Zulu

Into the breach, a disaster strikes.
The reaction is swift, the feeling sublime.
As tension leads to the eventual taxing mental hikes.
We all knew the end was just a matter of time.

Hmm. Expected a better ending to the series than that.

That's just it, Voice. I'm done. I can't sit here and psychoanalyze myself into nirvana. I'm out of material for this series, plain and simple.

That's a cop out, don't you think? You're not done and you know it.

Alright, fine. I'm done to the point that I am comfortable with.

Why?

Because there are just some things that I'm not prepared to face just yet. It's one thing to sit here and pour my soul onto the Internet, it's quite another to open certain parts of my memories that I do not go to myself. Some things, I really just do not want to remember.

Would you say that you've made some progress?

I would like to think so. I've addressed several issues that I held back on for years. I suppose that I just have reached a point where I really just want to take a breath and contemplate all that I've learned. To work through the existing issues and making peace with them before moving on to deeper issues that quite frankly I'm not sure I'm ready for.

Alright, I can understand that. You do realize though that you're going to have to face those sooner or later, right?

Yeah. I just need to stretch my legs a bit first. I've worked through a lot of stuff these past few months but I'm ready to just relax a bit and perhaps write something that's a little more fun for a change.

And what about me, then?

Voice, I wouldn't ask you to leave unless you wanted to. Somehow, you've managed to keep me focused. You've challenged me to make some changes and while I need time to execute said changes, I'll still need your advice.

That's a lot of nonsense. You're doing just fine on your own. Not that I won't poke my head in to check on you from time to time, mind you. I still have work to do, after all.

You know, it's funny. Life.

Indeed. But life sure beats the alternative, wouldn't you agree?

Wholeheartedly. It gives me the urge to go fetch a burrito and spend my lunch break in the park staring off into the sky. Just to take it all in. Care to join me?

Why not? It's a fine day indeed to eat a burrito and stare off into the distance! Let's roll.

Alright, let me go clock out. Oh, and Voice?

Yeah?

Thanks. I first thought that talking to myself was a bad idea, but as it turns out, it was just lovely.

Stop, you're making me mushy.

Yeah, alright, never mind. Let's go.

Seriously, I'm starting to tear up over here...

Shut your gorram mouth hole and let's go!

Don't forget. You're buying!

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Yankee

How ya feeling?

Tactile-wise or emotional wise?

Both.

Strangely tired for a change. It's 10:00 at night and I'm actually tired for once.

Emotionally, I'm doing alright at the moment. Work has finally settled down, I posted another update to Bill's adventure, I made some kickass shrimp ravioli for dinner and it's the first of March.

Odd that you would be tired. You're usually up until 1 AM or later, aren't you?

Yeah, usually. I'm not accustomed to being fatigued at what would be considered a normal bedtime. I can't get my brain to shut up usually.

So, what would you like to talk about today?

Don't know. I am to the point now where I'd rather be lazy for today. Only reason I posted today was really just to tell the world that I'm still kickin'.

Well, that sounds like a boring entry.

Well, I don't remember asking you.

Can't you make something up then? At least give us something to show for the time we spent waiting...

Fine. You want something? Here goes...

Once upon a time, the end.

Oh, for fuck's sake! What has crawled up your ass and died today?

Robert cranky. Want sleep.

You're such a gorram baby, you know that?

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa waa waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAA!

You're absolutely useless, you know? Fine. You want to be Sally Sobsalot, be my effin' guest. Big baby. No wonder why it's been ages since you've been...

Whoa. Stop. Right there. I'm grouchy and whiny today, yes, but there's no need to get nasty about it.

I was going to say that it has been ages since you've been young enough to cry like a freaking child, but holy Jebus, what an admission!

Shut up.

I mean, damn, I had no idea it would be THAT easy to trick you into telling the WHOLE world about it...

Get lost, Voice, I'm in no mood to...

And just WAIT until you actually hit "post new entry!" Then the whole planet will KNOW your shame! Hahahahahaha!

Yeah, but it won't be as bad as me mentioning the fact to your boss that I caught you sleeping on the job as well as the discovery of the twelve pack of Mountain Dew and the ocelot that you put in his office.

...

Oh, yes, and dare I forget the fact that I caught you snogging his wife at the 7-11 last night?

You saw that? Wait, you saw nothing. I am invisible, after all.

Details, details. You know what? Screw this, I'm going to bed.

Fine. Get some sleep and perhaps you'll be in a better humour tomorrow.

Fine. G'night, Voice.

X-Ray

I survived.

Survived what?

Exactly.

Whiskey

Hey!

What?

I've been ordered to make you do something.

Oh? By whom?

Um, no one you would know directly. It's impossible for the two of you to speak to each other.

Alright... That makes sense... Yep, perfect sense...

Well, he's the voice in your head that, um, controls the other voices.

Wouldn't that be me by default?

An extension of you, perhaps. He keeps track of everything you say, think and do and then issues commands to the rest of us to, um, influence you to make certain choices. Not that you usually listen or anything.

But wouldn't that be a conscience of sorts?

No, I've said too much already. How 'bout we just start over, shall we? Good.

Wait, you didn't answer my...

Nope, too much to do. So, what's the story on your lunch today? I just happened to look up and notice you were talking to someone.

How astute, Voice. I only talk to several different people a day after all.

HA! HA! The Feared Villian, Sarcasmo, strikes again! So, who was it?

An old favorite boss of mine from my theme park days, Steve. Hadn't thought of the guy in 13 years and suddenly, he just walks into the place I was eating at.

Ah. Did he recognize you?

Not after I asked if his name was "Steve *********" and let him access his brain for a minute to decide if he should bolt or stick around for a minute. I cut to the quick and told him my name, and suddenly he found that file he had stored away in his brain from 13 years ago.

That must of been wild. Completely different city and everything.

Yeah. Turns out the guy's been working for the bank that I belong to. Works at the branch down the street from my work, apparantly. We're supposed to meet for a beer sometime next week to catch up. He seems to be doing well. Married, two kids, living here in Austin. He looks about the same as he did 13 years ago, which I cannot claim the same.

Small world, eh?

True enough. When I run into someone from the past, it isn't usually somebody that I ever expected to see again. Usually not a person I'd ever think of tracking down after asking myself, "Whatever happened to ol' (insert name here)?"

Not that I don't have enough of a list of people I wish I could find and catch up with. I know perfectly well that the list I DO have is one that I'll never follow up on. After a certain point, it feels like creepy stalking, ya know?

Yeah... And you know how it feels to be stalked. Still, if they were old friends, wouldn't you think they'd love to hear from you?

That's the thing. I don't really know anymore. Chance meetings are one thing. If you run into someone and they want to meet up for drinks or something, that implies an offer that is neither binding or completely obligatory. You have the option to follow up, or lose the number. It's your choice.

When someone calls out of the blue, it means that they made an effort to find you. To me, it's usually unsettling unless I had a good working knowledge of the person's character beforehand. Scratch part of that up to paranoia as well, but in many ways it makes sense. Catching one off guard usually is unsettling anyway.

So, if you had a choice, which long lost friends would you like to get an e-mail from?

First choice?

Rachel.

Oh my god did I make a huge mistake by not staying in touch with her. She was beautiful, honest, a joy to be around and shared so many common interests.

I always wanted to go out with her as more than friends and I think she did as well. Problem was that our timing was always off. Usually when one was single, the other was taken. This went on for years.

I remember we were downtown one night, celebrating our birthdays. Rachel's was a few days before mine, so we usually had a week of drinking foolishness between them. That night, she talked to me and told me that she loved me. Really, truly and deeply. She had felt that way for so long and she said that she refused to take that piece of info to the grave.

