Yeah, that flex up there is exactly what I was NOT supposed to do so soon after surgery, and why it's been swelled back up real hard ever since. I assess into occupational therapy on Wednesday specifically for that. My surgeon was very glad I called up to discuss it.
So this was me on the game server today, dealing behind the scenes while I dealt with a problematic duo.
click pic for a good write up about writer problems
I took half an opioid left over from my knee surgery just to be able to log back into internet. I cannot do anything but type with this hand. I'm back to square one.
Cool videos I've been watching to help pass the time while I ice my hand.
This next took me nearly an hour to watch because pausing to read all the things, but perfectly answers all the same things I was feeling about season 4. Essentially, I don't think Sherlock ever got off the plane.
I'm still working on this one because it's so long, but I keep coming back to it to continue because it's so cool.
I really do like this anon vid. Spot on.
I'm not on any particular side (the anons don't take sides, we are all humanity and should all be given the same considerations, dignities, and opportunities), but I do quite enjoy watching and listening to Julian Assange. This popped up in my suggestions so I watched it. He's a very pretty man.
Because I watch such a wide variety of things on youtube, I get all kinds of suggestions, and I filter through thousands just to watch a handful. I very quickly stop and move on if the first minute doesn't hold me. There are some really good things to see, and I'm so thankful I live in a time where I can see so much with so little effort and cost while I am stuck not being able to use my hand very well. #transparency I was once stood up by a guy who couldn't tell me he was an alcoholic. He had already come out as gay years before to me in a very bad area to be gay, but he chose to get shitface wasted and get picked up by another guy and then couldn't face calling me up to cancel, which I'd have been ok with. What he didn't know was that I am an alcoholic, too, and I'm pretty sure I've been much worse places than he's ever dreamed. You know what? Let it go. Just be you, guys. Own your guilt, your pain, your fails, and be human with the rest of us. We love you anyway.
This isn't my usual fun stuff. Don't follow me down this path if you don't want to feel sick.
Halloween is a fun time. I love Halloween, it's one of my favorite holidays. I love autumn, I love the fun, I love everyone having a spooky good time.
Part of the fun is watching scary movies. I have nothing against scary movies. I have nothing against enjoying Halloween for the spooky fun of it.
But that's where it stops.
The flip side of the entire Halloween movie industry is that it callouses people to believing the acting and the stories in the films could be 'real'. Or, they become so far removed from anything on film being real that they can't believe real people could actually do anything like the films in their normal lives. The portrayal of the psychopath has become so stereotyped that we believe only psychopaths can behave that way, and that a psychopathic lifestyle is a singular incident that happens due to psychological stresses.
To accept that the things we see on Halloween films can be a real way of life for a large network of people around the world is difficult. The idea of actually hurting and killing each other for sport brings up enough repulsion in most of us that we can't cross the line of taboo and imagine feeling that way ourselves, or even if when we mentally experiment about crossing that line, we know we'd never really do anything like that. It's very difficult for us to believe that scary stuff about death and blood and fear is a real lifestyle that people live out all year. Not psychopaths. Real people like you and me. People who teach their children that it's normal to live like that.
Meeting people who've escaped this is very life transforming. They escape from people who look like us. They sound like us. They seem like us. You can't even imagine them being malicious. They are model citizens, good people with good values and morals. You'd never dream and you just can't imagine. And their kids never get rescued because no one believes them when they say something outrageously offensive about someone doing something. Like burying a baby in the yard before they moved to another state. Like being excited about earning their first 50 cents at the age of 11 from an uncle. Like being chased around a table by a father hellbent on rape, and then being tied down multiple times by a mother doing abortions in a basement. I personally cannot imagine a marriage like that, or doing that to my kids, but I've met people who've been so physically scarred from abuse that they could not have their own children.
I've indicated over several years that I'm familiar with death. I've also talked about walking along the edge of the underground. I've met people. I know things. I've done enough to know what's real and what isn't real. I've been places most people wouldn't believe could be on their own streets without anyone being any the wiser.
I know I am capable of things most people I've met would recoil from. Most people wouldn't be able to put their own pet or even a wild animal out of extreme misery, much less dismember and eat their own pets. Having said that, I'm very much against animal abuse and torture, and believe all pets are slaves. I cannot conscientiously own a pet beyond a few chickens after years of farm life. My kids have a couple of pets in my house and it's very difficult for me navigate around the personal triggers when I feel like the pets are miserable or lonely. Imagine how difficult it is for me to be around children being treated poorly. I feel people love animals more than they do other humans, and thinking about that makes me feel so sad that I can barely manage, so I have to shut that feeling down. The anger and sadness that people carry around constantly is very hard for me to be around, which has led to a very reclusive lifestyle.
So imagine meeting people who've done things to other people that are so awful you would never not have nightmares again just knowing about it. Imagine seeing something in a movie that is so much like something that has happened in real life that it makes you feel too sick to watch it, even though you know it's 'not real'.
If you like scary Halloween movies and want more, there is more. There is a lot out there coming out about real stuff going on around all of us. Death and blood and very horrible fear is a networked worldwide industry. There is a lot of money in providing children for parties and films. Some of those children survived growing up living this way, and now they are finding their voices. The irony is how deaf and blind the world around them is to what they have to say while the fascination is turned toward an industry aimed at fake gore. We all know that stuff is fake, right? It's fun.
Over the last couple of years there has been a virtual explosion of social media hate around truths coming out. The trolls have been relentless, while even CEOs of social media platforms are being called in for hearings over whether their networks protect this underground networked industry. The explosion around politics and conspiracy theories rage on and on, often enraging citizens right off the scent of the truth behind what is really going on behind the fronts on mainstream media.
Why? What is so bad about truth that it can't be allowed out into the open? Unless there are some very familiar names winding up in the investigations...
There are now over 51,000 sealed indictments on the biggest human trafficking investigation in human history in the last 8 months. That's in the U.S. Word is out that the UK is next. This is going worldwide. People are going down. People that many of you believe in and still fight for are being nailed for obstructing truth and even supporting human trafficking. Politicians. Public servants. Celebrities.
