Watching My Life Go By on Television, Or How I Learned What I Have Become Mature content No. 204 Published January 13th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries "Still 1-12, for whatever it is worth. The routine is underway -- mostly finished before eleven in the morning -- and I have some ideas on how to proceed for the remaining hours. Hopefully yesterday's 'Soprano-fest' can continue this afternoon. Most days I work to have everything finished early just in case we have the opportunity to watch more episodes. The draw of exposing her to that greatest of television shows is too much to resist. Yesterday we viewed no less than four episodes, leading into the evening when my partner arrived home from work and shopping. That may have seemed excessive, however the continuity must be maintained. The show is a huge and very important part of my life, and to share it with the goddess is unlike anything in recent memory. So, I will sit with this for a while before hopping to more chores. I have not located anything else to list for auction as of yet, though. Hopefully the quiet and passage of time will bear fruit. Ah... Television. Movies. Series'. Ugh, and wondrous. More difficulty in my head has been caused by this medium than anything else in life, except perhaps those celebrities from the past. It continues to this very second. Janeway's hair looks like shit in this episode. Heh. Good God this may be arduous. In the past I have refrained from being too clear or specific with my wording so as to avoid backlash and/or ridicule, but lately I have felt more driven than ever to just fucking let it all fly to the screen. What do I have to lose? Is someone going to read this and actually reach out to me? Doubtful. In fact, not one living soul has EVER used the contact page and email to send anything; comments, criticism or otherwise. Not a fucking word. I don't even know why I made the address available. The entire idea of the structure here was to follow a business model, complete with legal sections and copyright information. The bottom line is this needs to be protected -- hence the footer -- but anything else now seems fucking stupid. Very few people ever visit, meaning I probably could have simply left much of this out. The framework has been exactly the same since moving from basic HTML to active server pages. I only did that in an attempt to ease sweeping changes and make the transition from one year to the next less time-consuming. Other than that, there is little reason to frame anything. For the time being I will leave the contact page live. Maybe one day when I am bedridden I will finally receive a comment. Whatever. Where was I? Oh, yes... The influence media has had on my growth as a person (am I a person or just an automaton?). The imagery causes more turmoil than wonder anymore. Part of the reasoning is doubtless my lack of self-everything. I cannot handle references to others well at all. The coping and rationalization are just not available to me as they seem to be for others. On top of that, carrying around a double standard probably does not help, either. I have been quite vocal with my observations of beauty. The middle of another issue four day in which my head descended some hours ago and will not rise, no matter the effort. I've made it this far by keeping busy and focusing upon a possible visit for some television, but honestly I constantly fight between waiting and alleviating the problem. One is difficult while the other will likely leave me very disappointed and empty. I am already bereft of hope, so adding more shit to the top of my mental pile is not a good idea right now. The issue is deep and nearly overwhelming. From one minute to the next -- literally seconds at a time -- I have to push harder than anything else in life. I do not like this feeling at all. Still trying, though. That is all I can do. Stop. 1-13. Yesterday was nice and then fucked and then nice and then fucked. Ugh. Woe is me, but not so much. Another evening in which I lost my sense of taste just enough to preclude dessert. I'm getting fed up with that. Also, the activities during our show yesterday bent my head and I cannot relax about it or let it go. I just have to stew for the time being. I need days to pass and a change in the manner in which we interact or I will not make it. Something took place during the afternoon and now I am trying to reconcile my feelings. Not easy. Not good. Mistake? I don't think so, yet it feels worse now than at the time (or moments later). I can't have this anymore. There are already many parts of my past which I regret and that make me feel as if I do not deserve an ounce of happiness in these late days. After a certain point today I will wash myself of the sin and move forward with my head out of the clouds. I put the second half of the movie on this morning after viewing part yesterday, and there is Grace again. There is that little bit of Natalie Portman in some of her expressions, too. I noticed way back when this premiered last month, but that is not the draw, nor is her age. They are simply facts with which I have to deal. Anyway, seeing her on the screen all lanky and with that unique face is pushing the television idea into me with force. I have seen tons of female actors over the past five years of watching these Christmas movies and have my favorites. Some are amazing while others are just pretty and don't send me to consider what I take away from the television. Two nights ago I was watching a series (the one at dinner time most nights) and was slammed with a feeling from many years ago involving work and my dreams of where I pictured myself at some point later in life. Well, between that and the recent worry over obsessing about those years leading up to the Midwest and then the fucking electronics stores and attached feelings, I am having trouble once again with where I am. Or, more accurately, where I am not. Grace, too. She is just woman and nothing more to me because I know zero about her, but for some reason she struck a deep chord while I was daydreaming about the