Don’t let freedom slip away!

This year, 2020, has been full of unusual and unpleasant turns of events, to truly say the least. Recently saw similar reporting from several reliable and reputable news sources that AOC wants lists of Trump supporters! Why? After reading her statements, and the intent behind them, the word “STASI” quickly came to mind…

I’m going to include a link to one article, and you can do you own search using something like “AOC wants Trump supporter lists” for many more. Look in to this yourself. Educate yourself and do your own research. Main stream news is no longer news. It’s mostly become a Rah-Rah club, for ratings money and other unknown rewards, supporting many untruths and deceptions for nefarious purposes of nefarious people.

Hopefully, this will open a door for you. Don’t let freedom slip away!

https://nypost.com/2020/11/06/aoc-facing-heat-for-wanting-to-archive-posts-by-trump-sycophants/?utm_source=url_sitebuttons&utm_medium=site%20buttons&utm_campaign=site%20buttons

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10 Terrifying Facts about the East German Secret Police

The Stasi’s sole function was to keep the Communist Party in power. They didn’t care how.

Thursday, November 14, 2019
 Image Credit: Flickr-stephanr66 | CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/)
Laura Williams
Laura Williams

To maintain power for 40 years while their people starved and plotted to escape, the Communist Party had to get very good at controlling people and undermining anti-state activists. But outright street violence and assassinations weren’t good for the Party image, so the Ministry for State Security got creative. Better known as the Stasi (the German acronym), these secret police were the “Schild und Schwert der Partei” (Shield and Sword of the Party). Their sole function was to keep the Communist Party in power. They didn’t care how.

The Stasi were prolific gaslighters. In the 1950s, repression was brutal, physical torture. Early in the 1970s, eager to be accepted on the international stage, the East German Secret Police had to get more subtle. The aim of Zersetzung (a repurposed military term meaning disintegration or corrosion) was to “switch off” any activist individuals and groups who might threaten the Party. Police collected medical, school, and police records, interviews with neighbors and relatives, and any other evidence they could get and would then customize a direct hit on an individual’s mental health.

If someone looked like he might challenge the Communist Party’s legitimacy or control, the Stasi systematically destroyed his life. They used blackmail, social shame, threats, and torture. Careers, reputations, relationships, and lives were exploded to destabilize and delegitimize a critic. Some forms of harassment were almost comical: agents spread rumors about their targets, flooded their mailboxes with pornography, moved things around in their apartments, or deflated their bicycle tires day after day. Others were life-altering: Individuals labeled as subversives were banned from higher education, forced into unemployment, and forcibly committed to asylums. Many suffered long-term psychological trauma, loss of earnings, and intense social shame as a result of Stasi lies.

The Stasi had 91,000 employees at its peak—roughly one in every 30 residents was a Stasi agent. More than one in three East Germans (5.6 million) was under suspicion or surveillance, with an open Stasi file. Another half million were feeding the Stasi information. This level of surveillance and infiltration caused East Germans to live in terror—you really never knew if you could trust anyone—though most had no idea of the scope of these activities until after the Berlin Wall fell.

Stasi files laid out together would cover about 69 sq. miles. Recording detailed personal information on a third of the populace required a tremendous amount of paper. More pages of printed text were generated by the Stasi than by all German authors from the Middle Ages to WWII. Thousands of citizens were targeted as anti-government “trouble makers,” their homes were searched, phones and cars—if they were lucky enough to have either—were bugged, their letters opened and copied, and their movements secretly filmed or photographed. Every document went into a personal Stasi file. So far, hundreds of millions of files, 39 million index cards, 1.75 million photographs, 2,800 reels of film and 28,400 audio recordings have been recovered from Stasi archives. Millions more were shredded before they could be made public.

Stasi Museum Button Cam, via Atlas Obscura 

In 1992, the secret files the Stasi had kept on millions of East Germans were made available for review. Citizens can request to see their personal files, which are housed by the Federal Commissioner for the Stasi Archives on 63 miles of dedicated shelving. Sixteen thousand sacks of shredded documents still await reassembly. The agency tasked with maintaining them employed at least 79 former Stasi members as late as 2007, according to Wikileaks. Three million individuals have applied to see their records, with decidedly mixed results. Many former subjects of Stasi investigation or surveillance found out only from these files—20 years later—that their parents, children, spouses, or lifelong friends had been informing against them.

