Run On Rambles

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Ok scratch that because it wasn’t the best of times at all. It was a time of major confusion and frustration after a series of badly maneuvered curveballs that i should have seen coming. These aforementioned super slick sidewinder space balls left me basically grasping for morcels of lucidity, sanity and rationality and wondering what the hell was happening to me.

What do you do when life supercedes all logic and suddenly turns topsy turvy and leaves you waking up too early with your mind like a scratched record stuck on autoloop all jacked up like a fuzzy old TV playing reruns with the volume overcranked of your least favorite shows gone into syndication?

This is pretty much exactly why I don’t watch TV in the first place! I am the kind of person to prefer and want to “Carpe Diem – Seize the Day” not living groundhog day on auto replay.  Now i feel like Alice lost in wonderland gone dark, like the little girl in that scene in Poltergeist with her hand on the possessed TV but the only ghosts are the skeletons in my own closet and now i am time traveling in and out of slip streams, past, present and future all happening simultaneously paper shredder snippets, fragments and poster pieces like ripped up old collages ready for recycling because the futility to put it all back together is a puzzle of preposterous proportions.

With Post Traumatic Stress it’s a whole different ball park though because you don’t get to decide whether or not you want to watch TV or even what channel you want to watch because sometimes it can be almost as if your brain has turned into a theatre projector broadcasting semi lucid threads of past experiences, overlapping with reality almost as if multiple dimensions of consciousness were multimapping to create a loose imprint of a waking dream that wouldn’t be so disturbing if it wasn’t actually happening in REAL time without rhythm, reason or rhyme. Meanwhile everyone around you is going about their daily lives all hunky Dory keep on swimming. Meanwhile,  you’re drowning in a sea of troubles- myriads of maelstroms and wondering how it was possible few but you understood what Hamlet was really talking about and considered hanging themselves in a tree too.

To be or not to be that is the question:
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them:
To Die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream; aye there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.

Oh tis so true, we are all but players on a stage aren't we now.