old days of the lodge. Yep, that period nearly two decades back and another related to the stores. And the fucking television. Sometimes I think about it, most times I do not recall. There needs to be a catalyst, and considering we were standing in that Sunnyvale store while I regaled her with tales of spending two nights a week at the lodge and visiting the store on each occasion, I am surprised to have been moved just yesterday rather than while there. I don't understand, but perhaps the combination of last night's glimpse of Antarctica and this morning trying to see more of Grace just put me over the edge. There was a time in the early zeros -- before any understanding of an 'obsession' or attempts to put into words just what I felt when seeing a certain type of woman -- when I would grab various magazines for the imagery while perusing the store (they had an enormous assortment of periodicals) and bring them back to my room for study. Well, Grace instantly reminded me of the feeling of exploring new appearances and marveling at beauty in what seemed a completely different manner from any other time. Twice each week I was there to look around. The piano melodies wafting, smell of snacks from the cafe in the center of the store, and the fucking appearance of that massive inventory hit me in the face upon entering. Every damned time, it was the same... I was instantly transported to a place outside the 'regularness' of life. The main ingredients in my twice-weekly soup were dreams of beauty and the hope that one day I could venture to some other place far away from other people. I hope this isn't turning into a mess. When so many memories hit me at the same time I have trouble getting the words out and organized. Suffice to say, upon seeing the huge, frozen continent the other night I was tossed for a loop due to my having applied several times for a research internship down there. Many years ago I wished for nothing more than getting the hell away from society, and that destination is pretty much as far as a person can go without leaving the fucking planet. While working deep in the space exploration and research industry, the commute pressed me to think in a similar manner. Those days of staying at the lodge became a method of hiding from everything and everyone, plus I was in my own little world full of those things I adored most: dreams of beauty and escape. The lodge was scarcely used by many and held the atmosphere of the old days when the space program was in its heyday, along with a very large military presence at the center. I would walk in there and be hit with a feeling (like that of strolling into the store, yet for different reasons), effectively making each visit very special. Add to that the trips to the store and dining alone within my room, the two nights a week spent with my little, isolated routine became high points of a given week. The movie ran its course and I turned it off. No more Grace, but she is in my head either way. The television is the only way I will ever see certain parts of the world. The vast image of Antarctica stretching across my big television screen effectively injected memories, just like the stores last weekend. And then Grace solidified the idea that my future holds a high possibility of being completely unfulfilling due to the most important parts of life drifting further and further into the past. This is not good. I keep watching the television because it keeps me company while alone (most of the time these days). I do see the news from time to time due to a need for remaining informed of the pandemic, but the lion's share of my viewing is fictional and generally nothing new to me. I'm not going to get into the fucking issue with media again, so I'll just say that what I watch is very comfortable as well as comforting. And that brings up yet another fucking facet of this relationship: My third dream, the film industry. Well, lately I have been watching different shows and movies, after a while taking away thoughts of those actors and crew working to create the suspension of disbelief for the viewer. [Aside: I do not enjoy any material that either embraces or relates to breaking the fourth wall, and that further limits what is available to my senses.] I see them up there and think of the characters, but then my gaze changes to see the person behind. And then the dream hits me like a ton of bricks, I go back to the lodge (in my mind), and feel those pulling sensations which hooked me on memories in the first place. In short... I AM LIVING LIFE THROUGH THE FUCKING TELEVISION. Nice, huh? As out of balance as I have been for so many years, this might be the furthest. Just last night while trying to calculate what to make with leftover chicken, she decided on a salad so I went along. And then out of nowhere I had the idea to fry some beef bacon and chop it up for us. No sooner did I think about grabbing a skillet when my head blew up, I put one of the shows up there on the kitchen television, and became overly excited about both the cooking and program. Something about having that familiarity in the background (like my weekdays spent alone) brought me a comfort unlike anything else. Frying the bacon and listening to the characters on an adventure. Everything harks back to my adventures between the commute, the stores, and the lodge. Those were very likely the only true adventures. Allie's eyes are crooked. Heh. She looks very different these days. Not like last spring or summer. And I think the shitty lighting is making her big, beautiful eyes appear even darker. Wow. No desire anymore, though. I watch them over and over and wish to be a part of that place and those ideals. It's impossible, of course, but the draw of peaceful living with no worry is too much to ignore, especially considering my penchant for fantasizing. I'm certain I do not need to remind anyone who has read here in the last year or so. They created stories for the screen in order to 'transport' the viewer to another place, right? Well, they hit the fucking nail right on the head with me. Escape from everything