Stasi Museum-record of family, suspected defectors

Stasi officers were highly influential in the Middle East, recruiting and training at least 1,000 military officers from Iraq, Libya, Syria, and the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO). The Stasi taught these foreigner agents how to hijack planes and take hostages. Where the Stasi didn’t succeed in placing its own trainees, it often sought blackmail material that could bend the will of foreign agents: Senior Stasi officers served as gardeners and groundskeepers in valuable embassies, listening in for juicy details. A complex web of West German infiltrators and enemy collaborators was discovered only years later.

Of the 10,000 people who can definitively prove they were targeted by Zersetzung, some 5,000 had lasting psychological damage inflicted by their own government. Thousands more lost careers and marriages. Some were jailed or had their children kidnapped by the state. These victims, now officially recognized, were supposed to receive modest compensation. The promised reparations—still only half of what loyal Communists still receive in pensions—have been difficult to obtain.

Hohenschönhausen. Over 900 former inmates have given testimony about the horror that happened there, but while the Stasi were active, the facility was top secret. The area didn’t officially exist and was marked with a blank space on city maps. In reality, most of the country operated as an open-air prison, as few people were allowed to leave the country on exit visas. The Stasi told the people,

doctors, engineers, and skilled workers were induced by refined methods unworthy of the dignity of man to give up their secure existence in the GDR [German Democratic Republic, aka East Germany] and work in West Germany or West Berlin.

For their own “security,” East German citizens were not allowed to leave the East German state. Those who tried were often jailed or killed.

Public schools in East Germany were training grounds for police state compliance. Young children cut and colored paper dolls with gas masks and AK-47s. Hitler Youth-style groups were established for school children. In the absence of Twitter and text messages, Stasi officers launched “metal coconuts” or “information rockets” full of flyers into the countryside. The people were told the Berlin Wall was a protective barrier against “a West German separatist state” bent on sabotaging their socialist state. Psychological operations were used to glorify the East German socialist state and smear the immoral, pleasure-seeking, capitalist West.

Erotica—whether printed or filmed—was banned in East Germany, and was pointed to as evidence of the West’s decadence and depravity. But the Stasi filmed its own series of pornographic films, featuring civilian female employees dressed as soldiers. In one film, a topless female recruit in a helmet leaps to attention at the command, “Breasts Out!” The Communist Party elite and military officers turned out for the secret premieres of 12 films. Their attendance was logged for blackmail purposes. The official Department of Pornography employed 160 people and 12 amateur enthusiasts between 1982 and 1989.

Psychological policing of Germany’s population—to root out dissenting voices and prevent people from challenging the government—had been the norm under the Gestapo, Nazi Germany’s intelligence-gathering police. Nazis paved the way by using citizens as informers or denouncers.

In that kind of tattle culture, reporting your neighbors for minor wrongdoing might keep your own family safe. The secret police had so much personal information about each citizen and so much influence over institutions (whether you could get into college, get a job, buy a car) their power was almost absolute—and absolutely unaccountable. They didn’t have to arrest you—they could socially paralyze you.

(Large-scale data collection by today’s National Security Administration and Homeland Security follows the same pattern, according to well-known whistleblowers Edward Snowden and Daniel Ellsberg. The “See something? Say something” culture of citizen informers, the collection of personal info without warrants, and the assumption of guilt all feel eerily familiar.)

Laura Williams
Laura Williams

Dr. Laura Williams  teaches communication strategy to undergraduates and executives. She is a passionate advocate for critical thinking, individual liberties, and the Oxford Comma.

This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

—In closing, I’m a little rusty with some of the updates & streamlines of the newer versions I’m using to share & republish this information— OffWorldEngineer

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To The Dream Killers of 2020

How Many Dreams Have been killed?

Protests… Injustice does not make violence & destruction OK.

That’s a fact. That’s reality, whether you agree or not, reality does not change.

Some dreams went up in smoke and died a quick death.

Other dreams will take months or years to exact their price.

I’m not going to write a whole sermon here. You should already know better.

 

 

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Not Dead Yet

It’s been quite a long time since I felt the motivation & energy at the same time which is required to write anything about anything…

Life goes on. In between dealing with day to day things, these last few years have been useful to me in unexpected, but necessary, ways. Too much to even begin to get in to for right now. I’ll just say that 8 years is almost enough, and I know there is still a long way to go. Much ground, much history, much learning, still ahead.

