“If” I was a Conspiracy Theorist

“If” I was a conspiracy theorist (good thing I’m not) I would begin my curiosity investigations, starting in China. As far back as I could delve into the available research.

Cause… let’s be serious here… what the hell else are we going to do now-a-days? Some of us are still trapped inside the house with minimal options.

We’re either locked into MSM in a hypnotic state, watching the numbers rise and fall… or we spend time engaging in something else.

I, personally, enjoy the “something else” avenue. That’s the road with the best view for me. The reason its the road with the best view–I’m able to freely explore a plethora of alternate perspectives. I like being different, and thinking differently. I never again want to be a “normie”. I enjoy having a curious mind and giving into that urge to dig into all I can and never be locked into a specific mindset. I’m so far out of the proverbial box now, I don’t remember what my thinking was like before I escaped that cage.

Sure… I’ll play some video games with my daughter now and then when I need a break. I’ll read a book. I’m always writing something. I’ll snuggle up with the missus and watch a movie… we enjoy local road trips to the coast… but when I’m not working, or typing something, I’m typically always in research mode.

I needed some new “entertainment” in my life and for almost seven years, I had found what I was looking for.

I wiped my memories clean with one of those Men in Black memory wiping devices. I had to toss out all my personal biases and leave them at the door to undertake a mission such as this. To take the wise advice of the great sage Yoda and “unlearn all I’ve learned.” To ultimately have a complete understanding of both sides of the fence. I then embedded myself deep into the world of conspiracy theories, and I went inside the mind of a community of individuals I never knew existed, until roughly seven years ago.

Then… the rest of the world vanished.

And there I remained. I was hooked on a new drug. That vastly growing “universe” of people all sharing a different collective consciousness, fascinated me to no foreseeable end at the time.

I’ve been exposed to it all, and I mean… all.

Some topics I studied more than others based exclusively off my personal interests and a desire to learn more. I locked onto one specific fascination in my travels, which then led to something different, and my interests transitioned. And I would remain “there” in wide-eyed research for one year or longer. Then, I moved onto something else. Which led to another place… on and on.

When I couldn’t find what I was looking for on the internet, I asked questions at my local library.

Until that day, I decided to quit.

All done.

My mission was then declared over. I got what I needed. I unsubscribed from all the blogs, YouTube channels, newsletters, spent an afternoon un-liking certain pages on social media and I disconnected myself from all the content creators with which I was once enthralled and deeply invested.

There was a bit of a weening process at first. I had to slowly crawl out of the rabbit hole, but once I was back on the surface, flat on my back staring at the blue sky overhead, I was officially done.

That leg of the journey was over.

And while I was visiting that underground reality, I had an absolute blast. It’s not for everyone, but it was perfect for me.

Some stuff I scoffed at. Other topics raised a curious eyebrow and begged for more attention. Some information was obvious and stood out like a flashing neon light making all the sense in the world. Other stuff was ridiculous and I never gave it a second look.

What captured a lengthy span of my attention however, was the curious correlation between comets and cataclysms. Ancient China occupied a corner of my mind for quite some time. I found it to be a good jump off point.

To quote Li Ch’un Feng, the Director of the Chinese Imperial Astronomical Bureau, in 648 A.D. “Comets are vile stars. Every time they appear in the south, they wipe out the old and establish the new. Fish grow sick, crops fail, Emperors and common people die, and men go to war. The people hate life and don’t even want to speak of it.”

In a series of books written in 600 B.C. called the Mawangdui Silk, comets were recorded as having 30 different “forms” and each “form” typically accompanied an event of some kind. Earthquakes, floods, pandemics/plague, radical changes in weather, aggressive military action(s).

Dating as far back as 1500 B.C: comets were observed, and described, as the harbingers of catastrophe. Doomsayers. Celestial messengers of chaos.

Some might say, those cataclysms would have happened regardless. No possible correlation between the two. Pure happenstance.

Hey, that’s cool. I understand that philosophy.

Most would say a pandemic accompanied with a comet sighting, is merely coincidence. Hey… I get that too. No biggie. Its no longer coincidence, only when it becomes mathematical, or modeled, and predictive.