You want a really awesome thrill this Halloween? Start paying attention to what is really going on beneath all the hate on the social medias. They are going down kicking and screaming, and they are trying to keep you guys so full of hate for each other that we'll miss seeing what they are going down for.
This is it, guys. Halloween has come to the movie industry. Everything you never wanted to know or believe about people you adore in upper crust is being ripped open.
CAUTION: These videos get graphic and may be upsetting or set off PTSD triggers.
#PIZZAGATE SURVIVOR DESCRIBES HORRIFIC ABUSE!
MUST WATCH! JOHNNY DEPP EXPOSED #PIZZAGATE (I'm not picking on Johnny, anyone who knows me knows I have a long history of being a huge fan. Some of the things in this video are pointedly leading, but they have a point in the compiled history and some of the industry involvement. I don't care about the religion or orientation debate. The point is that the actual victims got buried under the celebrity distraction. One has to ask why. I grew up with the whole Satanism in the movie and music industry conspiracy. It was a great way to get a few people really rich and goes way back beyond the Beatles to stuff back in the 50s. I could care less about that. Again, the point is that violently murdered children were dismissed by this industry.)
Worldwide paedophile ring busted in sting operation
Snuff Films - Child Murder #Pizzagate Documentary
Happy Halloween to everyone who made money in the human trafficking industry. Time to nail lids on a few coffins. These are only a few samples, and this has been going on a very long time. You can choose to dismiss this and continue chiming in the knee jerk hate fest on social medias, but like I've mentioned in a few comments here and there, trolling anyone trying to break truth through about human trafficking and especially child sexual abuse trafficking is basically saying they're fine with pedophilia. Something to think about.
Also, hats off to those with inside knowledge who wound up 'suicided'. I don't believe celebrity suicides are what the mainstream media makes them out to be, and the very heavy depression in the industry is the cost for keeping quiet.
If you'd like to wake up more (keeping in mind that all it takes to put you back to sleep is the phrase 'fake news', which basically means you've been brain trained)-
Once in awhile I will write something in response to what I see coming in on trackers. Normally I focus on my own stuff, since #pinkyblog is about me, but when I see a very determined visitor hitting a particular tag for an hour or two straight, or someone checking back over and over for awhile, I do respond to those visitors in another post, although not always clearly.
This one is a direct response to a very different visitor showing up after I wrote "long before I ever heard of the law of one". So far there are 14 total visits (according to statcounter) that started on August 18th at 9:55 a.m., I assume my time.
They've been showing up like this on blogger, as 'unknown region', since they are their own nation. Blogger shows more hits because the metrics are a little different, but since Blogger also counts other areas in the world as unknown region, I won't get into that right now.
I was a little puzzled at first. I'm familiar with the Zuni, Hopi, and Navajo reservations around where I grew up in the Four Corners region, which I've brought up before in "Real Things You Might Not Know About Me" on my Surveypalooza blog.
I've been to Chaco, grew up with a cat named Chaco, and have a desert village named Chaco on a minecraft server. I've also been to the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings in Colorado. I had never before seen direct hits from a reservation area on any of my blogs, so that really caught my attention.
So what is important about the Zuni showing up in my stats? I often mention synchronicity, so I don't take things for granted, especially when it gets my attention over and over.
It made sense to connect a few dots and put that into a search engine, so naturally I paired Zuni with David Wilcock (since I'd written that post just before the hits) and Corey Goode ('star people' show up in Native American legends). I immediately got interviews with Clifford Mahooty, the first of which I'll link here.
I'm about halfway through right now. The best part was Clifford saying that the reason the Zuni and Hopi got together last year was to come out with the truth about the Blue Star Kachina misunderstanding, which was a story that happened for tourism (like we have around the Branson area about the Bolin Gang on the train ride at Silver Dollar City), and it's not like that at all. Right away in this video we see that a dance map was really a 'technology' given to the Zuni to remember for a prophecy about our solar system going through a change, which is now in our near future. The steps precisely spell out what happens in which order, and everything around this prophecy is about astronauts that came from other star systems.
Lexx fans know I am fascinated with the Blue Star scene in Super Nova. Some fans know from The Wheel, It Turns that I think the Lexx property was buried by corporate elite who own our media because it doesn't sell the proper mass brain training. No one knew yet until just now that I think Poet Man is the Lexx symbolism for the 'left behind' who can't escape our Earth and have been working on DNA and experimentation to regain control of their own future in a secret space program so that they can escape.
And of course, Corey Goode has worked in the secret space program and now speaks for the Sphere-Being Alliance, and David Wilcock has researched and scientifically documented that our galaxy regularly travels through higher energy areas and that it's about time for another event, this one being called the Ascension Event. All these things are easy to find on youtube and fun to listen to whether you believe in any of it or not. I've been incredibly bored this month taking it easy on a bad knee and now recovering from a combination carpal release and arthroscopy, so I have caught up on hours of these talks, very refreshing because I love scifi, love science, love new thought, love what ifs, love thinking. I have been very entertained throughout August by everything I can find on David and Corey, and it falls right into line with what I'm doing on #pinkyblog to promote positivity.
So there you go, the Zuni have something important to say before the Event that was long ago predicted and prophesied by multiple cultures that would usher our world into a fifth age. There is more about that in another article.
You can see there are more youtube videos, if you are interested. 🙂
I've had the opinion for years that one of the reasons humans are being/have been pushed to develop a way off the planet was so the fallen can escape an inevitable doom. If the Ascension Mysteries are right, everyone stuck here will experience this energy change as our solar system migrates through a particular territory in our long orbit around the center of the galaxy. The fallen, the cast down know this, and they are not in forms that can survive this, like humans. That is my own opinion and not something I got off the internet.
Bout fried my phone on this next one hiding the glow under the covers and falling asleep. The upload is viral. I wrote a tweet and a FB status about it earlier, and I pinned it. Is it coincidence it came out the day after the anniversary being talked about in the above video?
