Hi again old blog. The COVID 19 pandemic was almost like being frozen in time for these past years. But of course time went on, and others kept living as they normally do. Springs came and went, friendships blossomed or stagnated, parents became that much grayer and older, businesses closed. One of the things I appreciated was the isolation, it was a boon for someone with a huge backlog of games I saved for a rainy day when I would have endless time.

My inner demon was unleashed fully and it was allowed to take almost full control of my free time. The vices of the body were so available and time was so untethered to whatever we used to consider normal life, that I gave in. I did stick to the legal drugs however, but it was mostly out of convenience since dispensaries are as common as gas stations. This fog of dopamine enveloped my time off and I loved nothing more than consuming those days smoking weed and chipping at that backlog. Very lonely experience when most of that backlog is single player games, but it didn't matter for a while.

My dulled and easy existence was peppered by the days I worked, this work which provided the means of surviving. I was living in a constant state of numbness, then rudely awoken by sobriety during the times I was trusted with people's lives. I was a "responsible" user of these drugs. On the outside I looked fine, but internally I was burning up with anxiety, and guilt for keeping a job while a lot of the world was in despair. Guilty moments became routine, and this led to more coping by playing more games and smoking more weed.

My dog died while I was working. My grandfather passed away while I was working. I was sad yes, but it was so shallow I can't help but think I have yet to process those deaths. The artificial moments of joy became less and less joyful, and even though I tried to be social something felt terrifyingly different. I was no longer able to enjoy the simple things like walking on a park or even celebrating a birthday. I had to amp it up with alcohol or drugs for fear of experiencing reality, perhaps I was afraid to face myself and my emotions. So terrified I was that I skipped a lot of invitations to socialize, to my own detriment because this put me in a deeper hole of what I think was a combination of burn out and depression.

Luckily the endless nights of gaming were ending. The world was opening up again, and things felt a little more alive. It took me months to let go of my crutches and just today I felt slightly more like my old self. Like my December 2019 self, which in my head feels like a decade ago. I am now learning to be more present with the help of guided mediation, being purposely social, and opening myself to the idea that life can be more than just video games and work. While I still don't feel like committing to dating, I am remembering the fun parts of getting to know someone new. I learned that infatuation is just that, and I learned that I had friendzoned so many good women due to fear and a lot of emotional walls. The walls are strong but they have windows now. If I start any new relationship (be it casual or not) I attempt to be open and honest about my intentions as opposed to being mysterious and insecure. Lastly, I'm beginning to process my loved one's passings and I know it is ok to be super duper sad about it.

2023 feels like the conclusion of that fog. Let's enjoy that beef bowl, the meat dimension awaits. Till the next pandemic.

I hesitate before answering this question to a stranger or an acquaintance that becomes curious. Why? Because of the string of assumptions made about what I do for a living. On the outside it may seem noble, selfless, and challenging. But to call myself noble comes off as arrogant and not needed. Selflessness... well, I do get paid for it. I'm not volunteering my time and mental health. In the future I will answer with a focus in the challenge because it provides the necessary perspective that it's not all grateful broken people. More often than not it is broken angry people with their sights set to me or my coworkers.

What do you do for a living?

I peer into dying, hateful, fearful, angry, grateful, funny, racist, loving, wealthy, homeless people of all ages. I look inside and see what their major malfunction is, all while staying professional EVEN if a person takes out their decade-long repressed emotions on you. A man who hasn't cried since he was a boy decided to burst out and let you know how much of a piece of shit you are... yet you must not take it personally. "I gotta look inside sir, please stop being an asshole for a second so we can save your life."

It's both humanizing and dehumanizing. I don't enjoy being yelled at, that's not my kink.

"Oh sir, your aorta may be split in half and you need to hold still so we know how badly you need intervention... yes sir I speak English."

Made it to June. Most of my closest family members have stayed safe from Covid-19 so far, and I'm hoping it stays that way. I'm very lucky to have picked a job that was essential throughout the pandemic. It was extremely stressful at time, but who else is gonna take care of the sick?

Onto the topic of Love. I realized in my quarantine time that I dislike some parts of myself so much I am not willing to let others consider liking it. The result has been a mostly lonely time. I have friends, but the romance department has been quite dry. I can't fathom someone being ok with my quirks. Then I see people getting in and out of relationships like it's a match of Warzone which leads me to believe it's fear. I'm so afraid of being open again with another human being.

I want it, but fear gets in the way. The pandemic became a sort of safety blanket to hide under in the guise of safety. Yet, coworkers got new boyfriends and girlfriends despite the quarantine.

I need to read more, I'm noticing my writing suffer a bit haha. Anyway here's the takeaway: I'm afraid to show my true self (Persona 4 style), gotta work on that.

Till next time.

