Of course I’m not logical. I’m human.
And if pressed, I will even admit it.
In public, even!
And so on the books at least. I am one hundred percent philosophically and psychologically correct in my views.
Why of course, Doctor. I know that I am merely another one of seven and a half billion human beings. I have a fully human exoskeleton and genitals. Friends know me to be a warm, sensitive and caring mammal. Ha ha, he laughs exactly like a person would.
As you can see, I don’t quite buy it.
Not for any sane reason, I assure you. All logical (ha ha) evidence points to me coming from human parents. My childhood memories seem to agree.
But within me are layers upon layers of compacted permafrost laid down by year after year of social isolation and abuse and that makes it hard to feel human at all.
Especially when you are keenly away of how different you are. From my first day of school I knew I was not like the other kids. There was the teacher, them, and me all alone. just like at home there was my parents, my siblings, and me.
I wanted to reach out to my fellow kids. I wanted to make friends and get along and be part of a group and all those other things that were like part of a different world to me.
Stuff I only knew from the TV. Closest thing I ever had to a happy childhood was watching sitcoms and game shows.
God that’s sad. Here, have a hankie.
You okay now? Then let’s go on.
So I ended up becoming quite the weird little duck. A friendly little alien but just too damned weird to deal with.
And no inclination to force the issue.
Like I always say, things go strange in the dark. Isolation is not good for humans, especially the immature specimens.
I may never rightly grasp the unimaginable damage that did to me. How can you quantify starvation? What happens when absolutely none of what is supposed to happen because the social stimulation isn’t there?
I’m like a feral child only without the close knit group of friends.
Would it be too cute to call a group for high IQ gay men Homo Sapiens:
This makes my brain scream.
So I know I am an illogical error-prone human like any other. But I don’t feel like one a lot of the time. My connection to the rest of humanity is tenuous at best, and achieved via indirect means like the Internet.
Or TV, when I was a kid. Video games today. Reading books. Playing with my synthesizer. All things that do not require another human to cooperate or coordinate with me and thus doable all alone.
The question remains whether I can change that to let someone in.
I guess that would make a good test on whether I am human or not.
Honestly, I could go either way.
More after the break.
No more losers
I have a subtle but profound language hack I want to pull off.
We need to replace “loser” with “nonwinner”.
See, the thing is, anyone can be a winner. There is no automatic limit to the number of winners there can be. Ergo, everyone can imagine that they are one of the winners.
But a nonwinner is an entirely different beast. By definition, most people are not the winner in any contest.
Wouldn’t be much of a competition otherwise.
Thus, calling them “nonwinners” highlights the fact that a “winner take all” system is the one most likely to leave you fucked over and left in the dirt.
Trust me, “everybody gets enough” is way more likely to benefit you.
And we’ll still have lots left over for other stuff!
And now, the eyes
This is probably nothing.
But it could be something.
I’m having trouble seeing today. In fact, I think the problem has been creeping up slowly for a long time and I have been too distracted by the whole heart thing to realize it was getting harder and harder to see.
What did that butcher Vaezi do to me??
Basically, I have a lot of afterimages in my eyes. [1]
I always have, mind you. It’s never been more than an occasional nuisance when I am trying to see something on a black background and being mildly more bothered by flashbulbs and other flashes than the average person.
But today it’s been a real problem.
Worse, another phenomenon has emerged from the static : sometimes the afterimages are so thick that they appear solid and make me think someone or something is there.
So now I’m hallucinating.
I always knew this day would come.
Seriously, tho, Vaezi and I need to have a wee chat. My operations were in May and I still can’t see worth shit.
And he was suspiciously very breezy and offhand the last two times I saw him. Almost like he wanted to get me in and out as fast as possible without giving me time to think.
For some reason.
I think he fucked up and my eyes are suffering as a result.
God, please don’t take my eyes. I could take almost anything else, even ending up in a wheelchair – like I move around a lot in the first place – but don’t take my eyes.
Finally, a little thing I wrote earlier :
Skit : The Miracle of our Ages, a skit where characters describe all the everyday miracle technology all use. “I think I will go to one of the many temperature-resistant closed rooms in our home m get a frozen meal from the mysteriously subzero chamber in my cold box, and use a powerful microwave emitter to thaw and cook said meal, then eating said meal while watching strange people whom I do not know and will never meet caper for my amusement. ”
I can imagine this being said by a very, very sarcastic parent.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.