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The Bunny Has Left The Building [Feb. 11th, 2016|08:23 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Mood |tiredtired]
[Music |Todd Rundgren - Fade Away]

After 13 years of keeping this blog I have finally decided to close it. And, in doing so, withdraw everything I've attempted to contribute to the general common sense of the internet.

The main reason for this is that I've grown too ill to write articles and essays anymore. I can still work on stories to a certain extent, but I do that in another blog. This blog was pretty much about expressing my inner thoughts, and it was very much dependent on my having confidence that my inner thoughts were of some value.

In some cases I am not able to review my articles here and say I still believe what I wrote. In other cases I feel the landscape of the internet has changed, making my older articles unnecessary.

In particular I think Furry Fandom gets itself now. They don't need me to explain what it's a fandom for, because there are a lot of new people getting it right these days. So I can feel like my goal of getting the fandom on the track to living comfortably with itself has been accomplished. And with that done, there's nothing to do but sit back and enjoy being a fan, which does not require any writing.

If you still want to see the old articles and other stuff that does not pertain to the creation of Spectral Shadows, friend the journal to unlock the rest of the archive. But I would prefer it if folks would focus their attention on Spectral Shadows, since I think it is the work that is important, rather than its author.

I'll continue to keep Spectral Shadows going as long as I can, but otherwise I probably won't be seen much around the internet anymore. Applying my mind to topical issues is a literal headache to me now, and I don't have confidence in the validity of my ideas anymore. So, when in doubt, just shut up. I think that's the best policy.

Does this mean I'm leaving the fandom? Actually I feel like I've been walking away from it for some time as my ability to participate has diminished. Being in the fandom requires me to be social, and my social anxiety has blown up to the point where I just run away when I see a social situation coming. So I don't think it can accurately be said I'm part of the fandom anymore. I'm back where I started, a writer who just happens to write an anthropomorphic series. And if ever I have anything to say on some topic of the day, I'll let my characters say it for me in the story.

Anyway, just trying to compose this final entry has me totally wasted. I'm sure there was more I wanted to say, but I can't keep track of my ideas long enough to write them down. So I guess this will have to be it.

Tired bunny is tired, more than a little dizzy, and about to pass out. Here's hoping that better days are coming for y'all as the bunny fades away, returning to the dreams from whence she came.

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RE: Twilight Of The Gods [Jan. 19th, 2016|03:32 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , ]
[Mood |Decomposing]
[Music |ELO - Shangri-La]

Bixyl tagged me to respond to this article which uses the death of David Bowie to conjure a “Twilight Of The Gods” for Rock music.

I feel that my mind is going, and I no longer have confidence in myself as a writer. So I expect my response to be seriously flawed, and probably one of the last things longer than a tweet that I will compose for the internet. But, for better or worse, here goes.

Response To Twilight Of The Gods


Well, you know Glen Frey died since Bowie, and not so long before was Chris Squire. I've often commented that there is scarcely a band I commonly play without at least one dead member or close associate.

But this has been going on since the 50's. Rock and Pop people are constantly dying. I wouldn't say the rate per year is going up. And I think Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis are still around. So no doubt we will still have Rock gods dying for another 20 to 30 years. You have to go back to the Swing era to really get that “Everybody's dead” thing going.

The thing is, in spite of the fact that there are still a lot of Rock gods left, none of them are doing anything of value. So, if there was a twilight of the gods I'd say it happened sometime in the 80's when the world decided it had had enough of musicians with something serious to say. In that sense Rock, regardless of the artists in question, died way back then, and will remain so, in spite of the occasional tribute or attempted revival, which never come near to recapturing the magic.

Take the Progressive Rock revival for instance. It's been going on for 20 odd years now, and still has yet to produce anything classic. It's like all these people beating a dead horse or feeding endlessly off a corpse. Rock is dead. It's been dead. And even the death of David Bowie doesn't drive that point home to the obsessives. They're like, “We have to save Rock. We have to stop these people from dying.” But of course, no one can stop the inevitable. And it would make no difference if we kept David Bowie and Chris Squire alive in cryogenic sleep, Rock would still be dead, as far as the now and the future is concerned.

The cold hard fact is Rock was not a product of the artists, it was a product of the times. Nothing that is Rock is seen to have any validity unless it was produced within that magic era between the late 40's and early 80's. Music ceased to be a living thing at that point. It became strictly a money thing, owned and produced entirely by corporate types who remain dedicated to the proposition that there will never again be music that is not disposable.

In this way, Rock is frozen in time, alive only when journeying back to those eras when it existed through the magic of recorded sound. Only there will you find the likes of a Ziggy Stardust, a Dark Side Of The Moon, a Lamb Lies Down On Broadway, or a Tubular Bells. You can not go to the surviving creators of those works and say, “Make me something of equal significance.” They can't do it, because these are not those times. The mindset that inspired such creativity is long gone and can not be simulated, and even if it could, the world is no longer receptive to new creative ideas.

This happened with Swing music as well. True Swing music could only happen during the 30's and 40's. Everything that sought to capitalize on that era afterwards rarely even understood how to make something Swing. It could be good and entertaining, and certainly there was better recording technology for improved sound. And yet, not even the original artists could reproduce the magic on those primitive 78's.

And so it is that you only have one moment in time to grasp the magic of something musical. And then it dies, long before the majority of the musicians do. And then, each time one of the musicians dies, we are reminded of the magic that was, and we are tempted to think that magic was invested in these people, and with their passing we lose something more of it. But we do not. If David Bowie had lived to make 10 more albums, it wouldn't have brought Rock back to life. He wasn't a god. He commanded no magic. He was just someone through whom the magic of a unique period in time had been expressed.

These old men of Rock who yet survive are like old war heroes who symbolize a period in time and are constantly asked about it. But though no one is now alive who remembers The Civil War, that doesn't stop the endless fascination with it. It doesn't keep the people of those times from constantly being revisited. They remain perpetually alive within the sphere of time denoted on their tombstones.

So too is it with musicians. Anytime you want to get out a David Bowie album, it will instantly take your ears back to his time, where he is alive and forever communicating his message for that time. It is not a message that has any relevance for today. It is all history, artifacts of a time the children of the future will try in vein to understand, and eventually have no choice but to mythologize it.

Surely within their fantasies of the past David Bowie will seem to have the presence of a god. How could he not be immortal, his voice continuing to be heard and idolized hundreds of years into the future? Even now, are Beethoven and Mozart not idolized as something more than human?

Where then is this twilight of the gods if they are immortal and never truly leave us? It is only the will to make great original music that dies after a very short life. While to be an idol of that music during its brief lifetime is to live forever.

So morn not for David Bowie. For he is immortal and will not leave you. Rejoice in his continued presence in your life. Morn instead for Rock itself, which is long dead, and perhaps not by natural causes. Feel sadness for the present in which there is no greatness, nothing special to remember having been a part of. No music on which the future will look back on with awe. No giants, no gods. And think on it perhaps not without anger and resentment towards the fools who brought us to this sorry state of affairs, and then just dropped us here, expecting us to be content in a world where there is no greatness left to perceive or be hoped for, except by looking back into the past for some hope of understanding what we've lost.
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Time To Face My Limitations [Jan. 5th, 2016|10:40 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]
[Mood |realistic]
[Music |National Lampoon - Deteriorata ]

I woke up this morning knowing I wasn't going to get any writing done today. There was shopping to be done today, just as there was laundry to do yesterday and bills to pay the day before that. Tomorrow it will be something else. And the amount of work that will get done on Spectral Shadows this week won't be anywhere near enough to feel like I've a snowball's chance in hell of ever finishing this thing.

It's getting to me more and more these days. Even when I do sit down and try to work on it I can't stay awake. So I might put in six hours and only get one hour of work done. I don't see this snail's pace changing, and it's time I faced the fact that what people told me was beyond me in my youth really was beyond me.

The other day I saw a couple YouTubers from the MLP fandom talking about how they had these huge teams to work with, and my jaw just dropped at how easily other people are able to attract interest and assemble teams. I can't do that. And the stuff I dream about needs a huge team. But I can't attract that kind of interest, and it's a given that I can't do it all myself.

Plodding along trying to pull the ability to do what I know I can't do out of the air is demoralizing in the extreme. Now health problems, along with the never ending stress and distractions of real life have pretty much brought the crawl to a stop, and I just don't want to live this way anymore. I want to have fun with the rest of my life doing things I enjoy. And when I'm with people I like, I don't want to be all shagged out from jousting with windmills. The windmills have won.

Writing a net serial has been a fun hobby since 2004, but at this point when it comes to sitting down and trying to write out a full episode I'm fighting the fact that I just don't want to do it. And I certainly don't want to be doing it every day of my life for the rest of my life, knowing I'm doomed to die with it still unfinished. I can't find any practicality in that to justify continuing.

But I can't just stop. I've no way of knowing if I have any more than a handful of readers, but even if it's just one or two I can't leave them hanging. And I don't want to chuck everything I've done already in the wastebasket either. So I can't just quit. I've still got to finish, but I need to do it in a way I could conceivably live long enough to accomplish it.

What I've decided to do is give up the fully novelized weekly serial format, because I just don't have the time or the stamina for that, but when it comes to outlining stories, I last much longer and write up a storm. So I've decided what I'm going to do is refine the outlines I've got and release those, get everything consolidated on the web site and say “That's it. That's the idea I had, and that's as much as I did with it before I retired. And if anyone would like to continue it or do something else with it, this is everything I made for you to work with.”

Just to do that much is still probably going to take me the rest of my life. There are at least 30 serials I need to work up notes for. There are 40 years of hand written ideas for scenes that need to be fitted together like a humongous jigsaw puzzle. All that needs to be organized so that the series will be in some kind of form that folks from the future can work with, or which can be sold to someone capable of producing what I could not.

Just in case anyone's thinking they're never going to have anything to read from me again, I should point out that the notes and episode fragments I already have for The Planet Of Genetic Misadventure which have not yet been released to the internet fill a text file some 250 pages long. The My Little Pony inspired serial is complete on paper and just needs updating. So you should get to see that one in its entirety, along with the other serials that were sent off for copyrighting in 1992.

So there's still going to be a lot happening, and lots of new stuff for TK to draw. Hopefully it will be happening a lot faster, because I'll feel like I'm making some real progress, which always improves my attitude, keeps me awake, and even allows me to get obsessive about what I'm creating again.

But most importantly there won't be anymore deadlines. So I can work when I'm inspired and enthusiastic, when I have the energy to stay awake. And I won't have to begrudge my friends and family any amount of time they might want to share with me.

This is a hobby. It's not a job. I'm never going to see a dime from it or get any kind of official recognition for the effort. So why the hell am I beating myself up trying to do it perfectly? Damn any flaws I have to leave in it. Just get it done. Leave it to the readers to fill in the gaps with their fan fiction and stuff, assuming there will ever be that kind of fandom for something like this.
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On Courting The Fandom [Jan. 1st, 2016|01:21 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , ]
[Mood |depresseddepressed]
[Music |Manfred Mann - The Roaring Silence]

I've been going over my notes for upcoming episodes to see if there is any room to insert the scenarios where Christine, Vicki and Kacey are living in Another Life as yiffy versions of themselves, as well as the alternate universe story where a door in the house opens on an alt Cygnus where the furs have visible sexual attributes.

These scenarios are proposed for the deliberate purpose of justifying yiffier art for the gallery, which I feel pressured to do if I expect Furry Fandom to take more significant interest in the series. Unfortunately, I find that the planned course of Serial 11 is already so convoluted there is just no room for these fan service scenarios.

My next thought was to save the scenarios for Serial 12, which needs padding out at this point, but unfortunately by then continuity will have made it impossible for those scenarios to include Christine, Vicki and Kacey, as their stories all get resolved before the end of serial 11.

Bottom line: any alt universe scenarios created specifically for the purpose of generating yiffy art of my characters have to be treated as external to the main series. I can create little windows in the main series to justify such external projects. I can mention that Vicki and Christine end up living in a house with Kacey on Twee's property in Another Life, and I can have Kacey discover the room that opens onto the other dimension, but I'll have to leave it to fans to grab those openings and do their own rule 34 spin-off projects.

Actually, part of my disappointment in the reception of Furry Fandom for Spectral Shadows is that so far it totally breaks rule 34. It exists, and there's no porn of it. That makes me feel like my characters aren't reaching the level of attractiveness I want them to have.

Yes, it's kind of pitiful that we live in an age where you can gauge your level of success by the amount of porn you're generating, but such is life in the future, and I have to learn to role with life in the future, rather than constantly lamenting that things ain't what they used to be. So I will continue looking for places to drop in these openings for yiffy side ventures.

Another thing this series needs to be more attractive to Furry Fandom seems to be military stuff, which is generally not my thing. But fortunately the regular story has a war scenario coming up, as well as a lot of action adventure scenarios. Plenty already there to grab attention from the fans of general violence, destruction and death. But I think this will require a lot of technically inclined art that will be beyond TK's range. So I'm going to need to hire a second artist to do townscapes, action scenes and military stuff.

Where I'll get the money to pay for a second artist I have no idea. Times are really tough right now, and the money I'm paying TK is already more than I can justify. Perhaps I need to reconsider a Patreon page. But so far none of the artists I've written to have even ventured to write back, which leaves me feeling that, as far as Furry Fandom is concerned, I'm just a big joke that doesn't even rate a polite rejection. I have a suspicion a Patreon page would be similarly ignored.

And of course, I have yet to see a Flayrah article or an Ursa Major nomination, or anything that is not coming from friends who have their personal characters in the series. So, as I begin my 12th year of internet publishing I'm still not feeling like an insider with Furry Fandom – at least as far as my Furry creativity goes. And the longer that situation goes on the less motivated I am to continue.

Anyway, I'll give it at least one more year. But I feel like this is the year that will make or break me as far as being a writer is concerned. I'll be writing some of the toughest scenarios I've yet attempted this year. If I get to the end of the year and feel like Furry Fandom still isn't giving a flip, I may just write it all off as the folly of a wasted life and retire.

This begs the question, “Why is the fandom important?” What do I care how much of an audience I've got, or if anyone's watching at all? Why can't I just do this for myself? But I don't need to write my fantasies down for myself. I could just enjoy my fantasies without all the time consuming bother.

It's no effort at all making these characters live for myself. It's making them live for other people that consumes the majority of my life.

It's like what an old time Prog musician said when asked why he quit. He said simply that he needed applause, and he wasn't getting it.

It's not a matter of I need to feel like I'm the best or I'm a star of the fandom scene or something. Actually, I dread the thought of fame and fortune. But to go episode after episode, year after year, without hardly a comment while other people who write less difficult projects get pages of comments on every episode makes for an oppressive uncertainty that can get to be unbearable. One just can't feel good giving their life to something like this without the applause.
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Daily Journal For Saturday December 5, 2015 [Dec. 8th, 2015|12:56 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , , , , , , ]

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Daily Journal For Friday December 4, 2015 [Dec. 5th, 2015|10:38 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , , ]

Awake at 1 PM, after not getting to bed until 8:30 AM.

After posting last night's journal I had gone down to take out the recycling and the charity boxes, expecting to be done before 4 AM. As far as I knew, everything was ready to just be taken out. Shouldn't have taken more than 10 minutes. But at that late hour I came down to find the folks up and blocking the way to the door, going through more boxes of stuff to give away.

They'd had all month to do this, and we already had the 4 boxes we told the charity people to expect. There was no need for them to be doing this now except to be keeping me up and making what I had arranged to be a stressless job a health wrecker.

So I was left stalled downstairs without even any place to sit for over 2 hours with nothing to do but stuff anything I could find into my face to relieve the anxiety of watching the old man ruin good stuff that was practically new by unnecessarily taking it out of its packaging and fingering it, while insisting that I keep and store stuff that I can't convince him has no use or potential sales value to us.

It was after 6 AM by the time I finally got the stuff outside. But by then I was too keyed up from aggravation to sleep. So I caught up on my downloads from MusicProf78 who had dumped another 50 odd 78's on the net this week and did a bit more track tagging, until I finally started losing consciousness around 8:30 AM.

I was awake at 1 PM, but laid in bed for quite a while contemplating how it was that my life was such an unmanageable and unhealthy hell, and trying to think of what drastic measures I could take to reduce the stress.

I figured there's not a dang thing I can do about the folks being the folks. They're always going to be doing stuff that makes extra work and stress. And the house is always going to be needing stuff it would be better if I had someone else to count on to do, but it's always going to be on me.

Can't do anything about all that. All I can do is trim down my own activities that I do for myself so that I'll have more energy and emotional stability to face what I've no choice but to face in life. And I started taking stock of the areas where I can make cuts.

Everything I do for myself is technically a hobby that is just for myself and will kill no one if I just drop it. There's messing with my records, writing Spectral Shadows, Second Life and Live Journal/other social media. All should be relaxing hobbies, if it was not for the constant fight to find the time and energy they require, which combined with what real life asks of me is what results in health wrecking 48 hour days.

So I need to cut out everything that commonly keeps me up late. And right away that brings up the fact that it takes hours to type up most of these journal entries.

I started this daily journal thing thinking I don't do that much in a day that it would take more than a page of notes during the day and an hour at night to type it up. But, actually, the days I don't do anything physical are days when I think too much about stuff. So the less I do the more I end up writing, and I rarely end up with less than 4 pages of handwritten notes.

So, I could stop typing the journal. I could still jot down my notes for my own reference, but does the world really need to know what I'm listening to while doing the laundry and what its making me think about?

Well, I don't know. Stuff like that rarely gets recorded or presented for analysis. Especially the stuff that goes on behind the scenes with Second Life, as hurtful as it may be for my friends there to see what I'm actually going through when I'm supposed to be having fun. I think the world needs to know this stuff is not as easy as it looks and the toll it can take on people who aren't equipped to handle it.

But writing it down doesn't make SL any less stressful. If anything it necessitates that I log off early each night, because I've got at least 3 hours of extra typing to do each night that I most often can't do while SL is active. If Perri was just sitting quietly with REC as would be the case most nights when I didn't have something else to do, it wouldn't be a problem. But SL has the same bad timing as the people in my real life. It will only become active when I need it to go easy on me.

This is not anybody's fault. It's just a curse on my life which you're seeing well documented in these journals. I can count on bad timing like clockwork, and I have no way of controlling when people will call on me, because if I try they'll just stop calling on me, which is not what I want.

I love these people. I want to be with them and share stuff with them. But I have to be ready for them when they drop in out of the blue on their own convenient, happy and healthily plotted out schedules.

I don't even get to dictate my own sleeping hours. Heck, initially on SL I was having 72 hour days because I was so popular there were people in every time zone on Earth grabbing me every time I started to log off. But eventually I just had to lose all the friends in certain time zones because I just couldn't handle it.

How it is that I'm so popular I really don't get. I don't think I'm that much. And if I'm not that much, how can Perri be that much?

In the past I might have thought it was because Perri tries. I imagine most folks in SL draw reasonable limits and just log off when they've exceeded them. Perri will hang on and give 200% to everybody, but these day's Perri's 200% isn't what it used to be. With me in this shagged out state Perri's 200% isn't hardly anything at all, and what should be scenes that make for pleasant SL memories turn into nightmares of stress from mental shut downs caused by the complicated technical aspects of running the viewer, and how much needs to be remembered for a simple outfit change while still having to keep an eye on the chat log.

All in all I have to conclude that the result of my initial experiment to see if SL would enable me to comfortably roll play is a big failure. The things it makes easier are off-set by things it makes harder. And geek life still ends up demanding more of me than I've got to give.

Backing up to look at things from a broader perspective, I see that it's not just SL, but the computers and the internet that have steadily been dragging me down for the last 15 years or so. I was doing fine in Anime fandom in the 90's. Totally bad crap was happening to me – car accidents, broken legs, being stuck in a wheel chair for a couple of years . . . none of that stopped me or even slowed me down very much.

X was like, I need you here, and I was like, you want me to hop on a bus and travel for 12 hours in a full leg cast all by myself? Bring it on. But as soon as I got the computer I started to become more immobile, and everything started going to hell.

Actually, the same is true of X. We were getting along great until I fixed her up with a computer and the internet. Our relationship was pretty much in the crapper from that point on. So, yeah, if there's a moral to all this it's that the internet is bad, at least for folks who don't have upgradible capacity to handle it.

But it's also addictive. There's practically not a minute of the day when I don't have at least one computer on anymore. And it seems such a different world when they're turned off. Like going back to an earlier world, and it's a scary, ghost world where everybody's long gone or dead. Anyway, I've never been a great fan of moving backwards. And every attempt I make to get off this computer addiction just winds me up with more computers.

Basically I'm a battery. My energy powers stuff that happens in life and on the net. And when I'm off the net its like the battery is having a chance to recharge. But the more I let it be drained, the more trouble it has holding a charge. Until it's gotten to a point where I'm just worn out and I can't power all this stuff anymore, not all by myself anyway. Throw a couple other batteries behind me and miraculous stuff might start to happen. But apparently there are no good batteries like me out there that have anything to spare left over to put behind the stuff I'm trying to accomplish.

All the other big batteries out there have tons of collaborator and fan support. I can't even get a review in Flayrah. It may be time to face up to the fact that maybe what I do isn't that great. It's not that wanted, and certainly isn't needed. It's all just going to die, and all I've invested in it will come to nothing. So why am I living like this if nothing I'm doing matters? What good is it to me if there's a Furry Fandom when I can't even get arrested in it after more than a decade of working for it. Good sense would seem to dictate that I start looking elsewhere for employment.

I'd do Spectral Shadows over as a non-Furry project if there was anything left of interest in it without the Furry element. But there isn't. Truth of the matter is I never had any interest in writing anything that wasn't Furry. It was Furry that drove me to become a writer when the odds were already stacked against such a thing. It's who I am. The option of giving it up just isn't there. It would be like giving up my own existence.

Ok, so I'm stuck with taking care of my folks, I'm stuck with my real world friends, I'm stuck with Spectral Shadows, and I have to make time for playing records as well, as that is also a part of my identity. Anything that's left I can give up has to come from the internet and Second Life. But it seems like Second Life doesn't come with the option to cut out certain parts and continue others.

Can't give up the alt characters because dealing with everyone from one place is too much for Perri. Perri has to take care of REC, who is more often than not a full time job. Kacey is needed for Niko, who thankfully will rattle on endlessly about nothing, leaving Kacey not needing to talk any more than Perri needs to talk to REC. But Rita does seem to expect Rinne to talk a lot and do stuff. So there's never going to be any taking it easy with that character.

I keep going round and round looking for someplace to get the energy I need for all this, but it's just not there. The only thing I can think to do is take more frequent breaks from SL for recharging. Unfortunately, taking a break just increases the likelihood that everyone will pounce on me at once when I come back. I won't be fully logged in before my screen will be covered with IM's.

I suppose I could start hiding my online presence from my friends list so that I can just deal with one person at a time. But folks are sure to find out about it and start crying, “Why don't you love me anymore?” And of course, if Perri goes on only visible to REC, REC won't show up at that time, and it will be a waste not being available to someone who is on.

But this is the only thing I can think of to get SL down to manageable proportions. I'll just be invisible to everyone but those I'm ready to talk to at the moment. And if folks want to “Wah” over it or unfriend me, so be it. Like Freddy Mercury is singing in the background as I type, “Too much love will kill you in the end.” If you want to love Perri, give her whatever space she needs to survive.

I don't have anything I need to be doing on SL today. So I'll take a break from it, probably for the whole weekend. No I won't, because I have a show to do Saturday. That means I'll need to prepare a program today and be on tomorrow night. See, always something in the way when I go to take a rest.

Granted, I didn't have to sign up for the job at Cutlass. But that's how I pay the rent on Kacey's house and for the music stream without having to dip into the real world money. Still, two shows a week may be too much for me to deal with at this point. Actually, I may just take Bixyl up on his suggestion that I take a break from DJing all together.

Not that DJing is all that stressful in itself, but worrying about forgetting an event is. And it's a real possibility with a mind as addled as mine, and there is considerable time that has to be made for creating event programs. Yes, I've pretty much decided to give up DJing for the near future, and to generally stop volunteering for projects that I know will be hard or worrisome.

If I can't quit SL, then I must take drastic measures to tame it. I must set reasonable limits and stick to them. And I must do the same in real life with this binging disorder. If someone's stressing me to the point where I need to be eating to cope with it, I've just got to start walking away. I want to take care of everybody, but I can't take care of anybody if I'm dead. And that's what I feel like when I wake up these days, like I'm pushing to get at my hole in the ground. So the diet starts today.

Once I get my program for the show tomorrow done I want to forget about SL for the day and do some puttering with my record collection. I've been enjoying playing just what I want for a while, but I want to set up a new rotation for next year, which I can't do properly with things filed the way they are. So I want to get everything filed together, rather than having certain genres on their own shelves. I never focus on single genres anyway. I like my programming random and thoroughly mixed, else I get bored, and stuff gets neglected.

My plan for the coming year is going to be real life comes first, the folks, then the friends. I'll play records whenever I can, as that is necessary for feeling good. Spectral Shadows will get worked on when I have free time and don't feel deprived by the absence of my tunes, and I'll be on Second Life whenever I feel like I'm strong enough to deal with it and it's not taking away from the previous stuff.

With diet and sleep being strictly regulated that's still more than can be handled in a day. So everything won't get done in a day. Some things may need to alternate days. And some things may not get done at all. But that will have to be the rule. If stuff doesn't get done because there's not enough of me to go around, I'll just have to learn to deal with it.

In the background The Waitresses are singing,
“Get tough, don't be so patient
Get smart, head up, shoulders straight
Since when is it a disaster,
If the "S" on your cape is a little frayed?”

Getting started with my day, paid TK first thing, as that was the one bill I managed to forget yesterday.

Big box of 500 resealable LP bags arrived. Just in time too. I used my last one last night.

Meals On Wheels bills are in. Mom pays those.

The bills I left in the mailbox yesterday are gone, which means I don't need to be walking to public mail boxes in the winter time, or bumming rides to mail boxes from Jeff. Really, in the winter I'd rather not be going out any more than necessary.

Sorted through the records in the basement, brought up the stuff I had tossed because I didn't like it. Want to put that stuff back in the main collection, because my attitudes have changed, particularly where Black Sabbath and Grand Funk are concerned. I'm including in my New Year's resolution a resolve not to let music be killed by bad memories. Dead people do not need to be felt bad about having lived, and 40 year old guilts have surely been paid for in spades by now.

Left the duplicates and 12 inch singles in the basement, after separating them. I really do not like 12 inch singles. Some have rare stuff on them, but still, if I wanted to be changing records after one song I'd be enjoying my 7 inch singles.

What else is down there are the Christmas records, which nobody uses anymore. Some classical stuff that I'm pretending I don't have, some stuff that is beyond playability, and several shelves of 78 albums which weigh a ton and also never get played anymore.

I also brought up regular copies of stuff I have on picture disc. I've decided I do not like playing picture discs. They belong on the wall, rather than in with the stuff to be played.

That took a couple hours and required a bit of physical energy, which is good for my health. But when I finished hauling heavy stacks of records around I started thinking I ought to eat something. But it was only 2 hours away from dinner time. So I kicked the urge to the curb by keeping busy. Can't eat if I'm physically busy.

Mom had apparently gone to bed while I was in the basement after having pulled another all-nighter. I thought the folks would cut that out after getting rid of the cable, but there's apparently enough on broadcast TV to continue encouraging their bad habits.

I was thinking she should sleep way past dinner time. So I went upstairs thinking I'll be eating late too.

Gave my needlessly expensive turntable a good dusting. It weighs 50 pounds strictly for the sake of weighing that much. Contrary to popular belief this does not stop it from skipping when something shakes the floor. It also doesn't have any kind of auto mechanism. So it doesn't shut itself off. It's main selling point is that it plays 78's, but otherwise I'd be just as happy with a less expensive turntable. In fact, I have 2 or 3 more fun turntables going to waste because of this one.

I have no CD players. What does anyone need a CD player for when they play on computers and DVD players as well as game consoles? In fact, the computer automatically rips and remembers the CD, thereafter rendering it a useless bit of plastic that just wastes space. Pitiful.

This is why I don't get Marty a computer. It would render his entire CD collection a waste of space. What a horrible thing to do to somebody.

Tried to get started at some stuff, but ended up just zoning out in front of the turntable, feeling suddenly tired and head achy.

Surprisingly, Mom was up by dinner time. So I made the Meals On Wheels dinners for the folks and a Hungry Man dinner for me. Left myself some calories in case I felt the need to eat something later, but never did.

After dinner I finally got around to creating the Winter Fun program for Cutlass. I felt a bit uneasy about it, because it still seems too early in the season to be diving into an all Christmas music show. So I nit picked over which Christmas tunes were worth using, and made the majority of the program out of stuff that just had winter or fun in the title.

The more I worked on the program, the more sure I was that I don't want to be doing this anymore, or at least not until someday when I somehow miraculously feel better. It's not that putting this program together was particularly hard, but staying awake was. I just kept passing out, and feeling worse every time.

Finally, when it was done I closed everything down and went to bed just before midnight, without even attempting to type up the journal. If I'd had to force myself to stay awake for that right here I'd now be typing that I'm quitting everything cold. But being able to get a good 6 hours of sleep seems to have worked wonders for my disposition.

Stress level for the day: 0. Fatigue maxed out at 10.
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Daily Journal For Thursday December 3, 2015 [Dec. 4th, 2015|03:41 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 12:30 PM. Feeling bad, like I've not been breathing, and thinking I need to stop living like this.

As much as I try to kid myself, I can't handle living as 2 people at once, let alone 3 or 4. And friends are nice to have, but it's a really high price I'm paying to be with them.

I can't survive being out of control like this, no matter how stressful staying in control may be. It can't be worse than waking up feeling like this.

Letting the dog out it looks really windy and wet out there. I don't want to go out in it, but I have to get the mail.

In the mail is a notice that Dad is due to get a cystoscopy on 12/29/15. This will mean more massive bills, as he's still in the donut hole for the rest of the year. So his insurance won't pay anything.

It's bladder cancer, and it shouldn't be messed with, but I don't see how he can not delay this examination until next year when the cost won't be prohibitive.

More bills in the mail. Capital One, $87.00. Medstar, $250. These should not be beyond budget for the month, but the month is young yet.

I hate getting up with so much to do, but I'm glad that at least the folks aren't up to be distracting me. Everything is so much less stressful when I can feel free to do one thing at a time.

Must go down and put the clothes in the dryer before I forget.

Need to eat something. Throwing a baloney bagel in to heat while I work on the recycling.

Package of store circulars found in recycle bin. Assuming them to be out dated and letting them go.

Back upstairs. Ready to do figuring for the month and pay bills.

Checking my E-mail, being worried that I have not heard from TK about this month's art. I find that she sent the E-mail Sunday and I missed it a midst the spam.

I owe her $255 for 3 pictures. 2 pics featuring Bixyl, REC and Jasmine. And 1 pic of Christine, Vicki and Perry that I don't remember where it goes in the story. It has a rather generic looking background, but that's actually a good idea, as stuff can be added to the walls once we get a better idea what the interior of the house looks like.

It's not TK's fault. I've had over 10 years to get on this problem of visualizing the house. I just never seem to have the time, as searching Google for ideas tends to take hours and hours. Meanwhile TK does a miraculous job of covering for what I'm not doing. I'm tremendously thankful to whatever lucky star brought her my way.

There are prescriptions at the drug store, but I've no time to tend to that today. Too many other things to do.

Lovely. My bank is asking a security question before letting me into my account. Who was my childhood friend? It would have to be an imaginary friend, because I never had any.

Ok, I'm in. I managed to hack myself, but that was a nearly averted disaster.

Good. I see my Amazon bill is in. So I won't have to guesstimate that.

After some calculation I find that all my money this month will go on three bills, TK, Medstar and Baltimore Gas & Electric.

Now I'm being asked a security question to get into Dad's bank account. God I hate the internet. It leaves no road unblocked in its efforts to make things more difficult than they need to be. But I aced that one on the first try.

Dad has enough money this month to pay his 4 credit cards, 2 insurance companies and the water bill. But he does not have anything left for this $410 urology bill.

There are 2 late fees on this bill. These are most likely 2 older copays and don't include a new one that will have to be payed before Dad's appointment this month, meaning this bill is actually $610.

So, what to do - put it on a credit card, or steal it from the account Mom reserves the tax money in? Or, just stop paying urology and let Dad's bladder cancer go unattended. At this rate, once they take all the tax money for next year, the old man simply won't be able to afford staying alive.

What would that be, suicide or murder? Or a combination of both? Anyway you look at it, the medical industry is pricing survival unnecessarily out of the reach of the elderly. That's like putting a gun to their heads if they die because they have to pay. And even if they steal the money from somewhere to pay, it's still extortion.

There just comes a point where you start asking yourself, is staying alive worth it? If it were me I'd probably say, “No, it's not worth it. My quality of life is not so good that I'm going to get any enjoyment out of any time I buy. Time to check out.” I'm sure a lot of old people are thinking that way right about now.

Three credit cards are paid. The 4th has an auto payment set up. So that's as good as paid.

While paying the last credit card on the phone, there was a place where their automated system said, “If you'd like to talk to an account balance transfer manager, press 4.” Out of nowhere there was a beep, and the system said, “Please hold while we connect you to a live person.”

I quickly hung up, assuming the company had arranged to automatically spam me. Then I turned the phone back on to try again, and I heard Dad talking to the balance transfer manager, sounding totally befuddled as to why this strange person's voice was coming out of his phone, and I can only assume the guy at the credit company thought Dad must have been drunk out of his mind.

But this is just one of the more amusing examples of how people mess me up with their incredible bad timing. Dad couldn't have picked up the phone at any other time but that single instant when pressing a button would connect the phone to a real person.

I see that the water bill charges fees for paying on the phone or the internet. So I will have Dad cut a check for that one. I'll give the urology bill to Mom. She can pay it along with the tax bill that is already on her TV tray.

BGE check is cut from my account.

Medstar check is cut. Took my last stamp.

Mon and Dad got up while I was photo-copying the checks and the bills they're paying. Mom is not getting that I transferred enough into her checking account to cover both the taxes and the urology bill. I transferred $2000. The tax bill is under $1200, which should leave over $800. But she keeps insisting it only leaves $200. This is getting her upset, and that's getting me all flustered so I can't explain things without stuttering. But eventually she sits down and works it out on paper and cuts the tax check.

Next Mom is making Dad breakfast at 5 PM, while I put Dad to work on cutting the water bill check. (Dang his hand writing has gotten bad.)

