in 'Twister' was kind of goofy and many thought she was miscast. I liked her, though. Probably the eyes. They kill me sometimes. All the way back to Ashley again, with her huge, emotional windows which drew everything out of me, including damage. God damn I miss her, still. I can see all three of the others whenever I wish. Ashley is gone. Maybe I'll cue up one of the later episodes to see Jamie's huge, beautiful eyes again. I have not watched since before the vampires, and that went south in a hurry. Frankly I am surprised I watched such a series in the first place. Considering the mass of fear within, I should have recoiled after the first shot. Oh, well... I saw it and enjoyed for the most part. Now? No way in hell would I seek it again. Too weak, too afraid, and far too many examples of all that I cannot be. So depressing. I may not know what I am, but what I am not is a certainty. Too late for anything now. Just too fucking late for me. Years ago I had to be deep in a situation in order to develop this much concern. Now? Nothing more than a few words or a slight glance and I am in half. What the fuck happened? I think I do love Jamie (her character, people), and the knowledge that it's fine to feel so much for a fictional person leads me to a thought... A good one. Her role (or roles, as I've seen her in a movie, too) on the television is not real. That is her job, just as I said about Emmanuelle and the reason I cannot watch her anymore. Fiction and entertainment. Now, those facets relate to me because I do not and cannot know the character. She is not real and no matter how many times I see the show, it will never change. She has been frozen in time, for all intents and purposes, and will be the same forever. Like a machine, she is safe for me to love. I don't have to worry. None of it is real. Safe. Crazy? Perhaps, but that is how far I have been driven. 'Safe for me to love.' Did you see that fucking sentence? Holy shit. The more I picture Jamie's eyes, the more I feel. And it doesn't matter. Never will. Nothing there. She may as well be Jaime. Not funny. Jamie is moving up the fucking scale at breakneck speed right now. Damn, what a turn. Don't fucking get me started Game time is ever closer. I have a few things to do but nothing pressing. Garbage, mostly. The ants have created an interstate highway system to the green can which is fucking hilarious. That can was the reason for the invasion which pressed me to seal up the bathroom. In hopes of improving the look of the back yard, I moved the cans around to the side of the house to be out of sight. Well, that ended up giving them a path under and into the house. I have since moved them back out and pretty far away from the house. Now when they build their little pheromone freeway, they are safe out there. I can leave them be all week and then clean up the can to move it out for pickup. It's funny that I worked to understand them rather than going out of my mind spraying everything to keep them away. There is no end to the creatures, and they are acting upon instinct alone. I cannot blame them at all. The change is for the better. Wow, this has become pretty exciting, huh? Ants. Big whoop. Sixth film on now. Better, but dated. Safe, too. I am still looking forward to the football games despite knowing it is a test today. The closer game time becomes, the more I think I'll be ok. A good portion of knowing I can pass the test is the person with whom I will be watching. She knows me, and she is aware of the inside of my head. Some of it, anyway, but perhaps enough for me to keep the idea in mind while we watch. I have to help myself because no matter who reaches to me, the ultimate goal of survival is up to yours truly. No one else can help, really. And one more time for posterity or in case you forgot, the true answer is the machine. No thinking, no feelings, no nothing. Remember? Ice cold, always. Controlled, governed, programmed. I have stated many times in mere days that what is in her head has become the key to me living on with less fear. Trust, too. I am supposed to trust, right? Otherwise what is there? Nothing? Maybe. I experienced no trust during the cave period and it drove me insane. In fact, I'm lucky to be sitting here right now and functioning as a human being. Yep, that spring through Winter was that fucking bad. I think in different terms now, too. I can reason my way through most situations, fear notwithstanding. I really can. That period when I chopped the head off the world and remained alone must be kept in mind all day today. The test will turn into a pile of shit otherwise, and I can't have that. I must pass. I think I do love Jamie. Can't help it. But her character, not the actor. I know nothing of her. Like Jennifer, the reality is impossible. I want to hold Jamie, and more importantly I need her to hold me. Ugh, what the fuck have I become? A walking daydream? Fuck. First game about to begin. The psych test? Less than three hours away. Wish me luck. And that is that. I did fine. We lost the game, though. Ugh. Week one. Test passed, but not all was good. Physical issues which climbed inside my head took the afternoon enjoyment and truncated it severely. Into the evening I relaxed a little, which helped, but this morning (Sunday) the issues are all over the place. I know everything is me. Everything. Nothing on the screen, no woman next to me, and only myself to create these problems out of thin air. I did it, although it happened after the fact. That is good. During the afternoon I was ok. Once a little time had passed, all of the little flakes of my brain which swirl around and force me to think in odd directions were apparent. They took over for a while and left me thoughtful. Damn. This is ridiculous. Afterward. Not during, not while everything is rolling by like a gigantic machine bent upon my destruction, but afterward while completely alone with my show on. I don't know how or why this happens, and if I can't figure it out soon I may need to have my vocal cords removed. Damn it all anyway. I believe after yesterday's test and falling down over seemingly nothing, my confidence level has dropped further. I don't see recovery from this. The idea of distrusting probably doesn't matter anymore. Not knowing? Yep, that too. I am to blame for everything, but as long as all the shit remains inside me, I can avoid affecting others. That may be the sole path now. I'll have to think a while and stay away from slathering this entry with anything else on the subject. On the upside of yesterday, I did complete my stuff rather early to free myself up for the games. The evening came and went comfortably, too. Not bad. This morning I am full of swirling concerns but at least the comfort of a weekday will be incoming. I could use a boost right now before I flip the fuck out over my own limitations controlling me. I don't need that. I could use a boost but nothing is on the horizon right now. The second job possibility turned out to be something I do not wish to take on, so I am still looking. A few connections here and there may help the situation, though. And I do have time. That is key right now. As I have said many times, the space to think peacefully is paramount over all other concerns. I have it most days, too. The time is likely a good portion of the reason I have not lost my shit. I can deal with everything for the time being thanks to the space mentioned above. For years I wished for this kind of time. Well, here it is, albeit not exactly the ideal situation. I'll take it, though. I mentioned a boost up the page a bit, however it is unrelated. This day will be another test to see if I can maintain myself better than the past several weeks. The daily routine does not change but I have not gone above and beyond any of it for some time. The smoke outside has kept the sun almost completely away for days now and the weather is cool. Despite this, the idea of doing anything even remotely physical outside or in the attic does not seem a good idea right now. The air quality is crap, even miles from any fire. I will have to be careful about the inside air and try to balance it with moisture. Uphill battle most days. I also may swing my ass over the hill to Depot for a curbside pickup. There are things I need for the house which they do not ship. Ugh, but I can get there and back without issue. I am going to get some things moved around in the closets, too. Not tons of stuff, though. I do not wish to be overly active. Too much there. Too much in my head on a daily basis. The worries compound themselves even while I am alone in my cocoon. I do not understand the power behind the concern, either. All these years since the theatre and the paranoia of eleven and still no insight of which to speak. I am supposed to talk about it, too. Can I? I recall one of the early therapist sessions -- the fateful visit to her office, and the only one -- when I spoke my mind about a specific fear and received the worst question imaginable. She was cold, yet the inquiry was not off base. The phrasing became king. I was offended immediately and caught off guard by such an insensitive term from a 'professional'. The words still ring to this day, after more than twenty years. Due to my ongoing issues at the time, I did seek counseling with another but never brought up the root cause of my fear out of an even larger fear. Such a situation arising in therapy is inconceivable. I was there for help, yet in the end received none due to my worry over wording. The phrasing was offensive so I never went back. I did not give her another chance, nor did I take issue with what she had said because going against the grain of society is like pounding sand on the beach. I did not go see that first therapist due to anything mentioned on this site. The subject was something else entirely and I will not go into it here. There had been some worry which was unrelated to my reasoning for seeking her in the first place, so I figured why not just ask? Some insight would have been nice, but in the end I was completely submarined. I really wanted to put her in her place, too. Not a good idea at all, attacking someone who is there to help. Still, my issues may have quadrupled in a matter of minutes. Believe this... I wish I could speak with her now. Such a tirade would be unforgettable. Machinery, not real I don't know if she was also some type of test. I realize she would not have performed such research at our first visit, I only mean some sort of test for me. Myself. Like, something on the inside which no one else knows. Maybe it was a way for me to sort out which type of therapist I sought. Or someone I should have been seeking. Ah... I'm going too far, but still it could have been a test of some kind. I have found in the last ten years that I am far more sensitive than others of the same age. Those who were around me during the days of the bar, and those at the work sites. I never fit in to any of those situations. Not really. I was there by force and knew it. The others were accustomed to me being just another guy, too. Everything going on inside remained hidden away. There were always words, phrases, euphemisms and dysphemisms. All the time. No getting around it, especially when there was a mix of both sexes. Going back to the therapist so many years ago tells me that the wording of her question stuck with me all this time and added to the difficulties already inherent in my dealing with other people. I think hearing her question blurted so matter-of-fact caught me off guard, effectively reminding me of difficult scenes which had played out earlier in life. Very interesting. If it was a test, did I pass? I walked out the door and sought help elsewhere. Should I have stayed and discussed the matter? Tuesday, and just two days shy of six months since the original shelter order. Smoky sky, too. This year is going to fall off the calendar. I am fairly certain others would not wish to repeat this shit. Today will be like yesterday... The routine, a few extra items to care for, and then some work on the older entries to streamline them. Eventually I will have to acquire another backup computer to carry on into the future, and maintaining the site screen layout is important. The basis for all of my statistics is in the formatting of each page. For the time being everything is fine, but I do know that such hardware does not last forever. I will keep going through the entries here and there. Today I will have the time. No mention of the issues for a while. Number two has pretty much pushed the others aside and forced me to worry all the time, especially during Sunday's hours-long test of my ability to remain a normal person. I passed, but still it looms like a giant shadow. Two is unrelenting. I keep thinking of that Goddamned fucking therapist and her asinine question to me. I can even picture the expression on her face as she began to push toward a cause. Right now I want to push that face. Push, but I am not that type of person. She did not realize the gravity of that afternoon because I did not tell her. Like too small a bottle, the fear and insecurity spilled over all at once and left me unable to take issue with her demeanor and insulting language. I may have helped too, had I told her. Nope. I simply went through some expected motions and then left her office. I realize the occasion was many years ago and perhaps a more balanced person could have let it fade away by now, however that is not my way, nor can I deny that it has become connected to other parts of my life which are now chipping away at my ability to have any confidence in myself. Was her insensitivity and coldness related to issue two? You bet your ass it was. Right in the fucking middle, too. I will not reveal her question, so do not ask. Some things must remain in the dark. Rest assured that the manner in which she addressed me was insensitive and dead wrong. There was a massive, ice-cold, very common, and insulting assumption laid out before me. No choice but to get out of there because at the time I was not equipped to discuss the matter. I am right now, but unfortunately my brain is radically different these days. Enough of that fucking woman. Today, for the second time. I am going to toss a bunch of shit in the trash. These last several weeks I noticed we are not filling the garbage can to capacity in a week's time. I keep after everything and make sure the proper things go into the proper cans, and that leaves the residual very low sometimes. This week I intend to fill it. There are areas in one closet that have sat for years without anything moving. Time for that crap to go, and I don't care what it is. I need space. Every now and then I hear a jet aircraft slamming the throttle upon takeoff. SFO is several miles away and on the