I am and into somewhere fulfilling, non-threatening, and peaceful. Too much to ask of the world, though. Hence the television. How many times have I stated that everything is related? It is, even Grace and those big stores which now bring a tear to my eye. The lodge, the science fiction, the fucking chocolate cake at Carl's Jr. of all things, the appearance of the valley and all those streets I used to traverse while performing pickup and delivery of equipment for my parents' business, and then the trips to the stores which hold tight so many strings around my heart that the words will never be enough. The only time everything stops hurting me and melts away for a time is while my head becomes buried in the television and my friends up there. Peace and quiet. God damn did my brain ever blow up over the sight of Grace and her long legs. I should not be watching that movie anymore, either. Not good for me. Seeing her in certain positions just presses every button over and over until I can't fucking stand it anymore. And after what took place yesterday, I feel bad about everything. Today is going to need to be therapeutic on some level. I don't know what to do yet, but something had better come along in my mind for alleviating all of the parts of life that I now miss so badly and the need to see her in every conceivable way. Ugh. I am not going to be a better person for gushing over her, either. Very bad, no matter her age. Thank Christ she has no idea and never will. [I am fucking dying to know of her height, damn it.] Oof... That was bad. Anyway, today is wide open to me. I might drive us down to the third store (the temple) in San Jose just to see it again. I have not been there for two years. Strolling in one more time might be necessary if my suspicions are correct, as well. They may all go away, leaving me without wonder and a direct connection to the past. That will be fucking horrible, but at least I understand the shitty way the world works. I am certain that the land will be ripe for development because no one seems to care about anything anymore. If we do head down there, I have to make a purchase for the dated receipt. Heh. And of course those stores are related to the entire medium of television because that was where each new technology was showcased the second they were made available. My dad and I marveled at everything while visiting for work. I loved the smell, look and feel of the store. A world in and of itself. That's it... The decision has been made just now to visit the mecca (temple) later today. I can't help it. We will drive south and wander the aisles as I recall years of enjoyment and fascination, no matter the fucking consequences. I simply must see it one more time before an entire era is destroyed and disregarded, just like the domes. I won't get going on that one, though. My heart is still broken to pieces. I was supposed to head over to a friend's to replace his water heater today but I no longer give a shit. Their old unit is working fine, just dated and gurgling. This morning I find that I can't care about it right now. I have to run around like last weekend and cherish everything before it is altered beyond recognition. Thinking of the television and everything it stirs within me is tough now, from the visions of women like Grace and Jamie-Lynn, to the fantasy of those adventures in either outer space or into the industry of my dreams, and on to all of the avenues I passed in order to be comfortable. Here I sit, a product of my own indecision. The memories are worse now than they were last summer when I first began to see everything related to the past more clearly, and the ability to relate each period to feelings I have been experiencing since being sheltered at home. I am quite certain all of the free time lent to so much thinking, too. There was just no way around it. One-hundred-eighty fucking degrees from where I was as well as where I could have been. This is all just so bad now. Hours from now I will walk into what is left of the shining past and feel some of it again. After that? Waiting until the last remnants are wiped away. Sad. So, this is a weekday sans routine for the time being. I just don't fucking care now. I'll get everything finished later. I have to go on one more adventure related to the wonder. No way around it, not with my head full of television, Grace, and all they represent. My life is inside that television, somewhere. I guess I'll just keep searching. She is out there." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Watching My Life Go By on Television, Or How I Learned What I Have Become Mature content No. 204 Published January 13th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries "Still 1-12, for whatever it is worth. The routine is underway -- mostly finished before eleven in the morning -- and I have some ideas on how to proceed for the remaining hours. Hopefully yesterday's 'Soprano-fest' can continue this afternoon. Most days I work to have everything finished early just in case we have the opportunity to watch more episodes. The draw of exposing her to that greatest of television shows is too much to resist. Yesterday we viewed no less than four episodes, leading into the evening when my partner arrived home from work and shopping. That may have seemed excessive, however the continuity must be maintained. The show is a huge and very important part of my life, and to share it with the goddess is unlike anything in recent memory. So, I will sit with this for a while before hopping to more chores. I have not located anything else to list for auction as of yet, though. Hopefully the quiet and passage of time will bear fruit. Ah... Television. Movies. Series'. Ugh, and wondrous. More difficulty in my head has been caused by this medium than anything else in life, except perhaps those celebrities from the past. It continues to this very second. Janeway's hair looks like shit in this episode. Heh. Good God this may be arduous. In the past I have refrained from being too clear or specific with my wording so as to avoid backlash and/or ridicule, but