Tag Archives: silence

Fall Closing In

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Underdeveloped pine cone… perhaps.  A bit sticky. (Aug 8 3:53 p.m.)

“School year is fast approaching.”

Time has run quickly this summer.  The whole year has moved so fast, especially the last four months.  Something of it being emotionally short for me… Fewer unique memories to link the timeline together, and less interaction overall.

On the second Wednesday this month, WordPress notified me with that little trophy, that this blog has been up for four years.  Which made it all the more ridiculous when I saw that the blog had gotten zero views in 48 hours. …It reminds me of the potential quantity over quality of adding posts just for the sake of the Congratulations, you hit another 100 milestone.  (This blog has also reached 400 in count, by the way. 😉 )

So… zero.  And not the first time. …Write “like no one is reading,” indeed.  Okay, enough blog navel-gazing.

2016 is quite a different year— much different.  Sometimes it has been in my face this year how messy real life is.  And I’m not talking merely of people baring their souls without makeup or “graphic content.”  I’ve seen some the limits of the world at large and small, and what it is to be human, and how natural it is.  Some of it’s beautiful.  But it is all very, very messy.

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A virtually hollow, roundish seed… perhaps. (Aug 6 4:48 p.m.)

Still, I don’t have nearly enough of the picture.  We’re all limited by our perceptions… But, for me— as the last time I’ve been off the property was maybe two months ago— the view is like impressions from afar..  I practically missed all of 2016.

That isn’t to say I’m alone in the practice of being absent.  There are times I’ve gone to twitter and found the most recent posting was several months ago… Life goes on.  But it hits me, being so out of the loop, and so out of life.

I used to write things down.  I used to get up, and live.  I used to dream.

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Mushroom before the porch, further decayed. (Aug 17 1:39 p.m.)

This year, I feel broken.  I put too much weight on being useful, and people have gone silent.  I’m so dependent.  I tried to get back into the loop— or “re-loop,” but it feels futile.  There isn’t much ‘relating,’ and not much to say on my end because nothing much is happening on my end.  And now it’s the 20th of August.

Time could blur in 2012, but still there was life.  Notable things happened in 2012.  Success may have been a pipe dream, but there was life.  Now I can’t help but think everything is dying. …Technically, I’d be right in a way— none of us are immortal.  We are born; we grow, peak, surrender and die.  But the culture… not looking good.

I miss sleep… proper sleep.  I’m forgetting things like never before— missing count of the passes in my walks, distracted by the “talks” in my head… ruminating, probably suppressing serious thought and memory for a bit of emotional comfort. …Of course, I can’t help but feel things that bring a smile to my face or heart when I think about one person in particular— whose appearance entering the year made 2016 unique. …And now she’s even farther away, geographically… going silent again, where I begin to think about what might have happened… trying not to worry.  She’s her own person, but… it can be hard to let go of someone you love.

Another slow day in a slow year, and I find myself rereading… backlogged emails on missed social media and old messages from a deleted account… emojis, broken pictures and the truncated text of email notifications.  And despite supposed good times, my broken contributions remind me of how empty and damaged I am as a person.  That isn’t at all to say the other is ‘perfect.’  Everyone lies— even your friends, at least to be nice. …Feeling used doesn’t feel nice.  (Hypothetically speaking.)

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Blackberries… or blackened wild raspberries? (Aug 20 6:13 p.m.)

…It’s been four years, and I still don’t quite have a voice.  So I kind of blew up, the first Saturday of AugustNo use pretending things are alright.

Some connections are all but gone, replaced with holes dug in not speaking up.  Trying not to harm or offend, or sound self-absorbed, the word count can go up significantly… cut down to virtual grunts… “Distractions” deleted, questions left unasked, and conversations are left in an awkward position.  Things just left there.  It’s awful.  It can even feel as if devaluing the other person, when the purpose was to protect or respect them.  Of course, part of editing is getting rid of inaccurate statements… which makes me sound like a liar that I even typed the words in the first place.

Add the perception of absence when someone is unable to speak (properly)… One or both people assume that they aren’t there or are uninterested… it can feel like a communication death spiral— where the connection is perpetually lost.

“Fools,” said I, “You do not know.”
Silence, like a cancer, grows.
The Sound of Silence

Silence really can be like a cancer.  I never had anyone to talk to— not really— in-depth and uncensored… which makes my ‘experience’ easily overwhelming.  That’s why I’m damaged, ultimately.  An example of someone who wasn’t lucky enough to have people in his life, friendly or not.  Forget loneliness— the absence of others can make you feel worthless.

…It works both ways, of course.  I’m not special.  I’ve come across people that have found themselves “unworthy” or “dying inside.”  I can empathize, first hand.  You know you can talk to me, I would think.  But I say nothing, unable to articulate “the right words.”  Would it benefit him if I spoke up?  She turned down talking to me before; why would she talk now? …I’m too toxic.  I’m too immature.  I keep to myself, partly out of “respect.”

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Yellowing of the season. (Aug 20 6:11 p.m.)

…Anyway.  It’s been four years on WordPress.  I don’t even want to begin to think about another four… so much backlog of words.  I’m surprised I’ve survived this far. 😉

…And to anyone reading this who feels horribly alone: you can talk to me.

Novice No Voice

I can’t help it.

After zero hits here and there, I miss another whole week, miss all of the windows of opportunity to advance anywhere online.  And then I fail to carry my passwords with me.  I’d be entering the name and e-mail for a comment but for my WordPress account’s protection… no, no, I needed that password that you can hardly memorize.