Urology remains unpaid, due to Dad wanting to make some calls tomorrow and verify some things.

Mom talked me into having some eggs and toast as well. If she hadn't I would probably not have stopped working. I still have it on my mind to get the laundry done, type up yesterday's journal, and get it posted before I have to get set up for my show. It will be very close now.

While eating I watched a video called "Are Fandoms Bad?" Then typed in what for me was a very quick response.

The vocal few that you hear from are the only ones that count. They ruin a fandom for everyone, and it remains ruined regardless of how many quiet fans there are, because quiet fans can't provide a counter image.

Quiet fans can't keep good fans from being driven out by bullies, and ultimately nobody stays but the bullies. I have been in a dozen fandoms in my life, and everything I was a fan of was ruined for me by the actions of other fans.

Fandoms are based on the mistaken idea that people like things for the same reason, and will therefore get along. In reality very few people like anything for the same reasons, and fandoms just bring fans with different motivations together and instigate instant war.

The root word of fandom is fanatic. Fanatics do not see things logically or in reasonable perspective. They end up taking every difference of opinion personally and start trying to set up political factions within the fandom to back them up, and no peace will be had by anyone thereafter.

If I had kids I would warn them early on, stay the heck out of fandoms. Like what you like for your own reasons, and don't ever go looking for other people to validate your interests.


Then down to the basement to finish the laundry with Joe Jackson.

Then back upstairs with less than an hour and a half to get the journal typed and posted.

Journal is posted just in time for me to start the stream so that it will play as I've timed it to – start point 40 minutes before the event officially begins, main program starting on the hour and ending when DJ Psycho Kitty will be ready to take over.

But, though I'm getting the stream started on time, I've still not got the computers set up, and it will probably take another 10 minutes to get all that done and get Perri to the club.

I get Perri all set up, and there's no one else there. So I steal a bit of time to grab a couple bags of rice cakes to snack on, and don't the folks snag me and start talking about putting dinner in the oven? And I'm like, you just had breakfast, I told you I had a show tonight, and you said you wouldn't be eating dinner till late. Why are you snagging me now when I'm already on the air?

But they're still acting like they just can't wait 2 hours till I get done with the event, and I just have to put my foot down and refuse, which is something it torments me to have to do.

So I'm finally managing to break away from them with 10 minutes to the start of the event and the phone rings. It's Marty wanting me to give him the track listing for the Todd Rundgren compilation, which I'd have to risk messing up my music program to get off the laptop. So again, I just had to say no. I'm on the air, and we'll have to do this another day.

I can hear in his voice that he's getting emotional, like he feels like I'm blowing him off, and I'd like to sit there and talk to him a while so he'll feel better, but for Christ's sake, what part of I'm on the air do people not understand?

Seriously, how do they do it? How do all my friends manage to tackle me all at once at the worst possible time imaginable? It's a curse, I swear. In a previous life I must have cut a deal with the devil to have friends, and he makes sure they all have such bad timing that I can never enjoy having friends.

The event itself was hardly worth all the anxiety. It was just the staff and the usual 2 or 3 regulars. REC was kind of there and kind of not. His connection kept failing, and he probably didn't hear any of the tunes I programmed with him in mind.

Perri won half the prize for her usual white outfit, plus 220 in tips.

REC gave up at the end of the event and logged, rather than trying to hang around for Psycho Kitty's Navy event. Perri couldn't find a navy outfit in her wardrobe and decided to call it a night as well, leaving poor Psycho Kitty with just Bixyl and Sha for an audience.

Went downstairs to see if the folks were still in need of dinner. They weren't. Mom had made some soup. So I didn't need to cook for them, and I decided not to cook for myself either. I was stuffed on rice cakes. So I got Mom the ice cream she wanted for dessert and got some for me to take my evening meds with.

Sat down to type up this journal, during which I played 4 of Marty's LP's. 3 classical and 1 Santana. That's approximately 3 hours, not counting any time I might have spent falling asleep.

Will now post this, take the recycling and charity boxes out, and head to bed at approximately 4 AM. Stress peak for the day: 10.
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Daily Journal For December 2, 2015 [Dec. 3rd, 2015|08:17 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 9:30 AM. I've felt better, but not recently.

Found King Crimson LP I've been waiting for from Amazon. A souvenir of the concert we went to last year.

Did banking on Mom's accounts. Transferred the money for the taxes from her savings to checking account. Mom is to write the check.

Canceled extra $200 payments I had set up on M&T credit card to cover money Dad had needed for transportation and copays this year. Those have been paid off.

Baloney bagel for breakfast. Wanting to start cutting down on calories, though not ready to commit to a full diet program. I'm still sick and need to keep my energies up.

Typed up and posted yesterday's journal.

Discovered a lost Procol Harum album from 1970 I'll have to download from YouTube. It's not available anywhere else.

Did some laundry with half of Joe Jackson's “Night And Day” album, which I have gradually learned to love over the course of my life. Really didn't get it when it was new. Guess you have to rise to a certain level of cynicism to really feel what's going on there.

Brought up another box of stuff for Mom to go through for charity.

Had a fish sandwich and potato patties for lunch. Still kidding myself I can eat lightly without strict rules.

Made my program for Thursdays show at The Happy Vixen. Took about 2 hours. Not too bad.

Then I was on Second Life in stereo. Perri with REC and Nico on my left – Rinne dancing with Rita at Cutlass on my right. Marty's scratchy Ozzy Osboure record on the turntable in front of me. And me falling asleep, in spite of all this going on.

The theme of the Cutlass event was “I & J.” Rinne did not enter the contest. She has no wardrobe to speak of, because I never have time to take her shopping.

In chat they were saying things like “J for Japanese Anime,” “J for just another Anime,” and “J for Jewish Anime.” Rinne was thinking “J for junk cartoons,” but she was too shy to say that in chat.

Perri can say that because it is perfectly in character for her to be a cynical old bunny who digs where Joe Jackson is coming from. Rinne doesn't feel comfortable being seen that way. She's just a cute helpless bunny with no opinions to express.

Rita decided that she wanted Rinne in the Relay For Life calendar. Perri is already involved in that, and feeling quite uncomfortable about it. Rita doesn't realize that the more complicated she makes getting into the calendar, the more folks don't want to be involved. And this year she's made it so complicated I have my doubts any of my characters can handle it.

It's especially anxiety producing for Rinne, because nobody knows her, and therefore nobody will vote for her. And she has no outstanding personality with which to sell herself. So it seems rather pointless to get her involved, but she's Rita's toy, and I don't want to be telling Rita how she should play with her toys.

As the night wore on I got more and more exhausted, and I started thinking I should just face the music and admit Second Life is too much for me in my damaged state. I'm not really having any fun, and it's not helping get my real world work done either. My characters are pretty much turning into zombies because I'm too dead tired to play them.

Oh, geez. Suddenly Niko is getting randy. Time to bring Kacey on to distract him. And then Bixyl shows up, while over on the other side of me Rita has Rinne involved in a photo shoot, which I'm not giving nearly enough attention to because Perri's SL bedroom has suddenly turned into an active chat room, and I've got to keep up with what everyone is saying.

Now Jamey shows up. And I just know Jamey is going to want to role play on top of everything else that's going on. And I'm screaming, “God, why does everyone have to show up at once?”

But it's the same deal as in the real world. I'll be left in solitude for months and then everyone will decide to get together with me on the same Saturday, and it causes me no end of stress trying to keep everyone happy at the same time.

Eventually things did fall into a groove and I started to somewhat relax. Rita had other people to shoot, and nobody seemed to be caring if Rinne was a zombie. So I just focused on what was happening in Perri's bedroom and let the stress fade. But of course then I started falling asleep again, which produced headaches and shakiness. And my knees were starting to hurt from being stuck in one position too long.

This called for a binge. So I ended up chucking all thoughts of eating moderately and binged on chocolate ice cream and nachos until I made myself sick.

Eventually I decided it was time to log off. It was past 3 in the morning and I still had other things I wanted to do, including typing up the journal. But I decided to put my played records away instead. That and trips to the bathroom to be sick kept me up past 6 AM. And when I finally got to bed I was thinking I had to take steps to make SL less stressful. At the very least I must set things up so I don't have to turn my head to see the other screen. And I can't be playing records while on SL either, which makes SL seem even more irritating because it's keeping me from something else I want to do.

To bed 6:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 10.
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Daily Journal For Monday November 30 & Tuesday December 1, 2015 [Dec. 2nd, 2015|04:47 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Yep, my 3rd 48 hour day in a row. There just are not enough hours in a day.

Up 2:30 PM. Back ache again. More pain pills.

Water and Gas & Electric bills arrived. No money available to pay them yet. Money comes in on the 3rd.

Got right to work typing up the previous journal entry. It would take the entire day, from about 3 in the afternoon to after 7 AM. And when it was done I felt cheated of a day out of my life and refused to go to bed. Now I know why sensible people don't bother trying to keep a record of their activities and thoughts. It leaves you so much less time for activities and thoughts.

I did take a break for dinner, with which I watched the 2 part MLP episode “The Cutie Re-Mark,” which I seriously did not care for. I found it to be contrived, unnecessarily rushed, and it wasted a potentially good villain on a totally implausible redemption. It was like they just didn't feel like taking the time to do a reasonably well thought out back story for Starlight Glimmer to rise to the bar set by her previous episode.

This is actually something I fear might happen to Spectral Shadows if I turn it over to other writers. They might not get that the bar for this villain is way up here, and finishing that villain up in a more minor fashion simply will not do. Indeed, I have a sliding scale I use for villains and heroes. Characters are generally consistent and are never redeemed or fallen in a single episode. There has to be an observable process in a drastic character change. Else one is guilty of flimsy continuity.

I also do everything in my power to keep Spectral Shadows from looking rushed and contrived. I'm inspired by old school Doctor Who, not the speed dial modern version which I can't watch at all.

And, very much like an episode of the new Doctor Who, The Cutie Re-Mark was so rushed that I couldn't look away to take a bite of dinner without missing something. I really do not like the MTV clips and rushes approach to time travel fantasy. In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they were taking inspiration from the new Doctor Who in producing this time travel episode in such a fashion.

I think the new MLP series is running out of steam and the creative forces behind it are being spread thin, which is not at all unlike what happened to the original series. It started out with a bang that set people on their ears and eventually ended up being produced so cheaply that it was unwatchable.

I'm sure at an earlier stage in this new series it would have occurred to somebody that they ought to involve Doctor Hooves in this time travel story, and possibly extend it to a 4 parter. But this is where we run into a wall of reality that this show actually does have creative limits, just like the original show, and the best fans can do is imagine what might have been if those limits weren't there.

After posting the previous journal and making the somewhat foolish decision to not go to bed, I started playing the records I got from Marty, most of which have been pretty good, musically. There's a lot of Instrumental Jazz Rock, which is good for doing other things to. But so far nothing with such a wow factor that I had to stop and focus on it.

But that is not surprising. The Wow Factor is different for Marty, and more different still for Jason. As far as I know there is no wow factor for Jeff or Phil. Odds are anything that would have a wow factor for me would be something anyone else would toss. And it's somewhat unpleasant that anytime a friend says they don't like something, it most likely means they've come across something I'd really like.

There's this guy on YouTube called SuperWess that I used to watch, because he has super eclectic tastes like mine, and it was interesting to see him picking up a lot of stuff that I'm familiar with. But then he started talking about why he likes and doesn't like certain things, and he started trashing certain things I liked for the very reason I liked them.

But what really tore it for me was when he started making the fact that he's gay a factor in why he liked certain things. He'd say, “I just love the gayness of this,” and I'd think, “I should check that out to verify my sexuality.” And sure enough, everything he loves for the gayness of it is something I'm absolutely repulsed by. So, thank you, SuperWess, for confirming that I'm not gay. I'm just an overly sentimental bunny girl who doesn't get off on manly stuff. Therefore my wow factor is set more to the sappy and emotional than my straight hetero or straight gay friends.

The only one I know with a wow factor somewhat relative to mine is Rusty, whom I'm shamefully neglecting these days, for the very reason that there are just not enough hours of the day to get everything I want to do done.

Went on Second Life to touch base with people, as I've not been on all weekend.

Left a message for Jenni that I'd be available Friday or Saturday if she needed me to DJ at Cutlass.

There was nothing else going on, but I left Perri logged in, just in case Bixyl would turn up to confirm Perri would be doing The Happy Vixen Thursday. Though I was determined not to stay glued to the screen today. I have too many things piling up that need doing.

Found a notice about this week's events at The Happy Vixen. Thursday was listed as Best In White, but Perri was not penciled in as DJ.

Rita IMed Perri and invited her to spend some time with her in her hot tub. Sounded relaxing. So Perri obliged. But I think I'm going to have to get Rita used to the ideas that my characters do not talk a lot in SL. Other characters Rita hangs out with will chat up a storm continuously, but it's all about stuff I have not a bit of interest in.

My characters all suffer from the fact that I'm constantly strung out and just looking for a nice situation in which to chill. Or, in the case of these 48 hour days, because I'm drifting in and out of consciousness. The moment I get even a bit relaxed I just shut off. And I am not chilling while typing. I'm especially not chilling when typing in IM windows, because those just increase the technical stresses involved.

I also logged Rinne in on the laptop, just in case Rita would call her over too, but she didn't. No matter, that gave me a chance to do a bit more work on Rinne.

I can't honestly say Rinne's new mocha color does anything for me. It seems pretty generic. But a kani bunny in any color would be attractive. I gave her blue eyes. That helped a bit.

Rita went off-line and Niko appeared. So Perri hung out with him for a while, and I put Rinne back in her doll box. That's how I tend to view my alts – electronic dress up dolls I get out to play with once in a while.

Niko, as usual, mostly talked to himself, rattling on about his video games and his video game related video projects on YouTube. I wish I could take an interest, but I just have no reference for that stuff. It doesn't touch anything in me that generates any kind of response. And he doesn't seem to get how that can be. He seems bound and determined he's going to make me appreciate this stuff.

Reminds me of my youth when I couldn't understand why music I like didn't sound good to others. I was so sure if I just got them to listen closely enough they'd hear what I heard in it. Took years of disappointment and rejection before I realized I lived in a world of my own that nobody else had references for, and that the trick to figuring out what other people would like was studying their references.

Apparently, to understand my references, one has to understand that my connection with pop culture ended with the 20th century, where I became exclusive to internet culture. I therefore know practically nothing about music, TV, movies, video games, anime, comic books or anything from that point on.

My reference for video games ends with Playstation 1. If you talk about anything beyond that it registers as so much gobbledegook.

Also, one has to realize that, since I got into computers and then the internet, my brain has progressively slowed down from information overload, and there just got to a point a few years ago where I stopped even being interested in assimilating it all. If it's not a technology I'm currently trying to use, I don't want to hear about it. I don't have room left in my brain for information I'm not using.

I'm not using YouTube, I'm not playing the social media popularity game, it's hard as hell even to get me interested in the latest internet drama. I just have no reference for seeing any value in it.

Basically my mind is tired and worn out. It doesn't work good anymore. It doesn't work like a modern young adult mind. It's not hungry for information anymore. It's an out dated model that I've stopped upgrading to keep up with the advances in internet technology.

So, if you want to get my mind energized and functioning, you need to be talking to me about something old that I was into a long time ago. I can tell you all about the old times, if there's something back there you find of interest. But if you're trying to run a new program on my mind it's just going to freeze and say, “Does not compute.”

You might say, that doesn't sound natural. You must be sick. Damn straight I'm sick. I'm over-stressed, I don't get enough sleep, I've got a ton of things to be depressed about, and I'm engaged in an endless struggle to get nowhere, and not hardly making any progress at it. I live among the ruins of countless broken dreams, none of which ever amounted to anything, still trying to find it within myself to go on finding reasons not to just sweep away the debris and give up completely. Real healthy way to live, ain't it?

There's not a day that goes by I don't make some determination to fix this, but I just don't seem to have the resources to make a new life for myself. There are just too many factors that keep me stuck where I am. And the only way I can find to improve my state of mind is to try not attempting to do so much, and to absolutely avoid trying to take on any more.

So, while I might try to continue some of the things I've started, I don't have an ear for any new ambitions I could be using new technologies to get involved in. You show me a new web site and my mind is instantly saying, “No, no, no. I absolutely refuse to learn a new site.”

A new anime series? “No, no, no. Anime is already wasting too much space in this brain. More I do not need.” But it's a good series. “It is not. All anime does is rehash. You may never have seen anything like it before, but I guarantee you I've got at least 10 series in here that did everything this new one does, and did it better because they were closer to the original idea.”

A new movie? “Who do you think you're kidding? They don't make new movies. They just make dumber versions of old movies. And I'm not going to waste another dollar on another Hollywood remake that somebody thought would be so much better if everything Perri would like was cut out.”

A new video game? “Oh, God, no! Video games are for people with time to waste. Where do you see any time left in this life?”

A new Prog group? “Get outta here! Prog does not exist. Never did. It's just one more newfangled bastardization of something old that somebody thought would be better if everything that made it worth taking seriously was removed. Good music was a product of the times, and those times are long gone. And not all the assembly of retro instrumentation and recording equipment is going to bring those times and inspirations back.”

The future sucks. The past sucked too, but at least the past could be interesting because people had dreams and individuality to express. Now things just suck for the sake of sucking and no one has anything to say but life sucks and hears some equally sucky music to accompany it. I don't have the time or money for kidding myself that an odd band like Muse or Gorillaz is going to break that trend. At the end of the album they still run out of enough good ideas to keep me awake.

Niko logged off and I got up to do some laundry and fix Mom a bit of tea and cheesy bagel.

Listened to Marty's BTO “Not Fragile” LP in the basement. Pretty scratchy, but sounded good on the little Crosley Revolution turntable.

BTO was one of Brother Steve's groups, but it's a hard album to feel bad too. Had to keep reminding myself that it's just a slab of vinyl, and any magic to generate images of the past lives solely in me, not in the record for anyone in the future to experience. Folks from the future will romanticize us in their minds when they play it and imagine us more like the music would suggest we were. And the music doesn't leave anything for anyone to feel bad about.

Brought a couple of bags of stuff up from the basement for Mom to go through for charity. Got to have 4 boxes ready to go out by the 4th.

I got the Saturday gig at Cutlass. The theme will be Winter Fun.

Bixyl confirmed the Thursday White gig at The Happy Vixen.

Downloaded the latest 78's from MuiscProf78. Wish this guy would slow down a bit. Too much work makes what is free not free.

Spent most of the night with Perri sitting with REC and Renni sitting with Rita. Started to get a feel for Renni's character. She's childlike, inexperienced and desperately insecure.

Since my money was in the bank I went on Ebay and Amazon to order some stuff. Ordered the old man's calculator ribbon, finally. Got some LP bags, which I'm fast running out of. I ordered one of those newfangled LP groove dusters to check out. If it works it might save some of these records of Marty's. Got a couple needles for my turntable, which thankfully are not expensive. And I ordered a big box of disposable bowels, to help keep the dishes from piling up.

Looked for the Spectral Shadows art from TK, but she's late this month, which is really unusual. Hope everything's ok with her.

To bed 1 AM. Stress peak for the day: 3. Fatigue was off the scale. No more 48 hour days. I'm too old for this nonsense.
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Daily Journal For Sunday November 29, 2015 [Dec. 1st, 2015|07:15 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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It"s a loooong one.Collapse )
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Daily Journal for Saturday November 28, 2015 [Nov. 29th, 2015|05:48 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 11:30 AM. Feeling mostly good with just a few lingering symptoms.

Put in storm doors first thing so I wouldn't forget it.

Notice from reverse mortgage company that not paying taxes means foreclosure. Need to transfer the money for the taxes from a savings to a checking account today. (Didn't get to it. Will try to remember it tomorrow.)

Bill for $50 payment on our Medstar account due on the 5th. Tried paying it online but couldn't get through the red tape. Sent a check on my account, as I'm the only one with any money right now. Not that I'll have much after this.

Found a package from Amazon on the porch. Not sure if it arrived today or yesterday, as I didn't get out to check the mail yesterday. The package contained Todd Rundgren's “Global” LP, Steve Hackett's “Wolf Flight” LP, and “The Royal Philharmonic Plays Prog Rock Classics” LP.

Noticed my meds from last night sitting on the drug tray. The mom did not do the meds before dinner and disrupted my routine. You'd think she would have called me when they were done or reminded me when I came down, but nope. (Ahhh, no harm seems to have been done. I'm pretty sure I'm way over medicated.)

Brought up the towels that have been sitting in the dryer for a week since I got sick, but didn't put another load in because the mom needs to pre-treat some stuff first.

Watched “The Hooffields And The McColts” with breakfast. To me this seems like the worst episode of the new series so far. It has no practical moral or life lesson. It doesn't parallel the historical inspiration. It makes pitifully little use of Fluttershy. And it makes Twilight Sparkle come off as a total airhead. All that and the stereotypical hick characters have no appeal what so ever. There's just nothing to love about this episode.

In terms of the character development Bronys tend to go on and on about, this episode shows that neither Twilight or Fluttershy have grown at all since episode one.

Character development in the new series is just like it was in the original series. It lasts the length of an object lesson in one episode. It doesn't alter the series bible as far as how the characters are supposed to act is concerned.

In general I observe that most of the elements Bronys claim to see in the show that supposedly make it worth special attention don't really exist in the show. It's actually stuff that Bronys are doing with the show in their own imaginations and sharing through their fan fictions and video productions. And there's nothing about MLP that makes it unusual among Furry cartoons for fans to do that with. It's something Furry fans have been doing since forever.

The new MLP is actually just a standard Cartoon Network type show, done by the same people who did the cartoons that initially made Cartoon Network. Those shows had appeal to young adults, so it does up the bar for MLP a bit, but no more so than Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Laboratory or Courage The Cowardly Dog. It appeals to the same audience, uses the same adult references and pushes at the same boundaries.

As such, it's a cool little cartoon – possibly the best of the Cartoon Network school of animation. But it's dragged down by how over-hyped it is. No one who is not a Brony messing with the show in their own minds is going to see the stuff they claim to see in it. And that's just going to make Bronys look cracked in the head.

I have personal experience with this, as I used to do the same thing back in the 80's with the original series. I went around thinking how deep the show was because of the plot points that were never discussed in it. But I was filling in the blanks myself, seeing deep things I put there that were invisible to anyone else. Everyone looking on just saw a grown person watching an unbearably juvenile cartoon.

I can and do apply the same process to all Furry cartoons. The full joy of all such shows is what they stimulate in my imagination, which is uniquely mine to enjoy, unless I write my own story in order to share it. And, in true Brony fashion, I created a serial within Spectral Shadows to demonstrate everything I read between the lines in the original series. Maybe some day I'll do a second Pony serial to show how I fill the holds between the original pony world and the new one.

Got bath and other stuff I needed to do to get ready for video night at Jeff's.

The program was a double bill of Procol Harum and The Eagles. Pizza and other goodies were scarfed, and a general good time was being had by all, until for some reason towards the end of the second concert the conversation abruptly turned to politics, and the next thing I knew Jeff was shouting over my head at the guy on the other side about how Roosevelt was a dirty no good [expletive deleted] who had blood on his hands – presumably Jewish blood. And I was thinking how weird it was to hear anyone swearing at Roosevelt in this day and age. I mean, talk about flogging a dead horse.

This exchange at high volume being blasted over the music went on long enough that I figured it was time to just turn down the music and let them talk through the rest of the concert, as is typical behavior with this crowd. So I got up and turned it down, hoping this would allow Jeff to yell more softly, as that loudness so close to my head was making me feel uneasy.

Not that I wanted any piece of this questionable topic, but when I could manage to get a word in edgewise I asked if this was history they'd learned a long time ago, or were these things they'd heard recently. Being as these were not things I've ever heard being given any special attention and I had my suspicions of the probable source.

But before I could get any satisfactory answer as to where this was coming from, Jeff started yelling a new about how the Nazis hated Catholics because Catholics represent moral behavior. “You never hear about Catholics stealing anybody's land, backing slavery or committing acts of genocide, do you?” said Jeff.

“Well, actually . . .” I started to say, but never got a chance to because Jeff just turned up the volume on is mouth and went on a new tirade, all the while seeing me sitting there with my finger in the air waiting to finish my thought, which I never got a chance to do, because as soon as Jeff had ranted himself out, before I could say anything he declared the discussion finished, still leaving me there paused in shock in mid sentence.

This left me in an awkward situation. After a gesture of disrespect as extreme as that one I don't think anyone would have faulted me for slapping Jeff across the room. But of course Jeff wouldn't see the logic in that, and I am kind of dependent on Jeff for rides and stuff. So, if he wanted to make out like he was actually concerned about talking over my music for the first time in 40 years, I'd just let him get away with it. After all, my feelings are well scarred over from a lifetime of similar disrespect. By tomorrow it will be just one more of thousands of humiliations I've endured.

My lingering opinion is this is just one more demonstration of how Friend Jeff is off his rocker, and I remain curious at the source of the anxiety behind his tirade. If I find out this is all the result of Fox News messing with his head I'm going to be thoroughly disgusted.

After I got home Marty called. He wants me to burn more CD's for him tonight to take with me tomorrow, one of them being something I'll need to download. I'll also need to get a couple of large record boxes ready to take with me and pack up my computer bag. Jeff is supposed to pick me up to go out to Marty's tomorrow at 11:30 AM, after his Sunday news ritual. Wanna bet it's Fox News?

It's now way past 5 in the morning. I've been working on Marty's stuff all night. The one good thing that came out of it being that I discovered I can record sound off the internet on the laptop. I haven't been able to do that on the big computer for ages. Can't think why that should be. I use the same program on both machines.

Anyway, gotta get this proofed and posted, and then try to steal a couple hours of shuteye, which will probably be futile, as my anxiousness is way up.

To bed 6:30 AM (If I'm lucky.) Stress peak for the day: 9. (Could easily have pushed it to 10, but just wasn't interested in going overboard.)
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Daily Journal For Friday November 27, 2015 [Nov. 28th, 2015|06:04 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 6 PM with a frightful backache. Will probably need pain pills for this.

Things to do today; put in storm doors, do some laundry, tag tracks, hang out on SL, order calculator ribbon and phonograph needles. (Aside from hanging out on SL, none of this got done, again.)

I'm going to need to make SL portable via the laptop so I can take it with me while I do other stuff.

Marty called. He wants me to have Jeff bring me out to his place on Sunday so I can deliver his Oriole jacket and pick up the records he wants to give me for credit on his TV that I paid for.

Went on SL. Jenni was putting out a call for DJ's at Cutlass. But it was late notice for me. If I'd been specifically asked I could have set things up in time, but after getting so coldly frozen out the last time I tried to get a job at Cutlass I wasn't about to battle whoever for this job.

REC wanted to go to the Cutlass event, which was superheroes night. So Perri threw on her usual Super Bunny outfit, which she never expects to win because it doesn't relate to any known superheroes, but she ended up winning a third of the prize anyway.

Competing attention from REC and Rita was getting a little stressful. At any given time on SL a number of people may wish to monopolize Perri's attention. And she finds it very stressful needing to be two places at the same time. Solution: create alt accounts and get the other person interested in the alt character. I can even build the alt character to the taste of that person.

Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn't. Some folks just have their hearts set on Perri, even though they should know Perri is a married character and she's going to need to be with REC any time REC is on.

Anyway, I decided I would give Rinne to Rita. Rinne is an account I've had for years that was created for a project that never came off. She's also the only alt account I have that is not related to a Spectral Shadows character.

I've tried a number of different av ideas on this account, but nothing has ever come of any of them. Of late I've just been playing around with making her a cute pink bunny, and I thought I'd built her up to quite a wow factor. But, upon receiving her new playmate, the first thing I heard from Rita was that pink wasn't her color. That was a face paw moment.

Rinne offered Rita control of her RLV collar, but Rita threw that gift back too. But this is typical of Second Life. Anything you try to do to make something special for somebody will always be wrong in some respect, because you never know what the people behind the characters are really like.

But, that's not how you play the game. You're supposed to fall in love with the characters and not think too much about the player.

Anyway, a color change was nothing tragic for me, since I have a Clover Lappina account that's also a pink bunny. So, ok, why not make Rinne another color? But what color would Rita like? After that rejection I was not about to guess.

REC went off early, saying Perri should go play with Rita. Hopefully she wasn't saying anything to him in IM's that upset him. He was already having a bad day with bad road conditions. And I'd rather have him concentrating on the road than worrying about SL stuff in that situation.

With REC gone I figured to log Perri off for the night, but Rita wanted Perri as well as Rinne to join her at her place. So much for reducing the lag and resulting stress there of. Alts should be run on separate computers whenever possible to avoid lag problems. Will try to remember that in the future.

In order to decide what color Rinne would be, she had to individually unpack and cycle through every Kani avatar she had, and she has a bunch of them. The lag made this difficult from the start, and every new avatar that showed up at Rita's place increased the lag, making everything run in slow motion, while simultaneously having to watch the chat and respond for two characters, both of whom were also getting IM's.

But, nobody else in the room had any idea all this was going on. SL does a very good job of hiding how stressful the technology is from the other players. And you can't tell anyone, because that just means more typing, and more distraction from what you're trying to accomplish. Besides, people will back off and run away if you start complaining. So, no matter how bad things get, you don't give voice to it. You want to keep the illusion flowing as smoothly and as pleasantly as you can for everyone else.

Otherwise it was a very pleasant scene with a lot of avatars I absolutely love. I just wish the SL technology would give me more of a chance to enjoy such things. Time we got all the colors displayed and a mocha color had been chosen for Rinne, Rita was ready to log and the scene was breaking up. So there was no opportunity to just kick back and enjoy it. I was a technical operator through the whole thing, never really having a chance to enjoy being either character.

That's also typical of a DJ gig. I'll be so busy operating the equipment that I'll rarely have a chance to pan over the audience. And though a DJ tries to keep one eye on the chat just in case someone makes a request, I skim the chat at best. I don't get to follow any conversations. And the next thing I'll hear is “Perri doesn't like my jokes because she didn't respond,” or “Perri doesn't like me because she didn't say Hi back to me.” And I'm like, *face paw* I can not sit here and type a lecture about why DJ's tend to miss things in chat. I have these requests to download, process and get into the cue before the end of the playing track which is down below the two minute mark. And it would take about half that time just to type the previous sentence.

I get tearful about it when stuff like that happens, because some folks in SL can be so over sensitive about that stuff, and there really is no practical way to explain it on the spot.

So, yeah, SL is hell. It's always been hell. Probably always will be. But I endure it because I love the company. (Hmmm. There might be something profound in that statement.)

Answered a comment Bixyl made on the November 25th journal, and then typed this up.

To bed 6:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 5
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Daily Journal For Thursday November 26, 2015 [Nov. 27th, 2015|08:13 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Awake 4 PM. Up 5 PM. Got up feeling bad. Mostly from back pain and chest congestion. Sometimes I think I'm getting better, but it's only momentary periods of painlessness. The general problem persists.

Had a dream about a record company that sent musicians out on jobs like a cab company or temp agency. This might have been influenced by the random tracks the computer was playing. Anyway, when I woke up Jimmy Buffett was just being sent out on a job in Nashville.

Dad had me moving furniture and doing a lot of straining first thing – trying to get at screws which I eventually had to admit couldn't be reached. In the midst of this I realized the congestion was getting painful, and the breathing was pretty difficult.

Dad wants me to make a note to put the storm doors in tomorrow.

Mom made the chicken. It was not a particularly difficult job, as are most Thanksgiving dinners around here. But I think everyone around here is getting tired of doing things the hard way.

After the chicken I binged quite a bit on desserts. I plan to cut the binging off at midnight on Saturday and get in a good 3 weeks of recovery before the Christmas binge.

Later I went upstairs and logged Perri into SL. But nothing was happening. So I thought about breaking out some 78's, but cringed at the thought of the work involved. Even playing 45's seemed like more work than I felt up to. So I decided to just play more LP's and futz around on Second Life.

I saw REC was on. So I tracked him down, and we hung out most of the night.

Meanwhile I talked to Katarina, who mentioned she was still in touch with Oppsy, and I had a crazy thought about maybe sending one of my alts to see how he was living in SL these days. So I got Rinne out and started following the leads Kat had provided. But in the end I decided this was a bad idea and didn't pursue it. Nothing I think of to do with my alt characters ever pans out.

Kat also tried to get me interested in OSgrid. So I made an account on there. It looks a lot like Second Life, and I find the idea of free sims rather intriguing. But that will require further investigating.

Rita IMed me, wanting bunny nibbles for her Thanksgiving dessert. I said she'd have to wait and see if REC left any leftovers. Heehe. He didn't.

Continued to mess around on SL till 7:30 AM. Very unwise, as I still had the journal to type up. Fortunately it's not too long today.

To bed 8:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 3. But it was mostly a good day.
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Daily Journal For Wednesday November 25, 2015 [Nov. 26th, 2015|05:46 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 8 AM. Laid in bed for most of an hour listening to tracks on random play on the computer before I could urge myself into motion.

Had a big bingy breakfast with the latest My Little Pony episode – the one about Rarity and the magic book.

Guess every pony has to go psycho once in a while. But I think the show is based on a false object lesson, which it attempts to acknowledge is false at the end. Telling the truth to someone usually will not produce a favorable result. Nobody wants to hear that something they're doing only looks good to them, or that their religion has them believing something stupid, or that they shouldn't trust their favorite politicians.

Society, even pony society apparently, is based almost entirely on time honored lies, mythologies or just things people have become accustomed to turning a blind eye to. There is never a good reaction to exposing somebody's favorite self deception to the truth. So it's really dumb for cartoons to be teaching kids to be honest in a world of such prevalent dishonesty. So this episode is saying, “Yeah, if somebody you care about belongs to the Westboro Baptist Church, you need to shove the truth down their throats, for better or worse. But otherwise, don't expect a lot of brownie points for being honest.”

Don't go telling that Brony over there how stupid he is for trying to design a gun a pony can shoot with hooves, because ponies have magic that enables them to do pretty much anything as if they had hands. They don't want to hear that their brilliant inventions were never necessary in the first place. They'll like you a lot better if you just pat them on the back and say, “My, there goes a clever Brony.”

That is, assuming you want them to like you. If you don't care if they hate your guts you can go around spewing all the honesty you want to. But my experience in every fandom I've ever been in is that you check your sense of honesty at the door if you want to get along with people. And that goes double for significant others.

After the MLP episode I went on to watch a couple more YouTube videos I had saved to watch later. And I noticed right away that this had me wanting seconds for breakfast.