I (personally) just found it strangely odd that on the day (C)ovid-19 was declared public enemy #1, an astronomer recorded a comet coming out of the Camelopardalis constellation.

Don’t worry, Atlas (the comet’s nickname) isn’t supposed to come anywhere close to us. It was ultimately destined for a sun transition, and was presumed to become the brightest object in the sky upon its approach, but now, its slowly disintegrating. Fizzling out. Supposedly, folks living in Greenwich UK can see it with a decent telescope, or a strong pair of binoculars.

They named the comet (of all the possible names they could dig up) C-19 Y4.

On the day the C-19 pandemic had become an official household name, and the subsequent steps were then implemented thereafter, C-19 has been seen in our night sky. But… the powers that be and their advisers are the first to say, “it’s all a coincidence. Think nothing of it. There is no connection between the two.”

OK Boss. Whatever you say. (wink wink)

“If” I was a conspiracy theorist… I would find that strange. Beyond strange. Beyond coincidence.

It’s probably a good thing I’m not one of them.

And that concludes another random ramble on a Thursday morning from Jere. Be well. Don’t live in fear. Keep an eye on each other, and keep the ones you love close by.

Peace.

Thank you for reading and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Apocalypse is Expensive

“What will you do with your stimulus check?”

I see the question floating around everywhere on social media.

“Support something with the check. When the calamity is all done and over with, eat at your favorite restaurant again.” They may suggest. “Buy stock in a company. Invest in a dying business.”

I have big plans for my check (regardless of the amount), and I’m super excited. Heart’s pounding against my chest just thinking about it.

I’m going to log into my account, click the buttons, then enter the credentials…

… And pay my power bill, cause… boy howdy… lock-down has resulted in every light being on in the house at all times. Washer and dryer running double time. Cooking multiple meals a day, and then washing new piles of dirty dishes. All devices, electronics, TVs, game consoles on for hours, and left on long after the user(s) have fallen asleep. Random lengthy bubble baths to decompress, relax and kill time. My water heater and furnace are always rumbling down in the basement, at crazy hours of the day, and night.

(Looking for ways to be productive while meandering through strange sleeping patterns within the fog of the seemingly non-existent perception of conventional time)

Two teenagers, myself, and my wife, in our little quarantine cage, doing our part to help save the world…

“Treat yourself to something nice with the check,” they’ll say. “When everything is done, and they release us into the wild again, take a fun trip somewhere,” they’ll say.

Nope… its quite possible the whole damn thing will go straight to my power company. Cause if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last few weeks–preparing for the apocalypse is expensive as all get out.

The moment the schools in my area began their extensive talks about what to do at the onset of this mess, before the random school “workshops” started popping up and the online wildfires erupted left and right, is the moment my Spidey-Sense started tingling, urging me to flip the switch, and I began my isolation process. I started preparing for this lock-down at least a week before it became a real “thing”.

I brought my work equipment home and set up the office space. I told my boss(es), “this is where I’ll be until further notice.”

And here I have remained. I’ve actually lost track of how long its been now. The clock and the calendar mean nothing to me anymore. Trash day is Tuesday… that’s all I need to remember.

I go out and do the essential shopping when necessary. However, my errands and priorities are more expedient now, and completed on very specific times of the day. I have distinct routes inside the stores mapped out, and mastered to a science, averaging roughly 12 minutes of shopping with each visit including check-out.

I won’t shop much of anywhere else, other than a local convenience store which averages two customers inside the building at any one time. You’ll probably never see me step foot inside a super store ever again.

This ongoing experience, thus-far, has taught me some valuable lessons: 1) I’ll do anything I can for my family, and my circle of people. Anything.

I go shopping sometimes and I’m so ultra focused on the needs of the many, I’ll completely forget to purchase for myself. I’m always thinking about them, and I accidentally disregard my own needs or ignore the things I like to buy. To include my dog, and her needs.

I only consume food between noon and five pm, 7 days a week (incremental fasting if you want to call it that), and I try to limit the daily consumption to one meal. I’ve trained myself so one meal can be the fuel I need to get through the day (for the time being). Hunger pains are no more. It was tough at first, and at times I cheat(ed), but eating three meals a day, is now a thing of the past.