My hand hurts like hell, but my typing is already getting better. Also, my throat really hurts to swallow and I finally looked in there and found a small area that looks weird, wondering if I got a small sore or scratch when I swallowed the little airway hose under anesthesia.
So I got back up out of bed after sleeping an hour and a half and I'm eating Italian nachos so I can get vicoprofen down. For my hand, not my throat. The hand thing is an ongoing problem from the last Pinky blog, if you're new.
Proof that FB is uber intrustive. The other day I bounced on a post from a publisher and next thing you know they are calling my cell phone. I don't put my cell phone out for view, even for friends, and I didn't friend that publisher page. I checked my settings, and sure enough, my phone number was viewable by friends, so I had to reset that to only me. Check your privacy settings, guys. They had another big update rollout, so just check everything. Also, really creepy that a nonfriend was able to hack that and then leave a recording on my phone. Once is bad enough, but still another publisher calling and leaving a message out of the blue within that time frame, and both of these repeat calling really ticked me off. Real publishers don't solicit by phone. Don't worry, I didn't pick up.
So the blocking begins. Again. I wanted to report for harrassment, but FB doesn't allow me to describe what happened, so how would they even know it's going on outside of FB?
Bunny got a cast change on the same day in the same building at the same time as my carpal tunnel surgery. I thought that was cool. 😎
My knee still doesn't hurt. I had to rewrap the compression bandage, definitely swollen and apparently a bit bloody under all that cotton wrap, but I keep it up a lot and use a cane 90% of the time so I'm doing ok. I have felt it squish in there a couple of times, kinda slide a couple more, and click a few times, no pain at all with any of it, even though the pictures the surgeon gave me look pretty impressive.
The best part is the vicoprofen. I hadn't had hydrocodone in any form since 2014 until my gall bladder removal last fall, and that was overwhelming because I'm like a permanent protracted withdrawal person, clenched muscles and mild hallucinations when I have to take it nowadays because I was on low dose vicodin for nearly 30 years. Today has been lovely, though. I asked for a lower dose since I tolerate pain so well, and I'm feeling wrapped in beautiful fuzzy blanket kind of love. Going to suck stopping it again, so I'm already alternating breaking pills in half. So far I'm needing every 4 hours on the dot for the hand pain, but dang it, I keep forgetting and automatically doing stuff. Every little grasp and tug is horrible and barely functioning, or like using that hand for leverage getting into bed earlier, yowza that sucked.
I spent pre surgery eating plenty of vegetables, alternating salads with cabbage soup, pan roasted brussels sprouts, microwaved sweet potato, crockpot corn on the cob, and I'm focusing on more proteins and yogurt while I'm healing. They gave me precautionary ancef (cephalasporin antibiotic) in my IV during sugery. Also got decadron (corticosteroid, precautionary for inflammation, allergic reactions, and edema), fentanyl (narcotic), lactated ringers (aggressive fluid replacement during fluid and blood loss), lidocaine (numbing agent), midazolam (benzo that induces drowsiness and acts like a roofie so you don't remember), zophran (for nausea, I'm a documented puker during and after surgeries), phenylephrine (antihistamine, also raises blood pressure), and propofol (" a short-acting medication that results in a decreased level of consciousness and lack of memory for events").
And that was on top of a serious lack of coffee and calories, so the first 48 hours are my body cleaning all that out on top of serious healing from intrusion. I'm cautiously already following slow withdrawal guidelines on the vicoprofen. Part of the jolt for a lot of people recovering from surgery is not understanding the meds going on.
Sorry no click to merch, I think it was a short-lived flash sale. The back has the wizards rules.
Wo, stood up to do something and I'm so wasted I barely made it across the room. Funny how sensitive I am now to small dose anything after decades of handfuls of meds that I spent over 2 years cleaning off of. I felt like I had a little tiny bug crawling in my shirt nipping me, usually a protracted benzo symptom for me, but turned out to be petechaie. Every time I have something done I get new ones. I have a petechia for every spinal tap I've had, stuff like that. Some of them never go away.
I had some super cool dreams this afternoon dozing off and on. Going to try some stuff on Mo Creatures (minecraft server) when I can log back on. I'm generally not a very creative builder, even though I have huge claims with builds on them. The stuff in my dreams was like TIME TO REMODEL. I'm very excited but really can't do that till I start the therapies.
I've gotta get back to bed while the pain level is back down. See ya.
Doing this on my phone because I put the laptop into storage till bandage comes off my wrist. Arrival time for double surgery tomorrow is 6 a.m., so I'm getting up at 4 to get that last hibiclens shower.
No coffee. +_+ Scott's life will be in danger. I'll be sweet all medicated up afterward.
I'm also already hungry just thinking that I can't eat in the morning. I rarely eat very early. It's the idea of it throwing my brain-to-stomach relay a curve ball.
I can't wait to see what it feels like to live without a half inch bone chip sliding around stabbing inside my knee in there. All these years. Oof. Wish I'd said something sooner.
K, I've fought with blogger on phone long enough, need YouTube so bad.
So I'm doing this 1500 calorie thing again because it worked in 2011, but the main difference now is every time I start keeping track, my day/week winds up remapping into a whole new set of objectives, like lose 4 pounds, drop everything for crisis, put two pounds back on dealing with it, and it's just not a smooth one direction thing like last time. In the last 4 months I've rescheduled several things 2-3 times each until I finally just gave up and said ok, not happening, just toss it way out there a few months ahead and hopefully everything will be settled back down when we come back around to them. Everything from dental cleaning to surgery has gotten tossed around the calendar like I'm rolling dice. I've had some pretty out of control years, but this one feels like I'm hanging on in a rodeo.
Meanwhile I can feel that bone chip sliding around my knee, now that I know what that is, and it's weird how nauseated it makes me feel now thinking about it, so I just try not to. It slipped into a bad spot a few times today, and finally feeling it slide out and get squished to the back behind my knee about made me sick. All these years I've been mentally blocking that pain, and now that I can visualize it (thank you, MRI), I'm so grossed out I can hardly stand it.