Apparently I don't get much out of YouTube fare. It's usually somebody showing what records they bought or some top 10 list of the dumbest whatevers . . . or talking cats. So obviously this stuff only exists to accompany chewing, and I would not be doing so much chewing if I gave it up.

Didn't have any specific plans to do today, except to maybe catch up on some of the things I failed to do yesterday, but ended up still not getting to any of that.

Put on Volume 3 of TV's Greatest Hits. (I'm missing Volume 2.) This is the 70's and 80's volume, though I noted quite a bit of 60's included, particularly in the cartoon section. Apparently whoever put this collection together had watched those shows in the 70's as reruns.

I thought I'd put this on in the background while I did some internet business, but I found the album quite attention demanding – not about to let me divide my attention. And, as I am prone to do, I started thinking this was a really good record and speculating as to its value. Not monetary value of course, since I think I only paid a buck for it. But just because something doesn't command a big asking price doesn't mean it isn't a treasure of some other sort.

In this case I determined that the value of the record was historical. It preserved something from a bygone era and put a pleasant perspective on it – the kind of thing I was very much fascinated by in my youth, hearing about things that had their time before I came along. Though it's kind of odd realizing that this is stuff I was actually there for. Therefore, it's not as much a history lesson for me as much as it is nostalgia. And it surprises me to realize how little difference there is between the two experiences.

You know, they never put these collections together in mind of young people who weren't there. They are always produced for the nostalgia market. If it happens that kids find them later and get an educational value out of them, that's just a peripheral benefit that no one's making any money off of. People looking to make money off of kids would much prefer to sell them something new.

Listening to it as nostalgia I was put in mind of just how integral TV and radio were to life throughout the 20th century. It's not like I don't have plenty of news related documentaries on vinyl, but those don't really take me back the way show openings do. The news puts a perspective on the times which is more often than not negative and disturbing, punctuated by wars, disasters and social unrest. While the shows and the music take you back to the things folks in those times found joy in. And that's what a historically minded kid is really interested in. Why was it good to live back then, and how does it compare to the good stuff of today?

But when listening as nostalgia, as I am now old enough to do, these themes and openings remind me of people and places I spent a lot of time with, even though I only saw those people and places through a TV screen. But that's an interesting aspect of TV and radio. They transport you out of your comfy chair in your safe living room, projecting your mind to different places and times to see people who will never know you or realize how much better you came to know them than you did you're actual real world friends.

But as I listened further I was reminded of how I eventually came to take all of these people and characters for granted. They went into syndication and have never really been unavailable if I should ever have missed them. But in most cases I actively avoided them. Even now with all the free nostalgia channels we have, I don't make it a point to revisit these shows. It's odd, being such a nostalgia nut or history buff, but I really don't get off on the idea of moving backwards.

Yes, I do think the shows were better back then. The comedies were funnier, the dramatic shows were more intriguing. But they're better suited who I was then, and I don't really remember myself that well. So I'm not really seeing them with the same eyes or feeling them with the same heart, and I'm often left wondering why I thought this was so great back then.

Are the new shows any better or worse? I couldn't tell you, because I don't watch them. I'm just not interested. They're not a part of what constitutes modern times for me. They're made for other people that I don't know, understand or even care about. I have no desire to be transported to their world, because I don't find their world or their values at all attractive. Half the time I don't even know what the audience is supposed to be laughing at.

So, for me, and possibly others like me, TV and radio ceased to exist sometime around the turn of the century, which not coincidentally was when I got my first computer, and entertainment abruptly changed from the voyeurism of pre-recorded shows to one continuous unscripted show in which I'm a character, and my entertainment is seeing what silly things the other characters I interact with will do.

I'm like a live TV star in a sit-com that might be titled “My Favorite Bunny.” Or sometimes it's more like a soap opera, “All My Furry Children.” But, though the cast sometimes turns over rapidly, there is not a great marking of the seasons. So the show I'm in has run longer than most of the shows that have their themes on this album. And I sometimes get the feeling like this show should be ending soon and I should be looking for a job in another soap. But I know I'm type cast and no one will accept me in any other role.

Does Second Life have nostalgia? Actually it does, but it doesn't lend itself well to anything that could be preserved on vinyl. Sometimes you might put your old screen captures on random play and see clubs or even whole sims that you used to frequent that are long gone, and you'll miss them, being sad that you can never revisit them.

But, actually, you can never revisit anything in SL, because even the sims that last a long time are constantly changing and never look the same from year to year, and it's only been on the rarest of occasions that I've managed to attach a song to a specific time, place or person in SL. And, there are no reruns, because the whole thing is live. So you never get to review your performance, let alone preserve it for future generations.

This leaves me wondering if the children of the future, indoctrinated directly into being live TV stars, will have any use for traditional radio and TV shows. Will they even find the idea of observing without the ability to interact repulsively frustrating? I know it happens to me some times that I'll be watching a video and will grab my mouse, looking for the controls to change the camera angle. And then I have to remind myself, “This is not Second Life. I can't look wherever the hell I want to.”

It is strange to reflect that, though we theoretically have so much more now because of all this technology, it has cost us everything that made life in the previous century memorable. The 20th century was the journey, and the journey was marked by many a road sign. But in the 21st century, this is it. We've reached our destination, and we'll just hang out here until we die.

Oh, maybe we'll get better grids. Maybe we'll get neuro implants that will bypass the video screen entirely and make us feel like we're actually living in-world. Yes, we still have new technologies to look forward to, but I think the basic mode of virtual life is set and won't change very much. It will just be a matter of improving our ability to enjoy it.

And entertainment will become our lives. We will entertain and be entertained by each other. And it will be extremely difficult to pull ourselves away from our virtual entertainment. Perhaps we might for food, work or other life necessities, but certainly not to watch old TV shows. If we have any use for those at all it will be watching them in-world with friends.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. I didn't necessarily have a great time in the 20th century living in a body I never liked, being too shy to interact with people as was expected of me and so forth. I'm not going to sit here and make out like living in the real world was a great thing. It wasn't. Virtual life promises many desirable advantages that I plan to shamelessly enjoy. It just leaves me in doubt about the value of everything I've collected and preserved from the past.

Will there never be anymore kids like I was who are fascinated by all this old stuff, simply because it is so obviously old, or because they view the people of bygone times with an air of mystery and romance? Will there be no more children who enjoy putting the pieces of the past together like some gigantic jigsaw puzzle? If not, then it was a waste of time collecting and preserving all this stuff.

Without someone to leave it to who'll appreciate it, everything has been just for my own indulgence. And when I'm gone it will either be dispersed or shoveled into some dumpster.

Doesn't anyone know a kid who likes vinyl records so much he dreams of an entire library of records coming into his possession - some kid who constantly bugs an aunt or uncle to play records for them and answer their endless questions about the past the records relate to? I feel so sad not to have someone like that in my life.

After the TV's Greatest Hits album had played and I had written that previous bit of melancholy, I put on a record of some acoustic guitar jazz and had a brief conversation with Niko on Facebook about how his posting of Spectral Shadows on Fiction Press was getting a somewhat favorable response. But all I could think was what a shame it would be that eventually he'll get to the end of what I've written and everything will just stop again, because I don't seem to be able to write anymore, let alone finish anything.

It seems deceptive to get more people excited about stuff I wrote when I was much younger, less cynical and more inspired. In this also I'd give anything to meet someone who liked my concepts so much they'd just buy the whole franchise from me and finish it themselves, so that I could have that incredible weight off my shoulders and enjoy the rest of my life.

Not that I'm ungrateful for what Niko's doing. The work needs promoted, and I've no energy to do that. At best I can write an episode now and then, if I'm lucky enough to have a particularly good day without a lot of other stuff I need to do. Maybe promoting the work on other sites will land me some collaborators who can pick up some slack for me, or keep me motivated through brain storming sessions. Otherwise things will just fizzle out.

Thinking depressive thoughts like this I leaned back and closed my eyes, succumbing to a suddenly overwhelming feeling of fatigue. It was like being drugged. It was all I could do to wake up enough to shut the turntable off when the record finished. Not that I was ever really asleep, it was more like passing in and out of consciousness, all the while thinking I must open my eyes and get on with my internet business, which I never did.

This went on through most of the afternoon, until around 6 PM when I forced myself to get up, with great difficulty, and go see if the mom was fixing dinner. She wasn't. I had to do it again. Fortunately I had plenty of time. So I could do it at a slow pace.

Dinner was nothing special. Meals On Wheels for the folks and a TV dinner for me, plus coconut cake and butter pecan ice cream for dessert. But the folks made a point to fuss over it like it was every bit the 67th anniversary dinner they could have wished for.

I ate downstairs with the folks, which I only do on special occasions, and the dog paced around me like a sentry – my brother and sister in law having apparently raised her to be a little beggar. Or is it that she equates the fact that I share my food with her as a gesture of love? Either way, our little Lady dog seems determined to see that she saves me from as many calories as she can get me to surrender.

Somehow the mom got on the topic of how we had not been out to see the aunt's grave since the marker was put on it, which is remiss of us, because I wouldn't trust the folks at that cemetery to do anything. And the mom would be quite distraught if it turns out her sister has been laying out there all this time without a marker, let alone visitors. So I said I would talk to Jeff or perhaps Phil about a trip out to the cemetery. (Phil has a regular car that can take 3 passengers. Jeff has a van with only one passenger seat.)

Seems horrible to neglect the aunt as we have, her being in a strange cemetery with no one she knows and all. Not that I believe, on a rational level, that she has any cognizance of where she is. I imagine one grave is pretty much like another to the dead. I just wasn't raised in a society that encouraged one to think rationally about such things.

Brother Steve had the good sense not to be buried at all. So I never have to think about visiting him. Brother Terry was doubly courteous by not letting us know how, when or if he died, sparing us a number of perpetual irrationalities. My good sense is to hang around until nobody is left who'll care. Of all the things I expected to need help with in life, getting comfy with my hole in the ground has never been one of them.

Graves and the related rituals I assume are mainly for the comfort of the living, but they don't do anything positive for me. Brother Steve felt similarly. He did not like funerals, and even in death managed to schedule his own on a day when the whether was so bad most couldn't attend. “Poof” he went. No muss no fuss. Existent one day, non-existent the next, and no monuments or markers to confuse people about that. That's the way to go if you can manage it.

I seriously wish I hadn't been raised in a culture that made such a big deal out of death, as if anyone really knows anything about what is experienced beyond it. In all likelihood folks just go to sleep, and maybe they dream for about 10 minutes or so after being legally dead, as brain activity monitors suggest. Then it's a dreamless sleep from there, completely peaceful with nothing further to fear. All that is tragic being left for the living to conjure in their imaginations.

No big deal really. One's life has to have a start and a stop, as denoted by the grave marker. All that life is is lived between those two dates, and nothing before or after matters to the remains lying under the marker. Any immortality we achieve depends entirely on the things we do during that time, and how well we're remembered for it.

Someone like Beethoven will always be remembered. But someone like Jesus, who in all likelihood never existed as anything more than a fictional character, is afforded the same immortality. Indeed, the immortality of some fictional characters seems far more substantial than most people who actually lived.

As the person I am in the real world, I don't expect I'll be remembered very long, particularly if I'm the last of my clan to go. I'll be just a neglected marker in a field with a duck pond next to the site of a long demolished amusement park where the Big Bands used to play.

If I get any significant remembrance it will be as a bunny on the internet. Maybe someone will make a marker for Perri on Second Life. Folks do that on there occasionally.

Strange that in my reincarnation as a bunny I became someone I'd think worthy of remembrance. I made more friends and was more of a participant. I should respect that and save more energy for Perri to enjoy her time with her friends, leave them more happy memories of her.

After all, even in this age of virtual living, it's not everyone who's gifted to live as what they are truly happiest being. I'm missing out on too much joy that's being sucked out of Perri's life because of my constantly trying to do things in real life that I ought to know by now can't be done, and have no real reason to be done. If just because she is wanted and loved, I have reason to bring Perri back to full life. Maybe I'll focus on that as a priority for a while and see how things go.

As I went to start typing this up I discovered that my Microsoft Word Starter on the big computer has ceased to function. I need that mainly for searching for italics, which the Open Office program won't do. But I don't need that for anything but formatting Spectral Shadows episodes for Live Journal. Hopefully I'll get to the bottom of this problem before I get another episode in the can.

Note to self: Try not to tackle so many deep subjects in a day. These long entries take way too long to type up.

To bed 6 AM. Stress peak for day: 0. But fatigue peaked at a 10. Melancholy was also up, but leveled out into optimism. So I guess you could say it was the best and worst of days.
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Daily Journal For Tuesday November 24, 2015 [Nov. 24th, 2015|10:12 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 9 AM. Feeling better, but I'm still aware of stuff I'm getting over.

Projects for today: go to Giant Food Store, do laundry, tag more tracks, order Dad's calculator ribbon, order needles for turntable, trash day. (Most of this was not done and will be carried over for tomorrow.)

Checking Dad's bank account I see that yesterday's deposit registered before the gas & electric bill. So no overdraft. Yay!

I then calculated the purchases and interest on Dad's credit card this year and compared it to the amount paid on the credit card, and I discovered that the extra payment the bank put on the card this month put what was paid over what was spent. Which means, thanks to a good screwing, no ground has been lost on my watch. And next month I can get by with the minimum payment which will leave more money for next month's bills, which are already coming in. And they're whoppers.

Dad has a $400 copay for cancer treatment at Chesapeake Urology next month. And the second half of the tax bill came in, which is $1,189.80. The dead brother's life insurance will pay that this time, but most of that money is gone already. Next year we will most likely need to save for the taxes, or I may end up begging for a fundraiser on Second Life. But for the time being it looks like we've got this year locked up.

A lady from the health department came by to ask the folks a lot of questions about services they might need. Unfortunately the kind of help they need is not offered. So I don't expect much to come of that.

Went to the grocery store with Jeff. I was ok for most of the adventure, but when we got in the checkout line I started feeling weak and sick again. Not so bad that it would stop me from doing my work, but bad enough that I was reminded that I'm not well yet, and I can easily over do it.

Got a coconut cake and a chocolate cake, along with a lot of other goodies so the folks can feel like their having a full Thanksgiving/67th wedding anniversary week. I'll try to take it easy on the eats, but I'm not even going to think seriously about dieting until New Year's Day.

Should have gone to the drug store after the grocery store, but I wasn't feeling well enough to extend the trip. Anyway, no idea where I'd get the money to pay for drugs now if any showed up.

Came home, still feeling bad, but I put the groceries away and got the trash taken out any way. Then I grabbed some cookies, cereal and ice cream to take upstairs and binge on a while. After which I crashed on the sofa, having just run out of energy.

Later I looked at my E-mail and saw REC suggesting I post the pony gift art he got me of Perri as a pony. So I started trying to do that, but a miss-click somewhere landed me on a strange site called Furiffic, By Furs For Furs.

The last thing I need right now is the stress of getting involved with a new site, but I'm curious to see what this site offers. So I tried filling out a profile, but that was all I had the patience for. Then I went back to FA and finished posting the art.

Then I saw that my played rack was full. So I put the records away, which is like being a librarian. Everything has it's proper place on a specific shelf in one of three rooms.

That tired me out all over again, but I had enough energy to make dinner for everyone. And I told the folks I would probably crash after dinner. So once I get this posted I will call it a night.

To bed 11 PM. Stress peak today:3. Mostly from forcing myself to work in a state of fatigue. But optimism is up today, which means depression is down, and I'm not feeling so hopeless.
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Daily Journal For November 22 & 23, 2015 [Nov. 24th, 2015|12:47 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 5:30 PM. Still coughing up stuff and some pain lingering in the chest, but otherwise on the mend.

Might have slept longer, but the computer got my attention by selecting a Duffy's Tavern episode from 1946 featuring a guest appearance by Joan Bennett of Dark Shadows, which is interesting because her voice is the same, but everyone in the show makes a fuss over her being a hot babe.

I didn't know I had that one. I'm rarely in a position to listen to Old Time Radio these days. Just one more thing I've had to give up because of my unnatural lifestyle.

Seems to me there was stuff I was supposed to do today, but nothing is coming to me. I must start writing notes to myself in the margins.

Oh yeah, was supposed to call Jeff. Got that done. He'll be here at 10 AM to take me to the bank, Walgreens and Staples.

Now I need to get Mom to write Dad a check for $200 and get Dad to make out a deposit slip. That should cover any situation that might develop at the bank.

This is looking like it's going to be a double day, as I probably won't go back to bed before Jeff gets here. And after I get back I will probably stay up until a reasonable hour and maybe get myself back on a proper sleep schedule. Although I'm not sure I want the hassle of worrying about when I sleep anymore. I worry entirely too much as it is. I need to learn to chill and take life easy.

Put some Popcorn Chicken and Tatter Tots in for breakfast/dinner.

Oh yeah, now I remember. I was supposed to put a piece of art on Fur Affinity today, but I can't find any back story art I haven't published yet. Plenty from the story to come, but right now the only stuff I could put up are character cards, and those are a lot of work to put together – more work than I feel comfortable committing myself to right now.

As with anything involving Spectral Shadows, my head has to be in the right place to work on it, and right now it just isn't anywhere near there. And I don't want to put myself under the stress of trying to force it to get there. That always ends up wasting a ton of time and leaving me in a worse mental state. So I feel like that is something I need to quit. No more forcing myself to work on Spectral Shadows or trying to produce on deadlines. From now on I'm either doing it because it's a fun thing I'm in a mood to enjoy and be productive at, or I'm not doing it.

Went to bank. Made deposit. They said something about Dad needs to update his profile with them. I said he'd give them a call.

Went to Staples to look for a ribbon for Dad's calculator. But all I saw was ink, no ribbons of any kind. So I figured I was looking for antiquated technology. And after a while of being ignored by salespeople, I decided to just order the ribbon online.

Next went to Walgreens, but they had none of the meds the folks claim to be out of. I guess they've copped to the fact that the folks can't afford their meds and have stopped all their prescriptions.

I got all the over the counter meds the mom wanted and bought a lot of cheap cookies to binge on, as my diet is still off the rails due to my illness. I expect it will be a waste to try getting back on a program until next year.

Set up a date with Jeff to take me to the giant tomorrow at noon so I can makes sure the folks have all the goodies they'll need for their anniversary and Thanksgiving. Usually they order a pre-cooked meal from one of the local grocery stores, but it's too late to order one now.

Wasn't feeling any ill effects from being out. So decided to carry on with the track tagging. But felt progressively more tired and wasn't making the headway I was earlier.

I started to form a theory about why things I like become less and less satisfying as I grow older. It seems that whenever I have a good first experience with something, I record an exaggerated memory of the event. Like how you might say something like “That just sent me into orbit.” You wouldn't mean that literally, but your mind might subconsciously take it literally.

And there after, every time you play that album, eat that food or look at the art you've saved from the internet, you might be subconsciously expecting to be sent into orbit, and you might be a little more disappointed that the experience never seems to be as good as that first time. And no matter how you try and try to relive that first experience, you're never sent into orbit, because you never were in the first place.

Apparently I record false expectations all the time, and this is why I am continually disappointed. My music doesn't lift me off the ground like it used to, the ponies aren't as cute or as magical as they used to be, the fandom experience is never as magical or fulfilling as it used to be, and so on.

This is even worse with things I experience more in fantasies than in real life, like love and sex. Of course real life can never live up to the fantasies, and it becomes necessary to have more and more exotic fantasies for the new fantasies to live up to the old ones. But even at that I run out of unexplored exotic territory, and even my fantasies end up disappointing me.

I see this reflected in modern entertainment which must be ever more excessive – more violence and special effects in movies, more distortion and Satanic content in Rock music, even though the meters have long been maxed out on all excesses. You just can't make stuff any more extreme than it already is. And soon going to the movies or to a Rock concert can't help but leave you feeling the event was lacking in something.

Things just can't take you closer to the edge once you've already gone over it. So, to be happy and fulfilled in life, the idea is to enjoy being taken closer to the edge, but you never want to get the full experience. Because once you can say you've been to the edge, that's it. You've nothing left to look forward to.

They had new ponies at the drug store, as well as some cute Ty critters, but I didn't buy them, as my initial impulse was. Used to be I would see cuteness and would think, “Must have this cuteness in my life.” I still get that thought, but now it's quickly followed by the memory that cuteness only rots when I take it home. It sits out on display and gets all dusty.

I don't play with my toys. I don't hold them, talk to them, build fantasies around them, or anything really. They just sit there trying to look cute for me. But they'll never look quite as cute as they did that first time I saw them in the store and I made up a fantasy that they were so magically cute that I was going to get so much good out of them at home that I just couldn't leave them in the store. And then they spend their entire existances trying to live up to that augmented first impression, which they can never do.

I feel like King Leer in The Last Unicorn. “It was pleasant enough at first, but it died quickly.”

Well, at least I can't say “I've never been happy.” But sadly, if I reflect on experiences that have made me happy, none of them were real. They were all involved with building fantasies around people and objects of fandom. Things are never good enough just as they are. There is required some investment of imagination to bring happiness. Therefore I am only happy when kidding myself that something is better than it actually is. And it naturally follows that anything that makes me happy is doomed to eventually disappoint, because it can not live up to my unrealistic expectations.

This is what comes of getting too old and too analytical of one's own emotions. In youth all that was talked about was knowing the truth. But even the very idea of The Truth had unrealistic fantasies attached to it, because we assumed The Truth was something that just had to make us happy. But now I have even gone to the edge with Truth. I know it for what it is, and can never get excited about it again.

The Truth is that humans do not want or need Truth. What they need and long eternally for is ever bigger and better fantasies. Even the scientist or Atheist sets out in quest of fantasies about nothingness. And if they remain happy you know they have not experienced the ultimate in nothingness yet. But can you imagine getting to the ultimate edge of nothingness and asking “Is that all there is to nothingness? Why am I not as satisfied as I dreamed I'd be?”

Reminder to self: add the track Bulerias by Carman to the Spectral Shadows soundtrack in the gypsy section of “Malice In The Shadows.”

Marty called. He wants me to make more CD's for him. He's getting into a Funk/Soul groove at the moment. Must make a P-Funk sampler for him.

Liking this Yellow Magic Orchesta XooMultiplies album that I picked up a while back. YouTube needs more YMO, as they don't have this one. So I won't be able to play this for Marty and Jason until I get ripping set up again, and I'm not looking forward to reconfiguring my system again.

Dad called me downstairs to help him rearrange his room in quest of a Medicare book. I noticed right away I was tired, but I didn't see why that should stop me. But the more unnecessary bending and lifting he had me doing, the more cognizant I became that I was getting more than just tired. My legs were shaking, and I felt generally ill.

Eventually the book was found right where it should have been and could have been easily located if not for the old man's insistence on looking everywhere he doesn't expect to find something first. Normally I would just try to put up with this and say “This is all the fun he gets out of life.” But this time I think indulging his fun seriously hurt me.

Back upstairs now feeling extremely tired and nervous, feeling like this would be a good time to pass out. Will try grabbing a bit of a nap to see if it helps.

Dad called me back down again in the middle of my dinner. He wanted me to explain the finances to him, and then he kept me for hours after that messing with WinAmp, reminiscing about how good things were during the war, talking about his expectations for the 2 dead brothers, and how he has no intention of letting the social worker whose coming tomorrow know how desperately we need help.

And that's it for another doubly long and doubly depressing day.

To bed 1 AM. Stress peak for the day 5. Sorry about any typos. Too tired to stay awake proofreading.
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Daily Journal For Saturday November 21, 2015 [Nov. 22nd, 2015|06:41 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 4:30 PM. Still coughing up stuff and feeling unwell.

Tried to explain to Mom about the situation with the bank, but the printouts came out with the figures cut off, and I could not follow anything she was saying with the TV demanding my attention.

The situation is probably hardly worth worrying myself sick over, but explaining it is so stressful I just want to hide from everybody and everything so I won't have to.

It was agreed that Mom will write a check for me to deposit in Dad's account Monday to cover the shortage. Nothing anyone can do until then. Fortunately she has the money, this time. But that's the last of any emergency funds we have to call on.

All this has left me terribly depressed and hopeless. I don't think I can handle one more bit of bad news or unnecessary stress without throwing in the towel.

Just going to hide away upstairs and make one more attempt to chill in hopes of getting back some semblance of a healthy state of mind – play a lot of records, tag a lot of tracks, maybe grab some Furry art off of FA, and eat a lot. But not going on Second Life, because that would just be asking for trouble.

To bed 7 AM. Stress peak for day: 5. Depression level: 8
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Daily Journal For Friday November 20, 2015 [Nov. 21st, 2015|07:14 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 3:30 PM. Slept good. Feeling better so far, but not well yet.

No plans for today other than taking it easy.

I no sooner got settled down with lunch than Dad was calling me on the phone, at the same time Marty was calling me. So I blew off the old man for the moment.

Marty started in rattling on about his plans for the day without even pausing to ask if I was well enough yet. Another person acting like they didn't know I was sick. This left me agonizing over whether to tough out running around town trying to hide my very visible state of ill-health, or doing the right thing and putting the kabash on everyone's fun.

Finally Marty started talking about hanging out at my place and huddling around the computer, and I was like, “You do realize this place is a germ factory right now.” Jason has all that holiday work to do at Walmart. This would be a lousy time to be sharing a particularly nasty virus with him. But then, these are the guys who wouldn't let 6 feet of fresh snow stop them from going to a record store.

Finally I ended up insisting that they pick another day for this, which could mean a day next Spring the way things have been going lately, and that left me feeling like crap.

So then I went down to see what was bugging the old man, and it seemed he had somehow managed to break his WinAmp program. It would freeze every time it was started.

I spent about 4 hours trying to get it to work, wasted $30 on a registry cleaner which did no good at all, and eventually had to resort to a clean re-installation, which trashed all his playlists, but got the program working again.

This took me way past dinner time. So I hurried up and made dinner for everyone. Then I hid myself away upstairs.

I thought about going on Second Life, but then I thought that was no way to be avoiding further aggravation. So I spent the rest of the night with the record player and my track tagging program.

To bed 8 AM. Stress peak for the day:5

P.S.
Before going to bed I checked Dad's bank account to make sure the last two transactions went through alight. Turns out the bank paid the M&T credit card twice. So there was not enough in there to cover the Gas & Electric. But checking the Gas & Electric site shows they got paid, which means the old man will get hit with an over draft, and I don't have enough money to transfer into his account to cover it.

I'm screwed, all because anything I set up to work perfectly somebody has to mess up. It never fails. I can't count on anything, I can't win, and I don't dare ever rest.

This day is now ending on a triple 10 for stress, anxiety and depression.
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Daily Journal For Thursday November 19, 2015 [Nov. 20th, 2015|06:27 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 2:30 PM. Feeling tired, sick and dry.

Was dreaming about setting aside some duplicate records for a friend. Woke up realizing that friend has been dead for many years now. Dozed back off and was dreaming about some James Bond film playing on YouTube.

I've never cared much for James Bond, but that long dead friend was a Bond fanatic. Bond is also associated with Brother Terry, whom I expect lived and died the Bond lifestyle.

Why I'm dreaming such stuff I have no idea, unless it's dead people bothering me in my sleep. But, if so, I can't imagine what they're trying to tell me.

Projects for today: do 60's show at The Happy Vixen, do recycling, remind Dad to call Medstar, put foam mattress back in sofa bed, do some track tagging.

I should be putting Spectral Shadows on that list, but there seems little point since I rarely even get to the track tagging. It's not a legitimate project for the day if I know I'm not going to get to it.

Anyway, I prefer to work on Spectral Shadows when I'm well of body and mind. Right now I'm not, and it's looking like this illness is going to be with me through the weekend, which will kill any plans Jason and Marty are making.

Lunch was the same as yesterday. I didn't leave myself many options for variation. And the food that's available is so not exciting that it's all I can do to force myself to eat, even though I have license to stuff myself right now.

I got a wee bit stressed trying to make lunch, make something for the mom, bottle the boiled water and start on the recycling at the same time. Wanted to get done with all the downstairs stuff so I wouldn't be distracted with it later. But I eventually realized I have to do one thing at a time, especially when I'm already warn thin with illness.

Meals On Wheels payments are processed and in the mailbox, recycling is done, water is bottled, and lunch is consumed. But, even tackling these things one at a time, something keeps happening to make the jobs more difficult, strenuous or stressful than they need to be, and in my weakened state I'm not holding up too well against it, resulting in headaches and painful breathing.

Fixed the sofa bed, and that job was ridiculously harder than one would expect. The dang thing was just determined it was not going to open up for me, and I had to use every bit of strength I had left to argue with it. I won in the end, but it wasn't a victory I got much enjoyment out of.

Brought an old fashioned record stand into the work room to put the turntable on. The chest I had it sitting on was too low, and it wasn't on wheels. Now I can move the record player wherever I need it with ease, and there's a rack under it where I can store the played albums that are waiting to be put away.

Dad called Medstar, and from the way he's talking they are willing to set up reasonable payments. If so, I won't need a “Save The Bunny” drive. But Dad is still digging deep in his records looking for something he can aggravate them with. He should have finalized the deal while he had them on the phone, but instead he has to call back tomorrow. Anything to keep me worried for another day.

Dinner was a Hungry Man meal, a mac & cheese side dish, 2 waffles and a pudding. Ate it after the event at Happy Vixen was under way and I could relax, because all the work had been done the night before.

The event went well. Not a large crowd. Pretty much just the greymuzzles. But those who were there all seemed to be listening and responding to the music. So I felt like the effort I put into the program was worth it.

The next event was Pilgrims And Indians, and while looking for something in that theme to wear, I suddenly started feeling strained from the thought of the aggravating technology involved in throwing together a costume on short notice. And I got a very strong message from my brain that I should skip this and get off SL ASAP. Which I did, discovering to my delight that I had the whole rest of the night to play around with whatever I wanted.

So I played some records, did some track tagging, looked at some pics on Fur Affinity, and added a Gary Numan track called “The Life Machine” to the Spectral Shadows soundtrack in reference to Mr Groat, The Comatose Goat.

All in all a very easy going night. But when I went down to the bathroom and looked in the mirror I was surprised by how beat up I look. Particularly around the nose I look like I've been in a fight, which is kind of unusual for this type of illness. Weird. No soar throat is unusual too. Not that I was looking forward to it. I just wonder what the heck they infected me with at the doctor's office this time.

To bed 7 AM. Stress level for the day: 5
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Daily Journal For Wednesday November 18, 2015 [Nov. 19th, 2015|07:22 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 2:30 PM Nose is all blistered and quite painful. Pain in lungs. Sinuses threatening further trouble, but so far no soar throat.

Slept solidly with no dreams that I can recall. Being able to sleep so comfortably is not something I'm used to with this type of illness.

Projects for today: Do more laundry, keep after Dad about calling Medstar, finish making program for tomorrow's show, make CD's for Marty, do track tagging, put foam mattress back in the fold out sofa.

I have an idea I can use that TV's Greatest Hits LP set to clue me to some 60's TV themes I already have on the computer. This will hopefully help me give the music program a little more color than just playing hit tunes of the decade.

Reminded Dad to call Medstar, but he will probably not call again today, as it is pretty late in the afternoon already, and they'll be closed before he gets his act together.

Had turkey ham on bagel and Cup-A-Noodles for lunch.

Reran the load of towels in the washer as I left them sit wet for 2 days.

A big bunch of played LP's has piled up. Putting these away and restocking the play-basket.

The program for tomorrow's event at The Happy Vixen is complete and ready to load. It's not all I'd like it to be on account of not being able to rip vinyl right now, and because it's really hard to do justice to a subject like the 60's in 2 hours. But this will leave me room to add some variation to the program the next time a 60's theme comes up.

When most folks in SL think 60's, they think hippie culture. But I've deliberately avoided that in this program. I also deliberately neglected to include any Beatles tracks, because that stuff gets way too much play these days. Instead I went for the 60's I remember, which might be called the bubblegum 60's.

Hey, I was a kid during the 60's. I remember it as a time of happy fantasies. Wars, counter cultures and sexual revolutions had very little to do with me.

Folks got their own dinner.

Dinner for me was another Hungry Man meal, pop corn chicken, tatter tots and a pudding.

Dad called me down to try and explain what he thinks is happening with the Medstar bills, but he seems as confused and uneasy about this business as I am. He says he'll call them tomorrow and work something out. But I won't be surprised if he sleeps all day and doesn't think about it till it's too late again.

Went on SL. It snowed. And now I have a tropical garden under a blanket of white.

It didn't used to be a trick to redecorate my first sim for the winter. But it seems like something that will require a lot of time and concentration, and I just don't feel good about committing to that right now. In fact, I've just gotten used to everything I try to do in SL turning out to be such an anxiety producing pain that I don't do anything anymore.

DJChemic inquired about my club again, saying she knows a person with experience looking to do a club, which I read as “I have a fresh alt I'd like to set up on your sim so I can make trouble for Rita, Nydia and Sky again.” I swear this is the same troll who tried to take over my club last year.

Anyway, I pretty much told her I wasn't doing clubs anymore. I'm not well enough to deal with the hassle.

Sat with Niko a while, because REC was not around. He talked a lot about his fanfic and his disrespect for the relevant fandoms thereof, which left me wondering why anyone would want to write for and be popular among such hateful overgrown brats.

Talked with Nydia about my depression over the financial situation, and what I'd need to get out from under it. She wants to get me together with Alleara and see if she has any helpful ideas.

Marty's CD's are done.

Went down to take my flu medicine and caught the old man looking at porn on the internet again. As usual, I pretended not to notice it. None of my business.

To bed 7:30 AM. Stress peak for today: 0
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Daily Journal For Tuesday November 17, 2015 [Nov. 18th, 2015|06:35 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 2 PM. Mostly comfortable during the night, but upon sitting up I can feel pressure building in my sinuses rapidly, and my lungs hurt, but so far my throat is not on fire like I expected it to be.

Had strange dreams last night about a restaurant in hell run by Frank Zappa. It had a train running through it which would take you through various food themed gags, the last of which would leave you seated on a hot griddle.

I think Frank was trying to send me a message about how the food will eat me if I'm not careful.

Projects to try to get to today: do more laundry, go on SL and look for Bixyl again, make CD's for Marty, remind Dad to call Medstar, do track tagging, trash day.

Took the trash out first thing so I wouldn't have to go out in the cold tonight.

Reminded Dad to call Medstar, but I doubt he'll make the call. He seems to be having a relapse, as does Mom.

Lunch was a Cup-A-Noodles and a soft pretzel.

