Another Passage

In time, there will be more to say. The light will come back on inside, and the fire might even burn brightly for a while. The smoke and ash will clear away from this last time. The haze of detrimental infatuation will fade away. Life might even seem soft and comfortable.

Until then, what I have is a big pile of words that no one really wants to hear. There are the words I've already said a thousand times. There are the things that appear only in private. There are broken snapshots of times that were better, but long gone. It's loneliness again, for now.

Though I attempt to keep the best of things in mind, often all that I can concentrate on are the things that are so broken there is little hope for replacement and less for repair. I see the world isn't getting better. There is no steady climb up into a better world for everyone. Sometimes, we stumble into something great, but more often, I find us creating huge mud pits of despair for too many people.

I'm angry that I have to live with all of this. I'm angry that my own life doesn't progress, either.

Circle, circle, round, round, circle round, circle round.

It all just keeps repeating. The old chant once used for focus on bettering things now just comes to mind when life is repeating its stale and numb patterns at me. I seem to find that chant creeping up on me a lot, just not for anything good. It's just a reminder that life keeps going, and the changes are not always good.

An illusion of my past haunts me. It's the eve of a new cycle. The day in between living and dying is upon us. It doesn't mean anything now. Not that it meant much before. Just an excitement born in my childhood that I embraced. Especially when my peers and some adults were accusing me of Satanism. Call it reclamation. Call it rebellion. Call it Blugritin. I don't fucking care. The day had a feeling about it that I loved. I never let that go. I just can't assign anything bigger to it. It's just a day that makes sense to me.

We live. We die. We either face that fact and laugh at it from time to time, or we get sucked into the nothingness, again and again.

I miss laughing at it. I miss being able to poke fun at it. Right now, everything seems pointless. But I am trying. I am.

Last Travel of the Year

Well, there is a new band that I will never miss live as long as they hit somewhere I can drive. Marillion are even better in concert than in the studio. The videos don't do their performances justice.

This show was a completely different sort than any I've been to. Steve Hogarth is a great frontman. The audience is a bit older than even my older favorites. As he is called "H" I may as well go with that. H encouraged everyone to sit, because none of us are getting any younger. Which was the opposite of Ronan Harris, on Sunday, telling us to keep moving, no matter how old we thought we felt. I laughed pretty hard at that difference. Opposite genres bookending the week. We sat except to cheer at the end of songs. Which was difficult for me. I suppose I could have joined the people on the edge who were standing and dancing, but I didn't want to lose the view I had. I just bounced where I sat.

The guy next to me was a talker. I wasn't feeling overly talkative. I divulged this would be my only Marillion show because I pretty much spent all my money on The Cure over the summer. Yeah, I did have a little leftover for Morrissey, VNV, and Marillion. It's been a very good year for live shows.

Marillion started with "The Invisible Man" and moved into "Power" which satisfied me greatly. Wonderful performances of wonderful songs. A huge chunk went to the new album - which was opposite all the other shows, since no one else had a new album out this year to promote. (Though The Cure did debut two unreleased songs this year.) The guy behind me was lamenting the setlist, because apparently it was cut shorter than other shows. Had he not said that, I wouldn't have been any wiser, since I have not followed the setlists the way I do with The Cure (also NIN when they tour.) I guess other fandoms have issues with setlists, too, after all. Not just Cure fans.

"Afraid of Sunlight" and "Sugar Mice" topped my list of favorites, aside of the first two songs. I'm glad I heard the a lot of FEAR live, too, because I know in time, it'll be etched into my brain as classic. Right now it's settling in. I find things in it I didn't hear the first dozen listens. This is something The Fragile did, too. Layers and layers that I'll need time to process. And like The Fragile, I guarantee it'll end up in my top album list, in time. I like it well enough as is, but it is too dense to take in immediately.