Truth was, I felt the same way. I couldn't say that because I was taken at that time, a couple weeks ago being the start of a relationship that would eventually end in a lot of wasted time and emotional devastation. The gal I was with hated Rachel on sight and like a stupid fucking moron, I didn't fight her about it. Time took its toll and Rach & I drifted apart.

Sure, I was taking the high road or some such bullshit that I told myself on lonely nights with my cat/dog and a good book. The simple fact was that I sacrificed another friendship for a relationship. I'm not saying that Rachel and I would have been together, but at least I think we'd be still friends.

The same thing happened with other friends in the past. Lost touch or broke contact with friends over the years because of relationships I've been in or other stupidity that really wasn't such a big deal after all.

True, people will sometimes naturally drift apart over time. That's life, ya know?

Yeah, but this one still hurts, doesn't it?

Admittedly, sometimes, yes, it does. I'd be a fool if I didn't acknowledge that. But that's life. You win, lose or draw in life. You can't always get what you want.

But yeah, there's tons of people I wished that I had never lost contact with. I miss Danny (college), who disappeared after joining the Navy. I wonder if he's alright and if he and Jen worked out.

I wonder what happened to Virginia after she up and moved to the Panhandle. Is she still going for her Biology degree or has she moved on to California after all?

The list continues on and on.

The one thing I have decided is to work on keeping the friendships that I do have, regardless of who I'm with. No, wait, fuck that. If whoever I'm with doesn't like my friends, they can go into a field and sit on it.

I'm tired of losing good friends due to my negligence, personal drama or laziness. If a friend and I are naturally drifting apart, I'll try to do something about it. If nothing works then, yeah, let life take it's course with no hard feelings.

I just am sick of sitting here wondering about "what if's" and "why did I not's." Life's tough, but friends make it easier and more fun to boot.

Well said, sir, well said...

Victor

Voice #7, what is your sit rep?

Hello, Controller. I think things are going rather swimmingly, sir.

Swimmingly? That's not exactly the report I'm looking for. Report current status on his mental condition.

Can't really tell. This is a delicate operation, your Controllership, and well I still have a lot to do just yet.

I see. From your previous reports it looks like you're making some limited progress in his mental realignment, but it's just not enough, Voice.

And what would be enough, sir?

It's not a question of "enough" that I'm interested in. I want better than "enough."

I'm open to suggestions, Controller.

Get him to do something.

Respectfully, sir, but what "something" should I encourage?

Go on a trip, write something, make a Photoshop funny. Something for cripes sake.

Are we bored, sir?

Watch it, #7. You do not want to try my patience today, son.

Well, I could get him to have two voices in his head talk to one another. That's always good for a laugh!

Are you insane, man? That'll never work...

Uniform

Before I am too late, lemme wish you a happy Half-February!

Thanks, Voice. Feels good to be on the downward run, especially since I've managed to avoid getting into any scrapes so far.

So, how are you feeling in general?

Oh, alright I suppose. As my grandfather is fond of saying, "the sun came up and the sun went down" today.

Which is usually a good start...

Indeed.

So, what's on your mind?

I've been having these dreams about writing a book.

What kind of book?

Not sure. It's just something that I've contemplated doing, writing a book. What that book would be about is anyone's guess. I think it's just the notion of writing one and having it become a bestseller that's stuck in my head lately.

And you think you can write a bestseller?

Well, it'd be cool if it was, right?

Just. You should probably not count on it as a solution though.

Damnit. You see, Voice, that's exactly what I'm tired of. Why the fuck is it that I can't simply live my life, follow my dreams and try to achieve them without SOMEBODY telling me to aim lower? Huh?

...

Well? I'm talking to you, Voice.

Answer me, damnit!

All I'm saying is that you may not be living in the most realistic scenario here...

Tell that to Ben Franklin, Thomas Edison, Walt Disney and Albert Freaking Einstein, for crissakes...

What, you think you're as good as any of those guys?

Well, no, uh, wait. Fuck that. I'm as good as I am. That's all I need.

Are you asking me to stroke your ego or is this part of something deeper? Some internal struggle between the immortal human forces of "can" and "cannot" perhaps?

Both. None. Aww, hell, I'm not sure.

Well, at least you're fired up about something. Your "drunken sailor monologue" is showing.

That's just it. I don't know if I'm fired up or if I'm not. If I am fired up, what am I fired up about and why?

You're asking the wrong person here, Chief. Nobody is going to be able to answer or even understand that question any better than yourself.

Which is another part of the problem. I have naysayers to the right of me, egostrokers to the left of me and I'm sinking in a quagmire of confusion, frustration and a desire to do something better with my remaining time on this planet.

Fun topic for Valentine's day, no?

Hey, it beats my bitching about it, don't you agree?

My advice? Go outside.

What?

Go outside and look at the stars. Do it now.

Why? They'll never be as pretty as the ones I saw that night in Arizona.

Just shut your mouth hole and do it. The same stars are out there. Just keep looking and maybe you'll get a glimpse of what you're missing.

What, a sense of scale?

Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Now, go. And bring a Thermos full of cocoa, it's cold outside.

Can't argue with that logic...

Tango

Creativity and the Rebirth of the Lamented Phoenix.

Great, here it comes...

Shush. This is my choice of topics today, not yours.

Which strikes fear into my very heart, let me tell you.

Voice, shush. This is important to me and I'd appreciate it if you didn't derail it.

Suit yourself then. Hopefully, it won't end in utter confusion and 'false internal wisdom errors' like Sierra did.

SHUSH.

Recently, you've seen me shamelessly plugging my friend Bill's adventures in South Korea. While I've heard the deafening silence of the masses (thanks in part to our allowing the QTV website to languish for so long; therefore losing most of our visitor base) for the most part, I have to say that I'm still pretty damn proud of it anyway.

First of all, this collaboration has a lot of happy fun times in it for me. I'm back to work on the website, almost on a daily basis once again.

Secondly, this collaboration is quite challenging. First of all, Bill is 15 hours into the "future," so that every update he sends at 7:00 PM his time, I'm still snoring away at 4:00 AM. Apart from a few short AIM discussions, we've been relying on e-mail to update each other on his and my goings on.

It gets a little tricky because the computer that he is using is mostly displaying Korean symbols in programs (Windows XP, Explorer, etc), leaving him to try to do everything by memory. I hooked him up with Babel Fish a couple of days ago to help with translations from Korean to English and in reverse, which seemed to help some, but he's still relying on his knowledge of what usually goes where on his systems back here.

As a result, his e-mails to me usually are fairly short and direct when it comes to describing everything that he sends along. To help him out, I've been doing some behind the scenes research into some of the places that he visits as well as some of the customs. I usually send this info back to him to confirm and cross check, so all he has to do at that point is just to say "yes, that's right on," or "nah, not sure if that's right. Lemme check that and I'll get back to you."

What results from this is that he sends me the raw content of what he'd like to say and then entrusts it to me to effectively 'ghost write' his entries for him. I use pretty much everything he sends, sometimes spicing up a phrase here or correcting a typo there, but mostly I attempt to help him plug up the gaps. It's an asset in ghost writing if you can attempt to write in a close approximation of your friend's voice beyond a sentence or two without letting your own totally take over.

Luckily, I've known Bill for a number of years and while I may not be dead spot on 100% of the time on how he'd say it, I've been able to, as he has said, "do him justice." The interesting part in this is that I can read through the earlier entries and be able to see where Bill's narrative begins and ends and where "Bill's" narrative begins and ends. Sometimes, I can recognize where both mesh together.

While I haven't yet told him this, I'm actually grateful to him for proposing this feat of around the world cooperation in the first place as well as being honored that he's letting me share in the discovery in some measure. I'm back to Photoshopping again. I've dusted off ol' Dreamweaver. And my brain? Waking up again.