Dang, this Rush “Counterpoints” LP is putting out some serious bass. But there's just something wrong about a Rush album sporting an Atlantic label.

Side 2 of the album is 3 tunes that I tend to think of as bonus filler. They don't really do anything for me. So, if I want, I can just play sides 1 & 3, and I'll have one of the better later Rush albums as it would most likely have been programmed back in the vinyl days.

Side 4 is blank, btw. It sports an etching with the Pac-Man design from the back of the album cover.
Very pleased with this product.

Got a message from Bixyl. He wants me to do a 60's show on Thursday. I wrote back saying I would.
Now I need to think about working up a program for the show, which you might think would be easy since there's so much to choose from, but the more you have to choose from, the more decisions you have to make.

Actually, most DJ's in SL would just grab a handful of 60's tunes and not care if they picked the best, or if they sustained a high energy party mood. But not me. I have to make it way harder than it needs to be. It'll probably take me 2 days to make a 2 hour program that I'll be lucky to have 4 listeners for.

Let's see if we can avoid that by finding a good 60's compilation in my various artists section. Nope. I haven't ripped any. So I'll grab a handful of vinyl compilations and assemble them on the computer from 45's I've ripped and downloading any I don't have.

I'll do the WCAO and WCBS collections of 60's hits. Neither will carry a whole show, but they'll put a lot a good stuff in one place where it can be grabbed quickly.

Jeff called. We agreed to cancel Saturday Video Night again, as I'll need to be available for Marty and Jason if I'm well enough to do anything. Jeff seems relieved again.

Listening to Todd Rundgren's recent “State” LP, and it is sounding really good cranked up, while previously I was kind of meh about it. This is reminding me that I have Todd's latest LP in my cart at Amazon, along with the new Steve Hackett and a couple others.

I've been putting off buying those because of the money situation. Yet, for some reason I don't quite understand, there's enough cash in my bank account that I feel like I could get away with sneaking myself a bit of comfort vinyl. I'm seriously depressed over the home situation, everyone's bad health, prospects of doom and gloom and so on. Anything I can get excited about and look forward to is a reason to keep going, and thus good medicine.

Or is it? I really should be thinking about this weekend. One never knows what expensive situation I may find myself in with Jason and Marty.

Being torn over doing it or not doing it is just making me feel more depressed and helpless. I need to stop going round with this. It just keeps driving me deeper and deeper into the depths of depression. I'll just buy the stuff and keep my fingers crossed that I haven't forgotten something important I needed this money for.

This, unfortunately, does not leave me with a good feeling, and I continue feeling depressed as I'm working on the 60's tracks with my eyes and trying to listen for tunes to add to the Spectral Shadows soundtrack with my ears.

“What the hell do I think I'm doing?” I start wondering to myself. “What am I working my life away like this for? Is this my idea of fun? Am I enjoying my life? And, most importantly, am I accomplishing anything?”

I think it's time I stopped living in denial of the fact that I'm not making any significant progress on anything. I'm just beating myself up and running myself into the ground trying to accomplish things I don't have the capacity to get anywhere with on my own. And that I'm always going to be alone, because everything I get into is so specialized no one but me can do it. Which logically leads to the conclusion that, if I can't do these things, they're never going to get done.

But why do I need to care if these things get done or not? Nobody's paying me to do them. Nobody's life is depending on them. So all I've got is hobbies. And why does one have to fret one's self sick over whether a hobby gets done or not? Why does a hobby need to have deadlines? Why can't one just back off of a hobby if one doesn't feel like working on it today? Why can't one wait until one feels really groovy with working on that hobby today?

The only answer I can come up with is that I take my hobbies way too seriously, and I need to stop doing that right now. So, no more deadlines. No more sitting there falling asleep in front of the blank page because I'm trying to force myself to write when I'm not in good enough shape for it. No more taking 2 days to make up programs for DJ events. No more forcing myself to work on The Planet Of Genetic Misadventure when I'd be much happier working on some other part of the story.

I'm not feeling like I want to give up on anything or trash anything. I just feel like my attitudes are all wrong and need readjustment. I would probably get a heck of a lot more done if I was enjoying myself. But the way I'm doing things now is no way to enjoy myself.

Went down to check on the folks. Made mom a Meals On Wheels dinner, but the dad was asleep in his living room chair, as he's been most of the day. So I didn't fix anything for him. I made a Hungry Man TV dinner and a couple waffles for myself.

Got those 2 collections assembled. Now moving on with assembling a playlist for the 60's event.

Went down to check on the folks again. Mom gave Dad his dinner, but he is apparently intent on continuing his sleeping in the chair, where he will probably be all night.

Worked on the playlist till after 6 in the morning. Didn't get anywhere near done.

To bed 7 AM. Stress peak for day: 0 Depression peak: 7
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Daily Journal For Monday November 16, 2015 [Nov. 17th, 2015|05:25 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 11:30 AM. Feeling better, but some symptoms still needing to be blown out of my system.

Projects for today: pay bills, do laundry, tag tracks, go on Second Life and see if Bixyl has a job for Perri on Thursday, get Kacey's rent taken care of.

Spent much of last night obsessing over the idea that I ought to produce a journal entry detailing everything I know about the Fantasia serial, in order that some record of what I wanted be available for anyone trying to work with my stories in the future. But as I was getting up I remembered that this is part of the functionality of the music program. If I get that fixed up and published it should include everything anyone should need to know.

Then I started thinking it's a shame no rock band has ever done a version of Pagliacci, as it would be good to use that for the Lovelife character I described yesterday. Then it hit me. Queen did a song that borrows from that work. So here I am writing a note to myself to add “It's A Hard Life” to the Spectral Shadows soundtrack. (And I am going to pause from typing this up to do that right now.)

I also added “Painted Smile” by The Moody Blues and the 2 tracks connected to it. Not sure what these tracks will do in the story yet, but I feel certain they belong there.

Though it's just one more thing I already have no time for, I should do another scan of my music collection for tracks to fill out missing pieces of the saga. But this is much more difficult now that my collection is like a hundred times as huge as it was in the 80's when I used to do that every other month.

I haven't done a full on music search since 2004 when I found myself faced with the Aslander serial and needed a story to go with it. Everything I know about that serial is tied up in the music I collected for it.

In general I need to be obsessed with Spectral Shadows the way I used to be if I hope to get anywhere with it. But such obsessions are for younger people without so many other pressing responsibilities. I don't know who I think I'm kidding by continuing to do something I know I don't have the capacity to accomplish.

Nibbling away at The Planet Of Genetic Misadventure the way I am, I most likely won't live to complete the smallest fraction of the total proposed project. And now as I think about it, the thought of starting on another serial after I finish this one is rather scary. I don't think I will. I think I will put a call out for other writers and try to guide them as best I can in how to write this stuff.

Went out to get the mail. Got a couple more bills from Medstar. One for $1000 and one for $1600. And there's no indication that Medstar won't continue to keep sending these bills. I know it's only a minuscule portion of the bill my father ran up in two hospital stays and out patient surgical procedures this year, but that doesn't alter the fact that we have no income left to pay it.

Left the bills with Dad, instructing him to call Medstar and try to arrange some kind of reasonable installment payments for these bills. As of this typing he hasn't done it yet.

Had brunch with a Ruth Wallis album I hadn't played before. It's a later one from the 70's. So I wasn't expecting much of it. But it was still pretty good. Her voice was still cute, and she could still make sex sound like something that was actually fun.

Talked with Niko a bit more about the Lovelife character and the plot I'm coming up with that puts Lovelife at odds with Rael. You would think Rael would have a lot in common with that character and tend to sympathize with his motives, but that'll make for all the more drama when Rael has to take him down.

Checked my bank account. I have enough to pay the Comcast and NGL Insurance bills, but I had a devil of a time forcing myself to get up and write the checks. I suddenly started feeling fatigued, and any thoughts of getting into motion were rejected by my body, which just wanted to sit in front of the record player and doze.

Eventually I hacked up a huge ball of stuff out of my lungs, and I instantly started to feel better, as if I'd had my air supply partially blocked or something.

Wrote the checks and made photo copies of everything for our records, then put the envelopes in our mailbox with the flag up to see if the postman will take them. I'm in no state to be walking to a public mail box, and I don't want to bother Jeff for a ride right now.

Dad and Jeff had a bit of a go round on the phone about when Dad should try to get his appointments postponed to, since Jeff asked for a week off from the doctor appointments. It was pretty clear to me that Dad should just push all his appointments forward to next month, but of course Dad wasn't seeing it that way, and Jeff was like “Why are we even talking about dates I said I wasn't available?”

It's a nerve racking thing for me when two overly sensitive and temperamental guys who never stop talking long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise get together. But there was nothing I could do but let these two be themselves, worrying all the while that Jeff would throw up his hands and decline to help us any further.

Fortunately it didn't come to that, but afterwords I gave the old man a long lecture on why it's not wise to argue with Jeff. If you want Jeff's help you just have to get used to the idea that Jeff is always right, or that making Jeff feel like you think he's always right is more important than stating any potentially beneficial alternatives you might think of. A happy Jeff is a productive and useful Jeff. An unhappy Jeff is just another big mess added to the mess we've already made for ourselves.

After that I started feeling weak again and sat down in the living room with the mom and her Westerns. The dog took this opportunity to climb up in my lap and take a nap. So I just leaned back and chilled for a couple of hours, trying not to think about how the day was mostly gone, and I still hadn't gotten to a number of the things I wanted to find time for.

Marty called. He thinks Jason is planning on getting together with us this Saturday, which means I'll have to suggest to Jeff that he cancel video night again. Hopefully I'll be well by Saturday, though I know that is foolishly optimistic. But regardless, I think Jeff can use the extended break. Still, I could be totally wrong about that. This might just as easily be the worst time to leave Jeff alone.

Marty requested that I make a Todd Rundgren compilation for a friend of his. I also have to burn some stuff I downloaded for him a while ago. That will be on my list of projects for tomorrow.

There was a package from Amazon waiting for me all day, but I kept getting distracted with other things until just before dinner time. It contained the new ELO and Rush LP's I had per-ordered last month.

Dinner was a Hungry Man Salisbury Steak Meal, 2 waffles and a soft pretzel.

Went on SL. No Bixyl. No nobody, really. So I took care of Kacey's rent and logged off. Checked Kacey's stream as well. It comes due on December 11.

Hopefully Bixyl will contact me if he wants me to do another Thursday event at The Happy Vixen. It really is too much stress for me to be trying to hustle for work in SL. That's why I'm not working at Cutlass.

I was actually there hustling for a job, and 3 other DJ's cut in front of me, taking the events one by one while I was saying in chat, “Hey, I'm here. I have something nice I could do for that theme.” And then when all the slots were gone I just split in a state of humiliation. I haven't tried to get a job there since.

I know the money's good there, but feeling wanted is more important to me. If I'm just another DJ who has to fight and hustle for work I don't need that on top of everything else I need to deal with. But as long as Bixyl thinks enough of me to invite me to work, I'll keep playing The Happy Vixen.

I saw a notice from Rita that she's looking for more models to enter the contest for the Relay For Life calendar. I thought about having Kacey volunteer, but again I was stopped by the fear of biting off more than I could chew. Besides, nobody would bid on Kacey, accept possibly Niko, and even at that he might bawk at the idea of throwing real money into SL.

Anyway, I have proved totally unable to make my characters live in SL Creating them was a total waste, as is paying rent on a home for them. But I'm not ready to totally give up on them yet.

The new ELO album is nice, but as Shocky pointed out the other night at Cutlass, it has a pervasively downcast mood to it. But then, what do you expect from an album with a title like “All Alone In The Universe?” But then again, what beautifully tear jerking chord sentences, and all those other familiar sounds peculiar to ELO.

At this point in time I think it's perfectly legitimate to forgive Jeff Lynn for not being in the mood to turn out a barn burner. And I can't say I'm at all sorry I paid the extra money to get this on vinyl, even though it seems I should have saved the money for more essential needs.

Actually, things weren't looking quite so bad last month when I ordered it. But then, the price of a couple new LP's wouldn't bust a grape against a $1000 bill.

It wasn't really apparent till today just how nasty the situation is likely to get. With Medstar feeling like it can just throw thousand dollar bills at us any time it feels like it, we won't be long out of bankruptcy. And bankruptcy means we instantly lose the house, according to the terms of the reverse mortgage.

Went down and put a load of towels in the washer. Came back up feeling a raw sensation in the back of my throat, possibly indicating that by tomorrow my illness will be treating me to phase 2. I forgot how these things tend to move around to different parts of the body. Fortunately I'm well armed with cough drops now, but I can't take too much more abject misery on top of everything else I'm having to deal with right now.

Mom was also feeling better earlier and now seems to be relapsing. We seriously can not afford optimism in this house.

But, enough of this reality stuff. It sucks. And I have my download card from the ELO album to make use of. And, wouldn't you just know it, it doesn't work. The Smart URL is apparently not so smart, It's telling me to turn on TLS. So I checked and it's already turned on. But, never mind, because I bought the album from Amazon, where I get Auto Rip.

So I went on Amazon, thinking getting my download will be a piece of cake, but Amazon has changed it's system again so that I don't know how to work anything, and I have to take the time to learn it all over again.

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate having to waste my time on the internet learning how to do things I've already taken the time to learn two or three times? To quote Todd Rundren, “I'll never get back. No, I'll never get back the time that I waste. That's what I hate.” From the song “I Hate My Friggin' ISP.”

As I'm struggling to figure out how this new Amazon mandatory player/downloader works, the thing is scanning my computer, sending info about all my music and God knows what else to Amazon, which consequently results in my downloads being unusually slow.

I seriously resent the recent tendencies of internet companies to assume I must want something so bad they shouldn't need to ask my permission before inflicting it on me. I may eventually find that there is some benefit to Amazon having all the info it just liberated from the privacy of my home without my permission. If nothing else it may enable them to throw more things at me that I actually want to buy. And I might find that their player has some fun uses I can't do with the 5 or 6 other programs I have that play MP3's (but I doubt it.) But, you know, I'm just old-fashioned enough to still like the idea that anything being done with my computer is something I understand and gave my consent for.

Of course, the joke in all this is on the record companies, because I can now sell, give away or share my Amazon log in info with anyone I choose, allowing them instant access to all the music I've ever purchased there. Forget Napster and WinMX. Just share your files at Amazon.

Once again I have reached the end of the day without having found any time to work on my track tagging. But I think I did at least a little of everything else I set out to do today.

To bed 6 AM. Stress peak for today:5
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Daily Journal For Sunday November 15, 2015 [Nov. 16th, 2015|02:18 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 9:30 AM. Felt better while lying down, but symptoms started returning as soon as I sat up.

Don't know what projects I want to work on today, if any. I think I'll just take it easy and concentrate on feeling better.

I do seem to feel much better this morning, and I'm optimistic that it won't take as long to beat this as I feared. The medicine they gave me seems to be seriously effective.

Had a strange dream last night about an old Days Of Our Lives holiday episode being rebroadcast. It featured all kinds of long written out characters, and it played over and over in my mind all night, being a little different each time it was repeated.

I don't know what significance such a dream could have, unless someone is trying to tell me there should be a Spectral Shadows holiday episode. But timing my releases to coincide with various holidays would be a serious pain.

Strange that when I dream about serials it's always about Days Of Our Lives. It's never Doctor Who or Dark Shadows or any other show I tend to obsess over. I suppose that might be because Days is the only 100% full soap opera I've ever followed with any seriousness.

Old Time Radio soap operas are only available in bits and pieces. You can't collect them, follow them or study them. All you can do is read about them and dream of what they might have been like, but I never dream about them.

I noted a shortage of towels in the bathroom. I should try to do some laundry today, if I feel strong enough to be hanging out in the basement.

The dog greeted me this morning, as she does every morning, by reaching out her fore-paws and giving a low stretch. I read somewhere recently that, in dog language, this gesture means, “Hello loved one.”

Made myself a cheese burger and a soft pretzel for brunch. Contemplated a bowl of Raisin Brand, but decided to have that later.

At least there are now no serious calorie bombs in the house. So if I binge I'll be binging on low calorie stuff.

Mom got up to let the dog out, but I'd already done it. So she went back to bed, claiming she had not been able to sleep during the night because of her coughing.

Helped Dad get his munchies tray ready for his day of football watching. I do not pretend to understand what people get out of such things. But then I'm sure he was just as mystified anytime he saw me watching cartoons in Japanese with no subtitles.

Looked at the Rolling Stone 50 Greatest Prog albums of all time, and I was once again driven to ask myself, “What does Rolling Stone know about music?” Want to see a good album get a totally off-putting bad review, just read Rolling Stone.

It's also known that Rolling Stone doesn't like Progressive Rock or take it seriously. So their list is apparently put together by some other means than familiarity with the genre. And this has me thinking that I ought to make my own list sometime.

Mom called me down to set up the dishwasher and make her a hamburger.

Restocked my LP play-basket.

Made a start on all that MP3 tagging I need to do, but didn't get very far with it.

Realized that all of the bills sitting here are not for next month. I need to get this Comcast and insurance bill paid. That will be one of tomorrow's projects, I think.

I'm worried that both mine and Dad's bank accounts seem to have more money in them than they should. Need to figure out what bill's I had earmarked that money for before I pay anymore bills.

Turning on Second Life, Nydia was taking votes on whether or not to dump snow on our sim. Perri said she doesn't care, but REC would most likely complain about the glare on his windshield.

Perri went to an impromptu event at The Happy Vixen where Lomgren Smalls saw Perri's sick tag and inquired about it. She referred him to Facebook, and after reading the last entry he contributed another $150 to the “Save The Bunny” fund in hopes of making her feel better. What a sweet micro-kitty. ^_^

Just getting around to checking out this TV's Greatest Hits collection I got some time ago. It sounds really great. I could base a whole event on these records. Unfortunately I can't download it. So I'll have to rip it, whenever I get things set up for that again.

It comes off a lot like the collection of Old Time Radio openings, and all these TV shows are now as old as the Old Time Radio shows were at the time that collection was made. It would be nice to see kids grooving on Old Time Television the way I did with OTR, thinking of it as something wonderful from a bygone magical era that can now only be imagined.

Made TV dinners for everyone tonight. Nothing special or difficult.

Played the Stonepillow album with dinner and found myself shedding a few tears as I tried to imagine the visuals that would accompany the “Eleazar's Circus” song on the soundtrack of a movie based on the Spectral Shadows Fantasia serial.

I thought what a wonderful feeling to shed tears over music again, as I so rarely do these days. But then I started wondering if anyone who might make such a movie would get all that I imagined out of my notes. Or would they reinvent the character of Eleazar Lovelife, as Niko seems to have done for his Spectral Shadows fan fiction?

Would anyone doing anything with Spectral Shadows after I'm gone do anything with the emotions and pathos I built into it? Hollywood seems to care so little about that sort of thing now. But I come from a time when folks thought it a wonderful thing to be brought to tears in sympathy for a character, and I don't think any version of my story would please me without that aspect.

What Niko needs to understand about the Eleazar Lovelife character is that he's not just another character with a lot of power. He's a character that's driven to seek out lost souls living in eternal regret of things they either did or didn't do in life. He employs them in his magical circus to help take their mind off the pain that eternally haunts them. But Dr. Freudiana will note that there is folly in Eleazar's treatment, as Lovelife can offer only momentary comfort. He can not offer a permanent cure. The torment of those Lovelife cares for still exists deep inside them, and it will always surface whenever they find a moment to reflect on it.

Eleazar knows this, and therein lies his own great pain. Despite all his creative illusory powers, he must feel the torment of all those he cares for every time they revisit it, making Lovelife himself a character in great torment for the hearts of the audience to bleed for.



Of all the serials I have planned but not been able to work on, I want to see that one done. But I'll never get to it at this rate. And therein lies my own great regret. If only I could find another writer who understood the concept and wanted to do it as I would do it. I've given my entire life to these dreams. I want to see something come of them before I have to go.

Posted Vicki's Judgment art to FA. It's already got 121 views, 2 comments, 4 favorites, 1 new watcher, and 1 person who went through my gallery and favorited 6 other pieces of art. This is encouraging.

To bed 3 AM. Stress level for the day:0
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Daily Journal For Saturday November 14, 2015 [Nov. 15th, 2015|03:08 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 5 AM. No sleep. Just nasal leakage and sinus pain.

Figured I'd drown if I ever seriously got to sleep and wake up with my lungs full, if I ever woke up at all. My aunt never did.

Decided it would be better to wait this out in a chair. Chose the chair next to my space heater and set the laptop up in front of it. Figured to look up last weeks episode of My Little Pony and just sit there while YouTube played what it would, while my sinuses drained themselves out the front rather than the back. But I was taken by surprise at how much discomfort this created.

9 AM. Tried laying down again out of pure exhaustion, but again couldn't sleep much. Just accumulated a lot of seriously painful and frightening pressure in the head. Once you've suffered through encephalitis any pressure in the head is terrifying – particularly pressure that leaves you lethargic and unable to move yourself out of the bed, no matter how many times you tell yourself “If you want to survive, move now.”

11:30 AM. Pressure in my head was more than I can stand. I woke the folks up and told them I thought I should go to the Patient First emergency room, which is so much better than a hospital emergency room.

I knew on some subconscious level that I could probably stick this out without bothering anyone. I hate asking for help with something as common as the flue. But I couldn't remember how I've treated it in the past, I wanted some professional advice, and I needed meds for it, which you can buy right there at Patient First without having to go to a drug store.

Mom had said we were out of cough drops yesterday, but they don't sell those at Save-A-Lot, and Jeff was not up for going to Walgreens. So we were all sick and in a bad way all around. Unfortunately they don't sell cough drops at Patient First either.

I could hardly speak, I was so messed up. No one could understand me. I needed the folks to hunt me up a ride, but nobody was home. We were stranded and had to resort to a taxi.

I took some pain relief pills with my morning meds. Dad took some as well for pains in his legs – something I should be worried about, but no time at that point.

Mom is still sick with Bronchitis, but able to function.

Dad called the wrong number for the cab and Mom produced her Mobility cab company phone numbers list. But Dad insisted on studying the Mobility instructions. It was hell trying to make him understand those instructions are only for Mom, because I don't have Mobility. I just needed a cab that would take my debit card. And I couldn't shout like I normally have to to get him to understand.

Dad went along on the cab ride because he was the one who knew how to get to the place, but all the way there I was panicking that he might be taking us to the wrong place, and that searching around for it was going to cost me a fortune. But he finally got us there, and the cab ride cost me $23.

First thing they did at the place was weigh me, I showed 226.4, and my temperature showed normal, in spite of the fact that I felt like I was radiating all kinds of heat.

Sitting in the exam room waiting for the doctor I felt better at first. I was apparently riding on the anxiety of the cab ride, but before long the adrenalin subsided and I started feeling like I might pass out. I'd like to lie down, but I don't dare. That will bring the full pain back, putting me in danger of bronchitis and pneumonia.

Doctor recommended Robitussin DM, taking it easy, eat a lot, and hydrate.

Cab home was another $20, and the medicine was $10. This all came out of the money I was saving to pay Dad's Medstar bill. It can't be paid this month now. Gave Dad the bill and told him to see if they'll break it up into $50 installments.

Well, since I was under orders to eat up, I started cooking stuff. But in the middle of that mom said I could put whatever I wanted on the TV if I didn't want to watch Westerns. So I tried hooking up the laptop to the downstairs TV so we could pick up watching Dark Shadows where the Decades channel left off. This involved a lot of running up and down the stairs, and then nothing worked.

While I was fruitlessly struggling to figure out why in my diminished condition, Jeff called to see how I was doing, since he hadn't been available to take me to the emergency room.

He said he was feeling better and asked if we needed anything from the drug store. I said we could really use some cough drops, and he rushed out to buy some, arriving at my place just in time to catch me all frazzled from fighting with the spiteful electronics on top of my illness and feeling about as miserable as a person like me can feel.

But Jeff kept hanging around, regardless of the fact that I was still struggling to get upstairs with my eats and hopefully gain some relief from my misery, and I kept wondering if he couldn't see I was in no state to entertain. Then it finally came out. He was waiting for the $4.99 for the cough drops.

I was floored that he be worried about $5 in circumstances like this, but I dug around and found him a $5 bill, and he handed me back a penny. This left me doubly in a daze. I totally was not expecting to be dealing with pennies when feeling so bad. But I tried to hide my shock and accepted the shiny new penny gratefully. Then he split.

Finally I got everything back upstairs, including my food, which by now was ice cold, and I had no way of heating it.

The diet is now out the window for the donation of this illness. Most likely till the end of this year, if my past history is anything to go by.

Definitely will be no episode tomorrow or for the foreseeable future. I'll just put up art on Sundays till I'm well enough to write again.

Anyway, I think it's official now. The bunny needs a fund raiser. I can't make it on the income I have to work with. Oh God, do we need help.

I turned on Second Life, and Perri ended up sitting in the parlor of Club Cutlass, sipping tea with a tag over her head that read “Very Sick Bunny.” While in the real world I was dozing in and out on an old Funkadelic album.

There's a picture on the wall of REC. He's sitting in a wheat field, a-la The Little Prince. Makes me wonder if he is really that lonely, and if all he's ever really longed for was a friend who wouldn't leave him. And if that's all he expects of Perri, it's really not a lot to ask.

It's hard to tell when he talks so little about what goes on inside him. Maybe he fears Perri wouldn't understand if he did, as X misunderstood every time I tried to open up to her. But he should know by now that as long as he doesn't send Perri away, she's not going anywhere.

About 8:30 PM I weakly dragged myself downstairs to see if the mom had made the chicken, as she had said she was going to. She hadn't even started on it yet, and I'd been hoping I'd be able to just grab my tray and get back to my resting. But everything you have to do to rest in this house requires so much effort that resting is too much to hope for.

I had to hang around the kitchen, struggling to help get dinner in my miserable condition for more than an hour. By the time I got back upstairs the event at Cutlass had started and was half over. REC popped in at that moment, and he and Perri spent the rest of the event dancing and chatting with friends.

Then they went home to sit quietly again, until REC took a notion to play with the wearable space ships, and he wanted Perri to get out her ship and play as well. But Perri hadn't played with her's yet, as she doesn't care for games played inside SL, because they are intense study experiences for her. Not the kind of thing she wants to do when attempting to write up the journal.

But she tried it anyway, and she was being told she needed to name her ship. Perri didn't have any good names, as this is not normally her thing. So I looked down in the record basket and said, “Hmmmm, Triumvirat sounds like a good name. And so the name of the ship was set. Then REC and Perri had their first space battle while Niko looked on.

To bed 3:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 10. Health:0
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Daily Journal For Friday November 13, 2015 [Nov. 14th, 2015|02:26 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Ugh! Friday the 13th. Lovely.

Up 1 PM. Already not feeling well. There's a soreness in my throat. I have to go out today. And the weather's bad.

Today's projects: Go to the Save-A-Lot grocery store, pick up glasses, go to drug store, get a calculator ribbon at Staples for Dad, do some more laundry.

Put yesterday's load in the dryer first thing, thinking I'll need fresh clothes for video night at Jeff's tomorrow. But when Jeff arrived to take me to the Save-A-Lot he reported that he wants off the hook for the appointments he was supposed to take Dad to next week, because he's got some kind of psychological/emotional problem that produces high anxiety and obsessive thinking, as he put it.

He didn't want to do Staples and the drug store today either, and he was all worried about how he was going to feel tomorrow for video night. So I told him I was pretty sure I was coming down with something. So if he wanted we could just cancel tomorrow's gathering. This seemed to be a big relief to him.

I tried to talk to him on the way to the Save-A-Lot to maybe get a grip on what his trouble was and what he might do about it. But he was not encouraging me to probe, and I'm used to him dismissing any advice I give him anyway. So there seemed no point in trying to analyze him.

It was clear he was having an emotional breakdown and fighting to stay in control. So I mentioned he should look into getting an analyst to help him root out whatever it is that's getting to him. But he doesn't know from analysts. All he knows is they'll try to put him on drugs, and he doesn't want that. Can't say I blame him.

Truth is I wouldn't know how to go about getting such help for myself. I've always had a powerfully analytical mind, capable of analyzing itself and devising solutions for itself, observing what makes it feel better and saying “Do more of that.” Or do less of the things that are obviously causing harm.

But Jeff can't understand when I try to tell him how to analyze himself by taking note of things that either help the problem or aggravate it. He's the kind of person who lives constantly in a state of tenacious denial. So if the answer to his problem was staring him in the face he'd just deny it and say “That has nothing to do with it.”

I learned a long time ago I have no power to get past this aspect of Jeff. So I just let him have his way in all things and never bother arguing logic with him. But that won't help him in this instance. Obviously something he's denying is eating him up inside. And he's not going to get any better without a professional to drag out whatever he's hidden from himself and force him to face it.

This is a bad thing for us at this time with bad weather coming on and our main source of transportation crapping out. I got mostly everything we need from the grocery store for this month, but I didn't get to the drug store, and everyone is sick with no medicine. If the weather is decent tomorrow I could try walking to the CVS. But I highly doubt I'll be well enough to leave the house. And at that I would only be able to get cough drops and such, 'cos the prescription drugs are at Walgreens, a much farther walk – doable on a good day, but not when sick.

In better news, I got the new bifocal glasses. I think these will work much better than the last pair of bifocals I had. This will save me all that aggravation I was having with switching glasses every few seconds.

In the more bad news department, upon getting home Dad informed me that he finally heard from the sister-in-law who had not been returning our calls about the dog. Seems she's been in the hospital for 3 weeks, not being allowed any visitors or phone calls. She is apparently in need of a liver transplant and is waiting for a donor. But not much any of us can do to help her. Luckily she has a big family. I'm sure somebody's watching over her.

Time I got the groceries put away it was time to heat up the Meals On Wheels dinners for the folks. Thankfully I wasn't so sick yet that I didn't have energy for all this stuff. Tomorrow, I suspect, will be another story. But I should be able to take it easy tomorrow because all this stuff will be done.

Got my Sanza Clip out to listen to while doing all this work, which involved many trips down to the basement fridge to store stuff. I got home at 5 and was busy until 8:30 before I finally got upstairs with my dinner. So I needed the tunes to keep me going.

Sanza Clips are cool. You can have music wherever you go, it doesn't bother other people, and the thing is so small you could forget it entirely, were it not for the headphone wires that sometimes get in the way while working. Science has yet to figure out a solution to that one.

Things I couldn't get at the store included diet jello and sliced turkey, two important staples of my diet/psychological program. And the Banquet TV dinners went up, both in calories and price. Why can people never leave a good thing alone?

Spent $280 of the $290 left on the mom's debit card for the food budget this month. I'll have to borrow from the tax money again to get the stuff we need from the Giant Food Store, assuming I'm well enough to go. I think at this point we can look forward to a holiday season of hardship.

The folks made a big fuss over the giant tomatoes I got today. They also liked the little pies I got to replace the regular snacks that had been doing me in.

My dinner tonight was a little more calorie heavy than usual. I'm more concerned with fighting off this ever worsening illness than I am losing weight right now. But I'm only going up to weight maintenance calories – not going into weight gain calories. This is permissible on my program.

Actually, tomorrow would have been my regular bi-monthly day off, because there's no controlling my calorie intake at Jeff's. That is also part of the program. So I'm not getting nearly as many calories as I would have if tomorrow's gathering was still on.

Latitude for that type of situation is important to the psychological aspect of the diet program I devised. So my subconscious train of thought feels like it makes occasional turns, but it doesn't feel like it's left the track. The minute it thinks it's off the track the binging will kick in.

That's the kind of self analyzing and devising of treatment folks like Jeff can't do for themselves. Actually, I don't think I know anyone else who actively experiments on how things effect them and devises a lifestyle based on the good and bad effects they observe. Everybody else relies on Dr. Oz or some such to tell them what to do, which is dumb, because everyone needs a unique program based on their own psychology to succeed.

The one thing I haven't managed to devise yet is a quick way of getting back on the track once something throws me off. At whatever point I figure that one out I'll have all these weight related issues licked. Then maybe I'll write a book about it to sell to all the people now being diagnosed with Binge Eating Disorder.

Anyway, tonight's dinner was 1 Hungry Man Boneless Chicken Dinner (820 calories) 1 Banquet Turkey Meal TV Dinner (230) 1 bagel (230) 1 diet pudding (70) 1 black raspberry sparking water, no ice because of my burning sinuses and throat (0)

Eating dinner didn't make me feel better, as I hoped it would. My throat just kept getting more raw, and there was mucus getting in my throat and lungs, making eating uncomfortable. Makes me feel sorry for the folks if this is what they've been suffering with of late. Given my history with this sort of thing I expect I'm going to be worse than miserable with this for at least a week, if not 2.

Went on SL. Rita was in the middle of some controversy about someone at Sunweavers being treated unkindly for entreating financial assistance for an emergency. I mentioned that I'd been hinting around for months that I was in a bad way and wishing someone would set up a save the bunny fundraiser for me. But that donations from REC and Longren Smalls had pulled me through to present. Still, I'm living on the edge and one unexpected medical bill could push me over at any moment. Rita said I should let her know if it gets to the point where I seriously need a fundraiser, and she'll see what she can do.

I then realized there was probably an event at Cutlass tonight, which is Rita's club. So Perri went over to the club and saw the theme of the event was Tees And Shorts. She threw on a pair of cut-offs and an “I Love My Little Pony” G1 Tee-Shirt and joined Rita on the dance floor.

Rita flirted with Perri a bit, as she has been prone to do of late. Perri has liked Rita for many years, ever since moving to the Sunweavers region. Guess Rita has only recently figured that out.

Perri loves just about everybody, particularly if they are a cute Furry, but especially bunnies. And Rita is a cute purple bunny, much loved by lots of folks in Perry's neighborhood of SL.

REC eventually came on and joined the party, and Perri danced with him for the rest of the event. But he was not saying anything. So it was assumed his player was driving and didn't have free access to the keyboard.

Perri ended up winning the contest for another 200 L. Then she and REC went home to sit quietly together without saying much of anything, which is not unusual for them. But some time after 11 o'clock I started to feel that “cold forced crash” feeling coming on. So I thought I'd better start typing this journal entry up early. I usually start at 12.

REC logged off to put his player to bed soon after, which is unusual. He didn't say why, but I was left wondering if he is sick too.

To bed at 2:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 0 Health level for the day: 0 Odd that being sick like this does not stress me out.
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Daily Journal For Thursday November 12, 2015 [Nov. 13th, 2015|06:24 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 2 PM. Woke up a couple of times from nightmares, mostly about my father yelling at me. Might have been some apnea, probably due to stress and irregular sleeping hours. Chest pain and back discomfort detected. Definitely not the best of nights.