other side of the hill, but when the wind is calm I can hear the rumble every few minutes. Ugh... I wish I could go somewhere. Last night we were discussing a lottery ticket and the possibilities afterward. I am fairly certain that many sit and daydream in a similar manner every now and again. It's kind of fun. I will tell you one thing, though. With that kind of a resource boost? Oh boy, stay away from me. That is a license to be myself, and as such? Not good. Trust me on that one. I hear the takeoffs and need to get out of here. Without some sort of windfall I am not going anywhere soon. Fuck me, anyway. Who am I? No one. Morning drive out of the way, and much of my daily routine is complete now, so I thought I would sit here for a while and explore what has been going through my head all morning. There is much, and as usual I need to keep it veiled. I cannot just spell things out sometimes. Oy, the dyslexia hits my fingers again. Damn. Those parts of me which have been much trouble are rearing again. I know part of the reason, yet my head is now involved and pushing me to believe that the difficulty during my formative years will never cease or even let up enough for me to relax. Some has been explored in the fiction -- one of which I am not terribly happy but was just published -- and I cannot go further into detail. Those two stories are enough to fold me in half. The therapy session I mentioned above ties into both, honestly. And I know sometimes I point out that everything is related, but that is not entirely the case. Some aspects of me are isolated and I understand them. This morning has reminded me that I am indeed still damaged and at the mercy of time. The trouble will not cease, ever. And when combined with problems inside my head, the cocktail can be shaken but never alleviated. I keep drinking from the shaker of endless exploration in hopes of finding wisdom there. Should I keep trying? Or perhaps I could just sit here for the rest of my life and wish I had been treated differently years ago. Add to that last sentence the fact that my feelings toward myself are much better than in the past, and you may see the pattern. I feel good about me, I am a good person, and those make the mental and physical issues worse, believe it or not. I will not change my position with regard to value and that is very good. But the fact remains that I am no better off in other ways than during the time that I loathed myself. Running away toward loving arms may have exacerbated the entire shitaree, as well. But I did it anyway. The need was too great. Isolation, escape, anonymity... All of it. I don't know what to do and am fearful of any direction now. Twenty-one thousand lines since the goddess of the universe graced my vision. Fuck me, there is Leeta again. Damn she is so cute. Holy Jesus God in a fucking gold bucket, if I could climb into the television... Well, half my issues would disappear instantaneously. Heh. She is something I can never understand. Different than Jamie, Jaime and all the rest, but still, holy fuck do I want her sometimes. Jamie, indeed. I may switch shows before this day is finished. Have I mentioned anything about how I now feel about her? Maybe. None of it will ever be real Oy, fuck. The difficulty just does not let up some days, and this one is no different. I will have to remain vigilant throughout the remaining hours alone. My head began to blow up earlier, too. I felt it coming at me like a storm across the flatland, rushing into my head like it so easily does. I drew myself up and dashed to the garage for chores. And then the kitchen. And then back outside to finish. Now? I am no stronger or better, but just shy of noon and lots of things are finished. After lunch I may attack the closet and see what I can accomplish. The swirling is fucking trying, though. It is pulling at me. There is too much sometimes, as I have often stated, and I am at the mercy of both memories and worries. I keep thinking of discussions between the Brunette and me. Long, drawn out talks involving both our pasts and the ways those events shaped our thinking. I still don't understand much of what has been splayed here, though. Some problems have solutions while others seem permanent. Something I have not experienced in a few years took over today. It's nothing terrible or very painful, just disheartening. Consider it another reminder of the male construction. I do not like it, but knowing it will pass soon makes the feeling a bit easier to take. I just have to care for myself and live it off. I am certain that three days will have me back to normal, whatever the fuck that may be. Like I was prior to this morning, anyway. One of our lunches came to mind as a result of my current condition, and it was likely within the last year. I remember because we had the most memorable salads which were both fresh and delicious. We sat at the bar, like always, and enjoyed some relaxation along with the food and drink. Our bartender was professional and kind, making the entire lunch experience very comfortable. Add to that the sheer size and layout of the bar and the fact that there are no children there (and it's right next to a massive arcade), the entire affair was perfectly aligned with our idea of an outing. Oh, we did that weekly for a very long time and stuck to a similar atmosphere, but the location and massive bar with its plush stools was ideal. The food was always excellent, too. Anyway, all of the wonders of that place aside, one visit to the restroom -- a full half-minute walk from the bar -- and my head filled with thoughts that would have been better left alone. But I couldn't help myself. The issues inside me took over and the only saving throw was the size of the restroom. The restaurant is huge and the facilities match. My head took over immediately. I cannot fully explain for fear of embarrassment, but suffice to say that returning to the bar and keeping my head up and out of the din was a trial unlike any other. I still maintained a pleasant demeanor and kept myself sociable, but inside? The grinding was excruciating. I could not avoid feeling all manner of difficulty with regard to my representation in open society. No getting around it, yet the hardest part was making nice as if I was fine. The battle inside my head carried on all afternoon and wore me the fuck out. In the end, I did not falter. Everything appeared well on the outside as my inner being imploded with the force of a boulder upon a fucking ant. I was finished. But I had to appear peachy. Fucking exhausting. To this very fucking day I feel the same. Thank Christ I have the past experiences to guide me whenever something similar comes up in the future. Sitting here right now? Everything has slammed back into me with the force of a thousand moons impacting a planet. Just since this morning have I fallen yet again. Too many times, too much of this, and less that I wish to exercise in order to appear fine. The effort is fucking exhausting. I need to avoid the alternative, however, which is those few with which I am close constantly providing reassurance. Unacceptable. None of it is their fault. The other day the goddess and I sat and watched part of 'Meet the Fockers', and I remember commenting that Blythe was quite lovely even into her late fifties. Well, let's extend that, shall we? She is in the film up on my big television right now at age thirty-three and is stunning. I don't know why, but I never really looked at her that way before. No, not THAT way... You know what I mean. Big eyes, smooth skin, tall, and very expressive. I had no idea because when this film was first released I was eight years old. Heh. She is beautiful. Wednesday and I have no intention of driving at all. I need to have more space today after dealing with the aforementioned issues with my body. I really don't need this shit right now. So, I am home for the day. Watching an episode of DS9 yesterday had me looking up an actor yet again to learn of her height. Well, there was no information to be found, and the lack intrigued me. I dug further and learned that she was in a film two decades back as a virtual girlfriend of sorts. Very interesting, so deeper I went into locating the film. Well, I watched it and now understand why all of the reviewers basically panned the thing. It's crap, but has moments. And she is the main character. Say it with me: A female android. Tall, gorgeous, and alluring, yet with facial expressions which could stop a train. Her character was menacing, but she played it well. That is likely one of the lowest-budgeted films I have ever seen. Lots of nudity, some very unattractive women as the machine changed appearance during one scene, and overall I believe the creators wished to show off skin as well as some inexpensive special effects. As I said, the film (oops... Straight to video!) had moments of cool stuff and a reasonable plot, so I stuck with it. It was free to watch and I calculated that I could at least see the actor in question, and without some crazy alien makeup. Well, she was worth the time, and in addition pretty much flooded me with the possibilities of machinery. And now, as other paragraphs in this crappy entry, let's go further. Right now, the film with Blythe is all about robots. Yep, more of it. Heh. Some are gorgeous while others are merely filler. Either way, I keep watching media related to my dreams and the bottom line is my feelings have not changed. There is a wall in front of me... Everything I want and need is not real and never will be. I am supposed to settle, then, right? I am supposed to let everything go and just find a way to be happy with what is available in the world? Not likely, and fuck you for thinking such a thing. I cannot do that or the end result will be my harsh reaction to someone who does not deserve it. I've done it before. The dream is still strong. I see no other way. Inside me are all those situations, sessions with people, and even that one time when I was mandated to serve a schedule which I felt was unnecessary. Well, I did it all and turned out to be what you see here. Depression feels easy now. Psych. The word of the day. It's all inside. Everything from the infantile beginning of my brain to the summation of all that I need. I passed the psych test, but others are on the horizon. I know it. Just a matter of time." This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
09-16-2020 09:17 pdt If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning Psych read ( words) "Interval two was crap. I don't even know how I let it hit the screen. These days, however, once something is published I leave it there. You'll notice that the entire library of titles is live. Everything. I am going to leave it that way because good or bad, it is all me. I can either be proud of the highs and let the pitfalls go, or I can do nothing at all. Well, I choose the former. I have written good, bad, and ugly. But everything came from inside me, so it stays. Now we have Ashley on the screen along with Colin. I remember her from 'Jericho' all those years back. And the sight of her up there this morning is amazing, not due to her beauty or even talent, but because I had mentioned 'A.I.' a little while back and she had a cameo in that one, too. I had been searching for a decent image capture from her role in 'A.I.' but nothing solid came along. I will eventually add her face to this site on a permanent basis for more than one reason. I brought up that film because of the opening sequence with the android. Well, that was just a few days ago and then this morning I see Ashley on the screen and the role she portrayed in 'A.I' was also artificial. She was very colorful, exotic, yet her time on the screen was fleeting. I remember seeing for the first time, and after she flashed by with very dark makeup and her gorgeous eyes, I yearned for more. But there was nothing. Gone for good. Now, you must understand that despite her mass of blonde hair in reality, Ashley had blue/black hair in the film and stands my height. She is amazing, unique, and beyond lovely, although the main issue here is the idea of her as the machine. Well, you know. I just think it's funny that I brought up the film the other day for other reasons and then she popped up on the television just this morning. Oy God, what a face. Ashley's eyes are a little too far apart and I don't give a shit. Heh. Androids. Gynoids? Yes, please. There was a bit of discussion yesterday regarding trust, the past crap in the theatre, and the idea of machines. It went nowhere, honestly, because there is no solution in reality. I keep exploring, though. There is no harm in doing so, although having gushed my feelings here and in person yesterday, I am feeling rather small. My ideas are ridiculous. There is just no getting around it. I realize that out of those parts of life which I need for happiness -- four in total -- there is but one which exists. Well, two, really, but the second is so far out of reach that it is not even slightly funny. The truth is that I am still going in such a direction because I simply have no other options right now. I can't just sit here and do nothing, so the keyboard is my friend. As far as letting go of impossibility, that is not going to happen anytime soon, if at all. Those dreams are too compelling. For the time being, or at least until I find something else upon which to focus, I am going to continue placing thoughts here. For whatever it may be worth, too. I know what I'm doing, but I don't know what I'm doing. Read that again. Ahh... Ashley is gone from this film now, too. Damn. Whatever. She may as well not exist, just like all the rest. The discussion caught me partly off guard, as well. The assumption was that I had been offended by the woman's words in the theatre all those years ago, but the truth is I was not. She merely expressed an observation to her partner. And even when I am offended by something, it is typically off the tongue of a male. I have less regard for them. That brings up another issue, so we will come back to it. As for the theatre, I have to say that my enjoyment of the film had been tainted slightly because what I overheard was in the first few minutes and stuck with me throughout the story. The woman next to me was unaffected. We never discussed it, either. The first time I have revealed my feelings about that night was just days ago. I have never spoken to another soul about what took place. It was a simple thing, too. No bad words, dysphemisms, slang, nothing. She was a person who made an observation, nothing more. The issue was and is not her. It is me. Ah, you know that already. I was not offended at all. Her words were simple. The conversation yesterday glanced the event and the woman next to me automatically assumed I