I'm back to thinking about "how cool can I make this look?" and also having a good time doing it. That's more progress than I can say I've had for a whole year now and that means a lot. A. Lot.

I started fiddling with other parts of the website, breathing fresh life into the poor languishing creature. I only hope to keep the momentum going and I have a certain redneck to thank for it. I told him I'd buy his first beer when he gets back, but I really owe him a keg. And that, my friends, is awesome.

Just posted his latest batch of updates over the past few days, including today's. Share and enjoy!

Sierra

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Never guessed you were a showtunes fanatic, Voice.

Showtunes? Hell no. I'm singing Liverpool F.C.'s anthem!

Which was a showtune to begin with...

No it wasn't! Pink Floyd used it for one of their songs, that's probably what you're thinking of. Showtune, peff.

Uhh, no. Penned by Rodgers & Hammerstein, this song was featured in...

Never mind. Anyway, you get the point of it, don't you?

That no matter what, I won't be alone in life? You could have accomplished that rather handily without having to torment us with your foul warbling.

What? You don't like my singing?

Oh, of course not. It was truly epic. Yeah. Epic.

Uh huh. Still, it was a good segue into today's topic, eh?

What, the feeling of being alone and how I handle it?

Indeed.

I could have thought of a better way, but I guess I'll run with it for lack of better introduction to the topic.

Aloneness and You, a journey into the mind of me.

It's strange how it works sometimes. I can be surrounded by a crowd and still feel like I'm standing in the corner by myself.

I never quite understood why that is. Perhaps it is a part of my psyche that tells me that I am the only me in the universe and everyone else is not. After all, only I truly know how I feel, what I'm thinking about, how a particular piece of cake tastes to me.

Everyone's tastes, thoughts, opinions differ in some way and you will never find a perfect match. Search all you like, there's no such thing as perfect.

Sure, you may find someone who's close to the ideal as they can get (and Deus help you if you do), but no one wil perfectly fit your notion of the perfect gal/guy. Ever.

In some ways, that's the beauty of being alone. It forces you to look inward as well as out. To maintain a balance of sorts. To meet people, to hear their stories, to share in life's experiences together. A man could spend his entire life talking to himself and never have the chance to reach beyond his nose but a lonely man can change the world.

The feeling of lonliness has crept into my mind of late. Perhaps it is because on one hand, I am surrounded by people who truly love each other and their life and are not afraid to show it. On the other, I am surrounded by those who feel so wronged in life that everything is the fault of myself and others and it is their duty to make all of us miserable. It's a balance of power that gravitates between the negative and positive forces in life, both pulling strong against the bonds of the other.

Alone, lonely, lonliness. Words that mean something, everything or nothing to the individual who bears their weight on his or her shoulders. Some fear it, some embrace it, some don't even realize they are in that state to begin with.

Myself, I am mentally alone and I am OK with it. I spent so many years of my life trying to unconsciously mesh with people who would make me feel less lonely instead of realizing the truth that such tactics are mired in folly and will result in pain.

The worst reason to be with somebody is because they make you feel better about yourself. Being with someone so that you feel better about yourself is a conceit that society pushes upon you in order to justify our fears about being alone. To be alone or different is to go against the Groupthink, the very fabric of subconcious human interaction.

You've heard it ever since you were a kid.

"Only the cool people are on the cheerleading squad."
"Don't hang out with that four-eyed loser. He just sits there by himself all day so he must be a freakazoid."
"Join the congregation, for as a community we are there to serve each other, not ourselves."

I am alone. I've been alone for many years and realizing this no longer bothers me. I am no longer afraid to spend time contemplating life's mysteries and if I never meet the gal who is closest to my ideal lifemate, so be it.

I'm just going to be the best me that I can, one that I can live with and respect. Meanwhile, I shall reach out to others as I've always done but I shall not envy their happiness, nor shall I covet their sense of perfection in life.

There has to be a way to tip the balance. Somehow.

And you'll neeeeever walllk aloooonnnneee!

Beauty, Voice, pure beauty...

Romeo

Issue 4: February.

The entire month of February?

Yep. The whole Baked Alaska. I so very hate and loathe the month of February with every fiber of my being. On a scale of 1 to 12 of my favourite months, where "1" is the highest rated month, February rates a distant 407,339.

In my view, the Romans were smart as hell by attempting to shorten this month as much as possible. It's a cursed month and apart from this month containing the birthdays of three people who I love and care about, the rest of the fucking mess can go to Hell.

Such anger, young padawan...

And justifiable, given my history with this month. Losing two good friends (one to drunk driving stupidity, the other I mentioned a few days ago), both grandmothers, my apartment fire and more fun memories really left a mark on my soul.

Granted, some cool things have actually happened during Februaries past, but mostly each and every one has heralded the arrival of one disaster or another.

But, isn't Valentine's Day somehow able to counteract the misery of the month? All that love and cheerfulness?

HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA! Holy shit! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaa!

Do you write your own material, Voice, or what?

So... I'm guessing no.

Valentine's Day and I just don't go well together. Either I'm alone and have to put up with cuddly kissy-smoochy people and Madison Avenue's constant barrage of ads for cuddly kissy-smoochy bears and diamond rings, or I'm with someone and the night somehow degenerates into a ballyhoo of drama. I've yet to have a date on Valentine's that flowed smoothly.

For me, V-Day is a halfway point through the month. A commercially-sponsored day when I prefer to crawl into a cave and nap through.

Maybe you just need to be with the right person for it to work.

Hrrrmmm, yes. Perhaps. Even then, it's still a bullshit holiday.

If you love somebody, you don't require a made up day to show someone you love them. You can choose any day of the year to do that. Hell, April 15th could be full of love if you choose it to be.

And if there's anyday that could use more love, it'd be THAT day.

Assuming our non-American readers would understand the reference to the normal IRS tax deadline.

Of course.

Perhaps I've just cast myself completely into the Summer Camp of Cynical Minds, but Valentine's serves little purpose other than to fill the coffers of business and to make people either feel good about themselves for a night well done or to make those without an S. O. to feel worse.

It's a conspiracy between DeBeers and Hallmark to drain our wallets and make us suffer. Soon, the kissy-smooch smooch bears will transform into giant freakin' robots and we'll all die a slow, painful magical death!

Oh, and CANDY HEARTS ARE MADE OF PEOPLE! CANDY HEARTS ARE MADE OF PEEEEEOOOOPPPPLLLLLLLEEEEEE!

So, February bad, eh?

I have yet to meet the one that broke the mold. Maybe one will surprise me someday but until then, I must be ON THE ALERT and safeguard myself from danger.

Paranoia, paranoia, everyone's coming to get me?

Yeah, I'm not sick but I'm not well.

As an aside, it's funny to me to realize that I picked post Romeo so that I can totally shit on Valentine's Day.

Indeed. Especially given how Romeo ended up after his love life turned to shit.

Good thing this wasn't planned or anything. People might talk about behind the scenes scheduling shenanigans.

And that just wouldn't stand, now would it?

Quebec

Issue 3: Boredom.

Boredom?

Yes, Voice, boredom. Today, I want to discuss how boredom affects me.

Ok... Sounds boring if you ask me...

Well, I don't exactly remember asking you, now do I?

If it's all the same with you, I'm going to go watch "Matlock."

Fine. Leave me hanging here by myself then... Wait. Matlock?

Yeah. "Matlock."

Speaks for itself, I suppose.

Anyway, I've never been one to handle boredom, although at times, I allow myself to be bored. I've found that in some cases, boredom actually encourages me to do something constructive or it will allow me to delve deeper into my skull and find some deeper meaning to my life.

One should never be afraid to be bored, at least every once in awhile.