Got up thinking I must add Mike McGear's “Norton” to my uniform program. I was also considering “War Pigs,” but that's a bit negative for a party atmosphere. “Alice's Restaurant” is too long for the main show, but might work in the pre-show. Also considered “Here Comes The Judge,” “Funky Judge,” “G.I. Jive” and “G.I. Blues.”

Projects I want to get to today include doing the show at The Happy Vixen, do some laundry, do the recycling, and if possible get some work started on the next episode. But I doubt that will happen. Depending on how difficult the episode is I may not get one done this week.

Mom seems worse today.

Another $250 bill from Medstar arrived in the mail. Might have enough in my account to cover it this month, thanks to REC. Will check that later. Trying to get on with the laundry now.

Hooked the tiny Crosley Revolution turntable back up in the basement to play the stored duplicate LP's on while I'm down here. I had been tuning in on my internet radio station everywhere in the house for a while, but I need to cut down on the electric bill, and running a 24 hour radio station which nobody listens to but me can not be justified.

Playing the “Year Of The Cat” album while sorting the laundry. It has a Little David inner sleeve. I should check and see if I have a George Carlin album that needs it.

“If It Doesn't Come Naturally Leave It.” That could well be my life in a nutshell. In retrospect it seems remarkable how many common things didn't come naturally and were given up. While the things that did come naturally were things other people had to go to school to learn.

Strange to think this album will be 40 years old next year. And I find myself wondering if it seems as old and from a distant world gone by as Old Time Radio and the music on 78's seemed to me when I was a kid, and all that stuff was 30 to 40 years old.

How is it that, just like the older people when I was a kid, I'm still listening to 40 year old records as my main music and failing all new music I measure against it? While numerous radio stations program this music because I'm considered an important demographic for advertisers, just as with the Swing stations in the 70's aimed at my parents. But there are no stations around here programming Swing music anymore. The retro 50's and 60's stations came and went too. Now it is all Classic Rock stations, aimed at me.

So it seems you get one time in your life to be current and have music that becomes so much a part of your life that you can never leave it for something new. Nothing else will ever seem quite as satisfying. And as you live through the years, society will target you by that music, and make all kinds of other assumptions about you as well. And you can tell like clockwork when society loses interest in you by when they stop programming radio stations for you. But how long will that last?

And what happens to the music when there is no one left who was a part of those years? Then the music must stand on its own for the ears of the future, who can only guess at the things the people of those times attached to it. And perhaps if they romanticize a bit, they will conjure some illusion of those times to give the music meaning. But they will never really know anything about those ghosts who linger amidst the dust in old grooves, and perhaps still listen, feeling drawn back to their own times.

The track “One Stage Before” is providing the backdrop for these thoughts.

Looking for what to play next I pull out the Barclay James Harvest album “Time Honored Ghosts,” which caries on the theme of reflecting on the past. Makes me wonder why young people 40 years ago were so fond of songs about future regrets. Were they so certain their old ages would be filled with such somber thoughts?

There's a Jonathan Livingston Seagull song on this album. Strange to think how popular JLS and Watership Down must have been back then that so many bands drew songs from them. But Furries today don't know or care about that. It adds nothing to their sense of self-esteem.

Furry, it seems, goes through its own ages and generations, like music. But I am not a favored demographic in Furry Fandom. In fact, as far as the majority of the fandom is concerned, I'm an anomaly that's not supposed to exist. And what good does it do me to exist when there's no one I can point out these old references to who will care?

Note to self: Check to see if “Beyond The Grave” is included in the Spectral Shadows soundtrack list. If not it should follow “Starless” as the scene where Jon wakes up on the astral plane after throwing off the darkness of death.

The folks wanted dinner early tonight. Which suits me fine, as this will keep the cooking from conflicting with my show tonight. Throwing in TV dinners for everyone at 5 PM. The thawed chicken will not be used tonight, as I anticipated it wouldn't.

My dinner was 2 TV dinners (230 calories each) 1 can low salt Cream Of Mushroom soup (150) 1 cup Rotini (300) 1 cheesy bread (105) 1 jello (5)

Laptop blue screened on me and delayed me getting to The Happy Vixen in time to start the pre-show on time. Then the big computer I use for viewing SL delayed me further with processing updates. But no matter. Nobody was at the club when I finally got there. Obviously the good night last week was not an indication that I should expect such things regularly.

Everything is set up and working 30 minutes before the main show. Running the pre-show to an empty club until Sha shows up 20 minutes early, and a couple others trickle in, until we finally have a decent crowd about 15 minutes into the main show.

The thought occurs to me that I should have made up a bunny playlist, just in case DJ Psycho Kitty doesn't show up for some reason. But it's too late to think about that now, and when would I have had time to think about it earlier?

The over all event is pretty uneventful. Piece of cake, really. Though I only made 269 L in tips. But the music program was good – much better than I'd have anticipated. 40 tracks spun in 2 hours.

The uniform event ends and DJ Psycho Kitty takes over for the bunny event. Perri puts on her Playboy outfit and climbs on a pole while I sit back and chill.

Checked E-mail. Niko has a question about SL clubs that I want to save for an Ask A Bunny entry.

Took a few minutes to go down and check on the folks. The dog threw up. I took care of that mess. Mom had been feeding her tatter tots. Don't know if those are good for dogs.

Came back upstairs to rejoin SL. Perri won the contest for best bunny. Prize was 250 L. And she made an additional 100 L on the pole. So we did good tonight.

Skylark was molesting Perri in IM's, and she was hurt when Perri didn't respond to it.

I don't mind that sort of thing, but I'm terrible at RP and have to have the perfect conditions to feel anything from it. And, of course, if I'm not feeling anything, I've no responses to type.

Conditions are only right when I have animations to help me visualize, and when I'm not doing anything else at the same time. But even then a lot of typed responses should not be expected from me, because nothing distracts me and takes me out of the mood like having to type a lot or wrestle with the technology of the game. So asking for a lot of long winded responses is the same as asking me not to enjoy what's happening.

After DJ Psycho Kitty left, the place emptied out fast, till there was no one left but Perri and Charlotte. Seeing on her profile that Charlotte was Bi with a preference for females, Perri offered to dance with Charlotte and she accepted.

They then danced for a couple of hours, neither having much to say. It's kind of hard to strike up a friendship when two people are conversationally challenged. Then again, if Charlotte were to ask Perri what she's looking for in female companions, Perri wouldn't know what to tell her.

There's hardly anything Perri doesn't already have in the way of SL companions, particularly intimate companions. What she doesn't have is a female companion who understands her and can talk to her on a similar intellectual level, but she's not likely to find one of those.

Charlotte eventually logged off to go to bed, and Perri went home to sit with Niko a while.

Niko mostly babbled about his story, as usual. And I tried to take an interest in it. But I seriously couldn't get into it.

Then updates shut the SL computer down without warning. And Perri had to rush back, hoping Niko wouldn't be gone by the time she got back there. Fortunately he was, and he rattled on a bit longer while I was busy trying to type up tonight's journal.

Trying to type up the journal while Niko rattled on was a pain. Again, he was on the computer that's far away, while up close I've got the laptop in my face. One pair of glasses will not work for this. I needed to switch glasses continually. It was tiresome and aggravating. So I'm just going to have to log off around 12 to 1 o'clock from now on to concentrate on the journal. But that will mean missing most of the people I go on there to see.

Now to take the recycling out and get to bed at around 6:30 AM. Stress level for the day: 0
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Daily Journal For Wednesday November 11, 2015 [Nov. 12th, 2015|07:01 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 1 PM. Slept good. Feeling ok.

I had switched my bed around so it doesn't face the TV, leaving all video and audio off for the last two nights to see if I could sleep without something to hypnotize me. So far no problems getting to sleep, and I haven't noticed any waking up in the middle of the night, or morning, as seems fated to be the case with me. So it's not likely I'm suffering any ill effects from apnea. In fact, I seem to be doing well health wise, but with everyone around here being sick I'd better enjoy feeling good while it lasts.

Planned projects for today will be starting the new episode and getting the music ready for tomorrow's show.

Dad has come down with a cold or allergy or something, but it doesn't seem to be slowing him down much.

He wanted a PB&J and a bowl of cereal for lunch. Gave him the last of the chocolate cereal and reminded the folks that I won't be buying anymore cereal, peanut butter or snacks. Again Dad acted like the other day had never happened and he had no idea what was going on.

“What's it going to do to you?” he asked, and I started to blow up again. It is torture trying to explain my condition, but I've suffered through it enough times that there's no excuse for putting me through it every other day.

Mom then defused things by getting on the topic of stuff I can buy for them that I won't eat. Mom suggested I get little fruit pies for their snacks and cream cheese instead of peanut butter.

Dad keeps harping on me not taking advantage of the chicken sales. But we're over stocked on chicken, and it's not getting used up like it used to because of the Meals On Wheels. I'm not buying any more until what we have gets used up. Apparently Dad doesn't realize that food which gets wasted because of overstocking is no bargain.

Took out a tray of chicken breast for tomorrow's dinner. We'll see if anything gets done with that.

And while I'm in the kitchen Dad is in the living room giving a lecture on how he never heard of any diet that did not include breakfast. “All doctors say it's important,” he says. All this after I just got through saying I didn't need to stop buying waffles.

Meanwhile I'm beating myself up because I forgot to put up the dishwasher again and Mom did it herself. Pulling that heavy machine around is more strain than I want her putting on herself. But they won't call me to remind me of stuff I forgot to do. Every other little thing they'll call me at any hour of the day. And I'm always forgetting stuff because they never tell me what needs done at a time when I'm not doing something else that needs finished first. And by the time that's done whatever they asked me to do is gone out of my head.

The guy from Freedom Debt relief called back. He's a typical telephone salesman, pretending to be conversing, but he's really going through a bunch of pre-prepared spiels. Still, everything he's saying makes sense, and we'd buy what he's selling if it didn't involve flipping off the credit card companies.

Sure, we know the credit card companies don't care about us and would screw us over in a heartbeat. But that's not why we try to do everything by the book. We do everything by the book because we know they wouldn't think twice about screwing us over and we don't want to give them an excuse to think once about it.

He got a little passive aggressive trying to tell us why we should be afraid of consolidation loans, but it became clear that the folks were not going for his deal. So he backed off and left his offer open for them to come back to if whatever we try doesn't pan out.

Later I was checking something on Dad's computer for him when I ran across an article about reducing credit card debt by transferring balances to cards with 15 or more months of 0 interest. The article suggested the Chase Slate card as one of the best for this, and the folks had just gotten an offer from that card in the mail. Dad seems to be seriously considering this option.

Then Dad claimed to not be able to keep warm, and he wanted me to tie a belt around his neck to help hold his blanket up. Right. Like I'd trust him not to sit there and strangle himself without realizing what he was doing. So I rigged up an old pair of suspenders around the grips of his wheel chair so he can clip the blanket up safely. I wasn't sure he'd be able to get out of that by himself, but he did.

Then he kept trying to talk to me about drug stuff and discounts Walgreens is supposed to be giving him. I asked why these discounts didn't kick in automatically like the site says they should have, but he acted like he didn't hear me.

I can't hold numbers in my head. So all this is wasted on me. So I suggested for the hundredth time that he call adult services and get someone who knows what their doing to advise him on all this financial stuff. Again he acted like he didn't hear me.

I can appreciate that he's overwhelmed, but that just emphasizes the fact that he needs help. What he needs is some kind of personal manager. But he's got to make a move to get one. That's not something I can do for him.

Meanwhile, the afternoon was almost gone, and I'd not had a chance to get to work on any of the projects that deadlines are rapidly approaching for. I guessed that I'd be up all night again.

Since Dad wasn't going to let me leave, I decided to experiment and bring the laptop into his room so I could maybe get some work done while he was reading stuff and doing figures. I figured I'd at least get my playlist for tomorrow made up. But Uniform turned out to be a pretty difficult theme to program. And no sooner did I get to work on it than Dad stopped working on his finances and started playing with WinAmp again, blasting Christmas music behind me, as he plays that stuff all year round.

And of course right away he's got problems with the program. He's got the panes all screwed up and wants me to tell him how to rearrange them, and he's totally clueless when it comes to moving things around with the mouse. And he can't do anything I tell him to do, because he doesn't seem to have any sense to apply to what I say. Nor does he understand computer jargon. So it's a struggle just to figure out how to tell him something in a way he'll understand. And every time he misunderstands something he messes things up worse than they already are.

I can not explain to anyone how anxiety producing all this is, particularly when I have my short range glasses on and I can't read anything on the screen. It just drives me up a wall, makes me want to cry, and then I wish I'd had the sense to never have gotten him a computer.

In the midst of all this I did my best to continue working on my playlist, doing my best to ignore how hungry I was, and that dinner time had passed an hour ago.

I wasn't at all satisfied with the results, but I managed to get 2 hours of tunes in some way related to uniforms. I know I could do better if I was able to get some concentration going. But obviously that is not going to be allowed.

Then I had to get to work in the kitchen, making dinner for the folks before I could even start thinking about what I was going to fix for myself.

I had a thought that, since I had the laptop downstairs, I could set it up in the kitchen and experiment with running Second Life while busy elsewhere in the house. I should have known there was no chance this wouldn't be hellishly stressful, given SL's love of making me suffer.

It couldn't just let me log on and sit somewhere with music on where I wouldn't have to do a lot of talking. Actually, it didn't want to let me log on at all. It hung me up so long just loading that I got a stiff neck from looking down at the screen.

It would have been nice if I could have set it somewhere at standing eye level. But the only place to set it would have been low for sitting level. The kitchen was still a mess, and every time I turned around I ran into a pile of dishes or pans that wanted to fall down.

But finally the viewer loaded, and before I was even rezzed Nydia was calling me to come sit in the hot tub with her. Cool. Just the type of situation I was hoping for. Now I could just turn on her music stream and go about my work, responding to Nydia whenever I saw she'd typed something. Things became better from there.

For my dinner I decided on 1 Salisbury steak TV dinner (230 calories) 1 noodle side dish (310) 1 pizza (350) 5 pieces of popcorn chicken (110) 1 rice cake (50) and 1 jello (5.)

I've decided to see if I can add a few calories to this diet without ill effects. I need to do more research into what level of calories I have to take in to cause weight gain.

Nydia logged off before the food finished cooking, but I stayed in the hot tub to keep the music going until I was done in the kitchen. Then I logged off and didn't go back on.

Had dinner with that “3 Gypsies” LP I bought yesterday. Theoretically this is another Lesbian Folk record, like the one I commented on yesterday. Apparently someone who had been a lesbian activist in the mid 70's had croaked or something, as there was an unusual concentration of lesbian and feminist themed records at Good Will.

But this one was not as obvious as the previous one. I actually found it appealing, and the title track seriously tripped my attraction button – kind of like a lovely piece of Furry art does. I could almost imagine my 3 female leading characters as the 3 gypsies.

After that I put on another record with the thought of getting started at something while I listened. But it occurred to me that I was not getting any bass to speak of out of my system, and the 2 channels were not balanced. So I spent a good bit of time fiddling with the controls, trying to improve the sound.

Gradually I started to get something more like I would expect out of this equipment. Probably not the full power I'd like to be getting, but good enough to get me concentrating on the music better than I've done for ages. And I got so lost in this that it was almost 2 in the morning before I thought to look at a clock.

I should have stopped then and started typing up this entry, but I was getting down to the end of my play basket, and I'd been trying all night to pull myself away from the turntable and get to work on putting the played records away, and finding other stuff I'm in a mood to hear to refill the basket with. And I didn't feel like letting that go till another day.

Got that done, developing a bit of a headache from too much bending to reach the lower shelves.

Then the dog came upstairs, reminding me that Mom had asked me to feed the dog. There's my wonderful memory again.

I went down to see if Mom had fed her. She had. So I got the folks the coffee and tea they wanted and headed back upstairs to start on the journal at 4:30 AM.

To bed at 7 AM. Stress peak for the day: 7
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Daily Journal For Tuesday November 10, 2015 [Nov. 11th, 2015|05:13 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 9 AM. with a bathroom emergency, which is highly unusual for me in recent years, but this is the second time this has happened since the latest reboot of the diet. Probably it's nothing serious. Might be my system working overtime while I'm asleep to dump a lot of the extra calories stored up from my recent binges. Let's hope that's all it is.

Anyway, I only got 3 hours of sleep last night, but I'm up now and feeling like going back to bed wouldn't do anything positive for me.

The folks are still asleep. The only one up is the dog, who is acting like she's extremely hungry. I hope Mom didn't forget to feed her last night. So I gave her the last couple pieces of Pupperoni, which she gobbled up veraciously.

I started looking for something to do until the folks got up. So I brought the laptop downstairs to check my E-mail a while.

I see REC sent me more money. This should definitely get us through the month.

I am, of course, extremely grateful for REC's help, if a little nervous about how I'm ever going to repay his kindness. I still have several boxes of comics and things I can send him when I'm able. But I think what he really wants is for me to keep on being his bunny. Oh well, as long as he's content to just have her in Second Life, I suppose keeping his bunny going for the rest of my life is not a lot to ask.

Going on Fur Affinity I see my last episode got 24 views and 1 favorite. Pretty good for something I threw together in such a rush.

The previous episode got 45 views. That doesn't seem to indicate a significant following, but knowing anyone at all was reading would be enough to keep me at it.

There's just a Steamfox and a Bart-S who consistently favorite episodes. Most favorites I get are for the art. My last art post got 48 views. The one before that 81 views. And the one before that 273 views and 8 favorites. But that was the one I tagged as pregnancy fetish.

I should just flat out do some porn if I really want the folks at FA to notice me. It's not like I wouldn't enjoy it. But I fear starting down that slippery slope of abandoned integrity. If I lose too much integrity everything I've done so far will have been wasted. But then, what does it profit me to throw good integrity after bad? If no one but furs are ever going to care, my integrity is wasted anyway.

Thinking such thoughts I leaned back in the chair and dozed off for a couple of hours until Jeff arrived. Woke up still feeling good. Often I have rapid heartbeat and stuff when waking up in a chair, but I'm apparently recovering my health rapidly.

Went to Quest Diagnostics to get blood work done. There was no one ahead of me so I got processed right away.

Usually they are very precise and painless, but today they couldn't find a vein and had to probe for it, which was notably painful, but not unbearably so.

My skin is unusually white and doesn't show veins very well. It's almost like I have female skin, which I take as an indication that I was planned to be a female, but then something got confused and I ended up being an odd bag of mixed gender traits. But I hide that well in the real world.

We got done at Quest so fast that we had most of an hour to kill before my appointment with the eye doctor. So Jeff suggested that we go back to Good Will so I could look at those records I couldn't get at yesterday.

That was nice of him. Saved me the awkwardness of asking, as I'd been trying to build up the nerve to.

Had just enough time to go through the whole shelf. Picked out about 16 albums. Again, mostly stuff I really wasn't in any great need of, but stuff that's nice to have for the next best thing to free. And it kept the momentum of the good day going, in contrast to the bad day yesterday.

I probably won't comment on the records individually, as that would make the entry too long. So I'll just list the titles below.

Helen Reddy – I Am Woman
Incredible String Band – The Big Huge
Alix Dobkin – Living With Lesbians
Cactus – 'ot 'n' Sweaty
Cactus – One way . . . Or Another
Melissa Manchester – Greatest Hits
Stephen Stills – Self-Titled
Soundcraftsmen – Instructional Test Record
James Taylor – Greatest Hits
Kansas – Vinyl Confessions
Men At Work – Business As Usual
Casse Culver – 3 Gypsies
Genesis – Invisible Touch
History Of Eric Clapton (Double Album)
Lynyrd Skynyrd – Street Survivors (Flame Cover)

Then we went to the eye place and still had 10 minutes to spare.

The eye exam was painless, but the verdict was mixed. They said I have thinning retinas, which is not unusual in someone as nearsighted as I am. But there's a danger of the retinas becoming detached, which could be serious. So if ever I see little electrical lights shooting in from the side, I'm to make haste to the emergency room.

If the retinas detach they'll have to be lasered back on, and I'll probably be as good as blind for the rest of my life. Pleasant thought, huh? But there are so many things wrong with me that could potentially blow up into something incapacitating I've just learned to live with the idea that every day something bad doesn't happen is more borrowed time I somehow got away with.

Getting back home, the father was still asleep in the mid afternoon, which was probably contributing to the continued relaxed atmosphere of the day. I wasn't at all stressed, but I was hungry. So I went to see about getting some lunch to have with my morning meds, which I couldn't take earlier because of the blood test.

Put 2 waffles and 2 sausages in the toaster oven and took the trash out. Both jobs were much easier than last time – not stressful at all. But I saw that someone had made off with our big trash can. I'll have to buy a new one now. But that's no biggie.

Back upstairs to play more records and see if there's anyone on Second Life looking to hang out with me while I wait to be called to get dinner for the old folks. But nobody called on me for a long time, and I didn't feel like putting on another avatar for the Dogs And Cats event at The Happy Vixen. So I turned off Second Life when I was called downstairs and left it off for the rest of the night, both to save on electricity and my concentration.

Dinner for me was a hot dog in a piece of bread, rather than a bun, to save calories, about a dozen tatter tots, a rice cake and a pudding. Made the same for the folks, but they got 2 hot dogs each with buns and condiments. (I'll starve before eating condiments) They seemed happy with this dinner.

Listened to “Living With Lesbians” with dinner. I'm torn about whether I like it or not. Sometimes I check out stuff like this to see if I identify with various alt.cultures. But they always seem to be coming from some other planet, and this one is no exception. Not that the norm suits me any better.

This is also true of songs that are made to demonstrate the various fandom cultures. I don't identify at all with the Furry Fandom songs I've heard. They just start me walking away in disgust thinking, “That's not me.” So, if you were to ask me what I am or where I fit in, I'd just shrug and say, “I don't know.”

Maybe I should try a gender identity test or something, assuming there is such a thing. Till then I'll just check the box marked “Confused.”

Marty called again. He found another 104 albums he wants to give me for credit on what he owes me, to be added to the 60 he told me about last night. I encouraged him to keep looking. With any luck he'll come up with enough to wipe out his entire debt. He wants me to get Jeff to bring me out to his place Saturday next week to pick them up.

Finished downloading those 6032 78's from MusicProf78 on YouTube. This has taken months, and I doubted I would ever finish the job. Now begins the equally daunting task of tagging all these tracks.

Oh, but I can't start that right now, because I should make the program for Thursday's show at The Happy Vixen first. Hold up, I can't do that now, because it's time to start typing up tonight's journal entry. Aren't I just the busiest person without a life you ever saw?

Oh, but it seems I can't even start on the journal right now. First I have to fix my internet security, as I just got a notice from Kaspersky that my subscription expired, though I'm pretty sure I recently renewed that. But to check it I have to go online, and I'm not going online without security. So I have to tap into the old man's Norton subscription. And this is taking a couple of hours to sort out.

I did renew my Kaspersky subscription on October 12, according to my saved E-mails. I authorized a $37 payment from my bank account that they were supposed to take out on 11/11/15. And on the 12th Best Buy made a $37 charge, which I see on my bank record is pending.

So they turned my internet security off without notice because they made the charge a day late, or because the bank didn't pay out instantly? I don't think I like these guys anymore. Good thing the old man pays for Norton coverage on 3 machines.

To bed 5:30 AM. Stress level for the day: 0 Depression: 0 Optimism: 5
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Daily Journal For Monday November 9, 2015 [Nov. 10th, 2015|05:44 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 11 AM. Couldn't get up by 10. Was in and out of sleep and trying to tell myself to get up, but just couldn't make myself do it. But, no biggie. I can skip the full bath and just clean up a little for what I have to do today.

I really needed that extra hour. I'm feeling pretty good now. I wouldn't have been if I'd forced myself into motion an hour ago. It might be another good day if nothing happens to stress me out.

Weight check: 228.6. Down 7 pounds in a couple of days. That's promising.

Came out of the bathroom with about an hour to spare, but Dad wasted it all. Seems he blue screened his computer and wanted me to sort it out. Then he started in on his debt consolidation and donut hole research, which has nothing to do with me, since he'll do what he wants regardless of what I suggest.

Time is ticking, ticking. And I still have a couple of things to do before my ride gets here. Is he done with me yet? No, there's always one more thing to keep me from getting out the door.

I finally get away with 15 minutes left, and I rush to open the package that came in the mail for me, which turns out to be my Queen “Made In Heaven” LP. But no time to feel good about getting that as I rush on to take my morning meds and make sure I have everything I need to take with me. But Dad comes out and stops me, insisting that I take his cell phone with me. I say that's pointless because it's not set to ring and none of us knows how to fix it. So he insists that I help him test it to prove this.

Tick-a-tick-a-tick-a . . . It's already past time for my ride to be there. I rush to gulp my meds down. And right in the middle of that I remember I'm supposed to go fasted and prepared to give samples. Jeff is just coming in the door as my mind is trying to adjust to the reality that it is now impossible to get the blood work done today.

Jeff greets me with his customary, “How are you doing today? Opps, you didn't answer right away. Something must be wrong.”

My mind shuts down, and everyone wants me to say what's wrong, but no one will shut up long enough to let me form words.

Finally I get it out that we need to postpone the blood work, but we can still get to the eye exam place. And as I'm walking out towards Jeff's van I realize this is no longer a good day. My mind and moods are scrambled, and I'm nosediving into depression because of the impossibility of remembering everything I have to remember with my diminished capacity.

And, wouldn't you know it? The eye doctor was not in today. So I made an appointment for tomorrow when I will have to go through this all over again.

So I suggest to Jeff that we stop in the Good Will store on the way home to try to improve my state of mind. And he's like, “As long as you don't take to long, 'cos I'm getting hungry.”

Normally I'd be like, “Well why don't I treat you to lunch then?” But Jeff doesn't eat out anymore. So there's really not much point in going to Good Will, because I won't be able to relax, and it's not like I feel any driving desire to buy more records or videos. But we stopped anyway, for whatever good it might do.

So I go back to the record department, and a worker is restocking the shelves, totally making it impossible to do a speed search. Lovely.

Standing in front of me is a cart with the records he's trying to make room for in it. It's full of 78's, most of which I can instantly tell are broken.

Right on top is a smashed Ernie Hare record that looks like it might be from 1900 or there abouts. To find it in one piece would have been just the pleasant surprise I needed to switch my mode around. But to find it completely destroyed was like adding insult to injury.

Next I noticed the worker throwing out a bunch of LP's without covers, amongst which I could see the inner sleeves from The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway. And I said to the guy, “if you're going to throw those out, can I have them?” He said, “You'd have to ask the management” and pointed to the back room.

Ok, now on top of everything you want me to buck my social anxiety disorder by begging a stranger for trash. No thanks. I have a whole crate of trash records in the basement. I don't need any more. Forget it.

You'd think he'd go ask the management himself just to save himself a trip out to the dumpster, but who am I to give Good Will workers pointers on the benefits of recycling?

There was one stack of LP's I had easy access to that looked like it might be stuff in good shape. I went through that, pulled out 6 LP's that I knew I probably didn't need and headed for the checkout. The total price was $3.18.

Found what appeared to be clean copies of Yesterdays and 9012Live. I had these, but I figured these would be upgrades.

The 4 I didn't have and had never heard before were . . .
Eric Clapton – Self-Titled
Fleetwood Mac – Mystery To Me
T. Rex – The Slider
Wham – Music From The Edge Of Heaven.

Getting home I was still stressed and depressed to the point that I was seriously contemplating blowing the diet again. But I convinced myself that a reasonable lunch should be what I was looking for.

But first I opened the mail. And there seems to be a $100 bill in there from Verizon, which shouldn't be coming to us. That would be for the dad's cell phone which the sister-in-law pays. Hopefully this is not an indication that something has happened to the sister-in-law. As far as I know she hasn't answered any of the messages we left about the dog being sick.

But Dad was too busy on the phone trying to scare up some assistance for the drug situation. So I'll have to ask him about it later.

Putting together a reasonable lunch was hell. All the pans were dirty or in use. So I had to use the pan we were using to boil the coffee water to make soup. And the knives that are best for cutting the turkey ham were all dirty as well. There were dishes piled everywhere, leaving me no place to work. And the mom kept calling me into the living room for this and that, making me worry about the soup burning. Then, on top of that, I found dead bugs in the soup bowls. More dishes to pile in the sink.

All in all it took a whole hour to heat a can of soup and a slice of turkey ham for a sandwich for a sensible 400 calorie lunch. But that chocolate cereal was calling to me the whole time. Fortunately this was just pissing me off more. So I didn't answer it.

And of course, just as I've got my fingers crossed that nothing will stop me from getting upstairs with lunch, Dad calls me into his room and hangs me up, telling me in slow motion how he's switching from Xarelto to Cummadin, and how much it's going to cost him.

I keep saying, “Is that it? Can I go now?” And he just keeps droning on in slow motion speech about stuff I can't even process at the moment. And I'm thinking by the time I get to lunch it will be just about time for dinner.

By the time I finally got upstairs I was not looking to attempt anything serious with the rest of the day. I just sat down in front of the record player, turned on Second Life, planted Perri on a poseball beside her record player. But nobody's here right now. So I can give my full attention to the music for a change.

Fleetwood Mac is singing, “If I'm living on borrowed time I'm just gonna keep on the way I'm going.” Probably a message in there for me.

Then they're singing, “I won't go back to New York, because there's darkness all around. No, I just can't handle it. You know that place just drags me down.” I equate New York with X. So this carries unique meaning for me.

The next song is about, “I'll be gone, miles away.” Someday I will be. Someday.

Pretty good tune, that one. Not a bad album, for early Fleetwood Mac, which I normally have a hard time getting into. Guess I was never really a hippie. So I generally do not get hippie rock like this. But I'm in a strange mood right now and almost grooving on it.

Listening to “Made In Heaven” now. Not the best album to listen to when in a down mood. But then, why listen to it in a good mood and be brought down? Better to play it now when I'm in a mood to really feel it.

I half wish it wasn't such a damn good album, in spite of the circumstances surrounding it and the overall concept of impending death and futile hope for survival. In some ways it could almost be a Pink Floyd album. But that's not what one listens to Queen for.

Note to self: Always end this album on side three. Never play side 4 again. Just pretend the 4th side is blank. Because the 4th side isn't good for anything but putting me to sleep.

Listening to T Rex next. I don't know what possessed me to buy this one. I know I never get anything out of this group. But I guess it had something to do with my thinking it might be an old Slade album when I picked it up. I don't have any pre-80's Slade. And I just didn't want to acknowledge the disappointment of it being T Rex.

This is that early David Bowie type glam rock, which most of the time I don't get any better than I do hippie rock. It's not offensively bad or anything. It's just there. Nothing to it.

This one will probably go in the basement with my extras and stuff I get nothing out of, to await someone I can give it to. Which reminds me. I never did finish that list of my extra albums for Spotty Fawn. I'll get it done one of these days.

Now I'm being called downstairs to heat up the Meals On Wheels food for the folks, which normally the mom can do herself, but she's still not feeling well. I suppose I'll have to think about getting some dinner for myself too. Too bad. The way I feel right now, if I didn't have to go down to the kitchen, I could probably just skip dinner. But once I'm around the food that notion will quickly go out the window.

Fixing dinner was as difficult as making lunch. Having used the water pan to make soup earlier there now was no way to boil water or heat coffee. And the mom was like, “You're real good at dirtying pans, when are you going to learn to clean one?” And I was tempted to say, “I could clean a pan, if the sink wasn't filled with dishes.” But I don't smart off to the mom. So I just froze in the headlights with no way to explain the situation.

I'd have done the dishes earlier, if she'd just said she was too sick to do it. But the dishes are supposed to be mom's job. And the doctor told me not to be taking her job away, lest she sit in front of the TV until her muscles rot.

So she finally snapped at me, “Forget the coffee if you can't clean a pan.” And I was about to admit defeat and forget it. But then I remembered the broken microwave upstairs that doesn't shut off when you open the door and spews out radiation at you. I took two cups of water upstairs and put them in the microwave, plugging it in after closing the door, boiling the water, and then unplugging it before I opened the door.

Theoretically this should have been safe, but I still felt like I got microwaved a bit.

My dinner ended up being 2 TV dinners, 2 raisin cookies and a diet jello. The diet remains on track.

Back upstairs to resume the music.

The Eric Clapton album was ok, but really nothing to write home about. I'll never understand why some people regard him like a god. He's average at best. Still, the record was worth every bit of the 50 cents it cost me.

I actually enjoyed the Wham record more. It has more sounds that actively reach out and grab you.

Bixyl appeared to sign me up for Thursday's show at The Happy Vixen. He gave me the uniform theme. But later there was a drop down with the list of events for The Happy Vixen this week, which showed DJ Psycho Kitty is doing a bunny event right after mine. WTF? Why wouldn't he want the bunny to play the bunny event? Oh well, I ain't worrying about it. It's probably easier to find uniform songs than bunny songs anyway.

Marty call with a list of albums he wants to give me to get some credit on what he owes me. I didn't say so, but I have 90% of the albums he listed. I'll give him fair credit for them anyway. 'Cos I hate having to take his money when his budget is even tighter than mine. Then I'll add the duplicate albums to the list of stuff I can redistribute to friends.

Marty shot down my idea about a road trip to that record store in PA. Says he's not that into vinyl. And Jason doesn't do vinyl at all now. So it'll be of no interest to either of them. Only to me. So I'll never get to go there. Depressing.

Marty got that new Aviary CD he had me look up the other day. He didn't like it. Wasn't pompy enough for him.

Perri has been sitting with Niko most of the night. He's trying to get me into a new Furry game he likes. But no matter how cute the art is, I just can't get excited about it. I'm burnt out on Furry.

I've been doing Furry for 50 odd years. I've seen it all before. It's really hard to phase me now. I'm sure there's a ton of Furry stuff coming out that I should be into, but I just don't seem to care anymore.

JM Foxfire IMing me for money again. 100 L for a Ghostbusters name tag this time. But Perri just gave all her money to Kacey so she can pay her rent, and I can't be putting any more real life money into SL. So I told JM to ask his father. (That seemed a legitimate, motherly thing to say to a kid begging for money.)

But apparently JM didn't know REC was on, and I said he was before I thought that REC might be hiding from JM. I hope I didn't blow his cover.

Niko logged off shortly after REC came on. REC was apparently paying bills, which had him a little grumpy about watching his money flying away from him so fast.