But, of course, alas, an ass, and sweating in my sleep these days (it’s Summer), I did get to catch up on some TV shows.  I got into Supernatural, naturally.  So much so that the daily TNT 9-12 rerun block serves as a major replacement for the Glenn Beck radio progra— whoops, I shouldn’t have mentioned that I tune in… occasionally… and like everything else neglect my listening…ship.

It doesn’t help me revealing ‘political’ things— Pags was on this morning— about myself, after wearing away my perceived credibility.  Neither the time nor the health to back up everything said me has… though everything of serious subject matter brought up is based in fact.

So… there’s only that element of trust, it seems.  I’ve never gotten any of that hate/trolling.  But that wall of silence— certainly.  I always have silence going for me.  And that kills me.  It literally kills me.  How many months do I have left, doc?  Oh, that’s right, I have no insurance.

It’s 2013 and still, nary a voice.

Alternatively, you could follow Ian Punnett’s twitter, @deaconpunnett.  Ending his gig on Coast To Coast AM this morning due to tinnitus, he still has more a voice than this so-called person, sitting here.  On 1-5 a.m. EDT, having to sleep (go figure), I managed to catch the last ten minutes, his comments, his swearing that some of the read radio commercials over his more than a decade on the program were parodies…

Or you could start a comment war conversation over Supernatural, where Jensen Ackles, 35, is still doing his gravelly voice, with a season premiere this October 15 (CW network).  He shaved his beard, and will act as if he isn’t married.

Whatever.  Willing but incapable, I guess I’ll just go back to my hole fixing software bugs.  Not even internet access beyond here or there; it’s too easy to miss a whole week, and… well, that’s what happened.  Again.  And then I hit publish, more crap information that no one hears.  Write Like You Give a Shit.  Uhm, sorry, that’s too exhausting.  Again.

I can’t help jack… unless jack asks.  Jack asks, jackass; tomato, tommato.

What’s this guy’s problem?

Back to Silence

As you may not know, and only because (and why bother again since it doesn’t change): it is my birthday today.  I am now one year from 30.  But I also know a la the Merlin project that major game changing activity during this time is not a good idea.

I have been rather silent for a long time (and not just for the past week), and why that is starts with that old saying.

If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.  But I’m more one to appreciate honesty— one to say let loose, and just be frank to the point of constructive criticism.

Unfortunately, I was wrong on so many things.  My honesty would prove problematic, and so much so, perceived deadly (to me).

So, as of recent, I came to express the correction—what lead to my kind of silence (and inappropriate behavior) here and there—in English: if you can’t say anything right, don’t say anything at all.  It is, in essence, a form of discipline.

It is, however, not a very good form of discipline.  It is in a way, complacency.  Good discipline is silence while working.  I’ve instead been watching TV ever since cable was restored on Academy Awards Sunday.

I’ve done all my so-called writing work on paper.  No typing whatsoever.  This post was done live and from scratch.

Avoiding work on the PC deemed dishonest and all of the trash on TV this time, it can only barely be considered work taking only what’s right in the content of the day.  Getting to watch Gandhi (1982) and other great movies on TCM isn’t enough, however.

But at least I’m naturally keeping myself from venturing off into the wrong.

It took eleven years to really go no where, but at least I realize so.  Just as everything I’ve done online carries a multitude of mistakes, at least I realize them and welcome repairs.

But I have to continue to do what’s right at some level, and work on raising the level.  And that’s difficult, especially for me.

I have an inconsiderate impatience where I forget, and a helplessness as result of my lack of work and clarity.

For another time, I will explain not spin.

Tardy: Shutting Up

(Or ‘retardy,’ since it’s me writing this.  Things are slower when I turn my obsessiveness off.
(Yes, I can turn it off.  (Deep.)))

Movember raised over $3,650.  That’s something.  One month, one area of the blogosphere, and health areas of intent for the Becca movement, nagging men to get checked out, so they don’t die of a common cancer.  Imagine that.  And that was reported on the 2nd, and this is the 8th.  Late, self, late.

The error of my ways…  Another day, read awesome posts, click Like and forget…
The passive-aggressiveness…  No responses, good or bad?  “Whatever.… @#$% you.
Finally getting that the participant is supposed to shave his ’stache…  (I could’ve.)
Seeking a Friend For the End of the World.  Make friends or die trying…  I’m dead.

That’s it.  I’m holding off talking about myself after this.  As long as frickin’ possible.  But I can’t help talking about someone’s ego… might as well be… Guy Fawkes w. Red Nose on the Clownada flag.

The light dawns, as manually, I’ve manually viewed ClownOnFire… manually— and I see that missing transition from November to December.  Curse there not being an 11.31!  I’ve forgotten to check on those other blogs I’m not following.  Sigh.

What bastard, the contents of this being, all ‘type’ and no ‘read’?

Anyway, L’Éric also followed through on mailing his shavings because $1,000 was made for Movember in a single 24-hour period.  And 136+ comments were made on another Tardiness post thing: for El Guapo’s birthday, as Le Clown wanted to see at least 111 birthday wishes, 111 Likes on the guy’s part, 111 mentions of the word fuck.  … yesterday.  Damnit.

After reading several posts, I got tired of hearing the same jokes made at Canadiens.
First snow, outside of our igloo, before I got naked to go hunt polar bears.
It’s raining here.  Maybe that’s due to the end of Haiku Sundays.

Some last words before I shut up about myself: I’m not afraid of the finger.  In fact, I’ve had two (exams) already.  And Seeking a Friend For the End of the World isn’t bad.  And “that girl” in the prev. post is probably older than me.

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yur so like refreshing lol omg wtf idk ggp!”  Okay, now I want you to shut up.