The trip was quicker than I thought it would be. Apparently going to Northfield is easier than navigating downtown Cleveland, for me. Plus the Rocksino had lots of free parking. I'll take that any day over paid lots or finding a gentrified area to park in. The trip home was easy until  I got to the bridge that connects 75 and 71. I am sure it was less than 2 minutes, maybe even less than 1 minute that two fast cars who were ignoring lanes all along crashed into each other. Three cars in front of me came to a halt out of nowhere. Some pulled over, got out and began attending people. The car in front of me and I decided to drive on. I still saw a woman in the face turned facing us. I haven't heard, but if she lived, it'll be her little miracle. The image is stuck in my head.

I started to panic, so I had to get out, once I knew other people were on top of the accident. As tired and inexperienced as I am, I would have been no help. I didn't see anything that happened, anyway.

Please, people, remember these things are lethal weapons. Please don't add to the number on the Artimis signs.

One Bad Place to Another

There were plenty of entries in the journal I used to keep in the early 00s that had advice and maybe some platitudes. Mostly, though, the thoughts that consumed me were about the past. The words I dedicated to the old days seemed to never end. I reviewed it all without reservation, to the best of my own memory. I'm not saying it was all accurate. The brain distorts too easily. However, I kept writing until it was finished.

None of it matters to me anymore. The dedication in exploring all those things led to finally feeling like it was done. It didn't happen quickly. The time it took was considerable. The amount of digital space I took up was lengthy. It's over, now. Whatever I might write about the past is a glancing blow, in comparison.

Only occasionally do I think beyond the last few years. The prison of my youth has ended. The bars I constructed with the words and deeds of other people that were in charge of my life as a child and adolescent finally vanished. It is possible to see it go away. It happens.

Of course, being an adult, I have a whole new set of things to focus on. A whole new segment of my life that could have been done better or different has been plaguing me, instead of the distant past. It appears to be a cycle. I was busy cleaning out those other places in my brain, while a new segment of my brain cluttered and burst with issues I can now focus on.

None of this has been pleasant. None of this seems worth it, right now. I only hold on to the fact that the old memories were finally all ousted to hope these will clear out soon.

I keep hoping I'm getting to that promised land of age that allows for comfort and stability. I read so much about how we've got it backwards, and age makes things seem better and we get happier as we get older. We think age makes us worse, but it's supposed to be better, according to some studies that were done. I wonder when that will be.

My mother warned me that the teen years would be hell and to just get through them and things would get better. However, just when I should have been settling down, she died, then everything from my youth opened up in my head, and I exploded in rage and despair. Then found myself in a sham life with a sham marriage that I had to fix. Now, all that is over. When does it get better for me?

How long am I going to wait?

What Doesn't Work.

When I actually start thinking about anything that might be causing all this pain and anguish inside me, the list really brings to light just how pointless my life seems, right now. When I list the things I've tried to do lately that have resulted in failure, that only increases my sense of pointlessness. The list of things I've tried is getting bigger and the things I can try are getting smaller.

Cornered or boxed-in. Those are the two terms I'd use to describe where I am, right now.

And this won't improve when the world turns to ice.

I'm beginning to panic about winter.

This will be one of the hardest I've ever had. It won't be the hardest. And there are harder yet to come. Neither of these facts bring me any relief. Neither does trying to look for perspective about my life compared to others' lives. This world looks so unfortunate to me that I don't want to be part of it, anymore. So perspective isn't going to help me.

Also, there was an account on Twitter than followed me. Their platitudes and pointless posts about the Things Happy People Do or Don't Do made me very angry. Like I haven't spent 43 years pretending to be happy and trying to suppress all my complaints and pain. That got me absolutely nowhere. But hey, I get it, you're uncomfortable with the idea of people experiencing pain. If people hide it, you get to ignore it. Congratulations. Some of us still have to cope with it, though. Pretending or not.

An incident occurred a couple days ago that also angered me. I can't even publicly write about it, because someone will use it in a solipsistic way and create even more fucking drama. I'm done with drama. So, let's just say it pissed me off, and leave it at that.

Anger is the only reason I cry. So yes, I cried today for the first time in a long time.

I hope this passes very fast.

Remnants

(I'd like to write a flowing review of my favorite band. I'd like to talk about how incredible it is. Right now, it's a miracle I can type this. And it's not pretty.)