These things took precedence on my silver anniversary-
A loud argument next door that bonenado had to go break up
A rescheduled birthday party displaced twice between a vacation and then a broken arm
Someone I don't even know dying but wound up getting texts over
Another person's cancer announcement from a church I don't even go to any more
A few other things but those are the biggies.
I guess the rest of my life will be like that. I guess that's what getting older is like. Everything from now on is all bad news and other people's problems. There's no escape unless I literally go live alone completely off the grid.
I'm getting better at not caring any more. It used to upset me that every time I had *one* day for myself, after maybe months of not having any, that day would be slammed with so much other people's stuff. It took me awhile to realize it's always been that way, and it's like that for everybody. Several people have noticed, though, that it does seem awfully coincidental with me for some reason, like the second it's finally my turn for something, 4 people slam me immediately with bad news or crisis or something. I have literally gotten back to back phone calls of pure meltdown from several unrelated people/situations within seconds of thinking "I feel pretty good today."
So my silver anniversary going by unnoticed was fine with me. I mean, bonenado got me a nice card and even handed me some extra cash to toss into my account, and I joked that I got a good wife bonus, but other than that, it was just another day. If I had spent one second thinking about how it should be special, I'm pretty sure someone would have died just to jinx it, so it's better that it stayed low key so no one would die from the cosmos making a joke about it.
What am I saying. I just said up there someone died. *slaps forehead*
~now it's today~
I know that list up there looked really selfish. That is my narcissist-autism diagnosis. How the universe rebounds off of me and my existence is the first instinctual reaction, which is kinda like being stuck in that 5 year old ego phase. I openly admit this has been one of my biggest challenges all my life. I'm not a naturally forgiving and empathetic person. Of course I feel bad for other people having worse days, good lord. But part of transparency in my personal blogging is allowing public to get a glimpse of how my head works, because I know it's hard being around people like me not understanding what makes us tick.
Every day naturally revolves around me because I am in this body living these moments head on. This is the animal level of our existence. But I have this wonderful mind that can think outside the box, and over the years I've evolved through a whole journey of complex thinking that started with 'everyone is so stupid' to 'why can't they see and fix their own stuff' to 'aw, all our heads are unique' to 'it's actually easy to forgive other people for being unique, kind of like how pets are unique' to 'God, please help all my people have a good day because life is hard and we're having a hard time'. I really do pray that. If I listed all the people I think about every single day, everyone who crosses my mind while I get through my own stuff, you would likely find yourself on this list, unless you're one of the darker lurkers who has never surfaced on the webs in front of me.
I dealt with a lot of autism and narcissism related things on my last Pinky blog before I migrated here, so if you are new and want more, there's your links. I might eventually organize a few pages here like a library system, group up links kind of thing.
I have been crazy 'bizzy' (Bunny says she gets bizzy when she twirls in circles), so I haven't been focus blogging here that much yet. I'll get some specific tags going with this post so that can start happening again.
Months ago I said I need to get back to sharing real life pix again. Time slid crazily by. I've been trying to get back to my Lexxperience work. I feel like I'm hanging on by fingertips to the edge of a tipping iceberg. Lists? HA. Every time I even make a list now my life explodes in 19 different directions.
And yet, things keep getting done...
I have about 6 hours to catch up on a big pile of chores around my house. I'm not sure what happened, but my family suddenly dove in and purged the livingroom and it's looking really nice, so it's my turn to dive back in and keep my regular chores caught up. They don't know I was up nearly all night because pain, but it's all good and I'm functional today and I can totally do this. Just need to wrap my head around and get started.
**********
2 hours just slid by. Dark and raining outside, house is so quiet, cool mood. I just need peace, you know? The world is such a rat race. In my house alone we have 2 1/2 incomes (not counting my meager SSI) and still live check to check. We live on bare basics, nothing fancy, more in the lower end of middle class. It wouldn't take much to cripple us into another bankruptcy. And that's the way the world works now, isn't it? That's just the way it's going to be now. Unless something happens and the world flips. I was halfway joking years ago that all it would take is the grids going down to automatically throw our nation into debt forgiveness. I mean, if you can't access digital debt, it's just gone, right? And then we'd have to start from scratch because our grid system is such a crazy cobbled mess of really old machinery plugged into new tech. Seriously, our national grid system is barely functional as a systemic failsafe for our population. 5G is going up everywhere, and it would be a cinch to knock it all back offline just because our grid system is a mess.
And that's just the top of a long list in google search looking for flaws in the U.S. grid system.
Ok, back to whatever my in the moment is. THIS IS IMPORTANT. Check out the coolest kickstarter ever.
And if you want something with some crazy cosmic intellectual meat in it, click this next for another youtube that can fill up the void around you while you get through another day. Dismiss how weird it is, just let go and float into the possibilities. It's like real life scifi opening new doors.
For those of you who immediately scrolled down for the walk-off vid, first, this teaser.
Which makes us happyhappyhappy. I can walk away now.
I was wondering how long it would be before a hijacker hopped on. I'd like to gratz my first to show up, the ever popular pizza imperia that actually clicks out to parkabovedotcom with a 20-line script just in the address that probably gets my dental records while it's at it.
I recognize at least 20 on that list that made me crazy on my last blog. Interesting note, I didn't get ANY of that on this new blog until I listed it with my google properties. Made over 40 posts without any hitchhikers, and then I blew it. *shakes fist at google*
*sigh*
Also, Peru has joined my merry mashup of miscreants. It's the richest country in the world, and also the top cocaine producer. They have all kinds of cool stuff there, like mummies and the Inca, mystical doorways to other worlds across the cosmos, Nazca lines, Cusco, and ancient elongated skulls that some purport to be alien-human hybrids. Also, besides their politics being scary, I think they have bunkers in the mountains for the uber wealthy around the world in case an asteroid hits or they decide to nuke everyone per the Georgia Guidestones. Hi, Peru. *waves*
Hello, person who opened every single thing openable on here in 10 minutes flat and I can see your house because failure to mask. Thanks for the multiple shares, pretend I served you some complimentary nachos, and kudos for the crazy widget trails that looked like you were copying every piece of code on my page. If this was bait, you're not the first. If this was a hack, sorry if you didn't get much. If this was pure innocence, not a clue what that blitz was. It's really rare I see a visitor trail blazing through like the one you left today. *standing up, slow clap* Brava.