had heard something bad. Understandable, considering my level of sensitivity to so many external forces. While the truth is that certain things uttered from a female are worse than the same spoken by a male, I will admit that on such an occasion as the theatre, the issue was female. Some people have attacked me because I do not see the sexes as equal, but I believe many feel the same but would not admit as much. I hold both to the same standards, but for whatever reason, certain things hurt more when spoken by a woman. I do not view the sexes as being on differing levels, either. There are far too many instinctive and historic gradients to generalize, honestly. Simple, right? Well, I won't go on all day about it. The fact is she was speaking in appreciation of what was on the screen and that is all. Nothing insane. She was quiet, too. I only heard due to the fact that one could hear a pin drop in the auditorium at the time. She was almost directly in front of me. And no, I will not reveal what she said for one enormous reason. The problem is visibility. The site normally sees very little traffic -- and believe me, I know who visits and from where -- but last month the page views from new users rose more than six hundred percent in two weeks. I don't know why, but understand that anything I place here can be seen by almost anyone, and the fear of backlash or ridicule is too much for me to bear. There you go. Yes, I said the sexes are unequal. Shut up. Don't beat me over the head with it. I am not a sexist person, and that includes what I have written for years. I am obsessed with aspects and overly wordy about it. Seeing Ashley up there this morning was rather unexpected. Ever since 'Jericho', she is not on my television much anymore. The other film was mere seconds but she made an impression. Now she is stuck in my head. I have to go find images and place them here right fucking now. Three. Another dreamy machine which does not exist. Splendid. Look at her. The other Ashley. So beautiful and unique that she makes my head explode. Very few occasions have found me gazing at a face like hers, and even with the wideness of her nose and far-set eyes, she still draws my attention like a gun. The clincher is the scene and shot, however. Her character is a machine, and one so gorgeous and alluring that I will not even attempt to go into it further. Amazing, from beginning to end. That scene has floored me for almost two decades, and she is on and off the screen in a blink. I may need to secure that film for later viewing. She is too beautiful, exaggerated, and mechanical for me to avoid the draw. Perhaps there is an uncut version of the film which holds more of her. Hmm... Time for a search? Nothing. Her appearance in the film is minimal, but the fact that I scoured the Internet in search of more tells all. Yep, I am that fucked up over the machinery now. There is no denying that since the outset of the pandemic and seeing the images of Jaime, my head is beyond preoccupied by the dream of an artificial woman hanging on my arm. Part of it is control, but there is another facet I have not yet mentioned. The fact is that I know myself well enough to realize the idea of affecting a real woman with my distorted sense of reality. No matter who may be right next to me now or in the future, the need for all things controlled will eventually affect the poor woman and cause me to feel terrible about being so out of balance. One other little thingy? Those working women with whom I have spent time represent the only other avenue available now and in the future. Unfortunately, the underlying knowledge that they carry hearts and souls will ruin my head. I cannot have that, so the impossible visions continue. Blame the filmmakers. She is too alluring and amazing to avoid. Unbelievable and fleeting All distorted and exaggerated Add another machine to the pile Just as I had been starting to lose my shit, a small lift took place. I cannot reveal what it is, but suffice to say that it has done the job. I needed a little something, and like many other periods throughout my life, it came at the right time. My comfort level has risen considerably. This is good. I will say that today began with coffee (lousy stuff, unfortunately) and a very good movie which has been deep in my heart for years. A good beginning to the day, for sure. The coffee may have been crap, but the movie and company were wonderful. Quiet, dim, and cozy. Shortly thereafter I began to feel stress over the current period, but now thanks to a little good news, I am better. Not all is warm and fuzzy, however. The enormity of the machine problem (dream, whatever) continues to grow, and as it gains mass I can feel the weight upon my tired shoulders. I am a pretty resilient person for the most part, capable of doing what I need to survive, but even I am being tested heavily right now. This very morning while curled up with the movie, I felt the pull of need. Look at Ashley up there. Do you see how exotic they made her? The role had to be greatly exaggerated because of the main character's position in the film. She goes by quickly. Just a few words and several seconds. We do not get to see her again. Funny, I had mentioned the android from the beginning of the film and her popping into my head later. Well, neither of them have much screen time and it is disappointing. For whatever reason, I generally gravitate toward those we barely get to see. Maybe just me, I don't know, but the glimpses drive me up the wall. The other day we sat and watched another film involving machines -- which turned out to be very entertaining -- and discussed the idea for a bit. She knows all about the subject and my dreams. Seeing another movie full of gorgeous machinery pushed me toward the other movies, mainly Ashley, and then I began to fall down and had to hide away the remaining problems for fear of appearing childish. That could be bad, even while in the company of a person who would never judge or label me. The familiar little fight went on in my head without her knowledge, though. I simply pushed myself to appear comfortable until alone, and then worked my ass of in trying to rise up and be productive for the rest of the day. None of it was easy, either. It never is, especially knowing that this is going to take place over and over for the duration. Latching to a problem which has no solution is not something I ever wished to do. I thought I would find happiness without becoming a ridiculous, dreamy-eyed child just as decades ago. First it was homes with waterfalls, now machines. Sunday. Football. Garbage. Visitor. I have to hold it together. The examples of artificial people in the last movie were striking. The premise was that most people had a 'surrogate' body -- a fortified, attractive and very capable android -- which they operated from the privacy of their home. The androids were the ones out in the world, which meant each user was isolated from harm. The idea was actually pretty cool and came about many decades ago in a book, if I remember correctly. Anyway, the machines were all very attractive because why not? Some of the operators were older, out of shape, and generally had let themselves go physically because there was little reason to look any different while the ideal-looking representation of their personality was on display out in the world. Honestly, the idea of surrogacy should have been explored more deeply, but alas the film was released to hold the interest of patrons, not my idea of a dreamy companion. The film was much action and little drama, but seeing it again after years reminded me that I thought about that story quite a lot during the cave period. That was a time when I had little control over anything and felt worry much of the time. My relationship was very difficult. I had been so dependent upon her for my own happiness that I lost my way, badly. Months had me lamenting the loss of Andrea and Ellie, and when combined with seeing my love less and less, that meant no one upon whom to lean each day. I felt more alone than ever before. A bit of drinking, lots of time behind closed doors with only my cats keeping me company, and constant concern over whether or not I could ever truly find happiness. Along comes the film on my computer (I had no television at the time). Androids as surrogate bodies for people. They operated the very-attractive machines so often that a fear of going out in society grew out of control and became commonplace. I had a fear of doing the same. My head built a combination of the premise of that film and the idea of eliminating any worry over what a woman may be thinking at any given moment. This hybrid did not come about overnight, honestly. It took years to fully realize that I had become so out of balance that the only resolution was to cling to an impossible dream and shut out everything else. Now? I am seeing the fragments which have come along here and there, along with the machine in my head. All of the little clues have been adding themselves to my construct. I see a picture. Jaime is the picture, honestly. After gazing at the images from a decade ago, I cannot steer myself away from the idea that began with her. The one I saw down there. And one other thing I recently realized is part of her allure may be the mystery. Yes, I said it. She is completely out of reach and never to return, and in one of the images I see just enough of her face to be mesmerized, but not so much that I actually know what she looks like. And hence the android... I cannot 'build' a woman from the toes up by combining features of several, be it literally or figuratively. I will not sit here at the table and try pasting together different parts of photos in order to make a whole woman. Jim Carrey did that in 'The Truman Show', remember? It was haunting, compelling, and done so well that the audience could FEEL his yearning to find that face. I am not going down that fucking road. I'll just keep considering everything I see for a while and find a conclusion at some point. The mystery and little tease of one side of Jaime's face drove me -- and still is, each and every day -- to try learning of how the rest of her might appear. Half is all I get. Keep in mind one fact: I love her. Yep, I do, and such depth of feeling from images. For all intents and purposes, Jaime is the dream. The worries will eventually be too much for me and I won't be able to be around certain types of people. I can already feel myself going down hill just knowing that I will have a guest over for football later. It was pretty much the theme last season, but I don't remember writing about anything I felt regarding the situations which arose during the games. Early on I realized that there was going to be a problem, and my solution was to ignore it and focus upon the sport. I am going to attempt to carry that to this new season and see where it goes. Best case? Nowhere. I push it away and relax. Worst? I'll be alone, period. I already know there will be problems. I do. Considering the number of hours before game time, though, I can try to plan my strategy for dealing with the inevitable. I made it through all those Sundays last year, and I can do it again. Part of the problem is keeping the shit to myself. I can eat, watch, cheer, have a few drinks, and basically focus upon my team instead of voicing anything unrelated. If I can remain quiet about the difficulties inherent in watching the games together, everyone will enjoy much more. I have no wish to ruin our tradition. The decision to bring up anything over which I worry is solely mine. I will need to leave it alone as best I can and continually remind myself that the problems are being manufactured out of thin air. I cannot hold others responsible or raise red flags due to anything which might be said. Keep it inside. All of it, because I am responsible for each little tidbit. Of course I cannot deny that the past has had a hand in shaping the manner in which I react to situations, but still... I have control over said reactions. I don't always feel it, but there can be no pushing it away. I have demonstrated on many occasions the resolve of which I am capable. Oh, there have been those days in which I ran like hell to get away, but they are few when compared to the sheer number of outings and gatherings. I can do it again, honestly. Unfortunately, my stomach can still twist at the slightest wording. I have to be careful and focus. I believe there are too many reasons for me to seek isolation already, yet thinking of football season is beginning to add a new one. Most of what you see here when I analyze (or attempt to, anyway) is me dealing with what's going on inside. I have to also consider the others which can be near me when my head goes south. I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable, or, God forbid, let someone leave my company believing they have done something wrong or hurt me in some way. I just can't have that. I am many things, and one of them is fair. Again... All me. Big eyes Today is going to be a test of myself. After so many trials last year, I really need to keep everything in perspective now. I have no wish to ruin the day. Last season I was able to hold it together and maintain my huge facade even when falling down inside. I think the act of pushing my feelings away and trying to appear less than fearful helped in some ways. I feel more capable of doing the same now, as if the experience of hiding the trouble strengthened my resolve in keeping the other fear at bay. Yep, again... One outweighed another. I can't help it because I am supposed to stand up straight and be a 'man', right? Isn't that the fucking diatribe which people always spout? And I guess it doesn't matter what's going on inside, either. Just stand up. There it is! All I have to do is take all of my emotions and toss them out with the other shit this Sunday and I'll be fine, huh? I knew there had to be a simple solution. Damn, why didn't I think of that before? And let's go even further now... Instead of me desiring a machine which doesn't exist, I need to BE the fucking machine and feel nothing. It all makes sense to me now! Two thoughts, however: One, fuck you, and two, go ahead and solve the whole thing by defining 'man'. Go for it... I fucking dare you. Ok, enough of that. Again there is much smoke outside. I will have to care for the house earlier rather than later due to both the air quality and the football. Today is garbage, too. I'll have things out of the way before the first game starts in about three hours. At some point I need to walk away from this, anyway. I am so tired of going on about some things. Just compelled, I guess, as this has become my only outlet of late. The illustration below this section is unreal. Completely