Jamey the baby bunny came on for a while, too. I think Jamey was a little miffed when REC didn't want to tuck him in. Was kind of funny hearing a baby call his father “Mr. Sensitive.”

While all these avatars have been around, I've been trying to type up this journal entry, which has taken all night again.

I thought it would save time if I typed the journal while doing other stuff, but I think it just slowed me down. I'm going to have to quit other stuff early if I'm to continue doing this.

It has not been fun trying to type an entry while being on Second Life, and playing records at the same time. Eventually I had to turn the music off. I wasn't really hearing it anyway.

It also didn't help that I need my long range glasses to see the SL monitor, and my close up glasses to see the laptop I'm typing this on. Nor does it help that today's entry seems to be unusually long. Must have been one hell of a day. But you know, I probably would never remember it again if I hadn't written it down.

To bed 5:30 AM. Stress level for the day: 10
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Daily Journal For Sunday November 8, 2015 [Nov. 9th, 2015|04:50 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 12:30 PM. Again a lot of waking up and going right back to sleep. At times staying awake to enjoy the Furry art flashing on the TV screen, particularly for the last 2 hours.

It feels good when the Furry art is making me feel things like, “Oh, that character is so cute,” or “That character looks like he or she would be so nice to cuddle with.” There are nights when the art does nothing for me at all. And those are usually the nights when I feel all hope is lost.

But the art is affecting me positively today. So I know there's still love in my heart, and that's a good feeling to start the day with.

Feeling physically good, also. No headache or backaches. No dizziness. This is a good sign.

I see I have some journal responses. I'll take care of those first thing. Then go down for my morning meds.

I see Bixyl left an Ask A Bunny question. I'll try to draft a response to that today, but first I want to take one more stab at getting an episode out today.

I see just about everyone is suggesting that I hang it up here and go somewhere else to start a new life. Well, if I were a less responsible person I'm sure I'd have done that years ago. But I do have a sense of responsibility. So I won't be happy enjoying a new life until I'm sure things here are finished or resolved in such a way that I won't be plagued with guilt for the rest of my life.

Like I've said, I'm really only here because the mom needs caring for. The father actually should be in an institution where he can be monitored and supervised constantly. He might well live to be a hundred if he doesn't do something stupid and cause an accident.

He's on blood thinners. So really, one little cut might do him in. And he's so out of it he's constantly pulling stacks of boxes or shelves down on himself, or going out to get the paper and falling on the steps. Also his insistence on using space heaters worries me a lot. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of ways he finds to tempt fate.

Even if he doesn't fall pray to his own lack of attention, his body is deteriorating, and he's likely to become bed ridden at some point. And that will be the end of my ability to take care of him. He'll have to go into a home.

Once he's somebody else's responsibility I'll be relieved of all this stress. I'll be able to take care of the mom in peace. I'll be able to dispose of his horde and have some room to make the house livable. I won't be hassled constantly about not paying the bills his way. The stress will just drain out of my life like someone pulled the plug.

Then, whenever the mom kicks off, I've currently got my choice of 2 friends that have offered me a home. RECoyote wants me, and so does my old Anime partner Rusty. And that's a really tough choice, because life would be really good with either one. I guess which ever needs me more at the time will tip the scale. Rusty is all alone and has health problems. REC at least has family.

But in the meantime I'm committed here for the duration. Running out early is just not an option.

I'm not anticipating any kind of reward or points in Heaven for sticking this out. I've long since ceased to believe in such things. The only satisfaction one gets for lasting out a situation like this is seeing a satisfactory close brought to it – one that doesn't leave me hording a lot of guilt, as I'm prone to do. Because that will taint any peace or happiness I find in the future.

Going downstairs now to get my meds. Hmmmm. The TV is off. That's unusual for this time of day. Why are there sausages in a skillet on the stove? Why is the butter and syrup out? There's no one here cooking. My guess would be the mom started to make breakfast and had a bad turn. So I go to look and she's in bed, sound asleep. While the father is in his room watching football.

I ask him what's up and he tells me the mom made waffles for him earlier and went to bed later because she wasn't feeling well, but by his description it doesn't sound like anything serious. The mom probably just forgot to serve the sausages with the waffles. But she probably needs her sleep. So I don't want to wake her to ask.

So I go out to put the sausages away, and suddenly I realize I could do with some lunch. A waffle and sausages would be like 340 calories. That would leave 660 for dinner. And, remembering how good splitting things up into 2 meals worked yesterday I elect to go for it.

While eating lunch I happened on a video about Jerry's Records in PA. I have an idea I should propose a road trip there to Jason and Marty. We haven't had a road trip in ages, and finding destinations is getting difficult.

Mom's up. She's still sick with bronchitis, but nothing more serious than that has happened. I was right about her forgetting to serve the sausages. She's glad they got ate.

Mom is actually talking about making dinner tonight. But she probably won't feel well enough. I worry at first, but then I think I have enough calories left that nothing she could make would crash my diet.

So I set her up with some tea and shredded wheat for lunch, and I'm headed back upstairs to get to work on my episode.

This is proving to be a difficult episode, even though it's relatively short. Kacey is starting up an internet relationship with a new character that for some reason I gave the name X was using when I first met her. I have no memory at all of why I gave the character this name, especially since the events I used in this episode are based on things that happened with Oppsy, before I met REC.

Crossing X with Oppsy. What's that supposed to accomplish? I have no idea what I was thinking or where this is supposed to go. But I don't have time to research it. I just have to go with the synopsis of this episode and be as surprised as everyone else at what comes out.

Got call from Jeff confirming appointment tomorrow to get blood work done and get my eyes checked. He'll be here at 12:45. So I need to be getting my bath by 10. I expect this means I will not sleep well or at all tonight. As I can never get to sleep when worrying about getting up early for something.

Getting back to work on the episode, I thought about adding a scene to it where Twee would assist Kacey and her new love interest in selecting yiff furniture, since they are shopping in the same store where Twee works. But that would take a day or two to develop. So I'll scrap Twee's cameo for the time being. Maybe I'll add it as a deleted scene in a future version.

This episode will be rated mature for sexual subject matter. I will probably put something in the FA description along the lines of “This episode is based on actual people and experiences from Second Life. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.”

First draft of the episode is in the can just as Mom is calling me down for dinner. Good timing for once. I'll try to proofread, format and publish the episode after dinner. But it will be a real race to get it up before Midnight.

Mom made chicken breast and skinless potatoes for dinner. No calorie bombs there. Got enough calories left for a couple of cookies and a rice cake. But she forgot to do the meds. So I'll have to go back down to get my meds after dinner, instead of before dinner, as is my routine. This is likely to throw me off because of the temptation to eat something else with the meds. But it didn't this time. The diet seems to be getting on solid footing now.

Dad is on his last Xorelto, and he asked me what he should do about it. He was talking about seeing if chewing the drug store out would do any good. I said I didn't think that would get him anywhere. Instead I suggested that he go online and look for some kind of drug assistance program he could get into. He seemed to like that idea.

Success. Episode was posted at 5 of Midnight. Couldn't cut it any closer if I tried.

Drafted response to Bixyl's Ask A Bunny question and typed up the notes from today's journal scribbling. The two things together took 4 and a half hours, keeping me up way later than was wise, and leaving me thinking that a daily journal could get to be a bit of a problem. But it seems to be doing me some good. So let's keep it going for a while and see how it goes.

To bed 5 AM. Stress level for the day: 0. Depression: 0 Optimism: 10
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Daily Journal For Saturday November 7, 2015 [Nov. 8th, 2015|12:47 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up at 4:30 AM. A small bit of sporadic sleeping for a couple of hours, but then no getting back to sleep. I've obviously been having trouble breathing while sleeping. The chest discomfort makes it pretty obvious. So trying to get more sleep while I'm in this state might do more harm than good.

No idea what I want to do with this day. I don't expect my mind will be in good enough shape to work on my episode, but I'll find something to keep me busy – something upstairs away from the food and the stress.

I had originally planned just to scribble these daily notes in a note book and not publish them. But today I decided I should publish them, both to keep my friends up on my condition, and to hopefully guilt myself into treating myself better, if I know others are watching. So I got started on transferring the notes from pen scribbling to digital.

Again, my father was calling me to come down no sooner than I was up. He complained that his calculator ribbon had worn out, and he just had to have a calculator that spit out a tape. So he wanted his old one. But I don't know where the old one is, and I'm not about to go tearing the house apart looking for it. I had to remind him there was such a thing as copying the totals from his calculator with a pen and paper. And he was like “Oh. I forgot I could do that.”

Stopped to play with the dog a bit, and she has me worried again. She was out of breath after two throws of the ball, and I thought I smelled something like infection in her breath.

Scheduled the Gas & Electric payment for the 19th, one day before it's due, just to be prepared for any surprises in the bank account. Things are going to be close this month.

I'm continuing to feel seriously bad today. It's not fading with time as it usually does after I've been up a bit. My head feels funny, like I'm pushing another stroke.

Right now I'm also pretty hungry, which is not something I experience much, even when dieting successfully. But there's no way I'm eating a lot after last night.

Back to work on digitizing the Daily Journal, which I contemplated calling The TMI Journal, being as I record everything in this series, even stuff that's probably only important to me.

The folks called me down to make lunch because the mom is still sick and the dad is too incompetent to be allowed to play with fire. Making lunch for others is a good way to crash my diet. But there's no law says I can't have lunch. I just have to deduct the calories from dinner. So I had a turkey ham and cheese sandwich with a rice cake for lunch. This was about 250 calories, and it should get me through to dinner.

Dad figured up the med bills for the next 2 months to see how much we'd be spending if we got everything. The figure was over $4000, and even the old man couldn't laugh that one off. So he and the mom are now in the process of deciding which meds they're going to give up. But I'll leave them to sort that out. For me it's back upstairs to continue working.

I actually worked a bit past dinner time and thought little more about eating. Keeping my hands busy is apparently important.

When I went downstairs to see about finding something to eat with my evening meds, the folks were in need of someone to make dinner for them. So I threw 3 Salisbury steak dinners in the oven, and we all had the same thing.

I looked and looked for something I wanted to go with the TV dinner to pad out the calories, but I couldn't find anything. Just a diet jello was enough. So I finished the day at about 500 calories. Didn't know I could do that. Will have to try it more often.

Completed work on digitizing my back journal notes and posted them to LJ, back dating them to when they were written. I'm optimistic that keeping this journal log of my daily thoughts and events is going to be good for me.

To bed 1 AM. Stress level for the day: 3
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Daily Journal For Friday November 6, 2015 [Nov. 7th, 2015|12:39 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
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Up 11AM. Not feeling good. Chest pains and breathing discomfort detected. Discomfort in back as well. I woke up many times during the night. The music and Furry art display put me right back out each time, but still, not being able to sleep solidly is a bad thing.

I want to get to work on my next episode. I might have just enough time to get one done by the Sunday deadline.

Forgot about this being the day Freedom Debt Relief was supposed to call back. Dad was calling me downstairs just as I was getting up to get out the financial files for him.

The first thing he did was get out the record of how much pre-rent I've paid and puzzle over it. He had an idea in his head that this represented part of the debt his loan would need to cover, and nothing I said could shake that idea.

Anyway, he couldn't figure out that the way to calculate out how much rent I was forward was to count the months that hadn't passed yet and multiply them by $200. It came out to $3000 in rent I'm ahead. And all he has to do is let the months pass for that to be paid. But he kept insisting he owed me $3000 that he had to pay.

We got the call from Freedom, and almost right away I started hearing things in the proposal I didn't like. They expect you to just stop paying your credit cards without a word being said to the companies as to why or what's happening. That's damned scary. But we listened to the rest of it, and as soon as the guy hung up mom said there was no way she was signing her name to any deal like that.

This is disappointing, but I can't say I disagree. They promise to save us a lot of money, but I'm sure daring four big credit card companies to sue you is a lot more dangerous than Freedom wants to let on.

What I want is just a normal consolidation loan at an amount of interest and payments that can feasibly be paid off and will instantly free the folks of the need to borrow most of my income.

But Dad then proceeded to reveal his true colors. He likes sucking up my income and wants me to just get used to denying myself anything I would normally be buying with my money. Needless to say I saw red. I feel well and truly screwed and taken advantage of.

Well, actually, I felt the same way when my ex was done with me, but like this situation, it wasn't a matter of I hadn't known I was being used and taken advantage of all along. I'm always up for being used and taken advantage of, as long as I know I'm appreciated and there's some gratitude involved. But the minute people start acting like I'm under some obligation and taking me for granted, that pulls the floor out and totally changes everything.

I don't have to be putting myself through any of this. I could be living in my own cozy apartment in total control of my health and environment. I've got friends in this world who'd like me to come live with them. I could be having a life. And if this guy knows what's good for him he won't be making me feel like I'm being forced to give up having a life against my will. This has to be something I'm doing because I have reason to want to. The minute it becomes something I'm being forced to do against my will I'll be out that door and gone.

Fortunately I know the mom doesn't think that way, and she's what makes me want to do this. But even the mom has her faults, as she picks a moment like this to suggest getting out the cookies. And the next thing I know I'm upstairs scarfing cookies and cereal, kidding myself that if I skip dinner I can still salvage the diet.

I put on the Yes LP “Fly From Here,” and it started me thinking that fly from here is a really appropriate sentiment for how I feel right now. I don't like where I am right now, physically, emotionally or mentally, and I want to fly to somewhere else – anywhere else, really. I miss traveling. I miss adventure. I miss being with friends I don't have to hide stuff from.

Reproofed Ask A Bunny question #2 and got it posted.

Dinner was 2 slices of turkey ham on a bagel, a bowl of Raisin Bran and 2 more cookies. Apparently there was just no saving the diet again. Too depressed to care.

Got a bit more than a page done on a new episode. It's a short episode, but I don't expect it to be ready on time the way things are going. I'll just say I'm going to put up some art this month and hope it's enough for folks.

Something is urging me to put another record on after I go down and grab more snacks. I don't want to do it, but I find myself on the way down the stairs anyway. I am sooo dead.

Logged Perri and Kacey into Second Life to check on Kacey's rent and stream. One week to go on the stream, and Perri has money to give Kacey for that. So we'll get that out of the way now.

Two weeks left on Kacey's rent, but Perri doesn't have quite enough to pay for the next month, but her next DJ show should make up the difference. So we'll wait a bit on the rent. The new stream expiration date is 12/11/15.

To bed at 11:30 PM. Stress level for today was 0, but my depression level was off the scale, as I'm really bummed out about all the binging I did and how bad I feel because of it. I seriously feel like I could have a stroke and die at any time. So I'm signing off the day with yet another promise to myself that if I survive this night I will surely change my ways.
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Ask A Bunny Question #2 [Nov. 6th, 2015|07:24 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]
[Mood |morbid]
[Music |Destroy All Monsters - Hungry For Death]

zorro456 writes,
“OK. Why do you give a crap about your parents?

Mine are all dead or wanted by the FBI.

And that is not an exaggeration. My Father stole from all his children.”
Well, to be brutally honest, it's the mom I give a crap about, because the mom has been good enough to me over the years to have paid into my affections. Granted she's murder on my attempts to diet, but I can overlook that in light of all the caring she's given over the years.

The father, on the other hand, is another story entirely. The father drives me nuts. He spent my future and does everything in his power to insure no good deed I attempt to do to fix the situation we're in will go unpunished.

I could probably write an entire page of things the father does to drive me into anxiety fits and leave me in a state of resentment that's hard to overcome. One that comes to mind is that, when my brother called us to come over to his place because he was dying of cancer and this would be the last chance we'd have to talk to him, my father, in his insufferable pomposity, kept his mouth going through the whole event and didn't allow anyone else to say anything – effectively robbing the mom and myself of our chance to say goodbye. And he's been leaving me with similar bad feelings all throughout my life – probably being one of the reasons I ended up so introverted and insecure. So, why do I give a crap about this guy is a really good question.

With the father there is no talking about anything that might make him think me gay or unforgivably unmanly. He's somehow able to turn a blind eye to the MLP's, cute critter plushies and the fact that I've devoted my life to cartoon animals. He probably writes it off by telling himself I'm retarded or something. Retarded is acceptable. Unmanly is not. This is a guy who takes it as a compliment when I ask him if he's going for an Archie Bunker award after one of his dissertations on why blacks and gays are not the kind of people he wants to have equal rights.

Basically this guy never misses an opportunity to leave me shocked, frustrated and hopeless. And it is really hard to care about someone who acts like that, even if I give him the benefit of the doubt that he has the best of intentions and doesn't realize how bad what he's doing is. But there isn't a day that goes by I don't storm up the stairs swearing he's got to be doing this on purpose.

So, why do I care about this guy? Force of habit I suppose. Or perhaps a sense of responsibility. The situation with him is not much different from my brother who elected to smoke himself to death. I have no right to tell people not to do things that are harmful to themselves, and if they kill themselves with their bad habits, my life gets just a wee bit lonelier, but I don't have any guilt to beat myself up with.

I didn't teach my brother or my cousin to smoke. Their respective fathers did that. If there's any weight of guilt the fathers should bear it. The fact that I don't smoke or drink puts me in defiance of my father's example. Further, I don't do sports, I'm not into cars, or war. As far as this family is concerned I'm a born rebel.

The only thing I've got going for me as far as the father goes is I'm into Hi-Fi. That can be considered a manly interest. And on rare occasions I will go find some tools and build some shelves for my ungodly huge record collection. And collectibles can be something of a manly interest, as can my historical interests – my fascination with all things old. But otherwise the bulk of my life is lived out of sight of the parents, because they wouldn't appreciate what I'm into, and I wouldn't want them jumping to conclusions as to what my interests say about me.

Anyway, I guess when it comes right down to it, I most often end up storming away from the old man, swearing to myself that I do not give a crap. If I did, he'd find ways of making me regret it. So if he wants to kill himself by ignoring doctors orders or putting me down when I tell him something he's doing is dangerous, whatever happens to him as a result is natural justice. So there's no point in beating myself up trying to care. If he doesn't care, why should I?

What it really boils down to is I care about the mom, and the father is somewhat necessary to the mom, even though he's managed to squander all the things she should be enjoying now and has left her in a situation that most would find unlivable. Unfortunately they come as a package deal. So there's no taking care of one without taking care of the other. Therefore my dad should thank his lucky stars for my mom.

Whenever possible, I suppress my resentment for a lifetime of bad memories and extend to the old man all the kindness and consideration I would any stranger I found myself living with and responsible for. I'm pleasant, considerate, helpful and friendly, because it makes me feel good to be that way. I feel terrible when the pressure gets to me and I have a breakdown in front of them.

I don't like to start screaming at the folks that I'm going to die if they don't stop constantly crashing my diet. Most of the time I keep that pain bottled up inside. But every once in a while the hopelessness of my survival becomes so overwhelming that I can't hide it anymore.

I'm going to die at this rate. No doubt about it. But to the folks this is not a matter of such consequence that they should deny themselves their cheap after Halloween candy. Anything they want is worth more than my life. That's just how it is. No point talking about it and making them feel bad about it. It never changes anything. Besides, making them feel bad just makes me feel worse and increases my binging.

But, in spite of all this, I very often do walk in the old man's door with an attitude of caring, which abruptly fades after his first salvo of ingratitude, and then I just walk out saying “Do what you want.” “Go on, take three days tearing this room apart trying to balance a check book I could fix in under 10 minutes. If that's what makes you happy I don't give a flip how you waste the last years of your life.” And you know what he'll say? He'll say “That is exactly what makes me happy.”

So, why do I give a crap? I don't. As long as his BS is not hurting the mom, I leave him to get on with it. Things he can use to make things worse on the mom I confiscate and take charge of whenever possible.

Who I give a crap about is the mom, the dog, the 5 real world friends that have stuck with me through the years, the niece, the sister-in-law and the internet folks who know more about me than anyone in the real world and still judge me worth having for a friend. Why do I give a crap about all of these? Because I love them.

Probably, even after all he's done to make me resent him, I would still love the father, if he'd catch a clue and allow it to be possible. I had every reason in the world to resent my brothers too.

Brother Terry was a gun nut, military type and avid hunter who wanted nothing to do with his animal loving little brother. Brother Steve was a wife beater who deliberately drove his second wife into a miscarriage. Both brothers and the father filled the house with cigarette smoke in spite of the fact that there was an asthmatic young idealist in the house struggling for breath, and not a thought did they have for the mom either, who never smoked but has to suffer her final years with COPD from the second hand smoke.

But for some inexplicable reason I still hold affection for the 2 lost brothers and find it unbearable that I have to get used to a world without them in it. I guess that's because they had the good sense to give me space. They didn't make it a point to make me suffer at least once a day. That made it easy to build illusions of my own around them. And it's those illusions I still love.

I don't need illusions to love the mom. She is what she is – a nice old lady with the best of intentions. What I need to love the old man is denial - tons and tons of denial. Fortunately I'm really good at that most of the time. A lifetime of hearing him yell at me, failing to give me the things I needed to live on my own, and how much he has to do with the erosion of my mental health over the years is not in my mind when I walk in the door. It's surprisingly easy to forget when living in the moment. But it only takes one little thing to bring it all flooding back – one demonstration of how something I wasted a lot of time and money on to help him was rendered worthless, one put down of how I'm so bad at keeping files, one lecture on why he's voting against equal rights, one statement to the effect that he's totally ok with taking all of my income for the rest of his life to pay for his folly, and I'm sent heading for the cookie bin to speed an end to a reality that leaves no room for joy in living.
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Daily Journal For Thursday November 5, 2015 [Nov. 6th, 2015|12:35 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]

Up 11AM. Not feeling great, but not totally without enthusiasm for the day.

Things to do today: Get bath, go to doctor, do fire show at Happy Vixen, do recycling, try again to get diet on track for what, the 4th time this week? Put up Ask A Bunny question #2. (That one did not get done.)

Thinking about Melina Swiftwind's journal I got an idea for a scene where Kacey and Melina draw Christine into an argument about the existence of a country called Palesteena. Need to do some research on that one, but it might be a way of giving Melina more of a role in the story.

Let's see. My glasses fell down and came apart, had a heck of a time finding tools to fix them with, the zipper on my favorite pants broke, leaving me in need of clothes shopping, stuff fell out of the fridge at me twice while I was trying to take my morning meds, and the batteries in my local transmitter died, leaving me stuck listening to NPR war news for the second half of my bath. This day is shaping up to be another winner.

Weight 234.4. Up 14 pounds from my current healthy weight. The doctor wasn't happy about that. He wrote down “Binge Eating Disorder” as an official diagnosis in my file. He couldn't do that last time because I was dieting too successfully. But I think he sees now I'm a textbook example of the new disorder on the block.

Doc gave me a flue shot, told me to get my eyes checked, get blood work done at Quest Diagnostics, make an updated list of the meds I'm on and call him Thursday.

Dinner: 1 piece turkey ham (90 calories) 1 bagel (230) 2 raisin cookies (180) 1 rice cake (50) 1 jello (5) 2 TV dinners (460) Total 1015. But the dog got 5 bites, which probably took out the extra 15.

Listened to a couple of LP's while setting up for my show at The Happy Vixen. Got the bunny all dressed up in her hottest outfit, literally. ^_^ But then while I was waiting for time to start the show I started to get depressive thoughts.

Normally I'm listening to the music stream 2 hours early and making up special programs for the early arrivals. But lately even the staff of the club has been showing up late, and maybe only one or two regular customers come to the actual event. I get really tired of doing all this stuff when I'm the only one that will hear it.

So, I not only contemplated not bothering to program an early show, but I contemplated not listening to the show itself. It's not like it won't play by itself whether I'm listening or not. And the majority of the people dancing in the club don't tune into the stream either. Theoretically they're playing their own music because they don't like mine. And dang if that doesn't hurt after I put so much work into the program.

But I certainly don't need to monitor the stream for my own benefit. I've heard all these tracks hundreds, possibly thousands of times. Why not just leave the turntable on and enjoy something I've never heard before?

Well, wouldn't you know it? Just as I'm making up my mind to not put so much effort into it, I not only get a full house, but everyone shows up early for a change. So I had to hurry up and snatch a few of the fire tracks that didn't make my final 2 hour mix for an impromptu early show. And this seemed to be going over really well.

I also found out that it's pointless trying to listen to new music while trying to follow the chat. If I'm reading I'm not listening. So if I gotta read, overly familiar music I can ignore is best. But, as usual, my objective is to get people to listen. Pretty pointless if they're all reading. I gotta get out of this mindset that music is something people listen to.

So I tuned in the stream as soon as the LP side that was playing ended, and I put my bunny out on the dance floor where she could shine for the other furs. I was surprised she didn't win the contest or get any compliments on her outfit. But she got more tips than her last two shows combined. So neither of us was complaining.

Unfortunately, as DJ Psycho Kitty was taking over for the Guy Fawkes event, an anthro-vulpix on one of the dance poles started crying the blues that no one loved her because she didn't get a lot of tips. This went over like a led balloon as folks in Second Life do not appreciate drama.

So I was like, “Ok, you've got the message across. Stop crying, get back on your pole and somebody will send you some love.” But she just kept crying the blues, and folks kept getting more pissed at her until she got bounced. This cleared the club a bit. So Psycho Kitty didn't have a full house to play for as she normally does. And those who remained did little but complain about the bounced vulpix. The mood was totally trashed.

Hint to SL people: The no drama sign includes drama made about the one who started the drama after the fact. Once they get bounced just let it go. It was all so unnecessary. I mean, jeez, who doesn't love a pretty vulpix? I personally wouldn't be caught dead crying for that kind of sympathy in public, but if someone's that desperate to be loved, I'd like to see them get some love until they feel better, rather than seeing them booted and having them go on feeling bad, possibly forever.

Anyway, since my bunny now had nothing to do but look sexy, I put her on a pole to enhance the effect and just kicked back for the rest of the event.

Eventually, since I was now just watching, I started feeling that urge to go get some snacks. But I couldn't justify it logically and was able to abstain. Apparently it makes a big difference when something positive and encouraging happens. Too bad those good times are the exception in my life, rather than the norm.

To bed at 2:30 AM. Stress level for the day: 3.
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Daily Journal For Wednesday November 4, 2015 [Nov. 5th, 2015|12:32 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]

Up 10AM. No recovery from previous night. Still feeling anxious and depressed. This is a bad sign. It means I'm not sleeping well, probably because of breathing issues. Not unexpected with the rapid weight I've been putting on.

The folks started in on me first thing, prodding me into a breakdown by continuing to waste my time for no good reason – just deliberately preventing me from getting upstairs and out of the stress zone before I cracked under the pressure.

But of course they wouldn't take a hint, and they just kept pressing until I broke down in front of them. And then they were like “What the heck is this all about? Why are you in such bad shape?” And they just kept after me to explain, which of course means I've got to try to make them hear that they're doing something wrong. And that never goes over well. So I'm trying to put things delicately in the midst of an emotional breakdown, and that just makes my state twice as bad. Until I just want to scream, “All you gotta do is stop hanging me up and let me get on with what I gotta do!”

End result, I left them all worried, and that just makes me feel worse. So by the time I got back upstairs I was thinking I'd be lucky to survive the day. But I was still having so many sleep apnea pains that I wasn't jumping for the kitchen. Instead I determined to keep myself too busy to do that.

Money was in the bank. So I paid the credit card bills, which was more difficult than usual with the apnea headaches and decreased sharpness. Some I had to hang up and start over several times because I couldn't key in the account numbers fast enough. But I got it done.

Since Dad had some money left in his account I decided I wouldn't pay the Gas & Electric bill from my account. I PayPalled the $265 he was short into the old man's account so I could pay the bill online without having to write a check and walk it to the mailbox. But I have to wait for the money to clear before I can pay the bill. That will leave an extra $135 in my account to buy drugs with if I need to. Though, with both the folks in the doughnut hole, one drug could wipe that out.

I had wanted to start on my next episode today, but instead I looked up the Word file for the full version of the Spectral Shadows music program. It looked like I could make it usable without an ungodly amount of effort, but it would still be another big project on the burner.

The Bis record I had ordered arrived. Dad wanted to know what was in the big flat box. I told him it was a record. Nothing more. That record is not for sharing with anyone I know, except maybe Rusty.

It's a pretty good record, but one has to be into Powerpuff Girls to give Bis a serious listen. While many won't give them a serious listen for the same association. The biggest problem with this record is that there's like an hour of music on it. So you have to jack up the volume and base. But I'm used to doing that with long records.

Mom went off to the doctor with Jeff, leaving Dad sitting in the living room where I'm somewhat obligated to see he gets something entertaining on the TV. So I put on a long tape of old World War 2 movies. But I hate war movies, and thinking I was going to be stuck there for who knows how long, I started setting up another binge. But in the end I couldn't take the war movies even with a binge. So I took it upstairs to binge with ponies.

This is actually a practice that dates back to the early 70's when I would come home from stressful days at school to binge with Kimba. So over the years it became ingrained in my mind that binging and cartoons go together. Thus, when I'm successfully dieting, you won't see me watching a lot of cartoons.

Things only got worse when the mom came home from the drug store with 4 bags of cookies and post-Halloween candy, which I had been planning not to bring into the house this year. I just looked at it and thought, “I'm doomed.”

Then they started talking about my next trip to the store, and I started to tell them about all the things I wasn't going to be getting this time because I needed to not have anything I could use for binge food in the house, breaking off in mid sentence, looking around at the candy that surrounded me, and crying, “What's the use?”

They ignored this, and my dad started going on about how there was not enough cereal and snacks in the house, and I just said “Tough noogies. You're not getting anymore of that.” And he was like “Why? What's it going to do to you?” And I screamed “It's going to kill me, God dammit!”

Their reaction, as usual, was total obliviousness. Like this was the first they'd heard of my illnesses or the precariousness of my situation. And I could see continuing this meltdown in front of them wasn't going to accomplish anything. So I just quietly slipped away to continue my binging out of their sight.

But the binging did nothing to relieve my state of total despair. I don't know what I can do at this point. I don't really want to die, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to beat this. No one will help. I'm on my own. But I'm not enough.

Reworked the first episode in the Spectral Shadows music program. The idea seems to work well, but it took hours to do that first hour of music. But I like this way of sharing the music on the net in a way that search engines won't pick it up directly. I can just put the file in my Dropbox and have total control over who can see it. And with the YouTube links I'm putting in it folks won't need me to provide the music for them. So I shouldn't have as many legal worries with it.

To bed at 12 Midnight. Stress peak for the day: 7

Awake for 2 hours in bed watching Furry art flash on the TV screen with soft music in the background. Usually this puts me right off to sleep, but it apparently doesn't work so good with the apnea kicking in.
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Daily Journal For Tuesday November 3, 2015 [Nov. 4th, 2015|12:29 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]

Up 8:30 AM. Feeling a little better. It sometimes happens that good days follow extremely bad ones.

Things to do today: Trash day, check banks (money was not in yet,) do more laundry. Post Ask A Bunny question #1.

I also want to work on my MP3 collection today, because it bugs me that there is so much I want to do with it, and I never seem to make any progress. Good sense dictates I should just give up on it, but what's good sense ever had to do with my life?

I should be working on my next episode, but I have art to post if I don't get the episode done in time. That will hopefully take some of the pressure off of me. I really hate pushing deadlines, and it's not like I could get fired if I turn an episode in late. But the other side of that blade is I get depressed if episodes are not rolling out regularly.

Perhaps I should try alternating days between writing episodes and organizing MP3's. But then, I can't do either of those things while on Second Life. And I need to find time to play records. Any way I try to organize it, I end up trying to force myself to do something I'm not in shape for on that day.

Will try to stay busy today and not leave myself time to think about eating. Must remember that I eat with the thought that it will be pleasurable and relaxing. It is neither. I know eating will make me feel bad, both physically and emotionally. But I can never force myself to care about that when the compulsion comes over me.

I must remember my resolve to not be done in by my compulsions like my brother was. I must remember that I'm fighting for my life, and nobody but me realizes how serious the situation is. So no one will help me. I must do this by myself, for myself. I must convince myself that I want to live. Though for the life of me I can't imagine why.

I try to imagine good things to come in the future. But my father always finds ways of shooting those down. Time I'm discharged from my responsibilities here I'll be old enough to check into a retirement home. Not that I want anyone to hurry up and die. Somebody has to do what I do. Better me than somebody who actually had a life to give up. And it's not like, if I had freedom, I'd know what to do with the last 10 good years of my life. Nah, the future is not a good thing to be thinking about.

Gave the dog her morning pill so mom wouldn't have to get up. On impulse I let the dog find her ball, which may not have been a good idea, as her mouth might still be healing from surgery. But I become childish around the dog. I love seeing her happy, and nothing seems to make her happier than her ball. She gets downright depressed when she can't find it. Like she's not a complete dog without it. Must be a dog thing.

I just wish I didn't have to worry about every little thing I do to make someone happy coming back to bite me. It happens so often that I think I'm doing good. I think I'm doing a good DJ show because everyone's happy and dancing, and at closing I catch flack from everyone about making the black people feel welcome. I work my tail off trying to help the local clubs promote each other, and I get told my signs are not welcome and clubs promoting other clubs is dumb. I try to make people feel good about Furry Fandom and they're like “Where do you get off raining on our pity party?” Child me should have figured out a long time ago that any happiness I enjoy will lead to lifetime regrets.

The dog seems happy with her ball, but she's not the big bundle of energy she was just a month or so ago. She tires quite easily.

Watching this I reminded myself that I don't deserve to have a dog. I was an over enthusiastic child who was not easy on pets. Pets are kind of like my good deeds. Traditionally they end badly. My last dog got run over because my sister-in-law wouldn't let it in the house around the baby. That was the early 80's. I've not had a pet since. But I'm doing the best I can with my new little friend. Still she would have to get sick right away, wouldn't she?

Looks like no diet again today. Mom asked for cereal and forgot to tell me she had Meals On Wheels milk. So I went ahead and mixed some. Now what am I going to do with this? Grab myself some cereal, of course. And cereal is such a calorie bomb that there's no point trying to diet on top of it. So I munched up a storm while waiting for the 3 o'clock conference call with Freedom Debt Relief.

When I posted my answer to Melina Swiftwind's Ask A Bunny question, I stopped by her journal and left a few responses to her latest entries. I'm surprised to find that Melina is so political. I'll probably end up working that into her Spectral Shadows character.

Freedom Debt Relief made a good offer that sounded like it would fix everything, but the old man wants to look into other options before pursuing this one. And at the speed he crawls at it's not likely he'll ever get done trying to sort out all the offers.