lately I have felt more driven than ever to just fucking let it all fly to the screen. What do I have to lose? Is someone going to read this and actually reach out to me? Doubtful. In fact, not one living soul has EVER used the contact page and email to send anything; comments, criticism or otherwise. Not a fucking word. I don't even know why I made the address available. The entire idea of the structure here was to follow a business model, complete with legal sections and copyright information. The bottom line is this needs to be protected -- hence the footer -- but anything else now seems fucking stupid. Very few people ever visit, meaning I probably could have simply left much of this out. The framework has been exactly the same since moving from basic HTML to active server pages. I only did that in an attempt to ease sweeping changes and make the transition from one year to the next less time-consuming. Other than that, there is little reason to frame anything. For the time being I will leave the contact page live. Maybe one day when I am bedridden I will finally receive a comment. Whatever. Where was I? Oh, yes... The influence media has had on my growth as a person (am I a person or just an automaton?). The imagery causes more turmoil than wonder anymore. Part of the reasoning is doubtless my lack of self-everything. I cannot handle references to others well at all. The coping and rationalization are just not available to me as they seem to be for others. On top of that, carrying around a double standard probably does not help, either. I have been quite vocal with my observations of beauty. The middle of another issue four day in which my head descended some hours ago and will not rise, no matter the effort. I've made it this far by keeping busy and focusing upon a possible visit for some television, but honestly I constantly fight between waiting and alleviating the problem. One is difficult while the other will likely leave me very disappointed and empty. I am already bereft of hope, so adding more shit to the top of my mental pile is not a good idea right now. The issue is deep and nearly overwhelming. From one minute to the next -- literally seconds at a time -- I have to push harder than anything else in life. I do not like this feeling at all. Still trying, though. That is all I can do. Stop. 1-13. Yesterday was nice and then fucked and then nice and then fucked. Ugh. Woe is me, but not so much. Another evening in which I lost my sense of taste just enough to preclude dessert. I'm getting fed up with that. Also, the activities during our show yesterday bent my head and I cannot relax about it or let it go. I just have to stew for the time being. I need days to pass and a change in the manner in which we interact or I will not make it. Something took place during the afternoon and now I am trying to reconcile my feelings. Not easy. Not good. Mistake? I don't think so, yet it feels worse now than at the time (or moments later). I can't have this anymore. There are already many parts of my past which I regret and that make me feel as if I do not deserve an ounce of happiness in these late days. After a certain point today I will wash myself of the sin and move forward with my head out of the clouds. I put the second half of the movie on this morning after viewing part yesterday, and there is Grace again. There is that little bit of Natalie Portman in some of her expressions, too. I noticed way back when this premiered last month, but that is not the draw, nor is her age. They are simply facts with which I have to deal. Anyway, seeing her on the screen all lanky and with that unique face is pushing the television idea into me with force. I have seen tons of female actors over the past five years of watching these Christmas movies and have my favorites. Some are amazing while others are just pretty and don't send me to consider what I take away from the television. Two nights ago I was watching a series (the one at dinner time most nights) and was slammed with a feeling from many years ago involving work and my dreams of where I pictured myself at some point later in life. Well, between that and the recent worry over obsessing about those years leading up to the Midwest and then the fucking electronics stores and attached feelings, I am having trouble once again with where I am. Or, more accurately, where I am not. Grace, too. She is just woman and nothing more to me because I know zero about her, but for some reason she struck a deep chord while I was daydreaming about the old days of the lodge. Yep, that period nearly two decades back and another related to the stores. And the fucking television. Sometimes I think about it, most times I do not recall. There needs to be a catalyst, and considering we were standing in that Sunnyvale store while I regaled her with tales of spending two nights a week at the lodge and visiting the store on each occasion, I am surprised to have been moved just yesterday rather than while there. I don't understand, but perhaps the combination of last night's glimpse of Antarctica and this morning trying to see more of Grace just put me over the edge. There was a time in the early zeros -- before any understanding of an 'obsession' or attempts to put into words just what I felt when seeing a certain type of woman -- when I would grab various magazines for the imagery while perusing the store (they had an enormous assortment of periodicals) and bring them back to my room for study. Well, Grace instantly reminded me of the feeling of exploring new appearances and marveling at beauty in what seemed a completely different manner from any other time. Twice each week I was there to look around. The piano melodies wafting, smell of snacks from the cafe in the center of the store, and the fucking appearance of that massive inventory hit me in the face upon entering. Every damned time, it was the same... I was instantly transported to a place outside the 'regularness' of life. The main ingredients in my twice-weekly soup were dreams of beauty and the hope that one day I could venture to