Where I’m at right now is a place where I can see the world and the people in new ways. 99% of my family & friends have been left behind. It’s finally been quiet long enough to really hear, really see, and hoping to someday maybe really feel something again.

I ran across this band, The Dead south, quite a while back… The first video/song I saw as “In hell I’ll be in good company”. Awesome…

More recently, “Broken Cowboy”, really hit home for me in some many ways, it’s eerie. Born in ’55, etc etc etc… I love this tune. Mainly, because it’s quiet here. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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C-PTSD

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The Mystery of Ultima Thule

My money is on them finally finding one of Charlie Brown’s missing kites…

Spaceweather.com

Dec. 18, 2018: When NASA’s New Horizons spacecraft flew past Pluto three years ago, mission scientists watching the first close-up images were shocked. Despite being stuck in the deep freeze of the Solar System 6 billion km from the sun, Pluto was not the frozen-stiff world many expected it to be. The geography of the dethroned 9th planet was alive with mountain ranges, windswept dunes, bladed terrain and much more. In one quick flyby, New Horizons turned planetary science on its head.

Get ready to be shocked again. New Horizons is less than 2 weeks away from a new world even more mysterious than Pluto.


Above: A speculative artist’s concept of Ultima Thule with a small moon

Its name is “Ultima Thule” (2014 MU69), which means means “beyond the borders of the known world.” Indeed, the little space rock is profoundly unknown. Located almost a billion…

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BRAKE CHECK!!! BRAKE CHECK!!!

TRIGGER WARNING!!!

If there is ANY doubt on your mind, then skip this article!

Decided to share one of many stories that is a building block in my life history that’s only added to the construction and reinforcement of my C-PTSD. The C stands for Complex…

I have a great deal of empathy, respect, and compassion for Vets that have PTSD. They need yours too. The civilian world has it’s own kind of terrors, so it’s no surprise that some form of PTSD is possible for anyone. Facing the injury, which any form of PTSD is, can be just as or maybe more terrifying than the injury (or injuries) that caused it.

Some people may wonder how I got the way I am. Fewer will take the time to ask why, and then try to wrap their own head and emotions around what I may share with them. Kindness, compassion, and a great deal of true caring, are prerequisites to at least appreciating and considering what someone else may have been through. When any of those qualities have been absent in the person I’ve related a story to, I’ve wasted my time. Because without all three qualities, you’re dealing with a cold hearted person.

Driving an 18 wheeler on day, probably grossing out at close to 70,000 pounds, I found myself being a middle truck of a small convoy of semis. Heading westbound on a 2-lane rural road in northern Indiana, no one was speeding. This was back in the mid 1990’s. Most truckers in those days had CB radios, and they were used for many things. Sometimes it was just blabbing and bantering about almost anything, just to help pass the time. You could be informed of anything going on up ahead, like traffic delays, detours, road conditions, etc. In an emergency, that CB was often a life saver!

There were probably about 8 trucks in the impromptu convoy I found myself rolling along in. I was about number 4 in the line. A sunny fall afternoon, dry roads, and not much traffic going the other way. Just a bunch of truckers heading back toward the interstate. Maybe others heading to Chicago like I was, or through it.

When you’re driving a big rig, it becomes 2nd nature to ALWAYS know where you are, which direction you’re heading. You know the mile-marker or some nearby landmark. Back in those days it was much for common for local PD’s and Highway Patrol to monitor CB channel 19 that the truckers used, or Channel 9 which was the Emergency channel. Especially in more rural areas, away from larger cities and towns. Cell phones were still a newer thing, and not many people had them yet. So, the CB was the lifeline many times. It wasn’t unusual to warn each other about a “brake check” up ahead. Increase your interval, slow down, and be ready for it. Not a big deal…

In the middle of a conversation I was listening to, I heard another driver key in and scream, “BRAKE CHECK!!! BRAKE CHECK!!!” I stood on my brake and all the axles locked up as I watched the smoke begin peeling out from under the tires of the trailer just ahead of me. In the same instant, those tires had stopped turning too, like mine. I held on to wheel hoping I wasn’t going to feel a thud from behind. It felt like coming to a stop was taking forever, as that time slowing down sensation kicked in. I had stopped about 10 feet behind the back of the trailer ahead of me. I set the parking brakes and cautiously got out to look ahead down the road to see what was going on. The drivers ahead of and behind me were doing the same. The smell of the melted rubber from truck tires sliding on the pavement filled the air. The word was already going out over the CB that there had been a serious accident, and anyone that could call for help should do so. I didn’t have a cell phone in those days. But a few did…

I trotted up to the driver from the truck just ahead of mine, and we walked ahead to see what had happened. We got to what was now the lead truck, stopped in the roadway like us. That driver and the one from the truck just behind him, were up tending to the driver of what had been the lead truck. That truck was now laying on it’s side, at about a 45 degree angle, completely in the ditch from front to back. That driver was on the ground, leaning against a small tree, just ahead of his tractor, with those other 2 drivers.