Maintenance time for my brain. Things in there are not looking as pretty as they could. Things that always bother me are bothering me. The same cycle of thoughts, the same physical manifestations of the pains that never quite heal and go away. I've been writing this out for a long time. There's no end. There's no cure. There's simply only management.

Safety mechanisms in place. Preparations have been made. All the tricks of the trade that I've learned and memorized. Yet it doesn't change the cadence of the horrible things going on in my head. The same lies are repeated on a loop. My fear of dreams keeps me from sleep. Or some audio hallucination snaps me out of the first moments of sleep. This is the same as it's always been.

The trigger of the gun was pulled. I won't satisfy anyone by telling them what that was. Just know that sometimes, my loaded weapon of a mind can definitely be detonated. The big red button flashes, someone pushes, all the "why bothers" creep back in. How long is this going to go on?

Another day is threatening me. Another sleep in fits and starts to precede the waking trudge through what feels like very thick mud. I'm not sure how to answer the "Why bother?" this time.

I just keep doing the same things I always do. Habit and routine. Without those, I'd be gone, by now. There is literally nothing else tethering me to the world. Plodding on into the world without a goal, without a hope, without a why.

This is it. That's all there is. It doesn't end up better. It just keeps cycling through, plateau or not, this isn't thriving. It's barely living. Coasting along on momentum that is dying. That's about it.

Traveling

The drive I took up to see Niagara Falls in person, for the first time in my life was wonderful. My week-shy-of-11 year old son loved the trip, too. While on the road, I felt real and free. It was quite a relief to me.

Niagara Falls isn't the hot point of destination it probably was when my parents were young. The town seems desolate and struggling. The horseshoe falls are gorgeous and inspiring. They are power and it's terrifying to imagine being unaware of it as you float down the river - long before we had it all mapped out. The vapor cloud rising high into the sky was lovely. The sound was calming. Most of the tourists that were there weren't American. I don't think the ones speaking English were, either. Pretty sure they came over to see the other side, because they were talking about how the view is better in Canada.

It was cold, the restaurant was closed, so we drove for a while, trying to find food. I didn't want to go back on the toll road right away. I took Buffalo Avenue/River Road for a while. The entire region is mostly industry and some family parks along the river. Even the marinas look empty now. It was kinda depressing, actually. All that great real estate, and it appears no one can live there, anymore. There was no business. There were no signs to any businesses. Just a bunch of Trump signs in yards. Something about that struck me as very stereotypical. I got off the road and back on the toll road just to avoid thinking too hard about it. This was my vacation, after all.

We stopped at a service area and ate crap food. We stopped in a pleasant hotel. I could tell they were struggling, but they were immaculately clean, had everything we needed, offered continental breakfast, staff was nice, and better than others in the $65 range I've ever tried. I'll keep America's Best in mind for next time. (This was the first non-Supernatural-reminiscent skeevy motel I saw on the road.)

I wanted to stop along Lake Erie, but after agreeing to it, when we were in Cleveland, he decided all he wanted was to go straight home. We turned around, and drove on home. The only snag in driving I had was when Siri detoured us around one mess in Columbus right into another. The second mess had just begun, so I can't really fault her for it. I got out of it quicker than I thought I would, though. Otherwise, the driving was easy and restored my love of it.

There is still nothing like traveling to help me navigate the down times in life. It will be something I must keep handy as I struggle through these days of being ensconced in a "nothingness" feeling.

Magic Sleep

I slept on and off most of yesterday and last night. The world looks so much better today. Also, I am off work for the next week, and that helps, too. The feeling of being trapped has dissipated. The invisible bars vanished for a moment. This keeps me going.

There are other jobs out there. There are other things to do, but they're the same. Since I didn't manage to get into the original field I wanted - education - nothing I do will ever make me feel better. Many people leave my company for Amazon, and end up quitting. Some have come back, others have gone on to other things. Their stories keep me away from that place.