some other place far away from other people. I hope this isn't turning into a mess. When so many memories hit me at the same time I have trouble getting the words out and organized. Suffice to say, upon seeing the huge, frozen continent the other night I was tossed for a loop due to my having applied several times for a research internship down there. Many years ago I wished for nothing more than getting the hell away from society, and that destination is pretty much as far as a person can go without leaving the fucking planet. While working deep in the space exploration and research industry, the commute pressed me to think in a similar manner. Those days of staying at the lodge became a method of hiding from everything and everyone, plus I was in my own little world full of those things I adored most: dreams of beauty and escape. The lodge was scarcely used by many and held the atmosphere of the old days when the space program was in its heyday, along with a very large military presence at the center. I would walk in there and be hit with a feeling (like that of strolling into the store, yet for different reasons), effectively making each visit very special. Add to that the trips to the store and dining alone within my room, the two nights a week spent with my little, isolated routine became high points of a given week. The movie ran its course and I turned it off. No more Grace, but she is in my head either way. The television is the only way I will ever see certain parts of the world. The vast image of Antarctica stretching across my big television screen effectively injected memories, just like the stores last weekend. And then Grace solidified the idea that my future holds a high possibility of being completely unfulfilling due to the most important parts of life drifting further and further into the past. This is not good. I keep watching the television because it keeps me company while alone (most of the time these days). I do see the news from time to time due to a need for remaining informed of the pandemic, but the lion's share of my viewing is fictional and generally nothing new to me. I'm not going to get into the fucking issue with media again, so I'll just say that what I watch is very comfortable as well as comforting. And that brings up yet another fucking facet of this relationship: My third dream, the film industry. Well, lately I have been watching different shows and movies, after a while taking away thoughts of those actors and crew working to create the suspension of disbelief for the viewer. [Aside: I do not enjoy any material that either embraces or relates to breaking the fourth wall, and that further limits what is available to my senses.] I see them up there and think of the characters, but then my gaze changes to see the person behind. And then the dream hits me like a ton of bricks, I go back to the lodge (in my mind), and feel those pulling sensations which hooked me on memories in the first place. In short... I AM LIVING LIFE THROUGH THE FUCKING TELEVISION. Nice, huh? As out of balance as I have been for so many years, this might be the furthest. Just last night while trying to calculate what to make with leftover chicken, she decided on a salad so I went along. And then out of nowhere I had the idea to fry some beef bacon and chop it up for us. No sooner did I think about grabbing a skillet when my head blew up, I put one of the shows up there on the kitchen television, and became overly excited about both the cooking and program. Something about having that familiarity in the background (like my weekdays spent alone) brought me a comfort unlike anything else. Frying the bacon and listening to the characters on an adventure. Everything harks back to my adventures between the commute, the stores, and the lodge. Those were very likely the only true adventures. Allie's eyes are crooked. Heh. She looks very different these days. Not like last spring or summer. And I think the shitty lighting is making her big, beautiful eyes appear even darker. Wow. No desire anymore, though. I watch them over and over and wish to be a part of that place and those ideals. It's impossible, of course, but the draw of peaceful living with no worry is too much to ignore, especially considering my penchant for fantasizing. I'm certain I do not need to remind anyone who has read here in the last year or so. They created stories for the screen in order to 'transport' the viewer to another place, right? Well, they hit the fucking nail right on the head with me. Escape from everything I am and into somewhere fulfilling, non-threatening, and peaceful. Too much to ask of the world, though. Hence the television. How many times have I stated that everything is related? It is, even Grace and those big stores which now bring a tear to my eye. The lodge, the science fiction, the fucking chocolate cake at Carl's Jr. of all things, the appearance of the valley and all those streets I used to traverse while performing pickup and delivery of equipment for my parents' business, and then the trips to the stores which hold tight so many strings around my heart that the words will never be enough. The only time everything stops hurting me and melts away for a time is while my head becomes buried in the television and my friends up there. Peace and quiet. God damn did my brain ever blow up over the sight of Grace and her long legs. I should not be watching that movie anymore, either. Not good for me. Seeing her in certain positions just presses every button over and over until I can't fucking stand it anymore. And after what took place yesterday, I feel bad about everything. Today is going to need to be therapeutic on some level. I don't know what to do yet, but something had better come along in my mind for alleviating all of the parts of life that I now miss so badly and the need to see her in every conceivable way. Ugh. I am not going to be a better person for gushing over her, either. Very bad, no matter her age. Thank Christ she has no idea and never will. [I am fucking dying to know of her height, damn it.] Oof... That was