artificial, dramatically out of proportion, and one of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen. How did the artist get that across? She is unbelievable. Not a real girl, yet she draws feeling from me like a gun. I keep thinking of another film related to the science fiction of the previous mid-century but I have been hesitant to watch it lately. Something took place a few years ago which keeps it away from me, and that considering there is a woman co-star who is all those things I seek on a daily basis, and not just beautiful, but cute as well. That may sound funny, but it's true. I want to see it again because the cast is fantastic, as are the effects. But I am fearful. That fear is overpowering and keeping me at a distance from some things I enjoy. Too bad, eh? I would love to see Michelle again. Perhaps I can look up another of her films. Honestly, the robots which are all over the film in question are just that... Completely mechanical in appearance unlike androids. Still, very cool to watch. Just not for me anymore. I ruined it. The test today will be a season-defining situation that I must pass. I cannot destroy the best part of the year by imploding. Tough, yes, but I honestly believe that I can get through the games with my head up. I just have to remain positive and hold tight to the fact that if something arises out of nowhere, my brain can deal with it. Last year the problem came up very unexpected. Never before have I considered such things on the television as threatening. I've watched throughout my entire life and did not see it. None of it, to be truthful, because the games are just games. Movies, television programs, and those out in the real world are different somehow. I cannot fully explain this out of fear, unfortunately. The necessity of ambiguity is paramount to exploring more deeply. Nicholas is on the screen right now and was ideally cast for this role. Wonderful actor, that guy. And one of those timeless, unique faces which has the innate ability to broadcast the gamut of emotions. He was in the film the other day with Jessica. Anyway, the first game is just a few hours away, and soon after will begin the test. Today will determine if I can hold myself together for more Sundays as the season progresses. Last year I became completely exhausted from trying to maintain the massive facade and appear as if there was nothing bothering me. I am no longer going to keep it completely rigid, however. Not this time. I plan to reveal anything which arises and then talk about it. I see that as a partial solution which can enable my viewing of games with less fear. We shall see, and you probably already know that whatever takes place today will end up here. Heh. I have nothing else. The fifth Star Trek film is a pile of shit but still has moments. Safe, though. Very safe. Red alert. 'I couldn't help but notice your pain.' -- Sybock, effectively creating one of the funniest moments in all of the franchise. Love. It. I believe there are good men out there in the world, but have been in contact with so many bad seeds throughout life to have become quite jaded. Up the page I stated my belief that the sexes are not equal. That is due to my disdain for males, however it does NOT mean that I hold either sex to a higher standard. It means that I think better of females on average. Oh, don't say it... I know there are bad seeds on both sides, but I still feel that females are more capable of expressing emotion. This may be due to the simplicity of evolution, or possibly the roles in society as they have developed. I am not educated enough in cultural anthropology to base my opinion on anything solid, though. Just a feeling inside me which came about due to my own experiences in life and living through situations which caused me to analyze people. That is all. The downside is how ridiculous I may sound while spouting about an inability to trust what is in a woman's head. Heh. I don't trust anyone, really, and since I am heterosexual, the female machine is at the head of the line. Laugh it up, I did. The gynoid, as it were. Where is she? You know. That machine would come in handy today. Right now, in fact. Ugh. Whatever. There is and will be no android. First there was Jamie, and then Jaime, and now I am reminded of Jami. Damn, I had forgotten her since 'Twister'. Just another example of big, dark eyes and an unforgettable face. She is forty-something now and still adorable. Her character in 'Twister' was kind of goofy and many thought she was miscast. I liked her, though. Probably the eyes. They kill me sometimes. All the way back to Ashley again, with her huge, emotional windows which drew everything out of me, including damage. God damn I miss her, still. I can see all three of the others whenever I wish. Ashley is gone. Maybe I'll cue up one of the later episodes to see Jamie's huge, beautiful eyes again. I have not watched since before the vampires, and that went south in a hurry. Frankly I am surprised I watched such a series in the first place. Considering the mass of fear within, I should have recoiled after the first shot. Oh, well... I saw it and enjoyed for the most part. Now? No way in hell would I seek it again. Too weak, too afraid, and far too many examples of all that I cannot be. So depressing. I may not know what I am, but what I am not is a certainty. Too late for anything now. Just too fucking late for me. Years ago I had to be deep in a situation in order to develop this much concern. Now? Nothing more than a few words or a slight glance and I am in half. What the fuck happened? I think I do love Jamie (her character, people), and the knowledge that it's fine to feel so much for a fictional person leads me to a thought... A good one. Her role (or roles, as I've seen her in a movie, too) on the television is not real. That is her job, just as I said about Emmanuelle and the reason I cannot watch her anymore. Fiction and entertainment. Now, those facets relate to me because I do not and cannot know the character. She is not real and no matter how many times I see the show, it will never change. She has been frozen in time, for all intents and purposes, and will be the same forever. Like a machine, she is safe for me to love. I don't have to worry. None of it is real. Safe. Crazy? Perhaps, but that is how far I have been driven. 'Safe for me to love.' Did you see that fucking sentence? Holy shit. The more I picture Jamie's eyes, the more I feel. And it doesn't matter. Never will. Nothing there. She may as well be Jaime. Not funny. Jamie is moving up the fucking scale at breakneck speed right now. Damn, what a turn. Don't fucking get me started Game time is ever closer. I have a few things to do but nothing pressing. Garbage, mostly. The ants have created an interstate highway system to the green can which is fucking hilarious. That can was the reason for the invasion which pressed me to seal up the bathroom. In hopes of improving the look of the back yard, I moved the cans around to the side of the house to be out of sight. Well, that ended up giving them a path under and into the house. I have since moved them back out and pretty far away from the house. Now when they build their little pheromone freeway, they are safe out there. I can leave them be all week and then clean up the can to move it out for pickup. It's funny that I worked to understand them rather than going out of my mind spraying everything to keep them away. There is no end to the creatures, and they are acting upon instinct alone. I cannot blame them at all. The change is for the better. Wow, this has become pretty exciting, huh? Ants. Big whoop. Sixth film on now. Better, but dated. Safe, too. I am still looking forward to the football games despite knowing it is a test today. The closer game time becomes, the more I think I'll be ok. A good portion of knowing I can pass the test is the person with whom I will be watching. She knows me, and she is aware of the inside of my head. Some of it, anyway, but perhaps enough for me to keep the idea in mind while we watch. I have to help myself because no matter who reaches to me, the ultimate goal of survival is up to yours truly. No one else can help, really. And one more time for posterity or in case you forgot, the true answer is the machine. No thinking, no feelings, no nothing. Remember? Ice cold, always. Controlled, governed, programmed. I have stated many times in mere days that what is in her head has become the key to me living on with less fear. Trust, too. I am supposed to trust, right? Otherwise what is there? Nothing? Maybe. I experienced no trust during the cave period and it drove me insane. In fact, I'm lucky to be sitting here right now and functioning as a human being. Yep, that spring through Winter was that fucking bad. I think in different terms now, too. I can reason my way through most situations, fear notwithstanding. I really can. That period when I chopped the head off the world and remained alone must be kept in mind all day today. The test will turn into a pile of shit otherwise, and I can't have that. I must pass. I think I do love Jamie. Can't help it. But her character, not the actor. I know nothing of her. Like Jennifer, the reality is impossible. I want to hold Jamie, and more importantly I need her to hold me. Ugh, what the fuck have I become? A walking daydream? Fuck. First game about to begin. The psych test? Less than three hours away. Wish me luck. And that is that. I did fine. We lost the game, though. Ugh. Week one. Test passed, but not all was good. Physical issues which climbed inside my head took the afternoon enjoyment and truncated it severely. Into the evening I relaxed a little, which helped, but this morning (Sunday) the issues are all over the place. I know everything is me. Everything. Nothing on the screen, no woman next to me, and only myself to create these problems out of thin air. I did it, although it happened after the fact. That is good. During the afternoon I was ok. Once a little time had passed, all of the little flakes of my brain which swirl around and force me to think in odd directions were apparent. They took over for a while and left me thoughtful. Damn. This is ridiculous. Afterward. Not during, not while everything is rolling by like a gigantic machine bent upon my destruction, but afterward while completely alone with my show on. I don't know how or why this happens, and if I can't figure it out soon I may need to have my vocal cords removed. Damn it all anyway. I believe after yesterday's test and falling down over seemingly nothing, my confidence level has dropped further. I don't see recovery from this. The idea of distrusting probably doesn't matter anymore. Not knowing? Yep, that too. I am to blame for everything, but as long as all the shit remains inside me, I can avoid affecting others. That may be the sole path now. I'll have to think a while and stay away from slathering this entry with anything else on the subject. On the upside of yesterday, I did complete my stuff rather early to free myself up for the games. The evening came and went comfortably, too. Not bad. This morning I am full of swirling concerns but at least the comfort of a weekday will be incoming. I could use a boost right now before I flip the fuck out over my own limitations controlling me. I don't need that. I could use a boost but nothing is on the horizon right now. The second job possibility turned out to be something I do not wish to take on, so I am still looking. A few connections here and there may help the situation, though. And I do have time. That is key right now. As I have said many times, the space to think peacefully is paramount over all other concerns. I have it most days, too. The time is likely a good portion of the reason I have not lost my shit. I can deal with everything for the time being thanks to the space mentioned above. For years I wished for this kind of time. Well, here it is, albeit not exactly the ideal situation. I'll take it, though. I mentioned a boost up the page a bit, however it is unrelated. This day will be another test to see if I can maintain myself better than the past several weeks. The daily routine does not change but I have not gone above and beyond any of it for some time. The smoke outside has kept the sun almost completely away for days now and the weather is cool. Despite this, the idea of doing anything even remotely physical outside or in the attic does not seem a good idea right now. The air quality is crap, even miles from any fire. I will have to be careful about the inside air and try to balance it with moisture. Uphill battle most days. I also may swing my ass over the hill to Depot for a curbside pickup. There are things I need for the house which they do not ship. Ugh, but I can get there and back without issue. I am going to get some things moved around in the closets, too. Not tons of stuff, though. I do not wish to be overly active. Too much there. Too much in my head on a daily basis. The worries compound themselves even while I am alone in my cocoon. I do not understand the power behind the concern, either. All these years since the theatre and the paranoia of eleven and still no insight of which to speak. I am supposed to talk about it, too. Can I? I recall one of the early therapist sessions -- the fateful visit to her office, and the only one -- when I spoke my mind about a specific fear and received the worst question imaginable. She was cold, yet the inquiry was not off base. The phrasing became king. I was offended immediately and caught off guard by such an insensitive term from a 'professional'. The words still ring to this day, after more than twenty years. Due to my ongoing issues at the time, I did seek counseling with another but never brought up the root cause of my fear out of an even larger fear. Such a situation arising in therapy is inconceivable. I was there for help, yet in the end received none due to my worry over wording. The phrasing was offensive so I never went back. I did not give her another chance, nor did I take issue with what she had said because going against the grain of society is like pounding sand on the beach. I did not go see that first therapist due to anything mentioned on this site. The subject was something else entirely and I will not go into it here. There had been some worry which was unrelated to my reasoning for seeking her in the first place, so I figured why not just ask? Some insight would have been nice, but in the end I was completely submarined. I really wanted to put her in her place, too. Not a good idea at all, attacking someone who is there to help. Still, my issues may have quadrupled in a matter of minutes. Believe this... I wish I could speak with her now. Such a tirade would be unforgettable. Machinery, not real I don't