I know I have to make phone calls tomorrow. I know many people don't understand my extreme anxiety over phones. One call I must make is to UC to have my hold taken off. I paid off the defaulted loan years ago, but their system still says I'm in default. I panicked, and clicked to see what they said I owed, and it was $0. Apparently paying off your debt isn't good enough. Go figure. Nothing about college is easy in the country, why would paying off a loan be good enough?

I'm not sure what I'll end up doing. If I can go to Gateway undeclared, at first, then begin to steer myself in a direction, that would be most helpful. The credits are guaranteed to transfer to NKU, once I've shown the system that 23 years is long enough to prove I want to do it right, this time. The lack of a degree is probably the single biggest thing I beat myself up about, now. There are people who beat themselves up about their degree, but I've seen the alternative and trust me not having the degree would give them way more fuel to the self-hatred fires. There's nothing like knowing I should have gone back before someone ELSE did. Especially since I knew, instinctively not to trust Brown Mackie.

I wanted to take time off before entering college. I needed time to just live. Had I not gone at all, as I wanted, going to college would be far easier - not saying it's a cake walk, but damn, is this harder still. I wanted to go after a break. I was 18, at the time. I should have just gone with my suspicions. Done is done, though.

Now, I have to make phone calls, and that's just about as bad as any anxiety I have ever felt.

It's my first day of vacation, and a Sunday. I'll take the day off, first.

Droning

There are seven days ahead of me without going to work. I don't have to get out of bed if I don't want to, because there's no school, either.

Yet I can't feel any joy. I don't feel much of anything.

This part needs to end, now. I want to feel good, again. I want to feel anything but the dull ache of being trapped.

There are no words I can offer. There is no bright light in store, it seems.

Please let this end, already.

Looking Ahead

I'm pretty sure this is as bad as it's going to get. It could last days. It could last weeks. My hold over my head is strong right now, but it's going to take rest and recuperation to keep holding strong enough. The "why bothers" and the "what point is there in me waking up every mornings" are damned strong.

Adrift in this tempest of my own teacup brain, trying not to fight. If you relax in water, you float up to the top. If you fight, you push yourself down. Letting go, and allowing myself to do what I need to do. Distractions and momentary glimpses of entertainment help. However, I feel trapped. It is that which leads to my depressions and my sadness. Anger and despair battle for the rights to the land. I'm hoping if I let them battle, they'll kill each other, and leave only a few soldiers for the next battle. The rest of me might be strong enough to take them, after they nearly decimate each other.

There are only two more workdays until I am off for seven days. I must remain long enough to see those days. Music will be my safe haven a couple weeks after that. I fear the winter. What will I do with myself then? I'm not sure. I'll need to work on a plan. This is just the start of it all. The pain of the cold and cramped quarters alone will make it harder. How am I going to last this winter? I've got to figure out how to manage it.

I Can See the Drop

There isn't much fun in watching your brain take a nosedive. There are things I'm looking forward to, yet I'm not quite able to feel it. Add this unwanted, nasty migraine, and things are about as fun as a stomach pump. (My dad's favorite expression.) There are only three days left until I don't go to work for a week.

Also... Why do people INSIST on asking me where I'm going when I say it's vacation week? Vacation is an allotted amount of time off of work, usually greater than three days. It's easier and quicker to say vacation than  "a week paid time off from work." Why can't I use "vacation" to mean that without everyone deciding I'm going somewhere? That didn't happen when I was younger. It seems to be a new thing people assume. "I'm on vacation next week." Not "I'm going on a vacation." When did the two become interchangeable? Why does this annoy me, anyway?

Three days of burnout and I get to take time off. Lacking sick days, and given only two personal days I must request in advance, my vacation week is precious to me. However, I can't feel it, now. This is life with a malfunctioning brain. Tomorrow, all my spoons will be used up by the time I leave at 1, if not sooner. My use of words will be compromised. My judgment will be cloudy. The time will go too slowly. I'll probably eat junk food. I'll probably forget to do something important.

Oh well, slogging on for three days, then I'm free of the biggest drain on my life for a short while.