Actually, statcounter caught that, I didn't even waste my time looking for you in analytics.
Ok, on to real life. Crazy weekend, some of you following caught the kiddo broken arm surgery overnight in hospital thing. We're on the second night, comes home tomorrow. Thanx to everyone across my medias and gaming who expressed concerns and good cheer, and now I'm in faceplant spoonie mode while bonenado takes care of a few things this evening. I'm back on duty tomorrow for trip home from hospital, and may not be available for much else.
3 1/2 weeks until my double surgery, so the race is on against a cosmos aiming for the big target painted on my life, will I complete my mission to win back my bedroom before the big recovery week? Bets are on, and if I manage to successfully duck and dodge in slo-mo it'll be pure accident. I'm definitely in dumb wut? mode right now. I'm this close to Arthur Dent tripping and majestically flying level. (Definitely worth the click and read if you don't know wth I'm talking about.)
This just came in on notifications (likely a fan reupload to keep it available), so go bump up your brain and awareness levels. David Wilcock 2018 * With Zero Point Energy and Advanced Propulsion Technology! Original channel is at Divine Cosmos and possibly content shadowed by Discover the Secret. The main thing is pure information not available in mainstream education. It's nice finding people who spend lifetimes on research on information that is very difficult to get openly. Freedom of information and freedom of speech are an illusion, and I appreciate people putting their lives on the line to keep sharing.
I like the whole 'interfered and made things worse' motif coming out in the Cosmic Disclosure talks. Like, you want aliens? We got 'em. You want help? They f*d that up. Why? Because the bad ones are dicks and the good ones couldn't stop 'em. Why don't we know about this? Everything you thought you knew about how the world works is really them, and you can't handle the truth. Wait, you don't think I can handle knowing there are good and bad aliens still fighting over the ownership or freedom of humans? We don't want you to hate them. Is that what will make my head explode? You have been mindwashed to hate everything around you in society. You cannot be free as long as you hate. If I believe in love and live in peace, that will fix everything? Yes.
I have to admit, we share the same goals.
I'm still enjoying listening to all that stuff. It's just cool, whether you believe it's real or not. It's cooler than any fiction podcast ever, it's cooler than everything on TV right now, the portent about the reality behind everything going on in politics is hella exciting to think about, and this has pretty much replaced watching TV lately.
I mean, we did finally catch the very last 2 eps of 12 Monkeys, very gracefully finale'd, brava. I wanna marathon rewatch sometime because having it all dragged out over years left gaping holes in my head.
And then of course I dreamed about all of that last night, all smooshed together, plus minecraft.
April was a daily rollout of the storyboard in videos on the recently retired pinkyguerrero.blogspot.com, May was a daily rollout of the words added. It has taken me years to figure out my 'problem' (as people say, what is your problem?), and now I feel done with that.
Since opening my blog brings up the entire rollout backward, I will transfer all of it here in one place forward for easier reading, since so many readers attempted to read post to post backward this last week, even though I never link shared any of those anywhere.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Every April is horrid for me, every year. For over 30 years I didn't understand why. Pinky blog started unraveling the mystery, filling in the holes, sorting out the misplaced feelings and nightmares, the secrets I kept from myself. Each day last month auto posted a pre-scheduled video, a sort of montage of placeholders for feelings I couldn't quite pin down for years, like memory cards. It helped to let my intuition choose the vids and order them without thinking or writing. After I completed that task, I realized I can see my own storyboard now.
April first always started with a buried memory that I couldn't see. She was blond. I subconsciously became bluejacky and pinky in public blogs starting in 2007, pinkybluejacky in some places, like pinterest. You can read in this article about the terrible day that I buried for 30 years. My head puts things like this together behind my back, connecting dots before I realize what's even happening, and then I go Ohhhh....
Something else happened around that time that made my memories very difficult to deal with. I'd been ejected from a violently flipping vehicle a few months before (I think? Was it the same year?) or the winter after (I srsly cannot keep that timeline straight in my head at all), and I may have suffered a concussion that was never properly addressed (ya think???), along with other very serious injuries (nearly bleeding to death internally, shredding soft tissue down to the bones all over my body). Between a difficult childhood (none of us yet knowing I am autism spectrum) with difficult parents (bless their hearts, I can't even, and one day I've gotta), and my friend being brutally murdered, my memories are still like hash through a wood chipper. Far too much trauma, so I simply shut down once I got the call. But I still vividly remember the accident, and I've never forgotten what happened during the NDE. I may be sharing that soon.
In retrospect, nearly my entire emotional support for about 10 years of my life had come from my friend ever since the 5th grade until April 1981. I never realized or understood anything about our relationship (aspienado) until this particular video woke me up many years later in 2010 (by then I had already separately been Bluejacky on a blog and Pinky in a chatroom), and I started trying to cobble that shattered part of myself back together. She was everything to me, but even then I didn't know this was about her, deeply confusing it with a more recent friendship that had dropped off. My public Bluejacky blog skipped the year 2010 after writhing with dealing with my mom's death right on top of my own legal disability hearing the year before. I went underground, and nearly disappeared from the internet.
I'll never forget running into this song. I watched it over and over, tears streaming. The part with the black apple tore through me like a little cannonball. It's like seeing the big picture, the before and after, the going on into the future. By the time I saw this I had already started dealing with remembering the murder, but I intuitively placed it in the queue last month onto the day before that horrible anniversary, like I was making a bridge for myself to be able to cross.
April 1, 2015 I started cracking open. The ugly memories started leaking out, or as I put it, all that colorful candy flying in slow motion out of a smashed pinata. Three months later all the subconscious stuff started spilling out and I was finally on my way to truly emotionally healing. But April 5th is still very, very hard. I had repressed that memory for 34 years.