The driver I was with and I  took a quick survey of the accident scene. The 2nd truck had stopped just short of where the victim was located in the middle of the road, almost right on the double yellow line. He was the first thing we checked, thinking that some form of first-aid may certainly help. In the middle 1970’s, I had been driving a tow truck at night and weekends for a local company that handled most of the emergency calls for several of the local PDs and FDs in my suburban area. I had already seen many wrecks, and many victims. This victim had just been through a horrendous impact, been ejected from his pickup truck, and then an unforgiving interaction with the road surface. As i looked him over for any signs at all of any life, I noted the numerous severe visible injuries. A heavy jacket and jeans were all that was holding him together now. There was no life.

The driver I was with wondered out loud if we shouldn’t try CPR or something. I pointed out that the way this person had been broken, twisted, and rolled in to nothing more than a ball of something once human and alive… I believed that if we even could revive him for a few seconds, it would be only to experience agony and the quickly death again. When that driver again wondered if this victim might still be alive somehow, I told him “Dead men don’t bleed.” With all of the clearly visible open wounds and breaks, there was no blood, no bleeding. Just the rawness showing…

The impact had sent the engine from the victims pickup truck flying off in to the cornfield next to the highway, The pickup itself was a crumpled wreck at the edge of the field on the opposite side of that road. And then there was the victim in the roadway.

The local PD and FD were on scene very quickly, as we were just a few miles west of a small town. The road was shut down and we were stuck there until the investigation was completed and the roadway cleared. Except for the drivers in the lead and 2nd truck, none of us really saw anything happen, but we still had to give statements.

The lead truck was a fleet truck of furniture moving company, so it certainly was most likely not breaking any rules. The guy in front of me and I were also driving company issued trucks. Only a couple owner-operators in our line parked there.

The driver that had the pickup nose dive head-on in to his truck was more shaken up than anything else. Apparently, at close range, the pick-up had veered in to him. He had tried to steer away, but no time, too close, to avoid the collision. It was the driver in the 2nd truck that had given the BRAKE CHECK warning as he had locked them up. It was a bad day all around. It was an obvious suicide by the pickup driver. He was looking right at the semi driver, and they had made eye contact.

Standing around with other drivers for a few hours, one of them had a cell phone that I used to call my boss and tell him I’d be late and why. That victim in the roadway was around the same age as myself. All I could think about was “why”, and then wonder about his family if he had any. Wondering about his life and what drove him to do something like this? This wasn’t the first suicidal act that I had witnessed.

I always felt bad for “them”, but more so for those they left behind. A life ended that way is over. But, the injuries suffered by others as a consequence of the act, just begins.

Did this experience make my own C-PTSD worse, or add to it in any way? Honestly, I’m really not sure myself… All I know is that when I said those words, “Dead men don’t bleed.”, it just rolled out too easily. I felt nothing. I was already at a point of being shut down and dissociative in many ways I guess…

When I got home that night, a little later than usual, I ate dinner. I slept like a baby.

 

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Moments of Hope

This is the first post in my new category called “Moments of Hope” 06-21-2018

Life goes on a long time, at least for most. There are so may twists & turns in our path, that we could have never expected, nor anticipated. The real questions are these:

“Do we choose our own path, staying true to ourselves? Or, do we end up constantly altering our course in order to satisfy & accommodate the needs & desires of others?”

When, if, you break away and escape in to freedom one day, you may find yourself in a place that’s pretty scary. At least at first. You’e alone, on your own, and now it’s all you. Just you and that face in the mirror now…

Take it a day at a time, or by the hour if need to, but you must trudge through the time. Moments of dred followed by moments of learning. Moments of insecurity followed by moments confidence. Moments of panic followed by moments confidence. Moments of self-loathing followed by moments of self-appreciation. Moments of feeling worthless followed by moments of self-value.