bad. Anyway, today is wide open to me. I might drive us down to the third store (the temple) in San Jose just to see it again. I have not been there for two years. Strolling in one more time might be necessary if my suspicions are correct, as well. They may all go away, leaving me without wonder and a direct connection to the past. That will be fucking horrible, but at least I understand the shitty way the world works. I am certain that the land will be ripe for development because no one seems to care about anything anymore. If we do head down there, I have to make a purchase for the dated receipt. Heh. And of course those stores are related to the entire medium of television because that was where each new technology was showcased the second they were made available. My dad and I marveled at everything while visiting for work. I loved the smell, look and feel of the store. A world in and of itself. That's it... The decision has been made just now to visit the mecca (temple) later today. I can't help it. We will drive south and wander the aisles as I recall years of enjoyment and fascination, no matter the fucking consequences. I simply must see it one more time before an entire era is destroyed and disregarded, just like the domes. I won't get going on that one, though. My heart is still broken to pieces. I was supposed to head over to a friend's to replace his water heater today but I no longer give a shit. Their old unit is working fine, just dated and gurgling. This morning I find that I can't care about it right now. I have to run around like last weekend and cherish everything before it is altered beyond recognition. Thinking of the television and everything it stirs within me is tough now, from the visions of women like Grace and Jamie-Lynn, to the fantasy of those adventures in either outer space or into the industry of my dreams, and on to all of the avenues I passed in order to be comfortable. Here I sit, a product of my own indecision. The memories are worse now than they were last summer when I first began to see everything related to the past more clearly, and the ability to relate each period to feelings I have been experiencing since being sheltered at home. I am quite certain all of the free time lent to so much thinking, too. There was just no way around it. One-hundred-eighty fucking degrees from where I was as well as where I could have been. This is all just so bad now. Hours from now I will walk into what is left of the shining past and feel some of it again. After that? Waiting until the last remnants are wiped away. Sad. So, this is a weekday sans routine for the time being. I just don't fucking care now. I'll get everything finished later. I have to go on one more adventure related to the wonder. No way around it, not with my head full of television, Grace, and all they represent. My life is inside that television, somewhere. I guess I'll just keep searching. She is out there."
Watching My Life Go By on Television, Or How I Learned What I Have Become
Mature content No. 204 Published January 13th, 2021 8:03am pst read ( words) Past entries
"Still 1-12, for whatever it is worth. The routine is underway -- mostly finished before eleven in the morning -- and I have some ideas on how to proceed for the remaining hours. Hopefully yesterday's 'Soprano-fest' can continue this afternoon. Most days I work to have everything finished early just in case we have the opportunity to watch more episodes. The draw of exposing her to that greatest of television shows is too much to resist. Yesterday we viewed no less than four episodes, leading into the evening when my partner arrived home from work and shopping. That may have seemed excessive, however the continuity must be maintained. The show is a huge and very important part of my life, and to share it with the goddess is unlike anything in recent memory. So, I will sit with this for a while before hopping to more chores. I have not located anything else to list for auction as of yet, though. Hopefully the quiet and passage of time will bear fruit. Ah... Television. Movies. Series'. Ugh, and wondrous. More difficulty in my head has been caused by this medium than anything else in life, except perhaps those celebrities from the past. It continues to this very second. Janeway's hair looks like shit in this episode. Heh. Good God this may be arduous. In the past I have refrained from being too clear or specific with my wording so as to avoid backlash and/or ridicule, but lately I have felt more driven than ever to just fucking let it all fly to the screen. What do I have to lose? Is someone going to read this and actually reach out to me? Doubtful. In fact, not one living soul has EVER used the contact page and email to send anything; comments, criticism or otherwise. Not a fucking word. I don't even know why I made the address available. The entire idea of the structure here was to follow a business model, complete with legal sections and copyright information. The bottom line is this needs to be protected -- hence the footer -- but anything else now seems fucking stupid. Very few people ever visit, meaning I probably could have simply left much of this out. The framework has been exactly the same since moving from basic HTML to active server pages. I only did that in an attempt to ease sweeping changes and make the transition from one year to the next less time-consuming. Other than that, there is little reason to frame anything. For the time being I will leave the contact page live. Maybe one day when I am bedridden I will finally receive a comment. Whatever. Where was I? Oh, yes... The influence media has had on my growth as a person (am I a person or just an automaton?). The imagery causes more turmoil than wonder anymore. Part of the reasoning is doubtless my lack of self-everything. I cannot handle references to others well at all. The coping and rationalization are just not available to me as they seem to be for others. On top of that, carrying around a double standard probably does not help, either. I have been quite vocal with my observations of beauty.