When boredom occurs on a more constant basis, that's when it gets annoying. Constant boredom usually points to a serious issue in your life, such as your career or your social interactions. This may involve feelings of not being challenged enough or a lack of connection that has failed to maintain a desire to be with certain people or workplace.

I've noticed that I've been bored a lot in recent years. I love my job, I love what I do. I just don't feel that it's enough anymore. I need a greater challenge and one that will leave me with substantially more pocket money than I have been getting. Living hand to mouth is boring.

Relationship-wise, I've discovered that hanging around gossipy people, people who lack personal ambition, and people who have little interest in the world beyond their little neighbourhood to be boring. Look, this doesn't invalidate anyone as a human being, but how much discussion about Hot TV Reality Show or how Neighbour Bob is screwing around on his wife can anyone put up with?

Some people, that is their life. If that's how they choose to live and if they are happy with it, fine. It's just not for me. Not anymore.

If the cards are in my favour, I have another 60 years on this planet. That's not a whole hell of a lot of time to get into mischievious adventuring, especially with my pay scale. Do I sit here, bored out of my skull with the stagnation that has been my life, or do I reach out for something better?

It may sound rather arrogant (and elitist in some ways) to say that people that I find to be boring, bore me. It's a harsh truth about my personality that I am now truly beginning to grasp. I may be the nicest guy you'll ever meet in person, but I will never tell you if I found you boring. I'm not a complete asshole, after all.

Undoubtedly, someone else will take a look at my life and label it boring according to their own standards. And in many cases, they would likely have very valid points.

How can one actually compare one's level of boredom to another person? Everyone's point of view is vastly different.

I suppose that I can look at it this way:

If I am consistently bored with something in my life, then that is a signpost that I need to observe. I can then make a change or at least attempt to spice things up a bit. I need to break the mold of complete predictability in my life and instead adopt a more fluid view of change and mental adaptability.

I used to pretty good at improvistation and being creative on the fly. I need to find a way back to that, somehow.

Otherwise, you'll end up like me; bored out of my skull by talking with this guy.

Thanks for your vote of confidence, Voice...

Papa

Issue 2: Regret.

Much like what I feel for even encouraging this mess in the first place?

*ahem*

As I was saying, I've lived with a lot of regret in my life. Regret for a lot of dumb decisions I've made. Regret for not living to my potential. Regret for not kissing Melissa back in the 9th grade when I had a chance.

I regret so much, but in the end all 'regret' will get you is a headache and an even emptier wallet. If you even have to ask how that is possible, it's probably better that you don't.

Yep. Probably better.

...That's it?

Yes, my disembodied friend of a Voice, that is, as they say, the whole Baked Alaska.

What the? Who says that?

Who says what?

'The Whole Baked Alaska?'

Ummm, Alaskans.

The expression is the whole "enchilada," not "baked Alaska."

Oh, smart guy? Well, when was the last time you ever heard of someone eating enchiladas in Alaska? There's no way, my friend. They're too busy killing polar bears with sharp sticks and drag racing with packs of wild wolves.

Have you ever BEEN to Alaska?

Sure I have! Millions of times!

"Millions?!?"

Alright, fine, never. You happy now Mr. Rand McNally, Atlas Megamind?

So, then, how do you know that they don't have...

Alright, fine, I don't know if they have enchiladas in Alaska or not. Oh, and thanks alot.

For what?

I had planned on this being a short entry, but nooooooooooo. Can't have that now can we, Mr. Nosybritches?

I had just thought that you could have done better than that is all.

Well, I could have just said, "I regret a lot of things, but know I shouldn't, so I won't and instead I shall have a sandwich." Didn't realize I had to meet a minimum words per entry quota set by the blog police.

I could reply to your snarky comment, but know I shouldn't, so I won't and instead I shall have a enchilada ice cream sandwich.

What the... Never mind. Some questions are better off unasked.

Oscar

Item 1: Letting people walk over me.

Oh, this'll be good.

A measure of hush please, Voice, if you will?

Heh. Please, do continue!

In this issue, I find myself sometimes promising way more than I can deliver. I am, by my nature, a very methodical person in several areas of my life. Perfectionalism is good so long as it doesn't slow you down too much, however there is a certain time when "it's good enough, dude," is reached and I need to learn where that point exists.

If I have too much to do, I need to learn how to say no.

Feeding into this is that I'm not a very fast person. I tend to take my time on tasks, which is why I fit in well in a position where attention to detail is important. I can multitask, but I really do not enjoy it. I'd rather finish two things that are excellent quality than to rush through five things that look like utter shit. My viewpoint is that if you're going to do something, do a good job or what the hell was the point?

Attention to detail doesn't necessarily matter in certain things like, oh, pre-washing dishes and folding laundry. I'm not quite OCD, but utter disorder and chaos isn't really how I enjoy my life. I don't mind some clutter and there are times when I'm just too gorram lazy to fold the laundry.

And yet, I attract lazy, messy slobs who say that if a person hasn't completed a fifteen page list of tasks for them in three hours, I'm slower than molasses.

The problem is that I agree to do too much simply because I love and/or care deeply for that other person, so yeah, the caretaker in me kicks in and before I know it, in one night after working all day, I'm cooking, cleaning, conciling bank accounts, paying bills, doing laundry, fixing computers, giving directions, feeding and cleaning the animal(s), checking the car's oil, setting up the new stereo, taking out the garbage and cleaning the bathroom while she sits on her ass all night watching TV and talking to her friends.

I cite that merely as an example, and while that wasn't a typical evening for me, it's a sign as to how I assumed such a role in relationships. I would willingly take on the burdens, even to the point of exhaustion.

And that was without having to take care of kids. I couldn't even imagine how much that would add, if I was maintaining the same schedule with the same lazy person on the couch.

Work is kind of the same way. I bust my ass all day and sometimes take in more work for turnaround times that are sometimes unreasonable. I cite for example every Christmas I've worked. The intake is good, but then I'm pulling tons of extra hours a week to get the work done.

As a result, I would spend 8 to 14 hour workdays then follow it up with another 6 to 8 hours of housework. It's amazing how fast a schedule like that will drain you.

No shit. I can understand that you have stuff to get done, but where is the time you have for your own relaxation or working on your own fun stuff?

Good thing I'm an insomniac, I suppose. I've found that it was always better to fly below the radar instead of above it when it came to "honey do" lists and company workload.

The worst part about it was that I found myself being led by my exes into giving up what I liked to do, spending my money on shit that I didn't like to see, do, buy, etc., and into putting up with a lot of emotional hurt and bullshit that I didn't need in my life.

This kind of stupidity begets stress, which begets depression and feeling like butter stretched over too much bread.

If I was to get into another relationship on this level, I'd probably do the same stuff. I'd seek out the gal who has self-esteem problems of their own and who would latch onto me like a virus. I'd let myself switch back into caretaker just like second nature instead of allowing myself a greater measure of self-respect.

It's that knowledge that depresses me and hinders my emotional well being.

You deserve better than that.

Well, thanks, Voice. For years, it was getting myself to believe that I deserved better treatment than that that has been the greatest obstacle to progress. A relationship should be balanced, not slanted towards one person being a butler while the other goes through life acting like royalty.

Work should be something I enjoy, where I can realize my boundaries and stick to them. Sure, I can push the envelope between comfort and reality, but to be better aware of my limitations.

That's the key thing. To not willingly be a pushover. To set limits and to set more time for myself and my interests. To, gods forbid, relax every once in awhile!

Something to consider, I'd say...

November

By what you've been talking about so far, are you intending on altering your behaviour altogether when it comes to relationships with other people?

By that I mean that I want to change the internal dynamic of how I put others' needs well before my own.

Is it good to help others?

Yes.

Is it wise to do so at such a high cost of one's health and livelihood?

No.

