Woke up in a new place, after my arduous months-long tortured crawl through this blog sorting my head out, feeling neither listless nor compelled, wondering what direction one goes after one actually figures out where one's been. And then the first thing I saw on facebook this morning was
It both scares and humbles me when I see local headlines like this: "Pedestrian Hit Near MSU Earlier This Month Died"
Excuse me while the PTSD kicks in...
That reminded me that my direction, as always, is clear.
To all the people out there who have survived something and watch the rest of the world keep sprinting in the rat race while we crawl for awhile in the slow lane, remember that tortoises win the races. Speed and distance are illusions, and being bumped out of the illusion only means we can see the world better. Once that happens, there is no stopping us. Life sux and then we conquer.
Blogger is telling me this is my 400th post. If this were wordpress there would be some kind of silly badge for that. Hang on while I give myself an award. LOL, I grabbed my own award back from Angelbacchae's screen capture site. The pic clicks back to her awards page.
So this is my birthday week, and all this is making me feel pithily observation-y. Like, thank goodness someone still had some of my stuff when I got stupid and deleted entire folders of it. Like, fortunately I didn't disappear from my accident years ago and even after I metaphorically killed all my content off the web, I'm still here scrawling
I was here.
Aaaaaaand my screen blipped and half the stuff in a whole other paragraph up there just disappeared. Cosmic joke's on me. If this were wordpress, I'd be able to recover an earlier timestamped autosaved version, so that's what I get for mocking.
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| Holding true to my theme, this pic's source has disappeared. I linked it anyway. |
Well, I read through what is probably only a tenth of a really excellent blog of many posts devoted to every innuendo of sexual inference digested into paragraphs of what can only be the writer's ego (my opinion, since I'm trained in psyche eval and can notate every personal interjection) overlaid onto every single little bitty jot and tittle of conspiracy filming (THAT is a whole different awesome blog I wound up on, holy moly) to hide the truth in plain sight about how John and Sherlock really felt about each other (because we all know that's the most important part of everything, even when people are being murdered), and now I'm way more satisfied about the quality time I've put into figuring out my own life instead of obsessing about fictional characters no one can agree on. I mean, it all made sense, yes, but honestly, the surprising thing was how much of what was said was almost identical to what I've written (in an extremely briefer way), only the exact opposite, so it seems to me that POV interpretation is still what drives sales, to make a blunt conclusion. In short, it doesn't matter, as long as fans keep buying the merch.
What I'm saying is, those blogs allow me to look into the bloggers' own minds, not just John's and Sherlock's. The way they interpret scenes that I interpret very differently, based on my own subjective experiences, is what makes this whole study so fascinating to me. Sherlock and John are fictional characters, we are not. Studying the psychosocial phenomenon that is fandom on the internet is my favorite thing in the whole world. If I were going for my PhD I'd be doing this kind of stuff for my thesis. And, honestly, this is exactly what fandoms are for, to simulate open discussion about difficult to discuss subjects. They defer the content away from the incrimination or apology or emotional angst of self onto a harmless subject with much lower risk of repercussive psychological injury.
It's just nice to know that other people (yes, more) spend insane amounts of time thinking out loud, like I do. Gives me something to read. I love you guys. I love all your head stuff.
Yes, I obviously lived. Yesterday sucked, but I kept reminding myself that it's all familiar, no matter what decision I would have made, I'd have spent the same amount of time doing nothing about it until it eased off. Did the logical push hydration and protein thing, slept great last night for the first time in ages again, feel so much better this morning. Did a search on how long zithromax stays in one's system, got a half life math thing that concluded 15.5 days after last dose, cowabunga. So just stay calm and distract on, right? Quick, look over there.
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And so is my kiddo! Looky, a birthday box arrived! With sox!!!
I'd like to thank Bob for the card.
My phone keeps warning me that storage is critically low. Every warning goes down to a new lower number, even though I faithfully clean and purge and wipe and restart- we're getting into the 19 mg free range now. Yeah, I'd say that's critical. I've eeked so much extra life outa this phone, far beyond its life expectancy.
That reminds me of a dream I had years ago during my cave days, when I was taking a break from the internet. I had bought the Stargate Atlantis set so I could marathon at my convenience, and who knows what kicked this off, I know I was complaining back then of xanax making my dreams way too vivid and real and barely slept because sometimes they got so terrifying or sad that I just couldn't, so when I did sleep, I DREAMED. Maybe my brain was super dreaming trying to catch up from all the insomnia, who knows.