know if she was also some type of test. I realize she would not have performed such research at our first visit, I only mean some sort of test for me. Myself. Like, something on the inside which no one else knows. Maybe it was a way for me to sort out which type of therapist I sought. Or someone I should have been seeking. Ah... I'm going too far, but still it could have been a test of some kind. I have found in the last ten years that I am far more sensitive than others of the same age. Those who were around me during the days of the bar, and those at the work sites. I never fit in to any of those situations. Not really. I was there by force and knew it. The others were accustomed to me being just another guy, too. Everything going on inside remained hidden away. There were always words, phrases, euphemisms and dysphemisms. All the time. No getting around it, especially when there was a mix of both sexes. Going back to the therapist so many years ago tells me that the wording of her question stuck with me all this time and added to the difficulties already inherent in my dealing with other people. I think hearing her question blurted so matter-of-fact caught me off guard, effectively reminding me of difficult scenes which had played out earlier in life. Very interesting. If it was a test, did I pass? I walked out the door and sought help elsewhere. Should I have stayed and discussed the matter? Tuesday, and just two days shy of six months since the original shelter order. Smoky sky, too. This year is going to fall off the calendar. I am fairly certain others would not wish to repeat this shit. Today will be like yesterday... The routine, a few extra items to care for, and then some work on the older entries to streamline them. Eventually I will have to acquire another backup computer to carry on into the future, and maintaining the site screen layout is important. The basis for all of my statistics is in the formatting of each page. For the time being everything is fine, but I do know that such hardware does not last forever. I will keep going through the entries here and there. Today I will have the time. No mention of the issues for a while. Number two has pretty much pushed the others aside and forced me to worry all the time, especially during Sunday's hours-long test of my ability to remain a normal person. I passed, but still it looms like a giant shadow. Two is unrelenting. I keep thinking of that Goddamned fucking therapist and her asinine question to me. I can even picture the expression on her face as she began to push toward a cause. Right now I want to push that face. Push, but I am not that type of person. She did not realize the gravity of that afternoon because I did not tell her. Like too small a bottle, the fear and insecurity spilled over all at once and left me unable to take issue with her demeanor and insulting language. I may have helped too, had I told her. Nope. I simply went through some expected motions and then left her office. I realize the occasion was many years ago and perhaps a more balanced person could have let it fade away by now, however that is not my way, nor can I deny that it has become connected to other parts of my life which are now chipping away at my ability to have any confidence in myself. Was her insensitivity and coldness related to issue two? You bet your ass it was. Right in the fucking middle, too. I will not reveal her question, so do not ask. Some things must remain in the dark. Rest assured that the manner in which she addressed me was insensitive and dead wrong. There was a massive, ice-cold, very common, and insulting assumption laid out before me. No choice but to get out of there because at the time I was not equipped to discuss the matter. I am right now, but unfortunately my brain is radically different these days. Enough of that fucking woman. Today, for the second time. I am going to toss a bunch of shit in the trash. These last several weeks I noticed we are not filling the garbage can to capacity in a week's time. I keep after everything and make sure the proper things go into the proper cans, and that leaves the residual very low sometimes. This week I intend to fill it. There are areas in one closet that have sat for years without anything moving. Time for that crap to go, and I don't care what it is. I need space. Every now and then I hear a jet aircraft slamming the throttle upon takeoff. SFO is several miles away and on the other side of the hill, but when the wind is calm I can hear the rumble every few minutes. Ugh... I wish I could go somewhere. Last night we were discussing a lottery ticket and the possibilities afterward. I am fairly certain that many sit and daydream in a similar manner every now and again. It's kind of fun. I will tell you one thing, though. With that kind of a resource boost? Oh boy, stay away from me. That is a license to be myself, and as such? Not good. Trust me on that one. I hear the takeoffs and need to get out of here. Without some sort of windfall I am not going anywhere soon. Fuck me, anyway. Who am I? No one. Morning drive out of the way, and much of my daily routine is complete now, so I thought I would sit here for a while and explore what has been going through my head all morning. There is much, and as usual I need to keep it veiled. I cannot just spell things out sometimes. Oy, the dyslexia hits my fingers again. Damn. Those parts of me which have been much trouble are rearing again. I know part of the reason, yet my head is now involved and pushing me to believe that the difficulty during my formative years will never cease or even let up enough for me to relax. Some has been explored in the fiction -- one of which I am not terribly happy but was just published -- and I cannot go further into detail. Those two stories are enough to fold me in half. The therapy session I mentioned above ties into both, honestly. And I know sometimes I point out that everything is related, but that is not entirely the case. Some aspects of me are isolated and I understand them. This morning has reminded me that I am indeed still damaged and at the mercy of time. The trouble will not cease, ever. And when combined with problems inside my head, the cocktail can be shaken but never alleviated. I keep drinking from the shaker of endless exploration in hopes of finding wisdom there. Should I keep trying? Or perhaps I could just sit here for the rest of my life and wish I had been treated differently years ago. Add to that last sentence the fact that my feelings toward myself are much better than in the past, and you may see the pattern. I feel good about me, I am a good person, and those make the mental and physical issues worse, believe it or not. I will not change my position with regard to value and that is very good. But the fact remains that I am no better off in other ways than during the time that I loathed myself. Running away toward loving arms may have exacerbated the entire shitaree, as well. But I did it anyway. The need was too great. Isolation, escape, anonymity... All of it. I don't know what to do and am fearful of any direction now. Twenty-one thousand lines since the goddess of the universe graced my vision. Fuck me, there is Leeta again. Damn she is so cute. Holy Jesus God in a fucking gold bucket, if I could climb into the television... Well, half my issues would disappear instantaneously. Heh. She is something I can never understand. Different than Jamie, Jaime and all the rest, but still, holy fuck do I want her sometimes. Jamie, indeed. I may switch shows before this day is finished. Have I mentioned anything about how I now feel about her? Maybe. None of it will ever be real Oy, fuck. The difficulty just does not let up some days, and this one is no different. I will have to remain vigilant throughout the remaining hours alone. My head began to blow up earlier, too. I felt it coming at me like a storm across the flatland, rushing into my head like it so easily does. I drew myself up and dashed to the garage for chores. And then the kitchen. And then back outside to finish. Now? I am no stronger or better, but just shy of noon and lots of things are finished. After lunch I may attack the closet and see what I can accomplish. The swirling is fucking trying, though. It is pulling at me. There is too much sometimes, as I have often stated, and I am at the mercy of both memories and worries. I keep thinking of discussions between the Brunette and me. Long, drawn out talks involving both our pasts and the ways those events shaped our thinking. I still don't understand much of what has been splayed here, though. Some problems have solutions while others seem permanent. Something I have not experienced in a few years took over today. It's nothing terrible or very painful, just disheartening. Consider it another reminder of the male construction. I do not like it, but knowing it will pass soon makes the feeling a bit easier to take. I just have to care for myself and live it off. I am certain that three days will have me back to normal, whatever the fuck that may be. Like I was prior to this morning, anyway. One of our lunches came to mind as a result of my current condition, and it was likely within the last year. I remember because we had the most memorable salads which were both fresh and delicious. We sat at the bar, like always, and enjoyed some relaxation along with the food and drink. Our bartender was professional and kind, making the entire lunch experience very comfortable. Add to that the sheer size and layout of the bar and the fact that there are no children there (and it's right next to a massive arcade), the entire affair was perfectly aligned with our idea of an outing. Oh, we did that weekly for a very long time and stuck to a similar atmosphere, but the location and massive bar with its plush stools was ideal. The food was always excellent, too. Anyway, all of the wonders of that place aside, one visit to the restroom -- a full half-minute walk from the bar -- and my head filled with thoughts that would have been better left alone. But I couldn't help myself. The issues inside me took over and the only saving throw was the size of the restroom. The restaurant is huge and the facilities match. My head took over immediately. I cannot fully explain for fear of embarrassment, but suffice to say that returning to the bar and keeping my head up and out of the din was a trial unlike any other. I still maintained a pleasant demeanor and kept myself sociable, but inside? The grinding was excruciating. I could not avoid feeling all manner of difficulty with regard to my representation in open society. No getting around it, yet the hardest part was making nice as if I was fine. The battle inside my head carried on all afternoon and wore me the fuck out. In the end, I did not falter. Everything appeared well on the outside as my inner being imploded with the force of a boulder upon a fucking ant. I was finished. But I had to appear peachy. Fucking exhausting. To this very fucking day I feel the same. Thank Christ I have the past experiences to guide me whenever something similar comes up in the future. Sitting here right now? Everything has slammed back into me with the force of a thousand moons impacting a planet. Just since this morning have I fallen yet again. Too many times, too much of this, and less that I wish to exercise in order to appear fine. The effort is fucking exhausting. I need to avoid the alternative, however, which is those few with which I am close constantly providing reassurance. Unacceptable. None of it is their fault. The other day the goddess and I sat and watched part of 'Meet the Fockers', and I remember commenting that Blythe was quite lovely even into her late fifties. Well, let's extend that, shall we? She is in the film up on my big television right now at age thirty-three and is stunning. I don't know why, but I never really looked at her that way before. No, not THAT way... You know what I mean. Big eyes, smooth skin, tall, and very expressive. I had no idea because when this film was first released I was eight years old. Heh. She is beautiful. Wednesday and I have no intention of driving at all. I need to have more space today after dealing with the aforementioned issues with my body. I really don't need this shit right now. So, I am home for the day. Watching an episode of DS9 yesterday had me looking up an actor yet again to learn of her height. Well, there was no information to be found, and the lack intrigued me. I dug further and learned that she was in a film two decades back as a virtual girlfriend of sorts. Very interesting, so deeper I went into locating the film. Well, I watched it and now understand why all of the reviewers basically panned the thing. It's crap, but has moments. And she is the main character. Say it with me: A female android. Tall, gorgeous, and alluring, yet with facial expressions which could stop a train. Her character was menacing, but she played it well. That is likely one of the lowest-budgeted films I have ever seen. Lots of nudity, some very unattractive women as the machine changed appearance during one scene, and overall I believe the creators wished to show off skin as well as some inexpensive special effects. As I said, the film (oops... Straight to video!) had moments of cool stuff and a reasonable plot, so I stuck with it. It was free to watch and I calculated that I could at least see the actor in question, and without some crazy alien makeup. Well, she was worth the time, and in addition pretty much flooded me with the possibilities of machinery. And now, as other paragraphs in this crappy entry, let's go further. Right now, the film with Blythe is all about robots. Yep, more of it. Heh. Some are gorgeous while others are merely filler. Either way, I keep watching media related to my dreams and the bottom line is my feelings have not changed. There is a wall in front of me... Everything I want and need is not real and never will be. I am supposed to settle, then, right? I am supposed to let everything go and just find a way to be happy with what is available in the world? Not likely, and fuck you for thinking such a thing. I cannot do that or the end result will be my harsh reaction to someone who does not deserve it. I've done it before. The dream is still strong. I see no other way. Inside me are all those situations, sessions with people, and even that one time when I was mandated to serve a schedule which I felt was unnecessary. Well, I did it all and turned out to be what you see here. Depression feels easy now. Psych. The word of the day. It's all inside. Everything from the infantile beginning of my brain to the summation of all that I need. I passed the psych test, but others are on the horizon. I know it. Just a matter of time."