Part of my personality is that I have this strange notion that I can fix things at all costs. It's kind of an arrogant proposition in some ways. I think I can fix people's problems like I'm Mother Theresa or somesuch.

Instead of maintaining a healthy balance between helping others and keeping an even keel yourself, you mean? Also, do you find yourself going to such extremes for any attention that it would give you, or do you do these things to feel better about yourself?

That's kind of what I'm talking about. I'm not big on getting a pat on the head for good deeds, but I admit that sometimes I do such things so that I feel that I don't suck as much.

Why do you "suck?"

Well, I don't really suck, I guess it's just the feeling that I do. Like I haven't done enough to help others, I'm being selfish and self-serving in ways, that I adopt this kind of "guilt complex" so that I feel more obligation to bend to the will of others and force myself into a holding pattern.

The feeling I've had for years is that if people around me are ok, then I can allow myself to be ok.

That's where the real guilt comes into play. I feel like a self-serving ass for this kind of attitude. I'd much rather do something good for people and not even have to think about it. I don't give a damn about being rewarded or even acknowledged for what I do, but I'd rather not have this internal voice saying, "Dude, that was really ultra-sweet of you to do that."

I guess I want a lot more humility in my life and to not have to rely on having to tell myself I'm cool so that I feel validated for my actions. Also, I want to set more rigid boundaries as to how far I am willing to go before I cross my internal mental and physical boundaries.

So, it sounds to me like you're trying to overcome issues of low self-worth and esteem, by attempting to be... What? A martyr for the cause? Not to be rude, but you sound even more arrogant and self-serving by saying that.

One of my greatest sins is "pride." Another is "stubbourness."

Then pull your head out of your ass, man. If you find yourself sitting here debating the level of "suck" that you are for doing something nice that you will end up feeliing guilty about your motivations, then what the... Awww, forget it.

My suggestion is to be a decent human being and not sit there punishing yourself for whatever "sins" you are talking about. You're not making much in the way of sense here, and I've been hanging on to this conversation by a very thin thread as it is.

You want to help people, fine. Do it. After it's over, let it go. Go home, have a taco and move on. You can't sit here and attempt to confuse me with this. You're not fooling anybody.

What? Now I'm confused.

What I'm saying is that you can't live a healthy life if you're too inside your own skull to live it. You're a nice kid, you mind your manners, you try to live up to decent moral standards. On the same note, you screw up along the way and you allow yourself to let these screw ups to shut down your mental processing until you feel that you have served pennance in some way for whatever it was that you did, even if you were doing something good.

Does that make sense?

If you want to live a life of humility, then don't use good works as an excuse to compensate for things about yourself that you do not like. You are never going to get anywhere in life by being a silent martyr. Change the things you don't like and move on.

Which is really the point of all this.

I just get so damned tired of how I feel about this topic. And you know what, Voice? I think you're onto something.

There are other avenues of my life that I need to work on, and perhaps I should focus on those first so that I do not continue the cycle.

Ok, fine. Let's start there and hopefully the rest of this will work itself out. What are some things that you'd like to change?

Well... Let's start right after I get a soda. I require Mountain Dew for this one...

Mike

Does your caretaker personality extend to your relationships only?

No. It would happen with my friends as well.

I rarely speak of it, but years ago a good friend of mine was going through hell. He had been through quite a lot in his life and his way of coping after a certain point was to turn to alcohol and a series of doomed relationships for comfort.

I had known the guy for years, practically considered him almost to be a fourth brother to me. He had been sexually abused as a kid by someone who had lived next door to him, which led to a ton of problems that he kept under lock and key. I didn't even know he had such deep rooted issues until he one day broke down one day and told me.

His other burden was that he was 'in the closet' and had known that he was gay for years but never had the courage to tell anybody about it. Until the day he broke the news to his parents. His mom, instead of accepting the truth, took it upon herself to treat him like a social leper. He "needed church" she said. The only cure for the sin of being homosexual was to return to Jesus.

His dad flatly cast him out of the family. Never again would he speak to his own son.

He turned to drinking and attempting to nail anything on two legs. His way of coping, I suppose.

Flunked out of college, ended up floating from job to job in search of something he needed.

He used to refer to me as one of a few guys in this world that "got him." He'd talk to me and I would listen. Any hour of the night or day.

I'd give advice from time to time but mostly I just listened. As the drinking grew worse, I tried to gently push him towards AA or some other professional help. He asked me to speak at his funeral after I brought up the subject when he called again in one of his most inebriated moments.

I told him that he had a lot to live for, he agreed and we talked for a little while longer before he went to bed. I offered to come see him, but he swore that he was exhausted from work and all he wanted to go to bed. He'd call me back later in the week.

That was the last time we spoke.

Three days later, he ate a shotgun shell. His folks refused to put a obituary in the paper or even to inform his friends about what happened. Damn sure didn't invite us to the funeral since his friends were all, and this is the exact quote, a bunch of "degenerate faggots."

I don't necessarily blame myself for what happened. I did for awhile because I kept thinking to myself that I should have called... Somebody, I guess. I never would have predicted this. Never in a million years.

Truth is, I did what I could at that time. I listened, I encouraged him to seek help and I cared. That was probably more than he was getting elsewhere.

Apart from a very small list of family and friends, I rarely let people get that close. I find myself to be more reserved these days. Friendly to people, yes, but I only confide in so very few these days.

Until you posted this in the blog, you mean.

Yeah.

Pushing the 'pause' button for a moment, why are you opening up now?

Because, as I've said, I'm tired of living the way that I have. I've let things like regret, pain and emotional scars rule my life for a decade. I realize full well the insanity of posting things like this on teh Internets since that lays the soul bare, but I wasn't exactly accomplishing much by holding this all in.

It's my way of throwing up my hands and saying, "oh, alright." I refuse to turn this into a pity emokiddie blog but I damn sure can't sit here and pretend that everything is peachy.

Everyone in the world has problems in some fashion. This is just me airing out some of mine so that I can move on with my life.

I'm tired of living in the shadows of a self-defeatist prophecy.
I'm tired of making pie crust promises to myself that I'll do better next year.
I'm tired of writing half-hearted pleas for attention instead of just writing with the intent of growing somehow.

If people read this and purely ignore the point of this series of random thoughts, I can accept that.

If I read this series and purely ignore the point of it, then I've already given up and should just marry the first nightmare I can find and dwell forever in misery.

I've learned that it's good to care for others and to help them where you can, but you also have to make sure that you're doing ok as well. What use is a tugboat filled with hundreds of cracks and holes in its hull?

Well, shall we continue?

Yeah, sure, fine. Lemme grab a sandwich first and I'll be back.

Lima

I'm ready, Voice.

For?

Answering your question from the other day. I'm ready now.

Shoot.

My biggest fear?

Living the same life that I have been living for so many years. I fear that I will live this way until the day I die.

Eh? I thought you were going to say something commonplace like "commitment" or "death" or "bees." I wouldn't have guessed that answer.

I don't see how you couldn't have. You are, after all, in my head.

True, but you don't necessarily let me in certain areas of your cerebral cortex, now do you?

I don't let many people in there usually. Just the ones I completely trust.

Which means that you don't even trust yourself with these thoughts?

You mean because I haven't included you in my contemplations on this subject before?

Well, what would you think if you were in my position?

Look, no offense mate, it's just that you aren't exactly the most stable part of my psyche now are you? You start off admonishing me, moving into question mode, talk about what colour I should paint the den and then finishing up with a dirty joke involving a pail and some lad from a place called Nantucket. You reflect the amount of ADD that I feel I have to face every single day of my life.

See, now I'm going to get into it with you instead of just answering the question again. I'm sure that I'll be singing more REM lyrics in a moment or perhaps regaling my readers with a merry anecdote about a trio of bears going grocery shopping.