And after April 5th passed, I always felt lost and floaty inside without knowing why, and I latched hard onto repetition and super focus so I wouldn't feel crazy, never understanding why I felt like that. This playlist is an example of a coping mechanism.
Looking back now, I can see that the night of the horrible phone call was the last time I closed the door on my mom, never really to open it again. After a difficult childhood through which I was very rarely asked personally if I was ok, I saw that question in her eyes and simply just shut all my emotion down, turning my back on her, and going back to bed, quietly tucking what I'd just heard into a very dark place and making it not exist. The next day I burned all the letters my friend had written me after we moved, and walked on as if she hadn't existed. From then on, any time my mom made a big deal about anything else that ever happened, I simply went deeper into the dark until my entire heart was swallowed up and I lost myself. My life turned into anger and hatred, and I really took it out on my poor mom. After a failed first marriage to a guy who turned out to be a mentally ill pedophile, I became a hardcore drinker and went places in my life most nice people don't even think exists except on TV. I know I would never have gone down that path if that murder hadn't happened.
And from there I just didn't care. I nearly drank myself to death. I hung out with a major underground drug distrubutor and his girlfriend, living a double life with a normal job and getting to know a few people in the seedy underbelly of a big city. I didn't feel anything, wasn't afraid of anything, and all I cared about was my job and alcohol, which was probably my salvation since I turned down a sweet offer managing my own interstate drug trafficking team from California to the midwest. I had left my child with my mom during this time, thank goodness, and in three short months passed up two amazing opportunities for really good jobs (local police and hospital administration, go figure) before I finally got so sick from the alcohol I had to quit and come home.
I recognized myself as Hatter in this movie. During my dark night of the soul, I was very capable of hurting and not caring. Even with a solid moral upbringing ground into me from birth, I was cold and ruthless inside. I didn't even pretend not to be, but since I didn't use foul language, dressed simply, and remained about as immaterial as it gets, most people didn't equate me with savagery, much less a shadowy manipulator of events. Fortunately, someone came along and woke me up to other possibilities.
Ideally, inside my mind, I wanted people dead. I wanted them in pain, and I wanted them out of my way. I walked a very fine line with my intellect, and it wouldn't have taken much to snap me into a veritable supervillain. In retrospect, I feel I can empathize with people who go to the dark side. I've felt the process, and I know how easy it is to cross that line and not be able to come back. I walked right on that line for years, but I never quite stepped off into that dark side.
Well, you know what happens to people who shut down and don't empathize. I grew so pathetic that even when I started straightening up and getting back on track, I couldn't keep friends. I stumbled around so awkwardly with social interaction once I let go of the hate as a way of life thing, I went through friend after friend, unable to understand what I was doing wrong, unable to slow the inevitable disaster. I still hadn't been diagnosed autism yet, and the world of caring felt treacherously slippery. I think I know how John feels in this series. Very few people really look at John.
And then there it was, that friendship that clicked. I didn't know it was even happening. I knew something felt different, but there was so much other stuff going on both in real life and online that I couldn't untangle any of it. I knew I needed a 'home', I knew I needed people, but I still didn't know yet how not to crash the world around me. And of course, the explosion was everything that beautiful tragedy should be, and naturally I was the catalyst for a powder keg of fun and chaos. The difference this time was my heart unexpectedly shattering.
As I felt the last of the party and another friendship slipping away, I jolted awake with a lightning bolt spearing a bigger picture vision into my brain that lasted only a heartbeat, the insight I was never born or gifted with, just out of my grasp. It was too late. My head and heart screamed as the last of all of it slipped through my fingers. I've been through several deaths and a divorce before and since this particular event, but never in my life did I feel such intensity in a heady grip of euphoria and then drowning in sorrow and sadness. I realized this is what I'd been looking for my whole life, and without a doubt, it was my fault I lost it.
For the first time since my best friend was murdered, I felt like I had found a friend I could click with. For the first time in my entire life, I was beginning to form my deepest autistic feelings into words, learning how my words were both my weapons and my tools, realizing how words flick other hearts and burn other souls, realizing I can't do this by myself, and I do need another person who will help me see myself, help me grow, help me find my potential. In all my other relationships I was still apart, merely partnering or caregiving, but not soul sharing. I couldn't imagine going through the rest of my life so empty, now that I had awakened to it.
Part of waking up to the pain of loss was also waking up to my autism getting in the way of playing the social game right, and that being the reason for my friendship history being so abysmal. I can't fake and pretend, I can't live lies, I can't ignore discrepancies and inconsistencies. I question everything, and I make social interaction so awkward for other people. I didn't realize for years how I affected people around me everywhere I went. I seem to have a charismatic personality, and people seem drawn to me, yet I can't keep deeper relationships, I can't seem to keep trust, and sooner or later, friends either slipped away and shut down contact or outright let me know we couldn't be friends any more without telling me why.
Years of never having proper closure doesn't mean much to someone who is emotionally shut down, but waking up to an abyss of not getting desperately needed answers during no closure nearly did me in. I begged my doctor to send me to a psychologist down the hall, and my very first statement walking in was I need help talking to people. Obviously I could talk heads off, and obviously I metaphorically eventually killed every contact, so obviously I wasn't doing something right. Honestly, I would never have sought out that help if I hadn't felt like I was desperate to know why I was hurting so badly from another loss. That had never happened before. I had been given leads in this friendship to follow and adapt, and even when I tried I just couldn't. The very thing I'd rebelled against my entire life had beaten me down, and from this loss event I surged into deeper writings about self, masks, social solutions- years of public blogging that have given me a deep lurker cult following. As I have agonized and learned, others have watched and kept pushing me out into my little spotlight.
The very first part of healing is honestly assessing and accepting one's self. I committed to years of work with my psychologist, learning all the hard stuff about myself that ripped my soul up. I peeled back the layers very slowly, almost methodically, learning how to see my naked soul. I am mean, cruel, colder than dry ice at my core. But was I really born like that? Is that autism, or is that the result of living with autism in the family I had? I have a sociology degree, and nature versus nurture was heavily debated for several years as we peeled back everything I'd ever learned about Maslow's heirarchy of needs, about Durkheim's social psychology theories, plunging into philosophies that included Nietzche, Sartre, Kierkegaard, shredding the tunnel visioned religion and politics I grew up with, really looking at my parents as children with their own parents.