The middle of another issue four day in which my head descended some hours ago and will not rise, no matter the effort. I've made it this far by keeping busy and focusing upon a possible visit for some television, but honestly I constantly fight between waiting and alleviating the problem. One is difficult while the other will likely leave me very disappointed and empty. I am already bereft of hope, so adding more shit to the top of my mental pile is not a good idea right now. The issue is deep and nearly overwhelming. From one minute to the next -- literally seconds at a time -- I have to push harder than anything else in life. I do not like this feeling at all. Still trying, though. That is all I can do. Stop. 1-13. Yesterday was nice and then fucked and then nice and then fucked. Ugh. Woe is me, but not so much. Another evening in which I lost my sense of taste just enough to preclude dessert. I'm getting fed up with that. Also, the activities during our show yesterday bent my head and I cannot relax about it or let it go. I just have to stew for the time being. I need days to pass and a change in the manner in which we interact or I will not make it. Something took place during the afternoon and now I am trying to reconcile my feelings. Not easy. Not good. Mistake? I don't think so, yet it feels worse now than at the time (or moments later). I can't have this anymore. There are already many parts of my past which I regret and that make me feel as if I do not deserve an ounce of happiness in these late days. After a certain point today I will wash myself of the sin and move forward with my head out of the clouds. I put the second half of the movie on this morning after viewing part yesterday, and there is Grace again. There is that little bit of Natalie Portman in some of her expressions, too. I noticed way back when this premiered last month, but that is not the draw, nor is her age. They are simply facts with which I have to deal. Anyway, seeing her on the screen all lanky and with that unique face is pushing the television idea into me with force. I have seen tons of female actors over the past five years of watching these Christmas movies and have my favorites. Some are amazing while others are just pretty and don't send me to consider what I take away from the television. Two nights ago I was watching a series (the one at dinner time most nights) and was slammed with a feeling from many years ago involving work and my dreams of where I pictured myself at some point later in life. Well, between that and the recent worry over obsessing about those years leading up to the Midwest and then the fucking electronics stores and attached feelings, I am having trouble once again with where I am. Or, more accurately, where I am not. Grace, too. She is just woman and nothing more to me because I know zero about her, but for some reason she struck a deep chord while I was daydreaming about the old days of the lodge. Yep, that period nearly two decades back and another related to the stores. And the fucking television. Sometimes I think about it, most times I do not recall. There needs to be a catalyst, and considering we were standing in that Sunnyvale store while I regaled her with tales of spending two nights a week at the lodge and visiting the store on each occasion, I am surprised to have been moved just yesterday rather than while there. I don't understand, but perhaps the combination of last night's glimpse of Antarctica and this morning trying to see more of Grace just put me over the edge. There was a time in the early zeros -- before any understanding of an 'obsession' or attempts to put into words just what I felt when seeing a certain type of woman -- when I would grab various magazines for the imagery while perusing the store (they had an enormous assortment of periodicals) and bring them back to my room for study. Well, Grace instantly reminded me of the feeling of exploring new appearances and marveling at beauty in what seemed a completely different manner from any other time. Twice each week I was there to look around. The piano melodies wafting, smell of snacks from the cafe in the center of the store, and the fucking appearance of that massive inventory hit me in the face upon entering. Every damned time, it was the same... I was instantly transported to a place outside the 'regularness' of life. The main ingredients in my twice-weekly soup were dreams of beauty and the hope that one day I could venture to some other place far away from other people.
I hope this isn't turning into a mess. When so many memories hit me at the same time I have trouble getting the words out and organized. Suffice to say, upon seeing the huge, frozen continent the other night I was tossed for a loop due to my having applied several times for a research internship down there. Many years ago I wished for nothing more than getting the hell away from society, and that destination is pretty much as far as a person can go without leaving the fucking planet. While working deep in the space exploration and research industry, the commute pressed me to think in a similar manner. Those days of staying at the lodge became a method of hiding from everything and everyone, plus I was in my own little world full of those things I adored most: dreams of beauty and escape. The lodge was scarcely used by many and held the atmosphere of the old days when the space program was in its heyday, along with a very large military presence at the center. I would walk in there and be hit with a feeling (like that of strolling into the store, yet for different reasons), effectively making each visit very special. Add to that the trips to the store and dining alone within my room, the two nights a week spent with my little, isolated routine became high points of a given week. The movie ran its course and I turned it off. No more Grace, but she is in my head either way. The television is the only way I will ever see certain parts of the world. The vast image of Antarctica stretching across my big television screen effectively injected memories, just like the stores last weekend. And then Grace solidified the idea that my future holds a high possibility of being completely unfulfilling due to the most important parts of life drifting further and further into the past. This is not good. I keep watching the television because it keeps me company while alone (most of the time these days). I do see the news from time to time due to a need for remaining informed of the pandemic, but the lion's share of my viewing is fictional and generally nothing new to me. I'm not going to get into the fucking issue with media again, so I'll just say that what I watch is very comfortable as well as comforting. And that brings up yet another fucking facet of this relationship: My third dream, the film industry. Well, lately I have been watching different shows and movies, after a while taking away thoughts of those actors and crew working to create the suspension of disbelief for the viewer. [Aside: I do not enjoy any material that either embraces or relates to breaking the fourth wall, and that further limits what is available to my senses.] I see them up there and think of the characters, but then my gaze changes to see the person behind. And then the dream hits me like a ton of bricks, I go back to the lodge (in my mind), and feel those pulling sensations which hooked me on memories in the first place. In short... I AM LIVING LIFE THROUGH THE FUCKING TELEVISION. Nice, huh? As out of balance as I have been for so many years, this might be the furthest. Just last night while trying to calculate what to make with leftover chicken, she decided on a salad so I went along. And then out of nowhere I had the idea to fry some beef bacon and chop it up for us. No sooner did I think about grabbing a skillet when my head blew up, I put one of the shows up there on the kitchen television, and became overly excited about both the cooking and program. Something about having that familiarity in the background (like my weekdays spent alone) brought me a comfort unlike anything else. Frying the bacon and listening to the characters on an adventure. Everything harks back to my adventures between the commute, the stores, and the lodge. Those were very likely the only true adventures. Allie's eyes are crooked. Heh. She looks very different these days. Not like last spring or summer. And I think the shitty lighting is making her big, beautiful eyes appear even darker. Wow. No desire anymore, though.