Or, you can just find more interesting ways to stall...

Good point. Well, my answer is quite lengthy, so I'll break it up into sections.

Here goes for section one:

Ever since high school, I've allowed myself to assume the role of a caretaker in other people's lives. Perhaps it was a naive notion of mine to try and see only the good things in people instead of viewing that person as a whole.

In my arrogance, that led me to the belief that no one was beyond redemption and that any major flaw in their personality could be overlooked or somehow changed with a lot of love, affection and hard work.

By that, I assume that you are referring to those in your life who were/are above average in crazy?

Yeah, although I wouldn't be so quick to just hang the label "crazy" in such a cavalier fashion. Maybe on one or two people were certifiable, but overall, no.

Most I would classify as those who have experienced way too much in their life that they adopt a protective shield of an almost normal demeanor. You don't notice that they have the Thousand Yard Stare until later on. Once I've seen that, my instinct was to try to fix them.

I didn't quite realize that some people just can't be fixed and if they can, I sure as hell wasn't qualified to do so.

Anyway, this sort of arrogant Knight In Shining Armour attitude is what really started to drain myself of, well, myself.

What kind of philosophical claptrap are you shovelling here? Make sense, will you?

Well, once I would commit myself to a relationship, I would in essence put their problems ahead of my own. Theory was that if the person I was with was happy, then they would reciprocate and therefore, I'd be happy.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I believe that part of the problem was low self-confidence/esteem. True, I may have been happy go lucky in high school, but I still bore the cross of being a glasses-wearing geek in a time before glasses-wearing geeks were cool. I was able to get along with pretty much anybody in high school, but I kept most of them at bay with my foolish antics.

My developed sense of humor and goofy behaviour first stemmed from a desire for other people to not make fun of me, strange as that seems to me today. I thought that by entertaining and making them laugh, they weren't necessarily laughing at me.

Defensive posture right from the start.

I would later link with women who either also had low self worth issues or bore the scars of a tragic childhood. Most of these people were controlling, hurtful and sometimes violent. For some reason, I fell into those relationships much like a moth to the flame. And I used my own flaws as an excuse to myself to believe that I didn't deserve better.

I would believe that people could change their inner core behaviours and beliefs and I was there to help them, by gods.

Can people change? Sure, if they work at it or also seek professional help where needed. Am I one of those professionals? No way, Charlie.

So, where does this fit into your fear? That you still view yourself as deserving of a life of misery because someone called you "four eyes" when you were a kid and that you are powerless to change it?

It would have seemed like that if you had asked me a year ago. But, no, that's not how I feel. It's how I started down this path.

Each bad relationship left its mark on me. Some marks were good because I learned a valuable lesson. Most however powered a slowly growing trend of distrusting all and intimating none.

Interesting progression and while I will not go through every gal I've dated, I'll list the highlights.

GF-1 caused me to fear God's followers, for some of the more 'blessed' of the large church group she ran with tended to be the more judgmental. Ironic, perhaps, that when those attempting to follow Jesus forget such things as not judging one another or coveting another guy's wiener.

Not that I ever had a chance to show her mine, cheating hypocrite.

GF-2 caused the deepest scars. Violently abusive, she controlled every aspect of my existence. Her mind-fucking abilities were awesome and I have yet to meet her equal.

All things considered, for all those close to me that I have told about those dark days, I've only told you about 35% of what the crazy jackaninny did to me. There are things that I will never discuss.

I did show her mine and she was the one who almost made a smoothie out of it.

GF-3 cheated, gossiped and screamed her way through our relationship. Her method of discussion was usually measured in decibels not in quality and it was usually easier to sit there and dream about ice cream sandwiches than it was to hold a conversation with her.

She also used me as her conscience most times because her impulse control is weak and her inclination towards mischief almost overpowers her at times. Dating her is like living with this guy. (Click where it says "Watch This Movie" to see.)

The irony is that as judgmental as she is, as filled with elitist views on many subjects, she lives a lifestyle that is similar to those she looks down upon. I've dated similar females to this in later days but nowhere near as painful to the ears as this one. Yeeeowch.

So, what you are saying is that history tends to repeat itself?

More or less. I think I've learned a lot about recognizing warning signs and my brain is more apt to go to Red Alert whenever I catch a sniff.

Either way, I've recognized that I commit the sins of pride and arrogance simply because I refuse to believe that I am not a caretaker personality, even if I know the truth is that I am.

Kilo

What is your greatest fear?

Do what now?

You heard me. What is your greatest fear?

Being asked by a voice inside my head about what my greatest fear is.

Nice. I was being serious here. We are supposed to be working on your psychological issues, you know...

Well, it'll have to wait. I'm working right now.

And yet you have time to get on the internet and blog?

Alright, fine, it's my lunch break. Happy?

Yes. Now answer the question.

Which was?

Are you a member of the Communist Party? Dumbass, pay atten...

What?!? Am I a Communist? Oh, sweet! I've been meaning to pull this out...

...You're beautiful, more beautiful than me.
You're honourable, more honourable than me.
Loyal to the Bank of America...

You actually sing like that?!?! Sounds like a catfight mixed in with the noise of someone eating Fritos.

...It's a siiiign of the times. It's a siiiiiiigggnnn of the tiiiiimeess...

Hey. Idiot. Stop Exhuming McCarthy for a moment and focus. I'm asking you a serious question here.

Which was?

You know what it was. Just answer it.

It? I'm not sure, but "it" isn't a question.

Talking to you is like swimming in banana pudding. It's nasty as hell and makes no sense to do it in the first place.

Are all the other voices in my head as weird as you are?

No, but I'm the lucky one who drew the short straw.

Short straw for what?

Exactly.

Juliet

I hereby declare that everyone who has walked through the front door at work today is a selfish jackass. I therefore cast Stench of the Infinite upon them and hope that their dog craps on their rug. Repeatedly.

Bastards.

I told you we were going to get called in.

You're not helping, Voice. I should have told my boss that she was insane and stayed home...

But you're a Class A Wimp and do as you are told.

NOT HELPING.

Pff. Just preaching the gospel of Robert: Chapter 3, Verse 15.

What gets me is that I was ordered to come in only because of one order. One guy who knew that it's crappy outside yet expected his order done anyway. Like I have a crack team of ninja video editing elves working for me while I'm away.

Selfish jerk.

Like it really was that bad this morning. Your Northern relatives and colleagues would probably be laughing at you if they read this.

Yeah, well, they don't have to drive with the same assholes I do. At least the Northerners can at least use common sense in icy conditions. Many Texans, however, lack that knowledge. Did you know that I was less than five feet from getting creamed on 183 this morning?

Duh, I'm in your head, dude.

I was addressing the readers, Voice, not you. Guy was hauling ass over one of the bridges and started spinning around. He came *this* close to smacking into one of we more intelligent drivers who know better than to drive like Mario Andretti on ICY BRIDGES.

C'mon, admit it. You're just pissed because you couldn't sit on your ass and watch movies all day.

No, actually I was starting to go quite mad. Staying home a day or two is good for the soul, but for the better part of a week? Not so much.

The worst part is that I was starting to run out of my food. I could theoretically tap into my roommate's foodstuffs, but that runs the risk of an international incident.

Did I mention that the ice pack on my truck was literally 1.75 inches thick? Took me a good hour to chisel that stuff off.

Well, at least you showed up. Good for you taking the job responsibility you have seriously.

Yeah, well, I still wish the guy's car filled to the brim with week old salmon.

And then you're going to the grocery store, I assume?

If I can. Otherwise, I'm going to have to dig out the Red Ryder and go snipe hunting.

You do realize that there's no such thing as a snipe, right?

Not helping.