Whether you’re in a crowd, or by yourself in the wilderness, you realize that you are and always will be alone. And it’s in that moment you can realize…

Moments of despair can be followed by moments of hope. So hold on. Never quit.

A few videos for some reference, and maybe some moments of hope for you too. smile.

 

 

 

Yep… Wilson Philips and Steppenwolf. Who woulda guessed? LoL  ~ Mike

Keep Believing that you can Fly, and maybe one day You will

 

 

 

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A Personal Epiphany

Wow… How many of these can one have in a single lifetime?

Seems like everyone (well, at least many I think) would like to find that one special song, book, movie, or whatever, which seems to have come in to existence just for them, and maybe just because of them. Something that they can relate to on a very personal level, in a way only they can appreciate in the manner that they do.

I’m going to try to keep this short because I plan to share in my FB and Google pages. Giving back to the universe, in my own way I guess?

When you’re out in the zone and you see your own reflection looking back at you, you wave Hello! Cool…

This replaces “The Old Tune”, but the old tune is still also valid, as are many others…

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It’s 2018… April almost May? Already? Time flies…

I can’t believe a whole year has passed since my last post… Not much of a surprise really when you live every day out in the zone some place. In at least one regard, it seems like the last year had been somewhat of a break, after the exhaustion brought on by the constant survival mode and living on the edge of existence. If you have any kind of a ‘moral support system’, as in family and friends, count your blessings. My support system is practically non-existent. On rare occasions, I’ll touch base with a neighbor. Not intentional avoidance, but more that paths seldom cross. I have no contact with 99% of my relatives. This is including biological, adoptive, and other-wise, are all history as well. Some by my choice, some by their choice, and some by nature’s choice. On some days when the feelings of my loneliness might become noticeable to me, I’m reminded of the comforts that are found in the solitude that surrounds me. Living in the silent absence of all the drama… It’s a good place. A quiet place. A peaceful place. It’s the kind of place where at least no more injury is likely to occur. There’s even a chance that some healing might take place as well. Maybe?

Coming to grasp with a concept can be tricky… Essentially, I’ve lived a whole life. Now I find myself looking at one tomorrow after another with no idea of which way to go or what to expect. It’s not what I’d call feeling lost. There are so many directions to choose from! So many that have to be weighed, evaluated, and vetted! It easily becomes an overwhelming task just to decide ‘what to do next” and then do it. Small things, everyday things, maybe as simple as making a phone call, can become something to just avoid and put off. Routine? What’s that? Schedule? I’ve heard legends about those things. Deciding what needs to be done, what can be done, and when it will be done, becomes a real process. Having a dog really helps! Most days, things run largely according to the dog schedule at least. Dogs need to eat, go outside, be fed & get water, vet visits, some play time, and some grooming. Also, dogs seem to have a way of knowing when you need to be pulled out of the zone too. Having a person in my life is something that I’ve often thought that I might want, and maybe even find some mutual benefits with. Then again?… Probably not. My dog has needs and can be demanding at times, but that’s OK. Dogs generally don’t judge, demand, rant, get angry, or ignore you. If a dog bites you, hurts you, it has a valid reason. People… They don’t need a reason to hurt you. Not even a real one.

Out there, somewhere, there are those that are able to understand and appreciate everything I’ve written here. They are rare though, I believe. In my rare travels out in to the world, mainly only for necessities, I occasionally recognize something in someone that I can relate to. Unfortunately, it just makes me sad because normally they have no clue, nor understanding and comprehension, of their brief moments I’ll call ‘wake-fullness’. They’ll just shrug off things instead of letting them sink in, and thereby obtain and appreciate the value in them. To those people, I’ll make an extra effort just to be kind to them, and then let it go.

Yeah… Rambled all over this road, I did! Sorry about that. It has been a whole year, and there is still much to be said, to be written about. When the rivers begin to run high in the spring, the water can get a little foamy and disorganized just below the dam. Seems like this has been somewhat like that?

Just one thing… Call it a Flash Back to some days gone by, I guess. Those that were there will know. hahahaha Otherwise, do your best and carry on. OK?
Until next time. and yeah yeah yeah yeah, hahahaha you got the evidence!

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Opening My Eyes

Life is a journey. It’s more so about the trip, and not so much the destination. So I’ve been heard and have been told many times… There seems to be a lot of truth in this.