Had to refill the paper in the old man's printer, and of course he couldn't have the paper in a place that was easily accessible. I had to move several boxes to get to it. Then the paper wouldn't come out of the ream until I had a fit and ripped the hell out of it.

On top of that I'm pissed because it's 5 o'clock. Most of the day is gone, and I've not gotten much that I want to do today accomplished because the folks just keep finding one thing after another to keep me downstairs, where the food is that I just keep munching constantly.

Was having chest pains and shortness of breath by the time I finally got back upstairs and started drafting an answer to Niko Linni's Ask A Bunny question about “Dummied Out Characters.” That took me up to dinner time where the binge continued . . . with ponies.

Watched Flutterbat and Rarity Takes Manehattan. I do not recall seeing these before. It seems I must have missed a big chunk of season 4. And these were really good episodes.

Over the course of my day long binge I consumed 1 TV dinner, 1 peanut butter sandwich, 2 bowls of cereal, 2 chocolate peanut butter wafer cookies, an entire bag of graham crackers, 1 serving of popcorn chicken, 2 glazed donuts, 1 slice of turkey ham and a bagel. Not even going to bother trying to tally the calories. Too many is just too many.

Finally, at later evening, I finally got around to working with MP3's, which was what I wanted to spend the day making some progress on. In around 3 hours I downloaded 262 78's from MusicProf78 on YouTube. This is to save me the time of ripping my own 78's, which is impossibly time consuming. Though, downloading from a guy who's put up over 6000 78's isn't done quickly. I've been working on it for like two months and I've still got 200 to go. But once I get done that I should work on straightening out the LP rips a while before tackling another YouTuber for the rest of the 78's and 45's I'm too lazy to rip.

At midnight I had to go back down to give the dog more meds and get the trash ready to go out. While doing the trash the father waylaid me and got me into more stuff about WinAmp and the Spectral Shadows music, which again he was playing and not listening to, which filled me with a sense of futility.

Doing the trash is usually a quick and easy job, but between the two parents constantly pulling me away from it to do this and that for them, it was 3 o'clock in the morning before I finally got done, and so many things happened to make the job harder than usual that by the time it was done my anxiety meter was up to 10. The folks are simply oblivious to how fast they're burning me out by making every simple little task I have to do take so ridiculously long.

Drafted an answer to another Ask A Bunny question from Niko on story section labeling, then looked at more pony videos. Nothing else on YouTube seems to interest me these days.

To bed at 4:30 AM. Stress peak for the day: 9
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Ask A Bunny Question #1 [Nov. 3rd, 2015|05:01 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , ]
[Mood |pleasant]
[Music |Gino Vannelli - Living Inside Myself]

melinaswiftwind asks, “Who is your favorite character to write in Spectral Shadows?”

I'd have to say Kacey is my favorite to write for, because writing for Kacey is kind of like writing for Fluttershy. And I relate to Fluttershy because . . . well . . . we have a lot in common, at least as far as social handicaps go. So Fluttershy is my hero, and Kacey is my opportunity to create a character that will hopefully also be a hero to people with those problems.

Kacey is made from that part of myself that deals with shyness issues. Consequently, she gives me a chance to explain some things other people may know about me, but are at a loss to understand. When you read a Kacey episode, it's never a case of I'm writing from formula stereotypes. It's always stuff that's coming from within me – things that I've suffered and anguished over. And it feels really good to get that out in the open through a character, rather than trying to get others to understand why I'm like that.

It's an odd situation with these particular shyness issues when I want to get something out. I want my friends to understand and hopefully sympathize. But a major inhibition that comes with these issues is not being able to openly entreat sympathy for myself. But if people sympathize with the character, I get some vicarious comfort out of that. And whenever Kacey makes some progress in overcoming her problems, that's inspirational for me, as it reflects the progress I hope to make for myself someday.

Thus I get the most personal benefit out of Kacey. So I look forward to writing for her more than any other character. (The fact that she's a really cute and loveable character could have something to do with it too, I suppose.)
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Daily Journal For Monday November 2, 2015 [Nov. 3rd, 2015|12:27 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]

Up at 10AM to watch for Meals On Wheels delivery, in case the mom is too sick to get up, as she usually does. But she got up anyway, meaning I could have slept a bit longer, as I probably should have, as I wasn't feeling to good myself.

Mom was too sick to brush her own hair. I took care of it. I find that an anxious job, but not one I really mind. She's still sick with bronchitis.

Dad announced that he was going to call in the Medstar payment rather than writing a check. He's half deaf and it's anxiety producing watching him trying to deal with the phone, but I know by now there's no sense arguing that writing the check would be easier. Dad believes in doing everything the absolute hardest way possible.

Did more laundry. Checked bank to see if Dad's money was in. Not yet. So can't make the credit card payments yet.

Made the Fire playlist for Thursday's show at The Happy Vixen.

Changed Dad's external hard drive. Had to redo all his playlists. Suffered dismay that this other drive includes hundreds of tracks I haven't had time to tag yet. So it will be harder for him to use. Not that he made very good use of the old one. He still hasn't figured out that WinAmp has a search box that allows him to easily find specific things, no matter how many times I show it to him.

Hours later, I had WinAmp configured so he should find it reasonably useful. And I go out in the living room to find that the mom has made a dodger out of a broken pie crust. She offers me a piece. I ask how many calories will that be. 350 estimated for the littlest bite of it. And the fact that I'm asking about the calories doesn't remind her that I told her I was restarting my diet this week, and that the situation was desperate. But there's no saying no to this. So much for dieting today. The binge is on.

Dad needed help filling out the online form for Freedom Debt Relief in one room, at the same time mom decided she needed me to call the doctor to order medicine, with only 15 minutes until the office closed. And of course the line was busy. Trying to do these 2 different things in 2 different rooms at the same time was impossibly stressful. Near breakdown level stress.

Doctor did not send medicine. Instead made appointment for the mom on the 4th. Called Jeff to arrange for transportation.

Tried to show dad a few things he can do with WinAmp. Set it to play 30 second tracks to give him an idea of the variety of stuff that was on the hard drive. This was not productive, but it was addictive, impossible to turn off. And it ran for hours.

Then I made the mistake of putting on the Spectral Shadows playlist for him. And I showed him how to stretch the playlist to the width of the screen so he could read the story captions I have in with the song titles. He claimed to find this interesting and something he wanted to get into. But he never stopped talking the whole time it was playing. So I knew he wasn't hearing anything meaningful in the music.

Eventually he got into how he wanted more story info with the tracks, which got me thinking about redoing the full length Word file, which would be an ungodly waste of time to do just for him. But I had a thought that, since it's now possible to upload Word files to my internet sites, I might finally have figured out away to publish the music program.

He kept listening into dinner time. And I tried eating dinner in his room so I wouldn't have to stop the proceedings. But his room is not set up for that, and every time I got settled with my tray he made me have to get up for something. Halfway through dinner he went to the bathroom. While he was gone I shut off WinAmp and ran away to start binging in earnest.

Over the day I scarfed a bunch of dodger bits, 2 TV dinners, 1 ice pop, 1 pretzel, 1 jello, 2 peanut butter sandwiches, 2 chocolate peanut butter wafer cookies, a donut stick, 2 slices of turkey ham, 1 bowl of chocolate cereal, and 1 bowl of Chex Mix.

Suicide eating, with ponies on YouTube. But for some reason my laptop is lagging terribly on the pony videos, forcing multiple page reloads. So I'm not even allowed peace to get the full comfort out of my suicide eating. This left me extremely depressed, feeling like I'm going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it. There's not even such a thing as relaxing and enjoying it.

Honestly, I get no enjoyment at all out of this binging. It's pure emotional torture – something I don't want to do, and I know I don't want to do it, but I just can't make myself stop, even when I feel like I'm eating myself sick.

If there was just one person watching out for me I might have a prayer of beating this. But I'm the one who looks after everyone else. I don't get looking after. Maybe if I beat myself up with recriminations in the journal I'll be able to get through to myself because I'll know the world is watching and I'm not really getting away with this slow motion suicide.

Spent hours sitting in front of the computer fighting with myself about going down to the basement and getting more snacks. Can't think of one good reason to do it. But I can't stop contemplating it.

Eventually good sense won out and I didn't go down to get more snacks, but I felt mentally precarious, almost like experiencing some kind of withdrawal or anxiety attack. But by then I was too depressed to care, realizing that I'm so sick with this eating disorder I literally can't stop to save my own life.

Thinking about the dissatisfying experience earlier I chided myself for sharing my work with the father and swore to myself I would never do that again. It just makes me feel like nothing I create is capable of reaching anyone, and that I have wasted my entire life on creative efforts that are doomed to come to naught.

I want to quit everything I'm doing because I feel it's all as worthless as I am, but I know I won't, because I've nothing else to do. Perhaps this is why I'm being driven subconsciously to kill myself. Everything just seems so pointless, or worse, stupid. How could anything of value come out of this mess?

To bed at 2AM. Stress peak for the day: 10+ Depression: Off the scale.
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Daily Journal For Sunday November 1, 2015 [Nov. 2nd, 2015|12:23 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]

Up 12PM. Feeling reasonably good after yesterday's binge at Jeff's bi-monthly get together where I show music videos and scarf whatever goodies he has set out. “Eat it all,” says Jeff. “I hate waste.” Always makes for a grand finale when I'm planning a binge cut off date to get serious about dieting, which I want to start today, because my weight yesterday was close to 235, which is up 15 pounds from my normal weight these days, and puts me in danger of sleep apnea episodes and all manner of other unpleasant troubles.

It was Halloween yesterday, which doubles as Jeff's birthday. I showed Alice Cooper and Meat Loaf videos for the occasion. They were mostly talked through and wasted, which never leaves me feeling good. But it makes Jeff happy, and that's all that's supposed to count.

If it was a gathering I was putting on I'd be swearing a blue streak that my presentation was being ignored. And I hate swearing a blue streak. Therefore I don't put on gatherings anymore. I don't bring any music to play in somebody's car that I care if they listen to or not. And I never, ever, make any kind of effort to share Spectral Shadows with friends or family, unless they specifically request it. I just go along with what other people are doing as if I had nothing of my own to offer.

Things to do today: Post episode 177a, which is all formatted and ready to go. See what bills need to be paid and if the money is in the bank. Do some laundry.

Mom is sick with bronchitis. She's been watching the Dark Shadows marathon on the Decades channel all weekend. While I've been somewhat avoiding it because I have the whole series on DVD, and the episodes they're showing are the ones that are most over played.

The microwave blew out last night after I got home from Jeff's. I'm not planning to push to get it fixed, as I'm thinking no microwave may help cut down on binge temptations.

Lady, our little RCA dog, is on anti-biotics and pain pills after having three infected teeth pulled, all in different places. So I have to put the pills in a treat or a piece of meat to get them into her. No biggie. She's a good little dog.

Paid Tigers-Kitten $255 for art delivered yesterday. I know money is tight these days, but this is one of the few things I insist on keeping enough of my money to pay for. And RECoyote has been helping out. So I can just about afford it, as long as nothing terribly unexpected comes up. (Files received from TK this month are titled “Fangirl,” “Mapstudy,” “Stormingoff” and “Turnabout.”)

Complimented TK on the art. She just keeps getting better and better. I may post one of them next Sunday if I don't get the next episode done in time.

Medstar $50 installment payment must be mailed today. Rotten timing on this bill. It always has to be paid as soon as the money gets in.

Calculated which accounts to pay what bills from. Earmarked $520 from my own account to loan the folks for their Gas & Electric and Comcast bills.

Noted that 3 LP pre-orders are coming due from Amazon. (Biz – New Transistor Heroes, Rush – Counterparts, and ELO – Alone In The Universe.)

Money left in my account to get through the month with, about $71. Dad will have $135 after paying credit cards. Mom's food budget card has only $290 this month, which normally would be bad, but after seeing how out of control I've been recently I am just not going to buy a lot of food this month.

The folks have Meals On Wheels now, and I don't care how much they complain, anything I'm tempted to binge on is just not going to be bought. This includes cereal, milk, cookies, dessert snacks, ice cream, graham crackers, pretzels, Chex Mix and various sundry candies.

Went on Second Life to sit with RECoyote while playing some 45's from my T section.

Was no sooner logged in than JM Foxfire was hitting me up for 800 L so he could get a Sailor Venus avatar. JM is one of my Second Life kids, but I kind of dread hearing from him, as he only calls when he wants money, and I hate saying no to him because he's so cute, and I'd hate to lose touch with another one of my kids. And it's not like 800 L was more than a couple of bucks real life money.

Dad called me downstairs to inform me that I had been using checks out of the wrong book and thus getting the numbers out of order. Though I was using the book that was already opened. So I'm pretty sure he started that. Not that I had anyway of knowing. His check book didn't have a register in it when I received it. Still doesn't. Anyway, he just had to call me downstairs to give me something to feel bad about.

On top of that he's delaying the Medstar payment, rather than writing out the check as I asked him to. If he screws up and it's late I'll probably get yelled at and called incompetent for it. The day is starting to go downhill for me, enthusiasm wise.

Back to SL and playing my 45's, and Marty calls to get me to go on NBA.com to buy tickets for him. But I was sitting on the couch in front of the record player, rather than in front of the computer screen, which put me at an angle that was stressful on my neck, and the NBA site was incomprehensible. Had a hell of a time finding his game, and then the tickets were going to be $80. While Marty is already into me for over $300 and I know he can't afford $80 for basketball.

So I finally got off of that site and found some $65 tickets on Ticket Master. But the $65 seats were up high on the ends of the stadium, hardly making it worth going. So I convinced him he was better off buying a pizza and watching the game on TV. But by then I was seriously stressed out from fighting the internet in what to me is alien territory. I do not do sports.

So then he moved to music and wanted to see if the new Aviary CD was available. It is, but he's not ready to buy it yet. Aviary is at least a band I care about. So I didn't mind looking that up. I'd probably get the album myself if it was going to be available on vinyl, but I have no use for CD's anymore.

Was time for dinner by the time I got off the phone. Dinner was 2 Banquet TV dinners (230 calories each) 2 left over pancakes (Mom says allow 200 calories each) 1 rice cake (50) 1 stick pretzel (40) and 1 ice pop (25) Total 975, leaving room for the pancakes to go over a bit, as it's difficult to measure syrup and such.

This is a good dinner. If I consistently eat like this my health gets really good. Though I usually don't mess with calorie bombs like pancakes. But they needed used up.

Came back upstairs with my dinner tray and Bixyl was waiting on SL to sign me up for a Thursday night event at The Happy Vixen, which I was cool with, until he said the event was Guy Fawkes night. And I was like “What am I supposed to play for that?”

The only thing I personally relate Guy Fawkes to is YouTube trolls who hide behind the Guy Fawkes mask. And nothing gives me worse feelings than thinking about internet trolls. So Bix shifted the Guy Fawkes event to DJ Psycho Kitty's set, and I was given a fire themed event to do, which is easy to program music for.

I had just about gotten done with my dinner when I got another call from downstairs. Mom was too sick to make anything for the parents' dinner. So I ran down an made some ramen for the mom and a pizza for the dad.

Back upstairs to try resuming SL and 45's. Jamey, my baby bunny, and Niko Linni came on to hang out. But the intercom rang, and I was called away again, leaving my friends sitting with an empty avatar most of the night.

Dad then kept me downstairs for hours wanting to talk about a debt consolidation company he was thinking of trying. I looked on his computer to see if they looked legitimate. They do.

At first it seemed he meant to get me involved in explaining how WinAmp works for the 80 gabillianth time, but it soon became apparent that something was actually wrong with it. I made some tests and determined his external hard drive was dying. This will have to be replaced with one I got recently to back up my music files. I'll have to buy another one for that. Oh well. There goes another $50.

He then went into various other internet things that kept me downstairs so long everyone had logged off by the time I got back, and I never did get to finish my box of 45's. It seems one of the reasons I'm in such bad shape is because I have to fight so hard to relax, and I'll never understand how I got so in demand that I can't even play a box of records anymore.

On the way up I noted that the dog seemed happy, which she had not for a long time. I took that as a sign that she's recovering. Though she still acts like her mouth hurts on occasions. Pity a dog can't tell you what she's feeling in more detail. I'm still at a loss to know what to do for her.

To bed at 4 AM. Stress peak for the day: 8
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Ask A Bunny Idea [Oct. 31st, 2015|01:48 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, ]
[Mood |playful]
[Music |Simon & Garfunkel - Song For The Asking]

I had an idea for revitalizing this journal, and also encouraging more communication with watchers and fans. If there's something you want me to talk about, you can send an Ask A Bunny question to my E-mail and I'll create a journal entry to answer it that everyone can enjoy and comment on if they wish.

These can be personal questions, or questions about writing, anything you might want to know about Spectral Shadows, questions about music, Furry stuff, Second Life, philosophy, spirituality . . . anything you've ever seen me show an interest in.

But then I thought, to make it more fun, why not invite Ask A Character questions too? So, if there's ever been a question you wanted to ask one of my characters, you can E-mail your question directed at that character, and that character will answer you in the journal.

Of course, to play this game you have to first know who my characters are. And you can't know my characters unless you're reading my story. So there's an extra incentive for folks to read if they haven't been.

Please address all questions to perri_rhoades@yahoo.com or you can put them in a reply below.
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Are You Writing Heroically? [Oct. 30th, 2015|06:11 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , , ]
[Mood |inspired]
[Music |Dennis DeYoung - Don't Wait For Heroes]

My initial reason for getting into blogging was mainly to share my experiences as a writer with younger people who might take some inspiration from what I’ve been able to achieve, starting out with hardly anything more going for me than a lot of hutzpah. But I’ve not had a lot of people watch me for that reason, probably because most young upstart would-be writers wouldn’t want to write like I do, even if I could teach them how.

But there is this one fellow who has kind of adopted me as a mentor, and whenever I try to teach him something about writing I feel like, “Alright. That’s what I’m here for. That’s something all new would-be writers need to hear. But, of course, these moments never happen in the blog. It’s always on Facebook, Messenger or Second Life where only one person will ever see it.

Below I’m posting the transcript of a conversation I had on Second Life that is a good example of this. It’s just too important an idea to leave languishing in some forgotten file log on my computer.

It starts out with Niko droning on about his latest video game obsession, as he his prone to do, me being very board with disinterest, and then looking up in surprise to see that he’d snuck in a valid question that I wanted to give my full attention to.

Niko Linni: It's good that there exist some video games that you can win at without being violent. That's what I like about Undertale so much. You can go through the game without killing any monsters, and unlike most games, even those "Oh you can do what you want!" open world games it doesn't really affect the game world, y'know? It just affects your morality - but hey, a few good deeds and you're back to the good side!

In Undertale it actually affects the game's story. Spare monsters and you're seen as a hero and strong and determined, and you change monsters' minds about humans. Decide to kill every monster you meet...and you're seen as a cruel, evil person. It's like almost being the monster in a horror story. Even sparing some but killing others has effects on the story. In other words, it's a game with consequences. You don't see that implemented to that level too often.

Also the game DOES NOT hesitate to make you look like a complete monster if you decide to go on a Genocide Run. Lots of fans have mentioned that they've been heartbroken from doing their own run, or that they watched videos and after seeing what happens, they couldn't bring themselves to do it.

Now why am I saying this? I dunno. I guess it's just to say "look we've got all this horrible violent entertainment...but there still does exist some entertainment with some good messages in it."

I wonder if I could ever write something with a good message in it. I want to leave behind something positive, something hopeful for people to read.

I don't care if "Real Life" doesn't live up to fantasy ideas or heroes or any of that. Why write something that's just as dreary as reality, right?

I guess the ultimate question is...is there a way to live those ideas in real life? Are there such things as heroes, as those who live as children, those who...can keep a certain tenderness in their heart? Or am I just talking crazy again?

In life we're surrounded by all these negative messages and evil people and events that make us believe that heroes and justice and magic and love and hope are not real and can never be achieved. Is that true? Well I don't care. Because I'm going to find some way to SAVE that light that I kinda sorta...okay I really did...let burn out. It's a blinding job, but someone's gotta do it, amirite?

Perri Prinz: If you want to be a hero, just do it. Live by your hero’s code. Anyone can do it. If they don't it's not the world's fault. It's their own fault for not really believing the crap they spew.

Niko Linni: Do you believe the positive messages of your serial that you write? The stuff about friendship and love and such.

Perri Prinz: What I write in the series is always an expression of what I believe. Unfortunately, what I write is also pretty bleak.

Niko Linni: 'Cause when I first met you, I kinda really felt a sense of magic, a sense of...expansion. You opened my mind in so many different ways...first by showing me different viewpoints on God (I still remember when you told me about Yaweh), and then with your story, and then with other things....

And this attitude seemed to continue, as much of a block head as I was and still am along the way...especially when it came to me seeing spirits and calling to them. You were one of my greatest sources of inspiration.

But recently I've just...well you've said it yourself before. You seem like a cynical old bunny when it comes to certain things now. You even told me that the gods are bent on trying to kill us...when just 5 years ago you were telling me that God was there to guide and help those who would listen reach a higher level.

Maybe you weren't always the way I perceived you at first. Maybe you always were a cynical bunny that forgot how to dream, even when I started interacting with you more 5 or so years ago.

Perri Prinz: I said Nature is always trying to kill us. Nature and The Gods are 2 different concepts.

Niko Linni: I still refuse to believe that things like your childhood spirit and innocence are lost. That's crazy talk. It's just lost within yourself. You're like Arsriel. You just need someone to SAVE those parts of you.

Okay, you got me there. I guess you can strike that out.

Perri Prinz: You can't selectively erase your memory, unfortunately. And the old adage "You are what you eat" holds true for the mind. Once you've become cynical, no one can take out of you the things that have made you that way.

It's like X used to say, "You said you forgave me for that. Why haven't you forgotten it?" And I'd be like, "What are you, nuts? Things don't really get forgotten just because somebody writes them off. Whatever you do to somebody, be it nice or treacherous, the memory is permanent."

Niko Linni: Well, I guess that's kinda like what you learn in Undertale. Consequences for your actions are permanent (in this game's case, even across timelines)

Perri Prinz: On the other hand, if you never become cynical, then you can walk through the world like Jesus, believing your love makes a difference in the lives of the people you touch. And you can be a hero to anyone you find yourself in a position to help.

That's why you must see with the eyes of child to behold heaven.

But me, all I see is the would-be nice guys who could be heroes chewing on poison and totally ignoring me when I tell them why that's bad.

I'm no longer capable of believing I can prevent people from suffering the consequences of the poison they take into themselves. My love and childish example isn't that strong that it can compete with the poison, and you're my primary reminder of that.

Niko Linni: I take it you're talking about metal, violent games/movies, and so on?

Perri Prinz: Yep. People are like bugs. And every time you come to me talking about that stuff, it's like you're chewing on a roach tab. I shout at the top of my keyboard, "Get away from that, it's poison!" But you just keep on chewing.

Niko Linni: I find it hard to get rid of that kinda stuff.

I like playing my action and adventure games. And the shooting games and all that. I don't know if it's human nature, or if it's just...I dunno. Me being a boy and all.

I find it, inwardly, hard to just drop all of that kinda stuff. But it is possible?

Perri Prinz: Probably not. You've taken that poison into yourself and become addicted to it. The only way to get off it is to replace it, hopefully with something more wholesome. That's why I tried to point you at all that other stuff, hoping that you'd find expressions of fine ideals something better to be hooked on. But you're so poisoned you don't even recognize the fine ideals. All you're looking for is the action.

Niko Linni: Hmmm...

Perri Prinz: All the worthwhile ideas are in the past. You have to be into going back and searching for them, bringing them back to the future and making something new out of them that will help the generation that will follow you. That would be a heroic endeavor. I spent years striving to give you the tools to do it, and still you find video games more interesting. You have no true dedication to offer anything but video games.

And now you come to me asking if people can really be heroes. Yes, they can. I'm one. That's why I started Spectral Shadows, and that's why I continue it, even though I know it only has the potential to help one in a million.

You are one of those rare individuals. I look to you for validation of my heroic effort. But is it really making a difference? Is the message of how to be heroic really getting through to you? Will you pick up your pen and learn how to write in a heroic fashion that can help others? I'm not seeing it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SksPL4jODs

Niko Linni: How do you know if I'm writing in a heroic fashion?

Perri Prinz: Think, "Who am I writing this for?" "What am I trying to tell them?" "Why is it important that these ideas be available to them?" "How will their lives be better?" And, "How will their lives be worse if they don't have these ideas?" Think, "Am I just fooling around doing this because it's fun? Or am I doing this for more important reasons?" "Do I owe this to somebody - to the children of the future or even just to my characters who depend on me to bestow on them the gift of eternal life with which to carry these important messages into the future?" "Do I owe it to myself to be true to my own ideals by not wasting this gift that was given to me by sacrificing my time and other things I might prefer to be doing to fulfill the responsibility this gift carries with it?" If you answer these questions heroically and without copouts, you are writing heroically.

Niko Linni: A lot of these are...well, let me see.

Who? I don't know.

What am I trying to say? Well....again I don't know. Whatever mixed messages I have regarding things.

And by mixed I mean mixed bag of things like messages about hope, morals, boundaries, violence, etc.

Why is it important? Well as Presenter would say: "It might not change their lives, but it just might plant a seed."

That last one, how will they be worse, I'm not sure on.

Why am I doing this? I don't know. I feel like I have to. There has to be a reason why I keep getting ideas and characters.

Do I owe it to someone? I don't think I'm good enough to write for the children of the future. I can at least give my characters a home, though.

Do I owe it to myself? I would certainly think so.

Perri Prinz: "I don't think I'm good enough" is not a heroic thought. "I have to get good enough" is a heroic thought.

Niko Linni: Honestly

I never think I'm good enough.

It's one of my major flaws. My grandmother pointed it out to me once.

Perri Prinz: Of course you're not good enough. No one is ever good enough. Every prog musician can tell you, the trick to being progressive is to know you're never as good as you can be. You can always be better. Life and art are a constant quest for improvement that never ends, no matter how good you get.

Look at me, I was a functional illiterate when I started. I got as good as I am by knowing that I would improve if I tried, that if I would just do the work, the work itself would force me to improve. You're starting with a higher education than I ever got anywhere near. Don't stand there and tell Yoda you don't believe you can get that good. He'll wup your ass and tell you that's why you fail.

Niko Linni: It's like Undertale tells you...."Stay Determined"

Well...assuming you're going the good ending route. I don't know what it tells you when you decide to kill everyone.

I could never do that. These monsters are too nice.

Perri Prinz: First you’ve got to believe in something, then you’ve got to stand for it. That's what the song I linked above is about. And it came up while we were talking. So the cosmic forces meant it as a message for you. You want to be heroic, stop talking about writing and do it. Not just once in a while when you don't have some video game you want to play. Do it seriously, like you mean it, like it's your way of standing for something.

Niko Linni: I was thinking of something, speaking of video games.

Eh, nevermind, that can wait for later. You're right.

I need to find a way to get that magic...and make it last. Extend throughout my life. The same kind of magic that brought Asriel to me last night. I feel like it's the same kind of magic that's pushing me forward to complete Undertale (I'm actually on it right now. Several appropriate background songs have played during our conversation. So I do believe cosmic forces are at work).

Actually, one such moment and BGM spurred my earlier monologue about heroes.

One of the monsters judges you before you pass into Asgore, the Monster King's, throne room. He tells you that in this world, EXP is "Execution Points" and LV, which stands for LOVE, is actually Level of Violence. He said that I had zero of both of those (makes sense since I didn't kill anyone).

He goes on, saying that having 0 EXP and LV doesn't mean that I'm innocent or naive, it's just that there's a tenderness in my heart I held onto. <- that line was actually what ended up giving me all those ideas and words.

He says "You didn't gain LOVE, but you gained love". And, well, now look where we are.

Oh, and ironically, that part about Yoda beating dat ass for saying I'm not good enough? Yeah that happened right before I had to take on Flowey after he goes mad with power.

And then there's you with your words and songs...just...too many coincidences, amirite?

Perri Prinz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bA9A9a5A090

Niko Linni: And there you go again with your songs with meaning.

Perri Prinz: I'll leave you with that one. Night.

Niko Linni: Alrighty then. Night night.
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The Sociology Of Murder [Oct. 11th, 2015|10:26 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|]
[Mood |frazzled]
[Music |Funkadelic - If You Don't Like The Effect, Don't Produce The Cause]

Niko wrote,
In regards to guns, you already know my viewpoint. I feel there's something that we aren't looking at in regards to guns - but pheh, I haven't had time to dedicate much research to it - such as poverty, failing education, and so on. Those elements could possibly factor into why people are ultimately driven to use a gun. Don't get me wrong, firearms are an issue, but while people are stuck squabbling like people on Steve Wilkos over gun laws I figure there's another front that can be attacked. I'm just trying to get people to think about another fascet of this, but so far it isn't working as you and a couple others just go right back to focusing on guns as if things like poverty, education, or social attitudes don't influence gun violence in some fashion.
I did address the social issue. I said this society makes people crazy. You may be skimming over the answers your looking for, particularly since you were the one who brought the drugging of students to my attention.

What you need to do is look at the factors that influence the modern American psyche. Follow a typical child on his journey through life. He's given a TV (or now a computer) for a babysitter. Love and physical contact with parents is greatly reduced, since both are working most of the time. And science has proven that physical contact in early years is essential to mental health later in life.

So he is left with a TV to be his teacher. What does it teach him? Superficiality, greed, sex, violence, short attention span (which influences a difficulty in studying) fictionalized history, deliberately skewed values, but most significantly, it sets the standards he must live up to - impossible standards that practically no one can match, because the camera is able to make people look more beautiful than they actually are.

Our child subject has been growing up plugged into his TV for 5 years, free to scarf snacks all day long while getting little if any exercise. Consequently when he walks into class on his first day of school the entire classroom bursts into spontaneous laughter. That memory burns itself into his brain and haunts him all the days of his life.

As he goes through his school life he's reminded constantly that he's ugly, his grades are poor, other kids look down their noses at him and decline to be his friends, his teachers belittle him and torment him, (in some cases they may sexually molest him) bullies make constant sport of him. He runs home every day from school crying, swearing he will never go back there, but that's not something he has any choice about. He's a child with no freedom and no rights. And on top of this he comes home with 3 to 6 hours of homework.

His life is constant pain. So in his free time he seeks comfort in TV, the internet and video games, none of which provide his mind any healthy nourishment in modern times. At least in my day the things I was given to entertain myself with were culturally educational. And that's the only reason I'm able to be a writer today and am as proficient as I am at using this technology we communicate with. By the time your generation rolled around, that stuff was no longer available. You weren't taught to think on higher levels, and it has totally screwed your ability to think comparatively and make deductions.

What you developed was the mentality of a good follower. You're the type that would make a good soldier. You'd do what you're told without questioning. You'd take the morality of it on faith. And to add to that, you've been desensitized by violent video games. In other words, society has geared you for a future in the killing business.

Trouble is, not every kid has the stuff to be a killer, no matter how much effort society puts into pushing kids in that direction. Those kids are treated as if they have some illness that makes them less than they should be. So they continue to be told there's something wrong with them that makes them unworthy to be loved.

This trend continues as our subject graduates from school to the work place. The boss is always after him. He can never work fast enough, do his job well enough, no matter how much effort he puts into it. He is left in anxiety from the constant threats of being fired. So real life continues to be nothing but pain, and all the money he makes goes into escaping reality.

He runs to the internet, where his mind is open to every evil cult, hate group and political party that wants to spew some BS into his head. And since he's been geared to accept everything that's told to him at face value without deductive reasoning, he hates with a passion everyone he's told to hate.

Now for once he gets to play the bully. He becomes a troll and gets his rocks off causing more pain to other damaged individuals like himself. But this doesn't make taking the pain of real life any easier. It actually makes it worse because he's tasted what it feels like to make others suffer and he longs to visit that same cruelty on his boss and co-workers. But he can't, because he's afraid to die, but the continued pain is eroding that inhibition with each passing day.

Eventually he makes the grim determination that death is the only escape from the pain of a life that is so totally devoid of any reason to suffer it. But why go out alone? Why not go out venting his rage at everyone he's come to blame for denying him a livable life?

He's heard all this stuff on the internet about how easy guns are to get. He looks into it, and pretty soon he's got a large gun collection going. Now the power of life and death is in his hands. So before he goes out he can taste the thrill of watching everyone he holds contempt for cowering before him and begging for their lives.

What can you do for him at this point? Nothing. He is what a valueless society has made of him, a creature totally devoid of values, living only to die and to take as many others with him as possible.

This may not be every shooter's story, but I think you'll find every one of them lived some variation of it. Human beings live an unnatural and unhealthy existence that is anything but conducive to mental health. Until we are willing to admit as a society that our entire way of life is wrong, we will continue to experience the natural results of it, and look blindly away from the cause.
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The Paladin Card [Oct. 11th, 2015|09:43 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , ]
[Mood |quixoticquixotic]
[Music |Harry Chapin - What Made America Famous]

A long thing on the topics of gun control, Americanism and mass thought control.Collapse )
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The Voices Of Dead People [Oct. 10th, 2015|09:50 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , ]
[Mood |introspective]
[Music |Neil Diamond - Done Too Soon]

In the Greymuzzles group on Facebook a post was made about musicians that have died and not being able to play their old records without feeling bad. As usual, my response to the topic turned into a bit of an essay, and I wanted others outside the group to be able to see it. So I'm putting my response here.

This business of being beset by oppressive feelings because an artist is dead is something I deal with on a daily basis, as it sometimes seems like half the people in my record collection are dead, being as my record collection covers the entirety of the 20th century.

Especially if you're listening to Swing music or anything before that, it's a case of everybody's dead. And Classical Music, everybody's done been dead so long it can't even be comprehended.

Someone once came into my club on Second Life and asked, “What kind of music do you play here?” One of my DJ's responded, “We play music by dead people.”

Of course, with people like Freddie Mercury of Queen, Chris Squire of Yes, Rick Wright of Pink Floyd and such, there's a bit more of an impact, because there was a feeling of I actually knew these guys. They didn't know me, but I knew them, cheered them on, and felt in some way a small part of what they were doing.

Today it seems there's hardly a Classic Rock band that hasn't lost at least one member, and this brings on the realization that in a few years rock will be in the same situation as Swing. Classic Rock stations will be programming music exclusively by dead people and people too old to perform. And since rock is so closely tied to myself and my youth, it reminds me of just how old I'm getting, and how my own trip into oblivion is creeping up on me a little more every day.