India

Lords. I have two extra days off now. What the hell am I supposed to do?

What, because of SUPER ICY DEATH STORM WATCH OVER TEJAS 2007?

Yep. Whole friggin' state shuts down anytime there's a cup in the road. I swear.

What do you expect in a state that is bloody well 120,456 degrees in the summertime, which seems to last 10 months out of the year? Winter lasts, what, two or three days?

Now who's the genius science wizard blowing things out of proportion? 120,456 degrees indeed. It gets super off road hot here, but c'mon. If it ever got that hot, we'd be clouds of vapour or something. Dumbass.

Yeah, well you smell like roasted onions. And peach chutney.

Ooo, that was original. Wait. We're going to be stuck in the same house together for the next 48 hours with nothing but a pan of leftover lasanga, a twelve pack of Mountain Dew, a twelve of pale ale, two packs of cigarettes and a box of vanilla-caramel flavoured Drumsticks. Do we really need to sit here and bitch at each other when we have a major supply shortage crisis in the works?

Good gods! We won't last the night, let alone two days! It'll be like the Donner party, except with better hygeine and we'll be in a controlled-heat enviornment instead of being lost in the Sierra Nevadas!

Speaking of Sierras...

*kaffsshhhhh!*

Ahhhhhh! Pale ale goodness. Hell, I could probably keep these suckers cold outside if I wanted to. Hell part deaux, I could probably even drink these suckers outside so that they retain maximum chilled temperature goodness. Oooohhh, yeaaahhh.

Idiot, the temperature outside is twenty-eight wind chill factor outside of seventeen degrees.

Idiot, I KNOW that. That's why they make jackets.

You're pretty hellbent on contracting another illness, aren't you?

No, I'm just rather bored. Seriously bored. I was off work today and sat on my ass playing games and reading McCaffrey's "The White Dragon" - again. When I wasn't doing that, I was watching old Doctor Who stories and wishing to myself that I was doing something more creative or something totally devoid of common sense.

Such as your frozen beerfest idea?

Yeah. I mean, what the hell else is there to do when it's this crappy outside and you live in a state where absolutely NO ONE knows how to navigate the roadways intelligently enough to grant a certain level of safe passage to the Baskin Robbins? I had a brief notion of filling Katy's old swimming pool full of water and waiting for it to freeze so that the squirrels and other small, woodland creatures would have a place to ice skate. That's how bored I am.

Barring that foolishness, having a beer and a smoke outside sounded well and good enough to pass an otherwise boring twenty minutes or so of my life.

Well, why don't you write a story or something constructive?

Pifff, that won't work. I haven't had much to say in months.

Umm... Ok...

Hang on, Voice. I need to go put a few of these brews outside to chill. Back in a bit...

Hotel

So, where was I?

Hmmmm?

Damnit. You haven't been paying attention again. Why am I not surprised?

What, you've been saying something important for a change?

Well, duh! Where have you been all this time?

Watching old "The Joy Of Painting" episodes on the Internet.

What?!? May I ask why?

Man's like a dose of Xanax mixed in with a cup of warm cocoa. Now shut up Voice, he's painting some more happy trees.

You've got to be shitting me.

Ahhhh... Sweet, sweet mental draining. Exactly what I need.

For what?

Reorganizing my brain. I've felt so damned muddled lately -- not that you'd understand. Or care.

Isn't there something else you can watch? I'm beginning to feel pleasant and happy and that will just not do.

Just go with the flow, dude. Go with the flow.

Golf

So, you feeling any better?

No, not really. I still feel like hell, Voice.

Geez, what a pussy you are. Take a pill and get back to work, wuss.

What? I haven't taken off work for this. It did just hit me on Friday night, after all.

You're still a wuss.

Know what, Voice, you can just eat me. If anything, I was probably due for this.

Oh, boo hoo for the lil' crybaby working 60+ hours a week under stressful conditions while dealing with a personal life that doesn't meet his ideal. Here, lemme find a sleeve to mop up those delicious tears of ultimate sadness...

You're a real dick.

C'mon, please. You sit on your ass in a climate controlled private office looking at other peoples' shitty home movies all day. You act like you're single-handedly building the Statue of Liberty with metal that you personally mined, smelted and cast. Give me a break and get back to work.

Let me ask you something. How is this helping me?

What do you mean?

Well, I thought we were supposed to be working through whatever my problems are.

Not on my time clock. Get back to work. Now.

But...

NOW.

Foxtrot

Happy New Year!

Aren't we a couple days late for that, Voice #7?

Do we ever get anything done on time?

Point taken, if exaggerated quite a bit.

So, what resolutions have you made?

Resolutions?

You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb.

Are you always this direct?

Quit Amtrakking and answer the damn question.

Geez, Voice, no need to get nasty about it.

Well?!?

I didn't make any.

For all that's good and sacred... Why didn't you just tell me that the first time instead of...

Instead of leading you down the primrose path of distraction? Don't know really. My first theory is that I'm getting tired of talking to myself. It's not solving anything. Just like New Year's resolutions. They're just the same "feel good" crap we spoonfeed ourselves and later regret when we fail to keep to them.

Lovely answer, Mr. Negative Stephens, Esq.

Do you blame me?

Perhaps you tell yourself that so that you avoid making changes in your life.

More likely I tell myself that because if I didn't, I'd waste even more time debating whether or not I should. Figure that one out, smartass.

Which is exactly what you are doing right now...

Really? I hadn't noticed.

And like sarcasm from the Fountain of Cynicism...

So are the days of our lives? You can't seriously be using that lame duck of a joke. That one went out with saddle shoes, man. Try again, Voice.

Ok, never mind. Look, did you ever in your life make a New Year's resolution?

Yeah. In third grade, I vowed to stop tormenting my teacher and fellow students with my production of fake fart noises.

And did you keep it?

Sure I did. I made real farts instead.

Isn't that trading one bad habit with another?

Pretty much. The beatings I'd get in return from my teacher and classmates for my cutting loose a good loud blast of the asshorn during class were indescribible.

I swore after that that if I did make any resolutions in the future, I'd be sure to break them as soon as possible. That way, I'd keep my nose and teeth in their original, fixed positions.

But surely you can see that a resolution is little more than a goal that you set for yourself? You must set goals for yourself, don't you?

Nah. Goal setting is for those who play soccer. A goal is something that is finite, whereas how you make that goal is not. You can kick a ball one of a thousand different ways, but the ball rarely follows the projected flight path. That it isn't intercepted or deflected along the way is purely left up to chance, physics, climate AND skill. Either way, the only point is to get into the net.

I purely make choices. I decide what I want in this life, plan how to get there and work at it. Plans change, life changes. What I want in this life isn't a goal, because what I want can change quicker than I can type this response. I have to accept the fact that I'm a willow on the wind and I could be splatted by a flock of rabid flamingos tomorrow. Or not.

I can see having dreams and working to make those dreams a reality. But as a realist, I accept that I'm powerless when it comes to avoiding cheddar cheese on crackers.

----+----

To Be Continued

Echo

Do you remember the winter of '93?

Thirteen years ago? Not much.

Specifically, the trip that you made with your entire family back to LA to spend the holidays?

Ah. That trip. Bits and pieces, I'm afraid.

Do you remember how you felt during that trip?

I felt like shit, honestly. I had just got over a case of... bronchitis? Yeah, I think that was it. I remember coughing like a jackal the whole time.

I meant emotionally.

I felt happy. I remember just feeling like everything was right with the world. The whole family gathered one last time before...

Before '95, you mean.

Yeah. Everything changed in '95. Everything. The whole family dynamic shifted.

You afraid of change?

Haven't always been. There were times when I was practically dragged kicking and screaming, or so it felt.

Getting back to the trip you made in '93, what was the one memory that you recall most vividly?