And I cried.
For the first time in my life, I cried for other people. I felt so bad for my parents as children that I wanted to scoop them up and save them, so bad for my mom as a young mother that I wanted to go back in time and hug her and tell her everything would be ok. I had spent my life being enthralled with the sciences and science fiction, but never knew the passion behind it until I stripped myself down to my naked soul and found who I really am. I'm not cold at all. I learned to be cold to stop the pain. I'm not mean and cruel, in fact, I'm so soft inside that I cry very easily every single day now, but as a child I learned to be mean and cruel so I wouldn't cry, because some of the stories I share now are so sad, that even though I couldn't feel what I was saying when I first started writing them, I have been assured they bring tears to people's eyes. In the meantime, I learned that above all, I am a survivor where others crumble, and that I can not only still learn and adapt, but I can make decisions to become who others need me to be. With that in mind, my goal with my psychologist has been to never again feel that level of loss and pain out of my own ignorance.
Part of healing and accepting myself is embracing what I really love. I know I need other people, I know I love all that crazy scifi out there, surely I could find my way back out into a place I could fit in without blowing it all up... I started practicing. Everywhere I went, every day, I became mindful of interaction, how I present, how others might see and react to me. I practiced smiling and making eye contact even just buying toothpaste, I practiced seeming like a pleasant person in lines at the post office, I practiced summarizing my thoughts on the phone and in doctors' offices instead of rambling, stuff like that. It was very awkward, lol, but I kept at it till it got easier.
And I especially practiced online. I practiced making my paragraphs shorter. I practiced interacting on social medias. I practiced talking to my kids. You heard me. I actually practiced how to interact better with my own kids. I practiced all this with the intention of still retaining my own integrity, my own personality, my own ME without any masks. I learned to be an actor. It's not the same as lying, but it *is* learning how to pretend well. The goal is to increase satisfaction levels in all parties involved, kind of like a game. The better I play the interaction game, the better all of us feel about each other. Lol, yes, I turned social interaction into a game. 😁 Over time, I'm getting pretty good at it.
Over time, with help from my psychologist, I am learning that my childhood was much more difficult and painful than I initially thought I was realizing. The trauma was bad enough without my friend's murder complicating it, plus my alcoholism and new experiences on the edges of the underground. I had a lot to sift through, filter down, come back from. It became about much more than learning how to keep a friend. This has become about a childhood fantasy about revenge, or an adult fantasy about getting even somehow. This is about why the world is the way it is, and what can I do to change that.
And then I found them. My People. To say I was elated was an understatement. I hope I never ever lose them. They are my rock, and I need them every day. It's a lot of work balancing all the things I need and all the things other people need back, but I am delighted trying to keep up.
Once I was settled into the swing of being part of a group again, that old void started gnawing at me, and over time it chewed me up so much that one of my friends commanded me to go make contact again. It had been years. I practiced all this time, but my nerves were a mess. Should I? I put it off over and over. I sort of attempted. I pulled back and let it dangle. I had never felt afraid like this, never felt this kind of anxiety over another person like this. But I couldn't finish moving forward without that friendship, that one person who had somehow snuck past my unconscious defenses and clicked into a spot reserved for only one who could never come back, unintentionally ripping the old wound open and leaving me helpless like no one had ever done. I knew I couldn't finish healing until I had at least tried to heal that. It was very scary. I used to scoff at other people feeling embarrassed or nervous. My turn.
It wasn't as simple as getting a friend back, I found out. We did patch up, yes, but we grew in very different directions over the years, and we are both learning and adjusting and it's taking time. I have learned every bit as much from this entire friendship debacle and getting back together as I have learned from being married for more than two decades. I have certainly learned more than from any other friendship I've ever had, mostly about myself- my skewed or simplistic expectations, my misunderstandings, my lack of foresight even though I'm very good with foresight with my spouse and children. I'm not very good at intuiting what a friend really needs or wants from me. I'm not able to be the person I was hoping I'd be. Still, I don't want to let go, or simply settle. What do I want? Where is forward from here? And I think she may be feeling the same way. I have definitely grown much better as a person for the efforts, again, so much more than without her, in so many ways she'll probably never understand or comprehend. I am learning. That is phenomenal after a lifetime of social stagnation. In the meantime, I have surged into all new territory with my psychologist. Some of my buried childhood memories are surfacing, and I am more determined than ever to get my 'revenge' on a brutal world that teaches people all the wrong ways to 'love' their children. This world is so broken.
Planning revenge takes a bit of obsession, I'll admit. To properly pull off the kind of revenge I can find satisfaction in, especially the broad scope part, I had to do some pretty deep thinking. What will be required of me executing my strategies? For one thing, I'll have to climb out of my comfort zone into a very uncomfortable spotlight. If I'm going to discuss my personal history and feelings with the world at large, what will this do to the people I care about? Will they stop talking to me? Is stepping out worth the risk of losing family while I'm still learning to keep and grow friendships?
Believe it or not, the hardest part was believing I could do this, not because it felt so unreal, but because I had become so disabled I could barely even piece together a single sentence. This idea of a book felt like something I'm making up, creating a patchwork of truth from slippery memories I had locked away and had really never talked about before. I quietly watched other authors launch from near oblivion into fair bits of success, and realized the goal absolutely must be success or I might never have another chance to get past the sticky pull of my depression, much less the plethora of daily challenges. Every day through bitter tears of crippling pain, crushing depression, and most of all alone, I whispered "I can do this." And every day I have made some kind of progress, sometimes a millimeter at a time, sometimes feeling so fail I could barely imagine going on, but believed I must even if there was no hope and people might think I'm only making up a lie. Because it is my truth.
Through the never ending haze of overwhelming interruption, I learned to develop some very stimulating patterns of thinking, and repetition slowly honed my sword. This had the odd effect of surging me forward with a passion that felt like my soul exploding, and from there it got much easier.