I’ve spent the last few years mainly in what I’ll call “Empty Places”. Much of the time, I spend alone. There are times when I would relish some company, some conversation. But most of the time is spent just being alone, yet not in loneliness. I’m grateful for my peaceful spaces, physically and emotionally, and I spend as much time there as is possible.

It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve spent enough time digging down inside, getting as close to the bottom of “why” as I possibly can. A journey of discovery in a way, and that is seeing things, recalling things, and understanding things, in hindsight. The roots of many things that have troubled me in life, and still do in some ways, run deep. I was a child at one time, but it didn’t last very long. By the time I began grade school, I was already operating on “another level”, much different than my peers. I can cite probable causes, but that may sound like me assigning blame and responsibility to people. In fact, it was a much larger set of circumstances, a true comedy of errors, and there were many characters and players in those circumstances. Adults and other children, the times being the 50’s and early 60’s, and myself already being so disconnected because my journey had already begun without my realization.

Always on the outside looking in. That’s the best way I am able to describe it. Never fitting in, never feeling accepted, never feeling a true bond (except with dogs and other animals). I understood what loyalty was, but at best that can be a fleeting thing. A change in circumstances beyond your control, and loyalties can change greatly and suddenly. That’s how people are. That’s not a bond. A true bond endures changes, good times, bad times, and ages gracefully. I’ve never felt that. That is, a real bond. Except with a dog.

I’ve been told I have PTSD and a major depressive disorder. Great… At least I have a label and somewhat of a definition of what’s been going on all along now. Gaining some understanding of ones self, is well… Progress? But towards what?

So many things have happened on this path of my long journey through life… People are quick to remember your mistakes, short comings, misdeeds, failures, etc. Especially when you’re someone on a path like mine. And I don’t kid myself. I know I’m not the only one out here. In that respect, I’m not alone, never alone. There are many of us. Too many…

Instead of trying to cure us, fix us, judge us, shut us away… I’d suggest recognizing the good in us, the things of value from our unique perspectives and experiences? Take an inventory of our good qualities, and of the benefits we have brought in to this world. There is much understanding, compassion, kindness, to be had because we tend to transmit just what we’d like to receive. We just don’t do very well in circumstances filled with conflict, anger, and meanness, especially when we get blamed for it being that way. Look beyond the end of your noses… See the person inside, and you might find something special.

My path, my journey, has lead me to a place where my history only exists in the minds of others. They recall just what they want, and interpret everything to suit their own needs. My history just vanished one day, along with everyone that I ever thought I meant anything to, or that I though meant anything to me. Loyalties change… It’s not much different now from when I was about 5. I feel like… No, I know I don’t belong here any more now than I did then, or much of the time in between. If you took away all those years in between then and now, for me it’s just “same shit, different day”. Why? Because I can’t see how anything I did, or did not do, made any difference at all. It’s like there was just a lot of “filler” in between now and then. Just busy work. Things to do to fill those times…

I look back now, and I have hard time seeing myself at all. Except that I’ve been in survival mode much longer than I ever realized. I guess, if anything, I have the one accomplishment of not having succumbed to life’s BS and letting it snuff me out? Maybe I’ve always been meant to be just a “place holder”? A thing to keep other things from bumping in to one another? I don’t know… That’s the best I can do to describe it.

What’s up ahead for me now, hearing 62 coming up the walk towards me? I’m hoping it won’t be more of the same of what I’ve been living all along. But, statistically speaking, and in spite of holding on to some faint glimmers of hope, I’m not expecting much.

Some day, this will all be done. Finally. The lights will go out for the last time, and I’ll be on my way to whatever, if anything, awaits in the hereafter. Most people, many people, live their lives in fear if dying. I don’t fear it at all. In fact, it will be a welcome change of pace. I’m in no hurry to get here though! So please don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just saying that if anything, being as I am and have been, You can’t loose nor miss what you’ve never had.

PTSD and major depressive disorder, etc etc, what fun…

To any kindred spirits who may wander by… Hang in there! If nothing else, just enjoy the fact that we can be anything from a pain in the ass to a real conundrum for those who don’t get it and never will. And don’t be in a hurry! Sooner or later life has a way of tapping everyone on the shoulder when it’s time to get off the roller coaster, even if you’re not like us. So if nothing else, just enjoy the ride and whatever scenery there may be…

~ Mike

Almost 62 going on 12….

and yeah, this is much closer to real life these days than you’d believe…

Special Thanks to : R.E.M., YouTube, and REMVEVO

 

 

 

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