🦠🦠🦠🦠😊😊😊🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

November 19th, 2014. A year into our relationship. I wrote in my private journal:

Hello again, been a while since I was here. So... I don't like how things are going with her. It's just not the same. Where's the love.

So much could have been prevented if I realized that our love wasn't meant to be. Love is a bullshit word anyway, let's call it what it is. It was lust with a hefty dose of self-delusion. I first told myself I'd get to know you a bit more after our nightly activities. I wanted to give you a chance. Fucking delusional. There's a lot I didn't like about you, but your body told a different story. I fell in love with you when we discovered we enjoyed similar tv shows. You'd lose your temper at the dumbest shit, like when I lost that bus ticket. I should have seen it, it was written on the leaves.

If I would have broken up with you on that November day, perhaps I'd be over you by now. But I had to cling onto lies and false unspoken promises. Two more fucking years with someone I knew less and less.

I only regret that it took me so long to come out of your spell. You no longer have any influence in my life yet I still think about you twice a day. I was emotionally sick of your shit by 2014, it took five years to almost get you out of my soul.

Perhaps if you cheated on me, or if you at least had the courtesy to be a shittier girlfriend I would hate you. You had the audacity of being just fucking cold and distant. What the fuck was I supposed to do when the love of my life, the future mother of my kids just plain didn't want to bother responding to my texts. Oh but you didn't ghost me either. You stopped caring. You took an extra day, then it was two days to respond to my inquiries about whether or not you wanted to catch up after a couple of weeks of not seeing each other.

I made the decision of ending your little game of "I can't bother to break up with this idiot so I'll just stop caring about the relationship". I stopped it after you threw my heart in the garbage and lit the whole thing on fire.

Summer 2016, early morning:

Good morning baby! Hope you slept well, hows your morning so far?

The next day, afternoon. She replies:

Good, just eating breakfast.

I Facetime her, just to see what's up. She's immediately bored and wants to go, but before she does she proceeds to yank my beating heart and just dump it on the trash next to the old beer bottles. She says:

I don't know why you keep saying good morning to me, I never really liked it. Being in the phone makes my head hurt and I don't like looking at it.

All while having the least interested look I've ever seen. The bitch is ALWAYS using that stupid phone. I was done after that. I did not text her and waited to see how long it would be until she remembered me. A week goes by, she says some "hey hello" so I call her and I tell her I don't see her being into it anymore, so why keep up the whole charade. Always an idiot, throughout the hour or so it took to finalize the break up, I wanted her to stop me and want to change or at least say sorry. Nope. She just stood in silence.

I am not over you yet, but I will be. Fuck you, thanks.

This post could also have been titled "A Side Effect of Growing Up".

My memories are of her sweet side, her delicious cooking, her motherly care of me and my cousins. My fondest memories of my grandma are of her preparing the Christmas feast where all the closest family sat at her table, and after a few prayers began the gluttony. She took so much care to prepare every single thing the way it was meant to be without shortcuts. From getting the right bird from the right place, to the way the table was set. She did teach me a little whenever I poked my head in, but she was always wary I'd mess up her recipes. Grandma was great.

My grandpa seemed so worldly. Always working hard to provide even in his 80s. He owned his own business. He literally had a room filled wall to wall with books, and from him I got the bug of learning. He played the piano, leading me to learn it later in middle school. He was the first person I knew who owned a car. With this car he took his grandchildren to little trips, and every single sight and sound was permanently marked in a part of my brain that is only accessible through scent. He taught me how to properly put in a screw. He was so energetic, so full of life.

It was when my parents relayed their own memories that this beautiful picture I had of them was forever changed. My grandfather lied to them about business, and basically scammed them out of most of my young parents savings. Living in their house they made my mom's life hell, with daily emotional beatings and bullying. My grandmother is manipulative, and only shows love when things go her way. My grandparents would lie to everyone to maintain the image of perfection. Listening to my parents tell me those horrible stories saddened me deeply. How could my grandparents, role models of my youth, be so cruel and selfish? I thank my parents for putting up with them, and for shielding me from most of it. My parents' stories do bring back a few memories of my grandparents being assholes about rent and stupid arguments about paychecks (kids, don't ever work for your dad).

Old grandpa is aging, he's in and out of hospital more regularly and time shows its ugly head reminding me that even a man with such strength cannot live forever. Grandma is still there, though her sociopathic tendencies show more and more every time we talk. I now realize why I don't like talking to them; I can't shake the sadness and anger from the way they treated my mom and dad.

It took me some time to reconcile that my grandparents are both beautiful human beings, as well as horrible egocentric pricks.

My question to you is: Would you want to know if your family members had a dark side? Or would you rather keep on thinking they're the same sweet people you know and love?

Hello duders. Do people use that anymore here?