I watch them over and over and wish to be a part of that place and those ideals. It's impossible, of course, but the draw of peaceful living with no worry is too much to ignore, especially considering my penchant for fantasizing. I'm certain I do not need to remind anyone who has read here in the last year or so. They created stories for the screen in order to 'transport' the viewer to another place, right? Well, they hit the fucking nail right on the head with me. Escape from everything I am and into somewhere fulfilling, non-threatening, and peaceful. Too much to ask of the world, though. Hence the television. How many times have I stated that everything is related? It is, even Grace and those big stores which now bring a tear to my eye. The lodge, the science fiction, the fucking chocolate cake at Carl's Jr. of all things, the appearance of the valley and all those streets I used to traverse while performing pickup and delivery of equipment for my parents' business, and then the trips to the stores which hold tight so many strings around my heart that the words will never be enough. The only time everything stops hurting me and melts away for a time is while my head becomes buried in the television and my friends up there. Peace and quiet. God damn did my brain ever blow up over the sight of Grace and her long legs. I should not be watching that movie anymore, either. Not good for me. Seeing her in certain positions just presses every button over and over until I can't fucking stand it anymore. And after what took place yesterday, I feel bad about everything. Today is going to need to be therapeutic on some level. I don't know what to do yet, but something had better come along in my mind for alleviating all of the parts of life that I now miss so badly and the need to see her in every conceivable way. Ugh. I am not going to be a better person for gushing over her, either. Very bad, no matter her age. Thank Christ she has no idea and never will. [I am fucking dying to know of her height, damn it.] Oof... That was bad. Anyway, today is wide open to me. I might drive us down to the third store (the temple) in San Jose just to see it again. I have not been there for two years. Strolling in one more time might be necessary if my suspicions are correct, as well. They may all go away, leaving me without wonder and a direct connection to the past. That will be fucking horrible, but at least I understand the shitty way the world works. I am certain that the land will be ripe for development because no one seems to care about anything anymore. If we do head down there, I have to make a purchase for the dated receipt. Heh. And of course those stores are related to the entire medium of television because that was where each new technology was showcased the second they were made available. My dad and I marveled at everything while visiting for work. I loved the smell, look and feel of the store. A world in and of itself. That's it... The decision has been made just now to visit the mecca (temple) later today. I can't help it. We will drive south and wander the aisles as I recall years of enjoyment and fascination, no matter the fucking consequences. I simply must see it one more time before an entire era is destroyed and disregarded, just like the domes. I won't get going on that one, though. My heart is still broken to pieces.
I was supposed to head over to a friend's to replace his water heater today but I no longer give a shit. Their old unit is working fine, just dated and gurgling. This morning I find that I can't care about it right now. I have to run around like last weekend and cherish everything before it is altered beyond recognition. Thinking of the television and everything it stirs within me is tough now, from the visions of women like Grace and Jamie-Lynn, to the fantasy of those adventures in either outer space or into the industry of my dreams, and on to all of the avenues I passed in order to be comfortable. Here I sit, a product of my own indecision. The memories are worse now than they were last summer when I first began to see everything related to the past more clearly, and the ability to relate each period to feelings I have been experiencing since being sheltered at home. I am quite certain all of the free time lent to so much thinking, too. There was just no way around it. One-hundred-eighty fucking degrees from where I was as well as where I could have been. This is all just so bad now. Hours from now I will walk into what is left of the shining past and feel some of it again. After that? Waiting until the last remnants are wiped away. Sad. So, this is a weekday sans routine for the time being. I just don't fucking care now. I'll get everything finished later. I have to go on one more adventure related to the wonder. No way around it, not with my head full of television, Grace, and all they represent. My life is inside that television, somewhere. I guess I'll just keep searching. She is out there."
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