I suppose I drifted off there for a bit.
Life is currently taffy being pulled on a hook—sometimes I’m piled on, stuck in place and frozen between layers just right on the hook, and sometimes I’m on the stretchy bit and time slips away into distance.
Something I feel I need to voice is this consistent feeling that I’ve had since I was a child that there is a series of choices to be made in my life that will one day lead me to a demise occurring before I’ve had a chance to do anything really important.
I supposed it’s a feeling many people have as they get older.
My attempt to counter it is to make as many random choices as I can without harming myself or others. Perhaps the random path will guide me to a quicker death, but at least I will have subverted the intentions of fate…
…unless the random choices are my fate after all. I’m probably a Time Lord.
We start to see our friends and family falter around us. We lose some of them suddenly, and some over long periods of suffering. We are reminded more often that there will be a day that dawns above the shell of our corpse, and all light and memory that made us real will return to the infinite. Mortality becomes a sibilant noise in our ears as we must trudge again and again through the thickness of the day.
I’ve been met with more mental and emotional challenges recently than I care to fully elaborate on, but I have found it comforting to have a place to vent my frustrations and expound upon random thoughts. I have been going back to therapy weekly, as I can afford it. My therapist is unique in that she can just as easily describe the process I need to learn or accept in both spiritual or scientific and logical terms. I haven’t found that elsewhere. I can tell she kind of wants to make me cry, and I think she believes I am holding some well of emotions prisoner.
I’m just not that emotional.
That well has a plug hole in the bottom, and I’ve got a long hook to pull it out when I need to. There are days when pooping and pulling this plug internally happen at the same time and it is glorious. I am sorry that you’ll never be able to experience this, it is a discipline not to be taught or learned but randomly attained by fortuitous intersection of threads spanning back to the beginning of time.
I feel that I’m on the edge of something magnificent. I doubt it will have any relevance on the world at large, but I feel that it will forever transform me. It’s the next step in my personal evolution.
I had intended on writing in this blog daily, but my connection to any routine of significance has been severed by a general malaise. It has been easier to disconnect than maintain a connection to anything meaningful.
Oh yeah, and Microsoft Flight Simulator 2020.
I’ve decided to embark on a ridiculously impossible journey in the game. I will attempt to fly in a continuous path across all 50 United States, all 7 continents, and as many countries, territories, and tiny bits of land that I can in a Cessna 152. You’re god damned right I’m recording it. I’ve already made it from my hometown to McAlester in Oklahoma. I’m trying to find at least one interesting geological feature to fly over in each, state/province/region. So far, the only cool thing I’ve seen is the wavy, rolling hills at the edge of the Ouachita National Forest during a hazy sunset.
Routine is important to me, and so is chronicling this adventure of mine—and I mean life, not just my circumnavigation of a video game’s Earth. I’m gathering the equipment and technical knowledge I need to begin my own show—a chronicle of all things random and beautiful. There will be lots of random choices made, random games, films, books, and cuisines, not curated but chosen randomly in typical RichRando fashion.
And it all connects to data, and my newly acquired skills in data management and analysis. And there will be Tubeway Army t-shirts and towels that remind you:
Just in case I don’t keep up this new posts with any regularity, just know that the real project behind all this is commencing, and in the interim, I shall do my best to entertain you with my throw-away fiction, which follows …