At any rate, Zelenka had been dropped off on very small satellite station orbiting some ancient and now extinct planet or other, and was going to be picked back up in about 12 days. He had the long and tedious job of getting all systems back up, restored to original capacity (if possible), backed up, and then start on assessment and interpretation until rendezvous time. It was a really boring dream for the longest time, just watching a guy in a spacesuit reconfigure systems until he reached a point of being able to take off the suit, and then keep working on debugging and reinstallation for nonworking parts, just really intricate and tedious. And then something went wrong. Something always goes wrong. Power went completely out in a tiny station nearly out of everything consumable, including air and ecosystem control like heat, and after about 6 hours of clamping everything down into sheer survival mode, there was nothing to do at all but sit still and just wait to be picked up.
Of course in my dream I could see the calculating going on in his mind, and knew he knew he'd be long dead before they got back. There was just no way to beat time passing, no tricks to pull out of a sleeve, no magic hat of ideas, just nothing left and no way to contact anyone. Just be still and relax, use as little air as possible and let his body go into hypothermia as slowly as possible.
I was upset in my dream. I wasn't corporeal, I wasn't even me. I don't know what I was. Just an observer of a fictional character. I felt so frustrated. Usually in dreams, by this point, I either know I'm dreaming (I didn't know this time) or I figure out I can push in and do something (I didn't realize I was 'there' to do anything). I've been lucid dreaming since I was a toddler, so looking back on this is really odd how stuck I felt not realizing I could maneuver as an entity in any way. I only felt frustrated.
Time passed. I hovered around, in and out of the station, watching him go unconscious, watching the stars, watching the planet rotate. Nothing else happening. I hovered back into his head, and he was nearly gone. I knew all it would take was one transmission to get someone back there, even though they were impossibly far away, because the tech they used allowed that kind of travel, but there was no way I could send a transmission, even if the tech was working, because I didn't know how. At this point in the dream I actually tried fiddling with some switches in the dark. Of course nothing happened. I have no idea if it would've looked like the switches were flipping themselves, I didn't dream of me actually being there.
I made a decision to go find the people who'd dropped him off and tell them to come get him. That part was easy. All I had to do was slip back through time to when they dropped him off and left and tag it, kind of like tagging a piece of code, and then doing a search later for the tag and the highlight taking you right to it. (Don't ask, I've been dreaming like this for a long time.) So bing, next thing I was hovering around a busy deck full of people and no way to communicate. I told you this dream was long. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to say even just his name (I couldn't, I had no way to vocalize) or get his name onto a screen (I couldn't, I have severe symbol fail in dreams, I can't type or spell or keep numbers straight). I finally got so frustrated that I just pushed into someone's head and screamed ZELENKA, and she dropped the stuff she was holding, and from there was about an hour-long fight to get a single idea through to her to the crew. All I needed to communicate was GO BACK NOW. That was ridiculously difficult. But once that got through, they did go get him, barely in the nick of time. He'd already stopped breathing and was close to brain death, but they did manage to pull a rescue and eventually get him healed to full capacity.
That dream was obviously about my own brain trying to repair and communicate. I yap all the time about my glitchy brain. I had that dream during probably the blackest part of my existence. During the dream it really did feel like long hours and days were passing, but I don't think I slept more than 4 hours max, more likely 2 or 3. I very clearly remember that dream but still have memory problems around real life during that time frame. I've actually had to draw out a timeline for reference, make a list of dates, and go back through old blogs at least once a month trying to keep my life straight, but I remember that dream in great detail. That was my brain showing me how it was working on its own repair, connecting disrupted synapses, giving me context for what was going on in my real life inside my own head.
Neat, huh?
Think about it. My brain cells were able to give me a picture of their existence.
So waking up this morning wondering what to say next, I think the point is to just keep saying. A lot of us have stuff, much of it is very confusing and frustrating, but I believe no matter how tangled up things get, every day is an opportunity for discovery of self and for caring about others. Through all the sadnesses and sufferings, I think the most important words that ever came out of any human's mouth are "I love you."
I love you guys. This is my birthday week, and I'm very glad to still be here. If I could hand out birthday favors on my blog party I'd give each of you an awesome day, some yummy food, and the warm fuzzy feeling of being truly loved. Thank you for reading my blog. That is your present to me.
I was looking for an awkward hugs compilation and ran into this wonderful gem.
:edit: one hour later
O.M.G. "I was upset in my dream. I wasn't corporeal, I wasn't even me. I don't know what I was. Just an observer of a fictional character. I felt so frustrated."
Guys- that is my brain talking. My consciousness is the fictional character to my brain.
Just- wow.