09-16-2020 09:17 pdt
If you are visiting for the first time, go to the beginning
Psych
read ( words)
"Interval two was crap. I don't even know how I let it hit the screen. These days, however, once something is published I leave it there. You'll notice that the entire library of titles is live. Everything. I am going to leave it that way because good or bad, it is all me. I can either be proud of the highs and let the pitfalls go, or I can do nothing at all. Well, I choose the former. I have written good, bad, and ugly. But everything came from inside me, so it stays. Now we have Ashley on the screen along with Colin. I remember her from 'Jericho' all those years back. And the sight of her up there this morning is amazing, not due to her beauty or even talent, but because I had mentioned 'A.I.' a little while back and she had a cameo in that one, too. I had been searching for a decent image capture from her role in 'A.I.' but nothing solid came along. I will eventually add her face to this site on a permanent basis for more than one reason. I brought up that film because of the opening sequence with the android. Well, that was just a few days ago and then this morning I see Ashley on the screen and the role she portrayed in 'A.I' was also artificial. She was very colorful, exotic, yet her time on the screen was fleeting. I remember seeing for the first time, and after she flashed by with very dark makeup and her gorgeous eyes, I yearned for more. But there was nothing. Gone for good. Now, you must understand that despite her mass of blonde hair in reality, Ashley had blue/black hair in the film and stands my height. She is amazing, unique, and beyond lovely, although the main issue here is the idea of her as the machine. Well, you know. I just think it's funny that I brought up the film the other day for other reasons and then she popped up on the television just this morning. Oy God, what a face. Ashley's eyes are a little too far apart and I don't give a shit. Heh. Androids. Gynoids? Yes, please. There was a bit of discussion yesterday regarding trust, the past crap in the theatre, and the idea of machines. It went nowhere, honestly, because there is no solution in reality. I keep exploring, though. There is no harm in doing so, although having gushed my feelings here and in person yesterday, I am feeling rather small. My ideas are ridiculous. There is just no getting around it. I realize that out of those parts of life which I need for happiness -- four in total -- there is but one which exists. Well, two, really, but the second is so far out of reach that it is not even slightly funny. The truth is that I am still going in such a direction because I simply have no other options right now. I can't just sit here and do nothing, so the keyboard is my friend. As far as letting go of impossibility, that is not going to happen anytime soon, if at all. Those dreams are too compelling. For the time being, or at least until I find something else upon which to focus, I am going to continue placing thoughts here. For whatever it may be worth, too. I know what I'm doing, but I don't know what I'm doing. Read that again. Ahh... Ashley is gone from this film now, too. Damn. Whatever. She may as well not exist, just like all the rest. The discussion caught me partly off guard, as well. The assumption was that I had been offended by the woman's words in the theatre all those years ago, but the truth is I was not. She merely expressed an observation to her partner. And even when I am offended by something, it is typically off the tongue of a male. I have less regard for them. That brings up another issue, so we will come back to it. As for the theatre, I have to say that my enjoyment of the film had been tainted slightly because what I overheard was in the first few minutes and stuck with me throughout the story. The woman next to me was unaffected. We never discussed it, either. The first time I have revealed my feelings about that night was just days ago. I have never spoken to another soul about what took place. It was a simple thing, too. No bad words, dysphemisms, slang, nothing. She was a person who made an observation, nothing more. The issue was and is not her. It is me. Ah, you know that already. I was not offended at all. Her words were simple. The conversation yesterday glanced the event and the woman next to me automatically assumed I had heard something bad. Understandable, considering my level of sensitivity to so many external forces. While the truth is that certain things uttered from a female are worse than the same spoken by a male, I will admit that on such an occasion as the theatre, the issue was female. Some people have attacked me because I do not see the sexes as equal, but I believe many feel the same but would not admit as much. I hold both to the same standards, but for whatever reason, certain things hurt more when spoken by a woman. I do not view the sexes as being on differing levels, either. There are far too many instinctive and historic gradients to generalize, honestly. Simple, right? Well, I won't go on all day about it. The fact is she was speaking in appreciation of what was on the screen and that is all. Nothing insane. She was quiet, too. I only heard due to the fact that one could hear a pin drop in the auditorium at the time. She was almost directly in front of me. And no, I will not reveal what she said for one enormous reason. The problem is visibility. The site normally sees very little traffic -- and believe me, I know who visits and from where -- but last month the page views from new users rose more than six hundred percent in two weeks. I don't know why, but understand that anything I place here can be seen by almost anyone, and the fear of backlash or ridicule is too much for me to bear. There you go. Yes, I said the sexes are unequal. Shut up. Don't beat me over the head with it. I am not a sexist person, and that includes what I have written for years. I am obsessed with aspects and overly wordy about it. Seeing Ashley up there this morning was rather unexpected. Ever since 'Jericho', she is not on my television much anymore. The other film was mere seconds but she made an impression. Now she is stuck in my head. I have to go find images and place them here right fucking now. Three. Another dreamy machine which does not exist. Splendid. Look at her. The other Ashley. So beautiful and unique that she makes my head explode. Very few occasions have found me gazing at a face like hers, and even with the wideness of her nose and far-set eyes, she still draws my attention like a gun. The clincher is the scene and shot, however. Her character is a machine, and one so gorgeous and alluring that I will not even attempt to go into it further. Amazing, from beginning to end. That scene has floored me for almost two decades, and she is on and off the screen in a blink. I may need to secure that film for later viewing. She is too beautiful, exaggerated, and mechanical for me to avoid the draw. Perhaps there is an uncut version of the film which holds more of her. Hmm... Time for a search? Nothing. Her appearance in the film is minimal, but the fact that I scoured the Internet in search of more tells all. Yep, I am that fucked up over the machinery now. There is no denying that since the outset of the pandemic and seeing the images of Jaime, my head is beyond preoccupied by the dream of an artificial woman hanging on my arm. Part of it is control, but there is another facet I have not yet mentioned. The fact is that I know myself well enough to realize the idea of affecting a real woman with my distorted sense of reality. No matter who may be right next to me now or in the future, the need for all things controlled will eventually affect the poor woman and cause me to feel terrible about being so out of balance. One other little thingy? Those working women with whom I have spent time represent the only other avenue available now and in the future. Unfortunately, the underlying knowledge that they carry hearts and souls will ruin my head. I cannot have that, so the impossible visions continue. Blame the filmmakers. She is too alluring and amazing to avoid.
Unbelievable and fleeting
All distorted and exaggerated
Add another machine to the pile
Just as I had been starting to lose my shit, a small lift took place. I cannot reveal what it is, but suffice to say that it has done the job. I needed a little something, and like many other periods throughout my life, it came at the right time. My comfort level has risen considerably. This is good. I will say that today began with coffee (lousy stuff, unfortunately) and a very good movie which has been deep in my heart for years. A good beginning to the day, for sure. The coffee may have been crap, but the movie and company were wonderful. Quiet, dim, and cozy. Shortly thereafter I began to feel stress over the current period, but now thanks to a little good news, I am better. Not all is warm and fuzzy, however. The enormity of the machine problem (dream, whatever) continues to grow, and as it gains mass I can feel the weight upon my tired shoulders. I am a pretty resilient person for the most part, capable of doing what I need to survive, but even I am being tested heavily right now. This very morning while curled up with the movie, I felt the pull of need. Look at Ashley up there. Do you see how exotic they made her? The role had to be greatly exaggerated because of the main character's position in the film. She goes by quickly. Just a few words and several seconds. We do not get to see her again. Funny, I had mentioned the android from the beginning of the film and her popping into my head later. Well, neither of them have much screen time and it is disappointing. For whatever reason, I generally gravitate toward those we barely get to see. Maybe just me, I don't know, but the glimpses drive me up the wall. The other day we sat and watched another film involving machines -- which turned out to be very entertaining -- and discussed the idea for a bit. She knows all about the subject and my dreams. Seeing another movie full of gorgeous machinery pushed me toward the other movies, mainly Ashley, and then I began to fall down and had to hide away the remaining problems for fear of appearing childish. That could be bad, even while in the company of a person who would never judge or label me. The familiar little fight went on in my head without her knowledge, though. I simply pushed myself to appear comfortable until alone, and then worked my ass of in trying to rise up and be productive for the rest of the day. None of it was easy, either. It never is, especially knowing that this is going to take place over and over for the duration. Latching to a problem which has no solution is not something I ever wished to do. I thought I would find happiness without becoming a ridiculous, dreamy-eyed child just as decades ago. First it was homes with waterfalls, now machines. Sunday. Football. Garbage. Visitor. I have to hold it together. The examples of artificial people in the last movie were striking. The premise was that most people had a 'surrogate' body -- a fortified, attractive and very capable android -- which they operated from the privacy of their home. The androids were the ones out in the world, which meant each user was isolated from harm. The idea was actually pretty cool and came about many decades ago in a book, if I remember correctly. Anyway, the machines were all very attractive because why not? Some of the operators were older, out of shape, and generally had let themselves go physically because there was little reason to look any different while the ideal-looking representation of their personality was on display out in the world. Honestly, the idea of surrogacy should have been explored more deeply, but alas the film was released to hold the interest of patrons, not my idea of a dreamy companion. The film was much action and little drama, but seeing it again after years reminded me that I thought about that story quite a lot during the cave period. That was a time when I had little control over anything and felt worry much of the time. My relationship was very difficult. I had been so dependent upon her for my own happiness that I lost my way, badly. Months had me lamenting the loss of Andrea and Ellie, and when combined with seeing my love less and less, that meant no one upon whom to lean each day. I felt more alone than ever before. A bit of drinking, lots of time behind closed doors with only my cats keeping me company, and constant concern over whether or not I could ever truly find happiness. Along comes the film on my computer (I had no television at the time). Androids as surrogate bodies for people. They operated the very-attractive machines so often that a fear of going out in society grew out of control and became commonplace. I had a fear of doing the same. My head built a combination of the premise of that film and the idea of eliminating any worry over what a woman may be thinking at any given moment. This hybrid did not come about overnight, honestly. It took years to fully realize that I had become so out of balance that the only resolution was to cling to an impossible dream and shut out everything else. Now? I am seeing the fragments which have come along here and there, along with the machine in my head. All of the little clues have been adding themselves to my construct. I see a picture. Jaime is the picture, honestly. After gazing at the images from a decade ago, I cannot steer myself away from the idea that began with her. The one I saw down there. And one other thing I recently realized is part of her allure may be the mystery. Yes, I said it. She is completely out of reach and never to return, and in one of the images I see just enough of her face to be mesmerized, but not so much that I actually know what she looks like. And hence the android... I cannot 'build' a woman from the toes up by combining features of several, be it literally or figuratively. I will not sit here at the table and try pasting together different parts of photos in order to make a whole woman. Jim Carrey did that in 'The Truman Show', remember? It was haunting, compelling, and done so well that the audience could FEEL his yearning to find that face. I am not going down that fucking road. I'll just keep considering everything I see for a while and find a conclusion at some point. The mystery and little tease of one side of Jaime's face drove me -- and still is, each and every day -- to try learning of how the rest of her might appear. Half is all I get. Keep in mind one fact: I love her. Yep, I do, and such depth of feeling from images. For all intents and purposes, Jaime is the dream. The worries will eventually be too much for me and I won't be able to be around certain types of people. I can already feel myself going down hill just knowing that I will have a guest over for football later. It was pretty much the theme last season, but I don't remember writing about anything I felt regarding the situations which arose during the games. Early on I realized that there was going to be a problem, and my solution was to ignore it and focus upon the sport. I am going to attempt to carry that to this new season and see where it goes. Best case? Nowhere. I push it away and relax. Worst? I'll be alone, period. I already know there will be problems. I do. Considering the number of hours before game time, though, I can try to plan my strategy for dealing with the inevitable. I made it through all those Sundays last year, and I can do it again. Part of the problem is keeping the shit to myself. I can eat, watch, cheer, have a few drinks, and basically focus upon my team instead of voicing anything unrelated. If I can remain quiet about the difficulties inherent in watching the games together, everyone will enjoy much more. I have no wish to ruin our tradition. The decision to bring up anything over which I worry is solely mine. I will need to leave it alone as best I can and continually remind myself that the problems are being manufactured out of thin air. I cannot hold others responsible or raise red flags due to anything which might be said. Keep it inside. All of it, because I am responsible for each little tidbit. Of course I cannot deny that the past has had a hand in shaping the manner in which I react to situations, but still... I have control over said reactions. I don't always feel it, but there can be no pushing it away. I have demonstrated on many occasions the resolve of which I am capable. Oh, there have been those days in which I ran like hell to get away, but they are few when compared to the sheer number of outings and gatherings. I can do it again, honestly. Unfortunately, my stomach can still twist at the slightest wording. I have to be careful and focus. I believe there are too many reasons for me to seek isolation already, yet thinking of football season is beginning to add a new one. Most of what you see here when I analyze (or attempt to, anyway) is me dealing with what's going on inside. I have to also consider the others which can be near me when my head goes south. I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable, or, God forbid, let someone leave my company believing they have done something wrong or hurt me in some way. I just can't have that. I am many things, and one of them is fair. Again... All me.
