I have done an excellent job refraining a new drug addiction into a positive. My objective was clear before my decision to cross over a personal line I’d set, and try some of the bad drugs.
So now, with almost no significant drugs left off my check list, I can end that story. None solved my problems. Several made them worse, but a new drug addiction allowed myself to watch a decline, and cross another line equally new to me… To be OK with letting people down. I learned to be OK with not giving the person in front of me, my best.
I convinced myself that I could get away with a little less quality concrete level support.
I considered being a high end concierge at one point. A job where I am paid to remember who to be for everyone in the building to make them most comfortable with me, and assist them in just the right way to retain respect for both parties.
A good concerning is a respected man. He gets things done. He is a fixer, a pimp, a dealer and a link to the back room poker game every Tuesday behind the meeat freezer at Moe’s.
Orange Shirt Concierge
Life long support. One number. One voice for as long as you have a need.
The last year’s are the hardest. I won’t prepared wit how I’d react Tom my 20 year friends all turn old and get sick or die… Or worse, start losing faculty but still clinging to the love and freedom of a full sized computer.
One of the first clients I ever quit, was such an example. He would hire me to come train him on some specific software questions and processes. We’d take notes and review… But I knew two weeks later he’d hire me to come explain it again, and do I have any hooks to remember like lefty loose, tighty righty.
I am ready. I want to tell my story. I want to spend my money on a book… As useless as some may think that is, in my head it is a double bonus score #pridepoint because it’s a sharing of ideas, and a save game point, and level up.
A book. Then I could, conceivably book a world speaking tour. That would be a blast.
My therapist would be upset to know I have rewritten one of our stories to better fit my own. I tell the story as I now remember it. She said to me one day,; “You know Jeff, I’ve been thinking. These life goals you have to attain inner peace and bliss, are actually hard. You’ll probably hate every one of them.
Now she insists that she did no such thing, but since I get to tell the story, my version replaces reality.
I think about those words now, and it has inspired me to hold out for the income that comes with the least amount of work.
I found it.. Support. I operate in power save idle mode until something forces me to react. My standby mode often has TV as the screensaver.
Brain edit: I wasn’t happy with that ending. It worked as a visual inside my head, but it’s probably… Ding. Negative voice is blocked. Stop the negative thought process.
Oh look, A zeppelin.
The worst drug in modern culture, just happens to be the one that helped me the most. Just my luck.
(A song appears in my head. Isn’t it Ironic, by Canadian Alanis Morissette. I remember that smart people who like to be right in public pointed out that all her lyric examples were not Ironic at all, which was Ironic.
I also remember there was an amazing YouTube video parody where the lyrics were modified to make each verse an actual example of irony.
Post it note: Look up and share that parody. It deserves a fresh coat of paint in my “other stories Io refer to” memories.
My second brain decades loudly inside my head; “Well… That’s it for me. I’m losing mental acuity. I’m not even certain that is the correct usage anymore.
Sudden flash memory of Niles Craig, from the Fraser show.
I am using other people’s stories to help explain who I am. I’m part Shadow Cooper, part…
Negative thought process detected and aborted.
Oh look, A zeppelin.
Another moment. I no longer have full pride in my writing, and second brain tract is restless. Expect mini blackouts tonight and increasingly forevermore.
A side effect with working on your own universe from inside of it, is that
I honestly don’t know what the end of that sentence was supposed to be. I reframed a memory operable as my brain throwing it back for a repaint and modify a few parts.
You have complete control over how you tell all your stories. If you get a flat tires on the way to Vegas, but then win $5,000 does your story lead with the awful inconvenience with the tires? You control how you tell the story.
It’s surprisingly easy to reframe many things, and retell the story with a positive slant. Hope. Trust. Respect.
PLUR.. An old rave term that applies a little less now that alcohol is in the rave scene, but peace love unity and respect.
Opinion stated as fact: The world would be a totally different place if everyone had a really nice ecstacy trip one day.