Recently I decided to open up an old computer circa 2011. It died an untimely death, still not sure what did it but I have a feeling it was my dark depressive aura at the time. The files I needed in order of importance were: Save files, a flac album, wallpapers. What I didn't anticipate was the chaotic nature of my organization. I would create folders inside folders with somewhat descriptive names and put shit that didn't have relation to one another other than perhaps time of creation. In the middle of my File Explorer spelunking I spotted a folder called Notes, nestled inside Docs, in turned nestled inside a folder inexplicably called Green Flashdrive.

I open Notes. I was not prepared.

Fever dream thoughts from a young man who is battling with following creative endeavors while feeling out of place in life, and a dash of depression. Also I was quite poor. The most disconcerting feeling is remembering typing these notes, but at the same time not fully identifying with the person who wrote them. I was this young man, but no longer.

This is what getting old feels like. Enough time has passed that whatever choices I made have sent me on a path so different that I cannot be the same person. My concerns of being broke, lost, unappreciated, and unloved are mostly gone. Career-wise I'm satisfied, my family is content, and thankfully I am no longer broke. I'll end with a quotation from this note which summarizes well what opinion I held of myself in the long forgotten year of 2011.

That's it, there's no happy ending. The year is 2050 and won't even be able to afford to buy the new video games on the Cloud, I hear Half Life 2: Episode Three is about to be released. Giant Bomb will be a long gone memory. The joy that this hobby brought me will always live within me, but for my body it's too late. Years of junk food and alcoholism have finally caught up with me. That stench in the apartment building is my rotting carcass, for weeks it's been sitting there. No one came to my funeral, my parents are dead and my friends are not my friends anymore.

Emo much?

I can't wait to see if by 2050 stream technology will be the preferred way of playing games. I know I no longer enjoy junk food as much as the Bombcast days of yore where stories of burger competitive eating were told. I definitely still like alcohol, but now more socially which hopefully will curve potential addictions. My parents are actually proud of me now... but 2050 won't be too kind to their age. Oh and there are friends now, hopefully some will stick around.

Sorry about Episode Three.

Personal growth, emotional breakthroughs, relationships ended, rekindled, ended again, being broke, having money, letting go, holding tight, lots of sleep, no sleep.

That would a bout sum up 2017 for me. Add some heavy drinking here and there, a little weed here and there (a lot of weed for a couple of weeks), and a dash of panic caused by insane procrastination, and you've got a good idea what it was like to live in my shoes this 2017.

Career is on its way to being improved immensely, very tiring but rewarding process. Love life is fairly shit. Not really trying mainly because I don't feel ready. As in I don't think my self is ready for another relationship. How long has it been? One year?

My body hurts more often, I think it's par for the course for being older.

The one big personal achievement is I've recognized when I start to procrastinate, I've learned the triggers. My goal is to stop it too.

Typing on an android tablet, this sucks a bag of peens.

I wonder if 2018 will have more romantic success. HAPPY NEW SOON TO BE NEW YEAR!

Hello duders. So many things have happened between my last entry and this one. Frankly, I feel I've become dumber somehow throughout the last few years. The more experiences I've gained the more stupid I feel. When I was 18 I was a straight up genius, but you can't be 18 forever.

Let me tell you, if you ever try being an adult do bank as much sleep as you can because currently sleep is like the rarest, signed pair of Jordans. Make of that analogy what you will.

Recently I found an old note from 2013 I wrote myself with the goals I wanted for myself, and I was surprised I managed to actually do them. Why is it that I feel so unfulfilled then? I thought reaching my goals would help me feel good or something.

What was it all for? All this fucking effort and sacrifice? So I can buy an 800K house? So I can get married? Kids? And then what? For what? Don't really feel like playing the dating game. I'm already anticipating the chess moves in my head, it all ending in a double checkmate. I just don't care for it. All in all, the past few years have been shit, but also not so shit. I guess that's what life is, just a big old blob of disappointments and successes.

What I'm saying is I've done the things, but without much meaning. For now my motivation has been to not be broke and have sweet shoes. Is there more to life than *fire emoji* kicks?

Tired of the grind, but the grind is all I've known. If only I had time to play some video games and watch shitty movies.

<>

It's hard. When friendships seem based on thin assumptions. Nobody seems real. Just faces pretending to be cool with you.

*Start of Transmission*

I forwent my previous mission for more tangible and "real" things. But I've come up with a new an improved objective:

• Become single.
• During future "Perfume" concerts in the US I will befriend them and engage in romantic enterprise with one of the members. Preferably Nocchi.
• Bonus: Attain 3-some medal of honor.

Freebie list will, for the foreseeable future be composed of "Perfume" which will be counted as one unit per freebie terms of service making "Perfume" an acceptable submission.

*End of Transmission*