Big eyes
Today is going to be a test of myself. After so many trials last year, I really need to keep everything in perspective now. I have no wish to ruin the day. Last season I was able to hold it together and maintain my huge facade even when falling down inside. I think the act of pushing my feelings away and trying to appear less than fearful helped in some ways. I feel more capable of doing the same now, as if the experience of hiding the trouble strengthened my resolve in keeping the other fear at bay. Yep, again... One outweighed another. I can't help it because I am supposed to stand up straight and be a 'man', right? Isn't that the fucking diatribe which people always spout? And I guess it doesn't matter what's going on inside, either. Just stand up. There it is! All I have to do is take all of my emotions and toss them out with the other shit this Sunday and I'll be fine, huh? I knew there had to be a simple solution. Damn, why didn't I think of that before? And let's go even further now... Instead of me desiring a machine which doesn't exist, I need to BE the fucking machine and feel nothing. It all makes sense to me now! Two thoughts, however: One, fuck you, and two, go ahead and solve the whole thing by defining 'man'. Go for it... I fucking dare you. Ok, enough of that. Again there is much smoke outside. I will have to care for the house earlier rather than later due to both the air quality and the football. Today is garbage, too. I'll have things out of the way before the first game starts in about three hours. At some point I need to walk away from this, anyway. I am so tired of going on about some things. Just compelled, I guess, as this has become my only outlet of late. The illustration below this section is unreal. Completely artificial, dramatically out of proportion, and one of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen. How did the artist get that across? She is unbelievable. Not a real girl, yet she draws feeling from me like a gun. I keep thinking of another film related to the science fiction of the previous mid-century but I have been hesitant to watch it lately. Something took place a few years ago which keeps it away from me, and that considering there is a woman co-star who is all those things I seek on a daily basis, and not just beautiful, but cute as well. That may sound funny, but it's true. I want to see it again because the cast is fantastic, as are the effects. But I am fearful. That fear is overpowering and keeping me at a distance from some things I enjoy. Too bad, eh? I would love to see Michelle again. Perhaps I can look up another of her films. Honestly, the robots which are all over the film in question are just that... Completely mechanical in appearance unlike androids. Still, very cool to watch. Just not for me anymore. I ruined it. The test today will be a season-defining situation that I must pass. I cannot destroy the best part of the year by imploding. Tough, yes, but I honestly believe that I can get through the games with my head up. I just have to remain positive and hold tight to the fact that if something arises out of nowhere, my brain can deal with it. Last year the problem came up very unexpected. Never before have I considered such things on the television as threatening. I've watched throughout my entire life and did not see it. None of it, to be truthful, because the games are just games. Movies, television programs, and those out in the real world are different somehow. I cannot fully explain this out of fear, unfortunately. The necessity of ambiguity is paramount to exploring more deeply. Nicholas is on the screen right now and was ideally cast for this role. Wonderful actor, that guy. And one of those timeless, unique faces which has the innate ability to broadcast the gamut of emotions. He was in the film the other day with Jessica. Anyway, the first game is just a few hours away, and soon after will begin the test. Today will determine if I can hold myself together for more Sundays as the season progresses. Last year I became completely exhausted from trying to maintain the massive facade and appear as if there was nothing bothering me. I am no longer going to keep it completely rigid, however. Not this time. I plan to reveal anything which arises and then talk about it. I see that as a partial solution which can enable my viewing of games with less fear. We shall see, and you probably already know that whatever takes place today will end up here. Heh. I have nothing else. The fifth Star Trek film is a pile of shit but still has moments. Safe, though. Very safe. Red alert. 'I couldn't help but notice your pain.' -- Sybock, effectively creating one of the funniest moments in all of the franchise. Love. It. I believe there are good men out there in the world, but have been in contact with so many bad seeds throughout life to have become quite jaded. Up the page I stated my belief that the sexes are not equal. That is due to my disdain for males, however it does NOT mean that I hold either sex to a higher standard. It means that I think better of females on average. Oh, don't say it... I know there are bad seeds on both sides, but I still feel that females are more capable of expressing emotion. This may be due to the simplicity of evolution, or possibly the roles in society as they have developed. I am not educated enough in cultural anthropology to base my opinion on anything solid, though. Just a feeling inside me which came about due to my own experiences in life and living through situations which caused me to analyze people. That is all. The downside is how ridiculous I may sound while spouting about an inability to trust what is in a woman's head. Heh. I don't trust anyone, really, and since I am heterosexual, the female machine is at the head of the line. Laugh it up, I did. The gynoid, as it were. Where is she? You know. That machine would come in handy today. Right now, in fact. Ugh. Whatever. There is and will be no android. First there was Jamie, and then Jaime, and now I am reminded of Jami. Damn, I had forgotten her since 'Twister'. Just another example of big, dark eyes and an unforgettable face. She is forty-something now and still adorable. Her character in 'Twister' was kind of goofy and many thought she was miscast. I liked her, though. Probably the eyes. They kill me sometimes. All the way back to Ashley again, with her huge, emotional windows which drew everything out of me, including damage. God damn I miss her, still. I can see all three of the others whenever I wish. Ashley is gone. Maybe I'll cue up one of the later episodes to see Jamie's huge, beautiful eyes again. I have not watched since before the vampires, and that went south in a hurry. Frankly I am surprised I watched such a series in the first place. Considering the mass of fear within, I should have recoiled after the first shot. Oh, well... I saw it and enjoyed for the most part. Now? No way in hell would I seek it again. Too weak, too afraid, and far too many examples of all that I cannot be. So depressing. I may not know what I am, but what I am not is a certainty. Too late for anything now. Just too fucking late for me. Years ago I had to be deep in a situation in order to develop this much concern. Now? Nothing more than a few words or a slight glance and I am in half. What the fuck happened? I think I do love Jamie (her character, people), and the knowledge that it's fine to feel so much for a fictional person leads me to a thought... A good one. Her role (or roles, as I've seen her in a movie, too) on the television is not real. That is her job, just as I said about Emmanuelle and the reason I cannot watch her anymore. Fiction and entertainment. Now, those facets relate to me because I do not and cannot know the character. She is not real and no matter how many times I see the show, it will never change. She has been frozen in time, for all intents and purposes, and will be the same forever. Like a machine, she is safe for me to love. I don't have to worry. None of it is real. Safe. Crazy? Perhaps, but that is how far I have been driven. 'Safe for me to love.' Did you see that fucking sentence? Holy shit. The more I picture Jamie's eyes, the more I feel. And it doesn't matter. Never will. Nothing there. She may as well be Jaime. Not funny. Jamie is moving up the fucking scale at breakneck speed right now. Damn, what a turn.
Don't fucking get me started
Game time is ever closer. I have a few things to do but nothing pressing. Garbage, mostly. The ants have created an interstate highway system to the green can which is fucking hilarious. That can was the reason for the invasion which pressed me to seal up the bathroom. In hopes of improving the look of the back yard, I moved the cans around to the side of the house to be out of sight. Well, that ended up giving them a path under and into the house. I have since moved them back out and pretty far away from the house. Now when they build their little pheromone freeway, they are safe out there. I can leave them be all week and then clean up the can to move it out for pickup. It's funny that I worked to understand them rather than going out of my mind spraying everything to keep them away. There is no end to the creatures, and they are acting upon instinct alone. I cannot blame them at all. The change is for the better. Wow, this has become pretty exciting, huh? Ants. Big whoop. Sixth film on now. Better, but dated. Safe, too. I am still looking forward to the football games despite knowing it is a test today. The closer game time becomes, the more I think I'll be ok. A good portion of knowing I can pass the test is the person with whom I will be watching. She knows me, and she is aware of the inside of my head. Some of it, anyway, but perhaps enough for me to keep the idea in mind while we watch. I have to help myself because no matter who reaches to me, the ultimate goal of survival is up to yours truly. No one else can help, really. And one more time for posterity or in case you forgot, the true answer is the machine. No thinking, no feelings, no nothing. Remember? Ice cold, always. Controlled, governed, programmed. I have stated many times in mere days that what is in her head has become the key to me living on with less fear. Trust, too. I am supposed to trust, right? Otherwise what is there? Nothing? Maybe. I experienced no trust during the cave period and it drove me insane. In fact, I'm lucky to be sitting here right now and functioning as a human being. Yep, that spring through Winter was that fucking bad. I think in different terms now, too. I can reason my way through most situations, fear notwithstanding. I really can. That period when I chopped the head off the world and remained alone must be kept in mind all day today. The test will turn into a pile of shit otherwise, and I can't have that. I must pass. I think I do love Jamie. Can't help it. But her character, not the actor. I know nothing of her. Like Jennifer, the reality is impossible. I want to hold Jamie, and more importantly I need her to hold me. Ugh, what the fuck have I become? A walking daydream? Fuck. First game about to begin. The psych test? Less than three hours away. Wish me luck. And that is that. I did fine. We lost the game, though. Ugh. Week one. Test passed, but not all was good. Physical issues which climbed inside my head took the afternoon enjoyment and truncated it severely. Into the evening I relaxed a little, which helped, but this morning (Sunday) the issues are all over the place. I know everything is me. Everything. Nothing on the screen, no woman next to me, and only myself to create these problems out of thin air. I did it, although it happened after the fact. That is good. During the afternoon I was ok. Once a little time had passed, all of the little flakes of my brain which swirl around and force me to think in odd directions were apparent. They took over for a while and left me thoughtful. Damn. This is ridiculous. Afterward. Not during, not while everything is rolling by like a gigantic machine bent upon my destruction, but afterward while completely alone with my show on. I don't know how or why this happens, and if I can't figure it out soon I may need to have my vocal cords removed. Damn it all anyway. I believe after yesterday's test and falling down over seemingly nothing, my confidence level has dropped further. I don't see recovery from this. The idea of distrusting probably doesn't matter anymore. Not knowing? Yep, that too. I am to blame for everything, but as long as all the shit remains inside me, I can avoid affecting others. That may be the sole path now. I'll have to think a while and stay away from slathering this entry with anything else on the subject. On the upside of yesterday, I did complete my stuff rather early to free myself up for the games. The evening came and went comfortably, too. Not bad. This morning I am full of swirling concerns but at least the comfort of a weekday will be incoming. I could use a boost right now before I flip the fuck out over my own limitations controlling me. I don't need that. I could use a boost but nothing is on the horizon right now. The second job possibility turned out to be something I do not wish to take on, so I am still looking. A few connections here and there may help the situation, though. And I do have time. That is key right now. As I have said many times, the space to think peacefully is paramount over all other concerns. I have it most days, too. The time is likely a good portion of the reason I have not lost my shit. I can deal with everything for the time being thanks to the space mentioned above. For years I wished for this kind of time. Well, here it is, albeit not exactly the ideal situation. I'll take it, though. I mentioned a boost up the page a bit, however it is unrelated. This day will be another test to see if I can maintain myself better than the past several weeks. The daily routine does not change but I have not gone above and beyond any of it for some time. The smoke outside has kept the sun almost completely away for days now and the weather is cool. Despite this, the idea of doing anything even remotely physical outside or in the attic does not seem a good idea right now. The air quality is crap, even miles from any fire. I will have to be careful about the inside air and try to balance it with moisture. Uphill battle most days. I also may swing my ass over the hill to Depot for a curbside pickup. There are things I need for the house which they do not ship. Ugh, but I can get there and back without issue. I am going to get some things moved around in the closets, too. Not tons of stuff, though. I do not wish to be overly active. Too much there. Too much in my head on a daily basis. The worries compound themselves even while I am alone in my cocoon. I do not understand the power behind the concern, either. All these years since the theatre and the paranoia of eleven and still no insight of which to speak. I am supposed to talk about it, too. Can I? I recall one of the early therapist sessions -- the fateful visit to her office, and the only one -- when I spoke my mind about a specific fear and received the worst question imaginable. She was cold, yet the inquiry was not off base. The phrasing became king. I was offended immediately and caught off guard by such an insensitive term from a 'professional'. The words still ring to this day, after more than twenty years. Due to my ongoing issues at the time, I did seek counseling with another but never brought up the root cause of my fear out of an even larger fear. Such a situation arising in therapy is inconceivable. I was there for help, yet in the end received none due to my worry over wording. The phrasing was offensive so I never went back. I did not give her another chance, nor did I take issue with what she had said because going against the grain of society is like pounding sand on the beach. I did not go see that first therapist due to anything mentioned on this site. The subject was something else entirely and I will not go into it here. There had been some worry which was unrelated to my reasoning for seeking her in the first place, so I figured why not just ask? Some insight would have been nice, but in the end I was completely submarined. I really wanted to put her in her place, too. Not a good idea at all, attacking someone who is there to help. Still, my issues may have quadrupled in a matter of minutes. Believe this... I wish I could speak with her now. Such a tirade would be unforgettable.