I see what I did there. I phrased it as an absolute. The world Will be different, but nobody could predict how everyone would react. The perception of the reader images their own bias. My mother would have heard the world will be different, and assumed famine, poverty, pollution, crime… A Blvd Runner Future. My father would have said; For sure. Just imagine what wonderful new things we’ll kick ourselves for not figuring out last generation.
It must have been hard in the early days, when believing in the origin story of your church was the norm, but there must have been a point in many of the congregation figured it out. Oooooooh… It’s a book of stories to show us how to behave. Fables retold for centuries about some of the questions kids and adults eventually ask. Why is the sky blue?
The Bible was merely a BEST OF HOLIDAY release compilation book. Each of the main characters tell their stories separately, and then they bind them together and put it on sale as an essential storybook to pass on to generations. As long as children have an answer, they’ll accept it.
Santa Clause made perfect sense, up until the day it didn’t.
For many children, they transitioned from Santa to Jesus. Same skill set. He knew if you’d been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.
Then one day, they stop believing in Jesus too… Although religion dictates they don’t flinch. Strawberry socials! You can grind your teeth every time you say Jesus Christmas is my Lord and Saviour, or do that wallet watch, spectacles testicles Catholic respect to the cross.
I can see (in my head) the scene in the final edits. 12 books or however many there are, each written by diferent men. The editors say, we need something central that binds these all together and instead of bestselling stories, we call it the truth, and sell the world on a religious story as fact.
That’s their story,, and their sticking to it.
2000 years into the lie, it’s hard to admit it was a lie without destroying all the lovely benefits of church and community.
It’s easier to continue on with the lie, except of course for the hate and need to crush the non believers will, or heart.
I want to create a church without a religion. Everything is the same as a church, except the stories we tell are presented as stories, not as absolute truth.
We have grown to the point where we understand there are things we do not yet know.
My favorite scene to illustrate this is [nerd alert] from Star Trek Voyager when Jane way interacts with a x computer created facsimile of Leonard Divinci. He struggles with the concept of self awareness, and accepts that only a fool would deny there are concepts not only hard to believe, but hard to comprehend.
She likens it to a bird’s awareness of the stock market. Note: I feel obligated to mention that is not the actual way the episode played out, but it’s the way I tell the story, and for most who hear it, it replaces reality
A Solid Story Replaces REALITY
I have very missed feelings about so many things that have happened, and that I’m hopeful are going to happen forward.
Negative voice chimes in; you know that isn’t even the tech time you’d written words to that effect.
My brain come up with the ideas. In a perfect world, I would then share them with the “get things done” people and get things done.
I did the hard part. Somebody else does the hard work.
I have mixed emotions about this writing, and ones like it. On the right side of my paper, I list The good stories. The positives that have come from this exp[evidential new direction.
I have pride at the ideas, and terror that I am a crazy old man spurting out ideas like Doc Brown with a noodle strainer on his head discovering time travel.
I want to believe they are as good as my now high and confident brain believes they are. I am, an idea machine. A different perspective and way of seeing both the positive and negative to a story, is a tool. And a curse. When you imagine a negative story for all those decisions it’s hard not be lose a little internal trust.
I believe Trust is the facto that determines health in this game. Each time we lose a little trust, we die a little. When you lose all trust, you can’t survive and you go crazy.
OR… You become a story teller. I want to tour the word, teaching people the power of the way you tell your stories.
In life, the winners are the ones with the best story.
There was a great recurring quote in the Marigold Hotel movie.
Everything will be fine in the end.
If it is not fine, then it is not the end.
Fantastic quote. Reframe. There is no such thing as losing. Losing is a man made idea. Every attempt is a story, whether you win O lose.
When you think about it, a trip to ee a live sporting event isn’t about who wins and who loses. It’s about the stories. The memories. The experience.
The winner is only a minor role in the story, and if you tell it right, who won doesn’t change the rest of the stories.
Scattered… My mind has too many open thoughts now. It’s like 15 calls on hold. Muzak is playing the Axel F theme song in my brain as I review and shut down the weak ones.
A moment. Exhaustion.
The moment where negative voice awakes from the drugging, and reminds me…
Oh well. I’ve forgotten.
End of this part.
Applause and a few rLOL