I can get quite depressed over this if I allow it. And since I'm not a religious person, I don't have any illusions of an afterlife to draw on for comfort. But I just have to put it in perspective. Do people like Beethoven ever really die? It's not much of a death if you're still being an influence on the world 200 years later.

Freddy Mercury is today just as much an influence as when he was alive – probably more so because we don't take him for granted anymore. And it's not like I'm deprived of any contact with him that I had before. In fact, I see more of him now than I ever did when he was alive and topping the charts. Back then I saw him only once a year from a distance with a bunch of people standing in front of me blocking what view there was of the distant stage. Now, thanks to video, I can see him any time I want, up close and in full detail. And you know what? He doesn't look dead at all.

Sometimes, if I'm listening to an old acoustical record from the very early 20th century, there is a real sense of listening back through time to the voices of dead people. But that's mainly due to the nature of recorded sound at the time, and also because people back then seemed to have a stronger sense of mortality that came out in their art, being as life expectancy was so much shorter then, and there were no cures for things that have long since ceased to be major health issues. But time you get into the upper 1920's when electronic recording came in, you don't get that anymore. Everything is bright, happy and anything but ghostly.

And then you read the history of those artists, and you read stories about performers who died tragically at the height of their popularity. It seems tragic, but it's not devastating. They are like the old classical composers. They had to die sometime. And yet, there you are, experiencing them as others did when they were alive.

This brings forward the realization that, for those fortunate enough to have recorded what they did, they are left enough life to keep doing it forever. And they need never be parted from their fans or stop giving them what they always gave them. Their gifts to us are forever, and our children will know and cheer them just as we did. 200 years from now people will still be listening to Classic Rock bands and marveling at their genius, wishing they understood how to capture one tenth of that magic in their own art and performance.

So the trick is, when you listen to the music of dead people, remember that no one in your record collection is dead as far as their presence in your life is concerned. They have not left you and will never leave you. They will always be just as pleased to share your company any time you feel disposed to get their record out and give it another spin.

And you can take this one step further if you realize that we all record our words, our thoughts and our stories when we publish on the internet. The more you post, the more you're going to be around for people to experience long after you've ceased to have a physical presence in the material world. So there is no need to be depressed about getting old or knowing the end of your personal journey looms ever nearer. If anything, this is a time to go into creative overdrive, because you want to immortalize all the best parts of yourself.

It's true that you can't take it with you, because the you that others know from the internet isn't going anywhere. You've been archived. You are saved. And the worth of all your hopes and dreams will go on to be proven in its impact on the future.

So, when you get out your old records, don't pass over your old friends just because they are no longer physically living somewhere in the world where you can't see them, like most of the others who are now or soon will be in retirement. Think of each record as a snapshot in time in which that artist is not only still living, but still thinking, believing and being influenced by the world as it was when the recording was made. They live eternally in that band of time denoted on their grave stones, and you are gifted with the magnificent ability to journey back to that time and share life with them again any time you want to.

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Truth Is Nobody's Friend [Sep. 19th, 2015|01:33 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|]
[Mood |enlightened]

I had a Richard Bach moment today. There is this scene in The Reluctant Messiah where Bach finds these pages blowing in the breeze. He picks one up and reads it, saying he sees on the page the truth written so clearly that anyone would be able to understand it.

Bach's first inclination is to gather these pages up and publish them, but The Reluctant Messiah warns him that if he does so, wars will be fought over this truth, many will die and their will be untold suffering in the world. So Bach casts the pages back to the wind.

Tonight I saw a video on YouTube and started typing out the thoughts it inspired in me. When I'd done I read back what I'd written and had to admit it seemed all true to me. I had written the truth of the human race and it's situation in very clear and unapologetic terms that would be plain to everyone. But I felt bad about it, because all I could see was how badly it would hurt people to know the truth.

I honestly could not see any good at all coming from the truth. Further, I could not see myself taking any joy in defending the truth once I'd published it. Surely there would be nothing but endless fighting over it, because the truth is just so unacceptable. And I see no need for all that, because knowing the truth wouldn't change a thing for anybody.

And so, as I often do these days, I just saved the file without publishing it – secure in my understanding that truth is absolutely of no use to man, and he is far better off lost in his fantasies.

This leads me to question why I write this stuff. Theoretically it is all supposed to be about a quest for truth, the assumption being that the truth will be something wonderful and uplifting if we ever get close enough to glimpse it. But the closer I get to the truth the more unpleasant it seems, and the less I want to do with it.

I think, rather than trying to get people to embrace reality, the world would be better off if I just tried to give it better dreams – dreams of a world where we all have reason to embrace each other's diversity and treat each other kindly, regardless of our differences - dreams of a possible positive resolution to all conflict leaving the world in a perpetual state of peace and security. If the truth would destroy such dreams, the world does not need it.

And so I should write my characters to be examples of the way we would like to dream ourselves to be, not to reflect the truth of what we actually are.
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Lessons Learned That Only The Mad May Know [Sep. 17th, 2015|11:36 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|]
[Mood |inspired]
[Music |Todd Rundgren - Just One Victory]

I think the time has come to learn from experience that X does not approach me to communicate, patch things up or move on. She comes here for no other reason than to start more BS. She never changes, no good can come to either of us from the other, and it's time I stopped procrastinating about this and just flat out made up my mind to ban any accounts she creates to post here as soon as I see them.

I need to get over this trepidation I have about closing doors and burning bridges. There are just some places in my past that I never want to go again, nor even be reminded of. So that's it. It's really over, finished, smashed beyond all reassembly. No more X.

What have I learned from this previous exchange? It has reminded me that I'm mad as a hatter. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, as long as I'm mad in a positive and fruitful way. After all, all not being mad means is that you're perfectly aligned and comfortable with the standard state of human thought, which I have never had any respect for. The whole idea of positive madness is to find a better alternative to something that is always inherently wrong – not necessarily something that is right, but at least something that one can live with and be a healthy happy person.

Nikolinni reports that, after reading the previous entry, he also feels lost and hard put to find his way home. And, even though I freely admit to being lost, he kind of looks to me for direction. That I take to be something of a responsibility. If people will insist on looking to me to be some kind of example, I'd better take that seriously and provide the best example I can.

One of the chief cop-outs I often refer to is that it's only me any of this matters to. So no one but me is affected if I screw up or don't succeed at something. But apparently that is not the case. Someone might want to make a religion or something out of my madness someday. So I better get down to it, make sure my madness is well documented and demonstrated. So here are some aspects of the madness I think of as the home I'm trying to get back to.

Point 1. Being nice shall be the whole of the law. Before you do something you ask yourself “Is that nice?” If for any reason you can't acknowledge something as being nice, you don't do it.

Point 2. Do not associate or collaborate in any way with people who are obviously not nice. That they are mad and I am mad shall be no excuse for empathy. One must be mad in the same way for the same reasons to deserve empathy.

Point 3. Of particular note to Nikolinni, do not obsessively dwell on people who provide a contrary demonstration to your madness. Just because you see the net is full of not nice people fronting not nice groups with not nice goals doesn't mean you should waste a lot of time pointing out how not nice they are. There's no need to be stating and restating the obvious. And worse, you don't want to get like my character Christine who has made protesting a way of life that tends to leave her incapable of being happy doing anything else. This leads to the necessity to have something always be wrong so you'll always have something to protest, and you can't have a Nirvana state of mind where something is required to always be wrong.

Point 4. Always keep your beliefs well documented in as simple a language as you can manage. Keep this document ever handy and refer to it constantly whenever you run up against a quandary. These are the things you live to prove, and if you can not prove them, you must find something better to prove. Your believes shall be proven or dis-proven by the happiness and satisfaction you enjoy in life.

Point 5. All mistakes are lessons that must be learned from. The beliefs I applied to X and Anime Fandom in general obviously didn't work. I therefore have to determine why they didn't work and adjust them to something that might work better, but I still have to prove it. That means no more applying Christian ethics to fans and fandoms. Which brings us to . . .

Point 6. Redeeming the evil people of this world is not my responsibility. Since every human is entitled to pursue their own preferred state of madness, some people are just naturally well disposed towards evil, and nothing I do is going to change that. I must not fall into the false Christian trap of believing there is always a good person in there that I can reach in and pull to the surface. Sometimes people who seem bad are not naturally so, but are just suffering from bad influences. Such people can be helped by being shown a better example. But if it is clear that someone just loves being evil, leave them to it and focus attention on the folks who have some chance of being helped.

Point 7. The main object of my madness is to show that a path to better living can be demonstrated through fantasy. Therefore, the object of writing is to provide examples of alternative thought. Providing an entertaining and absorbing narrative is always a good thing, but getting people to exercise their ability to think must always be present in my mind when I write, else I am not providing healthy entertainment. I'm just joining my contemporaries in the current trend towards junk food entertainment. And I am not allowed to take any pride in any success I might achieve for writing anything I regard as junk food for the mind.

Point 8. My ideas are not working if I am seen to be out of control of my real world health. I must be eating right, getting enough sleep, getting proper exercise, living within my financial means and not be letting myself be distracted by personal hobbies that take up all my time for creativity. I must set reasonable goals of achievement and stick to them.

Point 9. A writer or general fantasist has a responsibility to his characters. They are not living if he is not dreaming, they are not being made immortal if he is not publishing. Anything that gets in the way of a fantasist dreaming, writing and publishing must be seen as a bad thing and kicked to the curb.

Point 10. Being a fantasist is a legitimate job. Listen to no one who tells you trying to make something salable out of your dreams is a waste of time. That's not helpful. And if such people are in a position to dominate your thinking and screw up your determination, get the hell away from them, regardless of how much you might love them. Better you should love people from a far while having them think you a fool than to let their misguided good intentions stifle your potential.

Point 11. Stress. There should be no stress. Stress occurs when you're doing something wrong, or thinking about something the wrong way, or trying to do too many things at once. When finding yourself in stress you must stop and analyze why the situation is stressful. Then work to correct the situation so that the job can be done without stress.

Point 12. Time. There is time enough in the day to do everything. Probably not time to finish everything in a day, but time enough to work on everything in a day. Time must be allotted for all things that must be done, and the schedule must be respected, regardless of the temptation to keep working at one thing once you get going on it. When the time allotted ends that job must be left sitting open so that you can jump right back into it at the proper time the next day. Consequently one's living space must be divided up into areas for each ongoing project.

Well, 12 points is enough for now. I'm sure I'll come up with more points as they are faced in life, or as others ask me questions. But these are the main points I need to work on right now.

I had several different ideas about a song to end this entry on. I picked the one below because it is like the ultimate anthem of 70's ideology. This is where we were the last time we had it right and were moving in a positive direction. Then people put us down and reestablished war, hatred and simple-mindedness as a preferred way of life. Now I freely stand and declare those people were wrong and they ruined everything that could have been for everyone. I say we must go back to that point where we had it right and move forward on those good ideas, never again giving the evil people of this world sway over our minds and hearts.

Yes, this will be called madness, and it surely is. But the evil that is offered in its place is no less madness. So, as they say in Alice In Wonderland, you have no choice but to go among mad people. But you do have a choice of whether to go among nice mad people or evil people to whom you are nothing but a statistic to be used, abused and destroyed for their amusement. The choice is yours which you prefer.

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Damn You X [Sep. 17th, 2015|07:23 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|]
[Mood |miffed]
[Music |Aerosmith - Toys In The Attic]

Tonight I am doubly pissed at X because every time she comes in here she deletes what she posts, leaving any responses I wrote meaningless. If you're going to post in somebody's journal you should have the balls to let what you say stand, or not say it at all.

Really, she's created and deleted 2 journals within a week just to throw stones at my journal with no possible risk of repercussions. Only trolls do that BS.

I like talking to people, even people I have an adversary relationship with. But only if they want to have a real conversation, meaning they're willing to hear what I say and give it fair consideration. I will never, ever again try to talk seriously to someone I know isn't listening. And I won't believe anyone who doesn't maintain a permanent blog with thoughts they're willing to stand behind has any kind of mind worthy of trying to communicate with.

Anyway, this time things were set up so I'd have her stuff saved. So I'll make a special entry here to preserve our exchange in the "Getting Sentimental Over Ponies" thread, because I need there to be a record of everything that goes on between us And I need it to be a public record so she can't come back and say I said stuff I didn't later.

Earlier this week X popped in out of nowhere after years of silence and said . . .

Just stop. For Linden's sake, I am so tired of this.

No one took your ponies, no one 'raped' you, and I'm not a rotted evil satan. I was a rape victim in my 20's with PTSD when we were dating who didn't know she was both aromantic and asexual. I was a spoiled child dealing with a serious mental illness and no support system - you came in and played the father figure and gave the support I needed. You also enabled me to stay a spoiled little child because that's exactly what you wanted me to be. So as I was being a fandom brat, clinging to fandoms and characters to try to find something to fix what my rapist and abuser had done to me, you stood silently by and encouraged me to continue to be mentally unhealthy and cope with things in an incredibly unhealthy manner - the same way you do, the same way that has left you suicidal.

And that was what was good for me then. Your problem with me is that I grew up, I reached a rebellious stage, I started latching onto violent characters to express my anger and frustration and it scared you. You told me I wasn't being a woman or 'cute' enough and you started verbally abusing me when I went ahead and got proper therapy, proper medications, and started moving forward. We grew out of each other but stupid me loved you platonically SO much that I wanted to bring you with me. That was my mistake. You want to be a whiny miserable child with a martyr complex and that's fine. We broke up because you would rather roleplay and pour your love on a stranger. I asked you if you wanted those ponies back. You said no. I thought we parted on hurt but decent terms but Ashe decided she just had to mess with you. She ruined Kacey's relationship, you always forget that she sought Eike out and she told him. Me? I wanted to be left alone to recover.

As much as you consider me to be a rotten heart, you are the one who demonizes me at every turn and brings out the worst in me. You posted my sexual history, personal information about me, you encouraged others to hurt me, you mis-gendered me, you pulled that stunt that got you on Fandom Wank.. why are you surprised when I lash out? You poke me even seven years later and I'm tired of it. STOP. I've asked you SO many times to leave me be. I tried to be your friend. I have long since moved on, gotten treatment for my PTSD, and am a healthy not-suicidal woman who has nothing to do with fandom garbage or you but I still have to hear "oh Perri's saying this.." long after it should even be an issue. Perri. You don't know the person I am now. You knew the caterpillar I was. You've never met the butterfly. I don't know who you are now either aside from a delusional, vengeful person who loves to exaggerate about me for pity. If that's the case.. well I'm sad you didn't change.

I never fucking asked for Mimic while we were breaking up either, that was so so much earlier - I really just wanted my possessions, the ones you destroyed, the ones worth as much as the ponies you gave me. Yes, I paid for those ponies with my Pokemon promos, my Megaman promos, my laserdiscs, my records, my birth certificate.. do you need me to go on? We are quite equal and the spoiled child you gave those ponies too in the 90's was grateful for them. The adult woman I am now is too - they're on a shelf over my bed. They'll be passed to my niece eventually - isn't that what you wanted? For a little girl to love them? Well a little girl does. It's out of your hands now, be happy they are safe and adored and full of wonderful magic.

Please Perri, I'm asking nicely. Stop. Get over me. I'm tired of having to worry about my personal info being posted by a vengeful ex. I don't care what you do with yourself. I don't have 'minions' out to get you, just bad friends who are amused by your drama. Don't give them things to laugh over, you stress yourself too damn much over a past you can't change. Go buy new ponies and enjoy the perfect online life you've created - will ya? And give your parents a hug. I miss them, they were the parents I wished I had and my sister and I wish them the best.

Just please... PLEASE... go forward. I promise life after trauma is awesome. I'm there already.


I didn't want to talk straight to X because, as you can see in the previous entry, straight talk is totally wasted on her. So I responded with the following video, any interpretation of which would have expressed my feelings at the time.



Of course X did not take the hint that anything between us is water long under the bridge and not worth rehashing, and she came back with the following . . .

I don't care about your songs. You having my personal information up endangered my niece and nephew by leaving it free for internet assholes to find and track me and also them. You may not give a shit about me but two innocent children don't deserve your wrath. Not at all. That's why I'll never tell my niece who owned those ponies, she doesn't need to google you and find information about her aunt's sex life and nasty things you said about her mother. She deserves to only think of them as magical toys.

I want all the crap about my personal life down or at least turned to friends only and I want it to stop as of right now. I want out of your LJ posts. I want out of your fanfic/novel. I want you to move on and be happy and this isn't going to help you be that way. Bunnies live in the present, not the past. I want my friends to stop telling me "Christian Weston Chandler Lite" (their name for you, not mine) has posted more crap about me and exaggerated it to the point where I'm commanding an army of trolls, founded 4Chan, and set about to "rape" people. For Linden's sake.. please. Why do you still need this? You have a husband, a novel, and friends who care about you. Why do you still have to hold onto me like this?

And by personal info - I mean those ancient ANCIENT entries with my SL name, pictures of my avatar, shit about my sex life, stuff about my sister (she doesn't deserve that, Perri), my real life name, the town I live in, and anything that identifies me personally. Hell, this entry would actually be fine if those didn't exist but everyone knows who your ex is and you want them to know. If you already took them down, I apologize wholly but when someone ims you and says "Hey, Perri says you raped her by taking her ponies" and you're a rape survivor - you sort of end up getting pissed that this has come up again and keeps getting worse every time.

I really do wish your parents well and I honestly do hope you ditch your unhealthy coping methods and embrace the good in the life you have.. but Linden dammit, Perri, this has got to stop.

Also.. if you care.. Ashe and I? No longer friends. Won't get into why. Involved BS. I'm sorry she ruined Kacey's relationship. She did it while I was offline, I didn't even get the chance to tell her to step the hell off and leave you be. I'm sorry for the stress that caused you. If I could undo that, I absolutely would. I wanted your relationship left alone, wasn't my job to out you. I'm sorry about how trying to be friends turned out too. That started as something different and not so nice but I started to like you and REC being around me and dropped it. I honestly was your friend for several months there, I understand why it went bad though. You cannot see me as anything but evil and that's your issue. Just... just please.. let go. I admit I did bad things but not as awful as you've exaggerated. I don't like who I was when I was struggling with my PTSD and was heavily in fandom - you couldn't pay me to go back there. I was immature and so ignorant and I'm sorry for that.

You know, basically this is closure. I want to be let go for safety and closure and I think doing it will give you that too. Just.. geez...


This was where I looked up Christian Weston Chandler to see what she was talking about and nose-dived into a depression. I have an extreme insecurity these days due to the excessive idiocy I see fans displaying on the internet. I can't stand fans who can't see how stupid what they're doing is, and I worry that I might be similarly unaware of stupid things I'm doing. It's the kind of insecurity that makes me just want to close up shop permanently and disappear from the net forever. X knows this. So she's playing with my head like the peerless troll she is, as usual.

When it came time to express how she'd made me feel I posted the following video.



Note that the guy in the video isn't trying to hurt the girl. He's indifferent to the girl - hardly aware she's there. It's the illusions of his life that he's believed in and now knows are false that he's trying to destroy. This relates to my anger at the fandoms that have dominated my life with false ideas, and when I fall to hopelessness I just want to destroy everything around me that represents that falseness. This was my warning to X that, though I don't mean her any harm, hanging around me when I'm in one of these bad moods is not a good idea, as she's liable to be hit by flying glass from shattering doll cases, or by computer monitors being chucked out the window.

Really, X herself is the least of my disillusionment. It was having the wall torn down that protected my illusions of Anime fandom that really wrecked me - the realization that all my fine ideas of how the world could be saved by Anime had resulted in nothing but 4Chan and Fandom Wank. Fans weren't nice to each other, they didn't tolerate the unique idiosyncrasies of fellow fans to keep their own secure. All that was pure bull, and I wanted to destroy everything I'd done to help Anime Fandom flourish in America like the guy in the video destroys his room.

I thought this was a pretty disturbing video to apply to myself. You'd think X would pick up on how dangerous it is to keep needling someone that unstable. You'd think she'd have sense enough to run away and never look back. But not X. She came right back with the following . . .

Okay. I'm sorry I broke and snapped. I tried.

Thanks for humoring me at least? And at least you now know where your ponies are and that a little girl is eagerly waiting to be old enough to take them home? You always wanted that.

I hope you reach closure soon and are able to let the past just be deleted and fade - not just for me but for you too. I wish you'd make depression and the things in life that I read are dragging you down your personal enemies instead.. but there's nothing I can do to change that and part of cognitive behavioral therapy is learning to accept the past, trying to control triggered outbursts, and be a better, healthier person. I just... get so tired of my personal life being used as a weapon by someone with no right to, I don't want this stuff online for the world to know. My struggle with my orientation, my sexual habits, my rl info.. these were my private things to share or not. It's not right. And it's especially not right because I didn't out you yet Ashe got to walk scott free. Ugh. The younger me would have instantly started a blog with every last bit of dirt I had on you. The older me would rather spend that energy on my family and make it positive and I'm sticking with the older me, even if that immature BS still manages to leak out at times. No one is perfect and I remind myself I'm still recovering from abuse and an abusive childhood that didn't exactly give me social skills.

So... hey... you take your time, I suppose. I'm just really hoping enough info isn't left for strangers to find me and my family because if anything happens to those kids, I'm gonna be mad. I got really personal, disgusting rape threats because I defended a 17 year old trying to return pony fandom to being cute, let go of all fandoms over it because I finally saw it was rotten to its very core and these people were the most toxic I'd ever known to exist. Not good for me. Not good for my family. Who needs fandom anyhow?

I'm rambling and this has shot up my anxiety enough. Time to go start my day. Hope you and yours are well, I'm just gonna do that disappearing thing now.

Peace.


At the end of this I was just feeling sad. Nothing she had said had made me feel hatred towards her. Really it just left me in mourning for the dream of an X that never was which I had once loved.

X talks about closure, about moving on. She has too small a mind to realize how impossible closure is for what happened to me. You don't ever get over having the folly of all your fine beliefs shoved down your throat by the very people you were trying to help by living by such ideals. If not for that altruistic ideology I wouldn't have lasted more than one visit with X. Nor would I have sat still for the whining of the Anime pen pals I'd encouraged through hard times who ended up at Fandom Wank participating in proving to me how stupid I'd been being so nice to people I should have known had no comparable morals to reciprocate with.

I don't hate those people, and I don't hate X. I got what I deserved for being so stupid. And unlike Christian Weston Chandler, I learn from my mistakes. I don't repeat them. I don't care anymore what people happen to be into that I might share an interest in. If they go around acting like slime I recognize them as slime and treat them accordingly. I don't go around making excuses for them and asking others to be patient with them like I used to.

That is my great pain, that X and all those other idiot Anime fans forced the realization on me that I was an idiot by helping and supporting them. It's myself I can't forgive, and that's why my pain will never end. That's why X's talk of closure and moving on is so god damn depressing. She can move on any time she wants to. All she lost were a few trinkets. It's not like she lost a companion she ever had any love or respect for.

And, as far as X is concerned, I never knew her. I knew an illusion I built around her of a potentially good human being that existed only in my mind. It's that illusion that I miss. The real X is a stranger to me. I have no reason to be vengeful towards her. Like in the first song, I don't remember her. All I remember are the illusions she surrounded herself with of Anime and video game characters she tried to be the physical embodiment of, at least one of which was lovable.

I'm not so far gone as to think I can hurt video game characters by hurting a real person. And now that she claims to be approaching me as the real X, I'm like, “Who is that?” I was never allowed to call her by any real name. I never met or got to know any real person in that body. Who is this stranger and why does she seem to think I owe her something?

Anyway, by the time I got around to replying after hashing all this out in my mind, I was pretty much just grieving for my own loss and not really thinking of X at all. What did I lose? Only my dreams. But it seems dreams were all that I was. Dreams fueled my interests in music, books, movies, and writing. They were how I knew how to live and relate to others.

Sometimes when I have fits of depression I'll just cry out “I want to go home!” And then I'll think, “Where is home?” “What is home if not this house?” Home is the me I used to be – the me that conceived Spectral Shadows, the me that bought the “All you need is love” philosophy hook, line and sinker.

I don't want to know the world this well. I don't want to know how pointless and stupid it all is. I don't want to be bereft of any belief that there is some hidden virtue in man. I don't want to be the cynical old fool I've become. I want to go home. Home, to be young again. Home to believe kindness begets kindness, and love will win out in the end. Home to believe there is hidden somewhere in this hateful menagerie some oasis of compassion and reason where I need not feel a fool for being the way I was.

But try as I may, I can't shed the awareness of reality now that it's been made a part of me. You can't go back once you've come this far from childhood. I can never go home anymore, yet still the music keeps calling me, “Come home. Follow the sound. Our song will show you the way. We are all still here waiting for you. Please don't leave us. We are lost without you.”

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Yes, After All This Time, An X Rant [Sep. 12th, 2015|04:57 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|]
[Mood |sentimental]
[Music |Supertramp - Casual Conversations]

This week my X popped her head in my journal again. I didn't talk to her. She talked. I just responded with music videos. But I really have to hand it too my X. Without my saying a word to her she managed to almost devastate me right off the net by saying her troll friends were comparing me to some guy called Christian Weston Chandler whom I'd never heard of. But of course I nibbled on the bate and looked him up.

I couldn't believe there was a whole hour long documentary on this guy who's only real claim to notoriety is a badly drawn Sonic/Pokemon fan comic. He's autistic, which is of course his excuse for everything. But I don't have that excuse. What I have is social anxiety disorder, which gives me a complex about how others see me. So before long I was just curling up in a ball of despair thinking this Chandler guy was how others see me.

While at the same time I was thinking kindly towards my X and thinking I ought to give her what she was demanding, which as usual was the destruction of my journal, which she claims is just jammed packed with personal info that can be used against her and her family. I actually did lock it up for about 24 hours. But eventually I recovered and was right pissed about the whole business.

However, I do find it fascinating how I have this incredible will to be sympathetic and think kindly towards X. Does part of me actually want her back? What the hell does she represent that I find attractive? Am I that desperate for companionship that I'd want to be around someone who can't open her mouth or even look at me without making me feel bad about myself?

No, I don't want her back, I just hate hating her. It doesn't come naturally to me. I can't keep it up, not even to protect myself. Part of me is desperate to come to some kind of peace with her just so I can get out of this unnatural state. But I don't dare. It's just not safe to let my guard down with her at all.

It's not that there's anything in the journal that I regard as being of much importance. It's a journal of what I'm thinking at any given time, and what I think tends to grow and evolve. So the further I go back in the journal the less there is for me to agree with. I don't have any driving need to keep all that stuff open for public consumption. But editing the journal is always a massive waste of time, if for no other reason than it is such an unimportant thing. And my time is an investment. Doing that for X is going to cost me in one area or another, and I don't owe X the time of day.

Best case scenario, X and I are dead even, assuming she's really as hurt as she says she is, which I shouldn't believe, because she's a troll, and trolls don't think twice about running deceptions to get LOLZ out of a victim. The likelihood is I'm just a big joke to X and her friends, if I'm not a great disappointment for failing to become as big a troll toy as Chandler is.

Baaaa, I don't have time for this. My real world life is just a mass of anxiety with the state the old folks are in, my Second Life is practically none existent because I've no heart left to put into it, and it's a constant fight to get back into a state of mind where I can write. If X thinks I do nothing all day but sit around thinking up ways to hurt her she highly over estimates her presence in my thoughts these days. To me X is the past, and it is not a past I care to revisit.

Besides, you'd think if X was really worried about her personal info she wouldn't be posting in my journal, which logs her ISP for the general public every time she posts. But seriously, how can you trace someone who is referred to as X? Someone who is referred to as X because they change screen names and personas so fast her own significant other can't keep track of them? If there's any potentially dangerous personal info here, she left it here, and I'm not taking responsibility for it. Especially after she gave my password to a troll whom she says hacked my DA site by proxy, and therefore I shouldn't blame her for it.

The whole thing is just too stupid for my frazzled state of patience to bear. Whatever's in the back pages of my journal is the product of the nonsense she put me through. Any LOL worthy or embarrassing things I wrote are the products of an insanity she drove me to. I am not going back there. I don't want to be reminded.

I want to move on. I have other things I want to do in whatever limited time is available to me. I've committed myself to write an impossibly long net serial, and as far as my activities on the net are concerned, I want getting that job done to dominate it. I'm sick of dealing with fandom BS, sick of trying to communicate with people on social media who can't hear through their own agendas, sick of putting myself out there when that's the worst possible thing a person with social anxiety can do.

I just want to write my stories and center all net activities around that. I'm considering a Patreon site to support the work, a Second Life brainstorming group for those interested in participation, a Spectral Shadows wiki, and stuff like that. I want eyes on what I create, not on me. I'm not here to be a star. I'm here to get something done.

My best advice to X is to do the same - get away from the damned troll groups and get her creativity back online. If she's truly worried about the kind of people who might want to track her down and make trouble for her, she should stop hanging around with them and making sure they know where all the ammunition is. She should just grow up and realize there's more to life than LOLZ, and nobody respects people who waste all of their time and creative potential trying to make bigger fools out of folks like Christian Weston Chandler. Real respect is attained by people who have “The Stuff” and don't let it be hidden under their bushel of self doubts, insecurities and prescription drug induced irrational fears.

X has “The Stuff.” If she's not using it I truly grieve for the waste of a master fantasist, squandered on internet low-lives who were never worthy of her.

I don't want to hurt X. I want to see X beat me to having novels for sale on Lulu or some other self-publishing site. I have only good wishes for X and her family, and I'm sad that circumstances have made it impossible for me to ever see any of them again. I want X to stop being afraid, if she really is as afraid as she seems. And if she is I want her off whatever drug is making her that way.

I have never wished for anyone to know me as I really am as much as her. Surely she knows what a harmless bunny I am. There's no logical reason in the world for her to think I mean her any harm. But I know first hand how psychotropic drugs amplify irrational fears. So telling her she doesn't need to be afraid will never be enough. But that assurance is all she's left me the power to offer her.

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Answer for question 4470. [Jul. 27th, 2015|02:48 pm]
Symphonic Rock Productions
What TV shows, books, or movies have you been involved in the fandom for them (if any)? What is your favorite part of being involved in fandom? Have you ever gone to any conventions or meetups (whether large or small) for any fandom you've participated in?
Fandoms I have been involved in over the last 50 years include Old Time Radio Fandom, Progressive Rock Fandom, 80's Cartoon Fandom, both My Little Pony Fandoms, Anime Fandom and Furry Fandom.

I've been an obsessive fan of many other genres and titles that I never met the fandoms for, like Dark Shadows, Star Trek, Star Wars, Piers Anthony novels, Elfquest comics, etc.. And, as I head into my old age, I reflect that those titles and genres I never shared with fellow fans maintain the best feelings for me.

Those things which I got involved in the fandoms for have left mainly memories of the fandoms that consist of endless disagreements and conflicts with other fans who never saw the same things in titles and genres that I did. And these memories of the fandoms have tainted the memories of the shows and genres with cynicism and bitterness.

You join a fandom hoping to meet people who feel the same way you do about a title or genre that seems to be bringing a positive influence into your life, only to find yourself surrounded by people who only care about things you consider negatives. And fans can get more nasty than you'd expect when you're into something like Anime for the cuteness, and all they want to focus on is the violence.

Indeed, in just about everything I've been into, I was into it for artistic, sentimental, intellectual, philosophical, cultural or creative reasons. I've always been one to look deeply into the titles I'm obsessing over to get inspiration for my own written projects. That has never set well with the majority of fans who were into those titles for the most superficial of reasons, all too often being as limited as sexual fantasies involving the characters.

I find myself wishing quite frequently that I could go back in time and avoid getting involved in any fandoms at all - that I could have just enjoyed the things I liked for my own reasons and never have shared them with anyone.

Yes, I've been to lots of conventions and been something of a celebrity in many fan clubs, newsletters and internet fan communities, mainly for being somebody who was thrust into the spotlight for not being down with the status quo.

I don't have a favorite part of fandom. I've grown to hate the very thought of it. The only good to come of a lifetime in fandom is the few people I met who became friends outside of fandom - the ones who don't leave you just because you're main focus moves from one fandom to another. Those were few and far between.

Sadly, if I had kids, I'd tell them to avoid fandoms for the things they like - to always like things for their own reasons and never get involved in societies that try to maintain some measure of control over franchises that don't even belong to them.

Whatever dreams or interpretations one takes away from a book, movie or TV show may be deeply personal. They should never be shared with others who would destroy those joyful impressions in favor of their own negative obsessions.
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The Great 2015 Save The Bunny Sale, Part-1: The CD's [Jul. 11th, 2015|12:20 am]
Symphonic Rock Productions
[Tags|, , , ]
[Mood |desperate]
[Music |Fatback - Gotta Get My Hands On Some Money]

For anyone who doesn't know yet, a month or so ago the father ended up in the hospital with bladder cancer issues, a heart attack and several other issues of a life threatening nature, at which point the bunny had to return to real life full time to take over running the household.

It was then discovered that the father has some kind of spending disorder. Some people have a credit card disorder where you just can't stop them from maxing out their cards every time they go shopping. The father's disorder is like he doesn't feel financially solvent unless he's constantly whipping out one credit card to pay the interest on another. And he does this in secret, while assuring us constantly that everything is under control.

But when I had to take over the family finances while the father was in the hospital the first thing I did was add up the credit cards, and between an $11,000 here and an $18,000 there, the total family debt came out to just shy of $40,000.

When confronted with this after the father got home from the hospital, his response was, “Oh, that's no problem. My credit rating is super spectacular. I won't have any problem at all getting another credit card company to lend me $50,000.” Where upon I faced-pawed and then locked all the credit cards up in a vault that no one but me can reach.

So, it seems the bunny has inherited a huge debt problem, being as the interest payment on all this debt puts the monthly bills way over the family's combined monthly income. And since the bunny absolutely refuses to let anything else be put on a credit card, being as bunnies know enough about digging holes to realize this one is already deeper than good sense will bear, the bunny will be peddling her collections in hopes that some of you all out there will care enough to lend a desperate bunny a helping paw – starting with the CD collection, which is inventoried below.

Please list any CD's you want in a comment below so others can see what's gone, and make any payments through PayPal using the E-mail address williammcclellan19@yahoo.com. Be sure I know which item or lot you're paying for on PayPal by including a note with the payment, and please add $3.00 for the first CD and $1.00 per each additional CD to cover shipping costs.

All contributions to the save the bunny fund will be greatly appreciated and will help get the bunny back to her regular Second Life and Spectral Shadows activities, which have all been stopped cold by this unfortunate situation.

Normal CD"s are listed first.Collapse )

Anime & Video Game CDs start here.Collapse )
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