Machinery, not real
I don't know if she was also some type of test. I realize she would not have performed such research at our first visit, I only mean some sort of test for me. Myself. Like, something on the inside which no one else knows. Maybe it was a way for me to sort out which type of therapist I sought. Or someone I should have been seeking. Ah... I'm going too far, but still it could have been a test of some kind. I have found in the last ten years that I am far more sensitive than others of the same age. Those who were around me during the days of the bar, and those at the work sites. I never fit in to any of those situations. Not really. I was there by force and knew it. The others were accustomed to me being just another guy, too. Everything going on inside remained hidden away. There were always words, phrases, euphemisms and dysphemisms. All the time. No getting around it, especially when there was a mix of both sexes. Going back to the therapist so many years ago tells me that the wording of her question stuck with me all this time and added to the difficulties already inherent in my dealing with other people. I think hearing her question blurted so matter-of-fact caught me off guard, effectively reminding me of difficult scenes which had played out earlier in life. Very interesting. If it was a test, did I pass? I walked out the door and sought help elsewhere. Should I have stayed and discussed the matter? Tuesday, and just two days shy of six months since the original shelter order. Smoky sky, too. This year is going to fall off the calendar. I am fairly certain others would not wish to repeat this shit. Today will be like yesterday... The routine, a few extra items to care for, and then some work on the older entries to streamline them. Eventually I will have to acquire another backup computer to carry on into the future, and maintaining the site screen layout is important. The basis for all of my statistics is in the formatting of each page. For the time being everything is fine, but I do know that such hardware does not last forever. I will keep going through the entries here and there. Today I will have the time. No mention of the issues for a while. Number two has pretty much pushed the others aside and forced me to worry all the time, especially during Sunday's hours-long test of my ability to remain a normal person. I passed, but still it looms like a giant shadow. Two is unrelenting. I keep thinking of that Goddamned fucking therapist and her asinine question to me. I can even picture the expression on her face as she began to push toward a cause. Right now I want to push that face. Push, but I am not that type of person. She did not realize the gravity of that afternoon because I did not tell her. Like too small a bottle, the fear and insecurity spilled over all at once and left me unable to take issue with her demeanor and insulting language. I may have helped too, had I told her. Nope. I simply went through some expected motions and then left her office. I realize the occasion was many years ago and perhaps a more balanced person could have let it fade away by now, however that is not my way, nor can I deny that it has become connected to other parts of my life which are now chipping away at my ability to have any confidence in myself. Was her insensitivity and coldness related to issue two? You bet your ass it was. Right in the fucking middle, too. I will not reveal her question, so do not ask. Some things must remain in the dark. Rest assured that the manner in which she addressed me was insensitive and dead wrong. There was a massive, ice-cold, very common, and insulting assumption laid out before me. No choice but to get out of there because at the time I was not equipped to discuss the matter. I am right now, but unfortunately my brain is radically different these days. Enough of that fucking woman. Today, for the second time. I am going to toss a bunch of shit in the trash. These last several weeks I noticed we are not filling the garbage can to capacity in a week's time. I keep after everything and make sure the proper things go into the proper cans, and that leaves the residual very low sometimes. This week I intend to fill it. There are areas in one closet that have sat for years without anything moving. Time for that crap to go, and I don't care what it is. I need space. Every now and then I hear a jet aircraft slamming the throttle upon takeoff. SFO is several miles away and on the other side of the hill, but when the wind is calm I can hear the rumble every few minutes. Ugh... I wish I could go somewhere. Last night we were discussing a lottery ticket and the possibilities afterward. I am fairly certain that many sit and daydream in a similar manner every now and again. It's kind of fun. I will tell you one thing, though. With that kind of a resource boost? Oh boy, stay away from me. That is a license to be myself, and as such? Not good. Trust me on that one. I hear the takeoffs and need to get out of here. Without some sort of windfall I am not going anywhere soon. Fuck me, anyway. Who am I? No one. Morning drive out of the way, and much of my daily routine is complete now, so I thought I would sit here for a while and explore what has been going through my head all morning. There is much, and as usual I need to keep it veiled. I cannot just spell things out sometimes. Oy, the dyslexia hits my fingers again. Damn. Those parts of me which have been much trouble are rearing again. I know part of the reason, yet my head is now involved and pushing me to believe that the difficulty during my formative years will never cease or even let up enough for me to relax. Some has been explored in the fiction -- one of which I am not terribly happy but was just published -- and I cannot go further into detail. Those two stories are enough to fold me in half. The therapy session I mentioned above ties into both, honestly. And I know sometimes I point out that everything is related, but that is not entirely the case. Some aspects of me are isolated and I understand them. This morning has reminded me that I am indeed still damaged and at the mercy of time. The trouble will not cease, ever. And when combined with problems inside my head, the cocktail can be shaken but never alleviated. I keep drinking from the shaker of endless exploration in hopes of finding wisdom there. Should I keep trying? Or perhaps I could just sit here for the rest of my life and wish I had been treated differently years ago. Add to that last sentence the fact that my feelings toward myself are much better than in the past, and you may see the pattern. I feel good about me, I am a good person, and those make the mental and physical issues worse, believe it or not. I will not change my position with regard to value and that is very good. But the fact remains that I am no better off in other ways than during the time that I loathed myself. Running away toward loving arms may have exacerbated the entire shitaree, as well. But I did it anyway. The need was too great. Isolation, escape, anonymity... All of it. I don't know what to do and am fearful of any direction now. Twenty-one thousand lines since the goddess of the universe graced my vision. Fuck me, there is Leeta again. Damn she is so cute. Holy Jesus God in a fucking gold bucket, if I could climb into the television... Well, half my issues would disappear instantaneously. Heh. She is something I can never understand. Different than Jamie, Jaime and all the rest, but still, holy fuck do I want her sometimes. Jamie, indeed. I may switch shows before this day is finished. Have I mentioned anything about how I now feel about her? Maybe.
None of it will ever be real
Oy, fuck. The difficulty just does not let up some days, and this one is no different. I will have to remain vigilant throughout the remaining hours alone. My head began to blow up earlier, too. I felt it coming at me like a storm across the flatland, rushing into my head like it so easily does. I drew myself up and dashed to the garage for chores. And then the kitchen. And then back outside to finish. Now? I am no stronger or better, but just shy of noon and lots of things are finished. After lunch I may attack the closet and see what I can accomplish. The swirling is fucking trying, though. It is pulling at me. There is too much sometimes, as I have often stated, and I am at the mercy of both memories and worries. I keep thinking of discussions between the Brunette and me. Long, drawn out talks involving both our pasts and the ways those events shaped our thinking. I still don't understand much of what has been splayed here, though. Some problems have solutions while others seem permanent. Something I have not experienced in a few years took over today. It's nothing terrible or very painful, just disheartening. Consider it another reminder of the male construction. I do not like it, but knowing it will pass soon makes the feeling a bit easier to take. I just have to care for myself and live it off. I am certain that three days will have me back to normal, whatever the fuck that may be. Like I was prior to this morning, anyway. One of our lunches came to mind as a result of my current condition, and it was likely within the last year. I remember because we had the most memorable salads which were both fresh and delicious. We sat at the bar, like always, and enjoyed some relaxation along with the food and drink. Our bartender was professional and kind, making the entire lunch experience very comfortable. Add to that the sheer size and layout of the bar and the fact that there are no children there (and it's right next to a massive arcade), the entire affair was perfectly aligned with our idea of an outing. Oh, we did that weekly for a very long time and stuck to a similar atmosphere, but the location and massive bar with its plush stools was ideal. The food was always excellent, too. Anyway, all of the wonders of that place aside, one visit to the restroom -- a full half-minute walk from the bar -- and my head filled with thoughts that would have been better left alone. But I couldn't help myself. The issues inside me took over and the only saving throw was the size of the restroom. The restaurant is huge and the facilities match. My head took over immediately. I cannot fully explain for fear of embarrassment, but suffice to say that returning to the bar and keeping my head up and out of the din was a trial unlike any other. I still maintained a pleasant demeanor and kept myself sociable, but inside? The grinding was excruciating. I could not avoid feeling all manner of difficulty with regard to my representation in open society. No getting around it, yet the hardest part was making nice as if I was fine. The battle inside my head carried on all afternoon and wore me the fuck out. In the end, I did not falter. Everything appeared well on the outside as my inner being imploded with the force of a boulder upon a fucking ant. I was finished. But I had to appear peachy. Fucking exhausting. To this very fucking day I feel the same. Thank Christ I have the past experiences to guide me whenever something similar comes up in the future. Sitting here right now? Everything has slammed back into me with the force of a thousand moons impacting a planet. Just since this morning have I fallen yet again. Too many times, too much of this, and less that I wish to exercise in order to appear fine. The effort is fucking exhausting. I need to avoid the alternative, however, which is those few with which I am close constantly providing reassurance. Unacceptable. None of it is their fault. The other day the goddess and I sat and watched part of 'Meet the Fockers', and I remember commenting that Blythe was quite lovely even into her late fifties. Well, let's extend that, shall we? She is in the film up on my big television right now at age thirty-three and is stunning. I don't know why, but I never really looked at her that way before. No, not THAT way... You know what I mean. Big eyes, smooth skin, tall, and very expressive. I had no idea because when this film was first released I was eight years old. Heh. She is beautiful. Wednesday and I have no intention of driving at all. I need to have more space today after dealing with the aforementioned issues with my body. I really don't need this shit right now. So, I am home for the day. Watching an episode of DS9 yesterday had me looking up an actor yet again to learn of her height. Well, there was no information to be found, and the lack intrigued me. I dug further and learned that she was in a film two decades back as a virtual girlfriend of sorts. Very interesting, so deeper I went into locating the film. Well, I watched it and now understand why all of the reviewers basically panned the thing. It's crap, but has moments. And she is the main character. Say it with me: A female android. Tall, gorgeous, and alluring, yet with facial expressions which could stop a train. Her character was menacing, but she played it well. That is likely one of the lowest-budgeted films I have ever seen. Lots of nudity, some very unattractive women as the machine changed appearance during one scene, and overall I believe the creators wished to show off skin as well as some inexpensive special effects. As I said, the film (oops... Straight to video!) had moments of cool stuff and a reasonable plot, so I stuck with it. It was free to watch and I calculated that I could at least see the actor in question, and without some crazy alien makeup. Well, she was worth the time, and in addition pretty much flooded me with the possibilities of machinery. And now, as other paragraphs in this crappy entry, let's go further. Right now, the film with Blythe is all about robots. Yep, more of it. Heh. Some are gorgeous while others are merely filler. Either way, I keep watching media related to my dreams and the bottom line is my feelings have not changed. There is a wall in front of me... Everything I want and need is not real and never will be. I am supposed to settle, then, right? I am supposed to let everything go and just find a way to be happy with what is available in the world? Not likely, and fuck you for thinking such a thing. I cannot do that or the end result will be my harsh reaction to someone who does not deserve it. I've done it before. The dream is still strong. I see no other way. Inside me are all those situations, sessions with people, and even that one time when I was mandated to serve a schedule which I felt was unnecessary. Well, I did it all and turned out to be what you see here. Depression feels easy now. Psych. The word of the day. It's all inside. Everything from the infantile beginning of my brain to the summation of all that I need. I passed the psych test, but others are on the horizon. I know it. Just a matter of time."
This site contains mature content Created by REN in Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 Copyright ©2002-2024 Brandywine Engineering All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Questions? Comments? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the assholes in charge
legal
about
clodmaster
archive
home