Since then it's been about learning to own my truth. I don't have to apologize for being born on this earth, or for standing up for what I need. I am who I am who I am.
Along the way, I learned that one of my deepest needs to feel recognized and validated in any part of my life is something I'm supposed to get in healthy relationships. Learning to embrace that it's actually ok to own a skill set was one of the hardest healthy things I've ever done. This runs completely counterintuitive to the guilt I was raised to harbor over every little thought, word, or movement in my existence. The freedom to be is kind of like realizing you can stand there with the fridge open if you want to.
After the guilt part goes away, life gets more fun. I started asking myself- What do I really want? And then I'd ask- What am I willing to do to get that?
Basically more than anything, I want to write. I. Love. Words. Words are an endless game and thoughts never stop, and I happily thread and sculpt ideas into stories amusing myself, so why not do that out loud? Why not put those words into something I can hold in my hands? Why not make words that can be held in hands all over the world?
As for what I'd be willing to do... Going public as a real person was one of the biggest decisions I ever made in my life. I think I thought harder and deeper about that than I did about getting remarried, lol. Making myself available for people to contact, standing alone in scary spotlights at the height of depression spells, literally listing my flaws. I am willing to do these and more, despite a developing paranoia (that my psychologist kept insisting wasn't really social anxiety) and a solid history of public humiliation.
Fun? I said fun, didn't I? Well, I think deep down I long to go skydiving, so why not take the same level of risk writing? Why can't writing feel edgy? The best writing is the scary stuff, like confessing your soul and then wobbling away feeling sick after hitting 'publish'.
When I originally thought of writing as a full time hobby/art/possible living, I didn't envision the live blogging I do now. Well, these 'we' tagged posts are scheduled, but you know what I mean.
I never feel alone on the internet, and trackers show me I very rarely am. This blog gets hit so continually that it feels like a hangout, maybe on the exclusive side because lurkers come and go freely without other people knowing they're here. As reclusive as I've been in the past even with my internet history, I like feeling that I'm not alone. I guess like with any sport or challenge, you really don't want people seeing the fails, but knowing someone still shows up regularly even after the facepalms has been so inspiring that I have been able to surge far past my originally intended platform goals. Until I experienced this, I never even envisioned it. This was pure accident.
I'd love to propose the idea of 'lurker engagement' as a great assessment tool. I don't think this is utilized well in general analytics. I've had statistics classes in 3 different fields of study (math, geography, and sociology), and if there's anything I'm good at, it's trends over time. When you use engagement to assess blogging needs, include the silent returns. They may not 'engage', but they are definitely engaged. I have 600+ documented returning readers that clocked over 10 returns each, and a fifth of my readers spending 20 minutes to over an hour at a time reading and clicking through more posts while they are here.
You heard me. Yes, documented. Those of you throwing in the towel need to stop that. On the outside it looks like I average 30-40 hits a day and very rarely get comments. I'm not 'engaging' my audience. On the inside, people are keeping this window open and clicking 'next', and apparently quite a few have me bookmarked. It's about learning how to read your analytics. You are not alone. Don't stop just because you can't see people reading what you write.
But more than reaching out, I want to be part of. Every mind I touch becomes part of my existence, just as every mind that has touched me has incorporated me into theirs. Standing up and reaching out is a very big deal now in a world so saturated with repetition and lemming behavior modification. More than ever it's important not to be like everyone else, molded into easily herded sheeple. The dreams we see on screens don't have to belong to bank accounts. We don't have to break corporate ice to spread our dreams.
Someone told me once they could make my dreams come true. I was so floored that anyone could even say that, presuming to know what my dreams are without even asking me.
The only person who can make my dreams come true is me, and I know now that I will stand alone to get them. It's ok for real life to bump us around and we curl up and hide a little, but I cannot go back to sleep with the blue pill, and I will not be quiet. I refuse to be forgotten and not missed, just another autie who fell through all the cracks of society...
"This is ten percent luck Twenty percent skill Fifteen percent concentrated power of will Five percent pleasure Fifty percent pain And a hundred percent reason to remember the name" by Fort Minor
I nearly didn't put this song in the storyboard. This one holds the angst I need to finally just get over so I can finish what I need to get done. I embrace that hanging on to a wisp of a could have been is what motivated me and got me this far, but I must allow that it's time to grow up and move on. I can't help, in fact probably will always need, remembering that my spark was fanned into a driven flame by those who are very real and outside the complex world going on inside my mind, and I will always be thankful that I was able to wake up more to what I could be even under mountainous duress and through devastating fail. I will be ok, and I am ok, and all is right in my world.
I ended my storyboard with a new direction I'm going, away from introspection toward creation. I've cleaned my closets, purged my doubts, faced my sads, and now I just want what I want. I want to do what I came here to do. I, we, all my selves from all my survivals have come back together and we all see now why we are here and where we are going. I am looking forward to a more emotionally healthy future and a joie de vivre I haven't felt in a very long time. I don't have to feel strong to be strong or feel brave to be brave. All I have to do is be me, live my life, say my words, and love my people. I'm done with being angry and hating, and I never want to be like that again. Being born autism spectrum into a judgmental family history rife with rigidity and guilt is my superpower now, and I will never fall through all the cracks and be lost again. I'm here for everyone to find, and God or the heavens or the universe or whatever is bigger and better than us bless all the eyes that read my words. Thank you for finding me, and I hope it helped. I know the nights get pretty long.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This is the first time I've been able to cobble together a coherent timeline of events in my story. I live with a shattered sense of time orientation, and writing in a decent enough format has never come easily for me. This is practice.
I'm very thankful to a world of fandoms teaching me how to put words to feelings that I wasn't in touch with via fanvid smashing, fanart smashing, and an occasional fanfic. Emotional healing can take years, even without added traumas causing multiple PTSDs and cognitive and social challenges like autism spectrum.
As I've mentioned time and again on the now retired Pinky blog, I blog for myself, but very grateful for lurkers showing up and sometimes latching on, and especially the ones who quietly keep pushing me back out here saying I'm on the right track.