The blowout that we had just 50 miles short of home. That sucked.

Why that? I would have thought you'd say the dinner you had or some other aspect of the visit.

I think it was because it was the first time my dad ever truly apologized to me and told me that he was proud of how I had handled the emergency. And that was after I seriously backsassed him for trying to crank up the heater. It was cold, but when it gets to be 3 AM, the heater is my worst enemy.

I love my dad, but I always had a hard time seeing eye to eye with him. I felt a lot closer after that moment mostly because I realized that he was a human being as well.

Apart from that, the visit just stuck in my mind as happy fun time. I wish I had been able to appreciate it more, but teenagers are rather ungrateful, emotional savages, no?

So, talk about this past Christmas. How did it make you feel?

Well, it was odd in some ways, fun in others.

Odd?

Yeah. Having worked around a retail environment for so many years, the "Christmas spirit" as I've known it has been rather faint. I just don't feel it. Don't feel the magic, nor the 'warm holiday spirit' that I used to have when I was a kid.

Just feel, well, dead. I went through the motions, bought presents, found myself saying "Merry Christmas" to people, but when the day actually came I felt... Well, like it was just Monday.

Scrooge much?

C'mon, Voice, you know better than that. It's not about the Scrooge Paradigm, more like a general sense of overall sensory burnout.

Ever hear "Green Chri$tma$" by Stan Freberg? It kind of sets up the sense of what I'm talking about. The "Spirit of Christmas" is converted into a currency of sentimentalism fed into the machinery of capitalism. Without it, most retailers would never see a profit, at least that's how it feels.

Meanwhile, the meaning behind the season is lost; shielded behind walls of profit and commercialism.

Cynic, I may be, but there's still enough humanity left in me to feel guilty about being part of the machine this time of year. The only counterbalance I have for this is in the fact that I have family and friends that I love and who love me and that regardless of the season, it's always great to spend time with them. That's Christmas's one true saving grace for me the past few years, the chance to hang with those I love.

One would argue that 'family' 'friends' and 'love' are what the true meanings of Christmas are, you know?

Well, I would say that it's good to not suck as much as I thought I did. In fact that does make me feel better in general.

In fact, I hoist this glass of Sierra in honor of that. Merry Christmas, one and all!

Delta.

You stand there looking at the wreckage that you have wrought. The skyline is clear, plenty of room to breathe and walk around.

You heft the sledgehamm...

Oy. When you said "to be continued," I had no idea that meant over TWO FREAKING WEEKS.

Oh, great. It's you. It's been a while, hasn't it Voice #7?

Seriously, man, what the Hell are you writing about now? Do you fancy youself the modern Aesop or something?

What? I'm not writing fables here, Voice, I'm writing a series about self-exploration and change.

Self-exploration and change? More like an essay into existential boredom and literary masturbation. I've read ingredient labels more entertaining than this.

You can't be serious. This isn't about amusing the masses, this is about providing another way of looking at one's internal struggles.

Good lord. Lemme ask you something. When was the moment when you decided to become egotistical and boring? If you ask me...

Piss off, Voice. I'm doing this because...

IF YOU ASK ME, I'm fairly certain that you've lost focus. Remember when we used to write? I mean ACTUALLY write?

I AM writing.

Oh, really? What, besides bitchy, whiny and depresssive self-important tretises on life's cruelty, have you written lately? Writing with you used to be fun, full of fart jokes and bullshit. Now it's like writing with... With a... With a third-level Chaucer wannabe.

Look, Voice, if you don't like it, why don't you just fuck off 'til I'm through? I'm happy doing this. It gives me a sense of release to vent what I've been dealing with for years.

Say after me: Literary. Masturbation.

What, you're so damn smart?

Never claimed to be, but I probably am more right about this than you can see objectively.

Fine. You want to hash this out or do we just ignore each other like we've done over the past few years?

Though I may have been silent, I haven't ignored you.

Oh, so you have been paying attention? Alright. Go on then, if you must...

----+----

To be continued...

Charlie

You spend some time sizing up the job ahead. Realizing the amount of strength that you will need to muster, you pause for a moment to reevaluate.

* Am I so reliant on measures of safety that I required these walls to be built?
* Am I so insecure in my life that I allowed these walls to be maintained?
* Am I truly happy with the way that things are and feel so powerless to change them?

You heft the sledgehammer, raise it above your head and take your first mighty swing.

----+----

To be continued...

Bravo

You stare at the wall directly opposite to you. The colour of the paint isn't noticed so much as the texture of the wall itself.

You notice each bump, each crater in the drywall. The wall isn't perfectly smooth but it is sturdy. Fulfilling its purpose as quietly as it has since it was first constructed.

Walls are little more than an idea; made with a combination of wood, steel, iron, glass, rock or a combination of materials. Walls are constructed, some with a purpose of keeping things in, some with a purpose of keeping things out.

You consider that for a moment. Behind that wall is opportunity. Chances for bliss or for tragedy.

You stare at that wall because you are unsure about something, your life perhaps. What frightens is the idea that you stare at that wall because you have nothing better to do.

There are usually four walls to a room, each obscuring a direction that your life would take if you were willing to step outside and walk. If you were not so ashamed of yourself for being yourself, you probably would.

You have been a prisoner locked up inside a prison of your own design, escaping only long enough to show up for work detail during the week. The weekends have long since become 60 hours of home arrest except when your wife sends you out to get the groceries.

But then you see the axe and the sledgehammer. The axe brings comfort. The sledgehammer brings freedom.

----+----

To be continued...

Alpha

It starts with a downward glance.

A failure to acknowledge or an attempt to hide one's soul from someone's direct eyesight. You hurt. You know you hurt but feel that you can bear that weight just *that* much longer without asking for help.

After all, to show such emotions to other people makes one weaker, right?

You spend the first few days trying to figure things out for yourself. The task ahead is daunting and you meditate way longer on these issues then you intended to.

Days turn into weeks turn into months and sooner or later you are at war with yourself. You withdraw behind mental bars of titanium steel, locked safely away from the world in your reinforced bunker. Occasionally, you stick your head outside to sniff the air and survey the damage outside your lair. The air smells fresh, but you can hear perceived danger approaching from outside your battlements.

Years pass and you have fortified yourself behind thicker walls. You fake emotions now. After the years pass, you've learned how to fake being happy just for the comfort of those around you. Inwardly, you writhe in agony.

You want to shout against the injustices of the world, about bad relationships, lack of true job security, wars fought in distant lands that are actually closer now than ever before, thanks to technological advances that as little as 100 years ago were just some poor sucker's pipe dream that would never work. Such ideas.

You struggle through the daily grind, hoping to find some validation for your very existence. You surround yourself with those you can tolerate, promising friendship on the outside yet listening to the ever-present ticking of the internal chronometer.

Ten years have now passed since this began and you are now even more lost than before. You struggle to find inner meaning but find nothing. The kid who dreamed of being an astronaut is now an automaton, lost in a career that was chosen out of college as a stepping stone but ended up as a thick patch of swampland instead.

Now you can't even remember how this even started, let alone explain it to someone else. Your life, once filled with promise and hope, has been replaced by a mortgage, a wife who you married so that you just wouldn't be alone anymore and a lot of sleepless nights because you feel guilty about it.

You contemplated suicide for 2.6 seconds a few years ago, but quickly decided against it. You put the kibosh on those thoughts because then your life really was a total waste and you realize also that the pain you'd leave behind is infinitely worse than any trivial pains that you are going through now.

Besides, you know in your heart that you can turn your life around; if you weren't having such a enjoyable time being miserable that is. You just wish that the solution would present itself because you are just too full of excuses and bullshit to take charge of it yourself.

And then one day, it does...

---+To Be Continued+---