I find I have more energy on one meal. I think a little clearer. My head feels less cloudy and scatterbrained. I feel less “heavy” when I move around.

I obviously don’t include coffee with cream and sugar, in my caloric intake. Coffee is the elixir of life and without it’s sweet, sweet ingredients, I can’t function. Coffee is an all day affair. I could easily say coffee is my second and third meal of the day.

2) My brain tells me to ignore my gut, all the time. An ongoing battle. My gut has gotten me this far in the adventure. Its helped me read between the proverbial lines, and during this (down) time, I’ll continue to rely on those gut instincts. They have served me well and have provided a road map to follow in this darkness. If my gut whispers, “Do ‘this’,” while my brain is trying to convince me otherwise, I’ll always be satisfied after listening to my gut. Without question.

3) Living in the “what if” reality teaches me facets of life, I would’ve never considered before. Alternate skills. Different perspectives. Never be completely comfortable. I always hover around the thinking, ‘things may get better. They may remain the same. They could get slightly worse, or much worse. Or slightly better, or much better. Regardless of those potential outcomes… what do you need to do?’

Everything I can.

The ‘what if’ mentality is, and has always been, an anchor for me. A hyper-focused mindset. A second brain activates when the moment demands it, and has been active more often, as of late. It has yet to steer me astray.

4) Unfortunately, living paycheck-to-paycheck, results in an expensive apocalypse preparation. We can only live within our means and while heating fuel and gas has dropped, food and other essentials remain expensive. Oh well. We have to do what we have to do.

I suppose when all is said and done, I’ll have my tribe close by when it all dips south, and that’s all that truly matters. Since goal setting is paramount and essential in times of uncertainty and potential chaos, I’ll continue to try and achieve my goals in life. Learning new skills. Moving forward with alternate perspectives, and unorthodox ideas.

In your future travels, if you see a four door crimson Prius, decked out with armored plating, slotted steel windows, long spikes protruding from the exterior, bulky off-road tires, and a pirate flag sticking out of the top, with my crew hooting and hollering and raising Hell in a barren empty, dust coated field, or doing donuts in the rubble of an abandoned city, you’ll know it was me and my clan roaming the wasteland for supplies and goods.

We’re decent people, so just wave if you want to chat.

Thank you for reading and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

The Truth

“In my mind’s eye, there’s only one truth. My perception of truth is mine and mine alone. This fractured staircase you’ve forced me to climb has led my thoughts to one singular conclusion, however, I understand better now, and I’m grateful. The climb was worth it. I see through the illusion. The wizard’s spell no longer has a grip when the mind is clear and the eyes are open so let the sorcerers try and sway us with their tricks, lies, and fabrications. I provide that answer to my long sought after question, ‘what is truth?’

The only truth, is nature doesn’t lie.” JSM

One of the reasons people read this funky little blog, is because I’m outwardly quirky and I advertise that self-proclaimed weirdness, proudly. Makes life fun for me. I’m a little flighty, a bit different, and I partially exist within my imagination but always trying to be honest and decent. Those who know me personally and professionally understand who I am, and what I’m all about, but give me a soapbox or a platform to ramble on randomly, and I could go all over the place. Always having to reel it in and keep it under control. My imagination, and those places my imagination has led me, has aided with life hurdles most folks couldn’t comprehend.

Something I recently wrote this month on a gut instinct, helped a friend and colleague with a personal dilemma. I was a little blown away by the response(s), so after an in-depth discussion with a confidant, and then another friend for a different opinion, digesting that experience and learning from it, something deep inside led me to believe I’m doing OK. I do have something I can contribute to a select few when it’s needed or warranted, and to just keep being myself. Keep working from the gut. The end result of that experience was well worth it. That’s more than enough to keep this thing trucking and to continue my journey onward. In whatever form that takes.

Anyway, one moment, I’m talking about my experiences with Nancy and helping through her issues and personal struggles, tossing in some Joe encounters here and there, and the next installment is a philosophical meandering, or how I began my writing adventures. The next one may be a bit of poetry, or a single thought I’ve been mulling over. Or a short story. Who knows what’s ahead. I couldn’t even tell you right now. Stay tuned, I suppose.

If that’s the stuff you like… welcome to my house, grab a chair, and feel free to subscribe or follow. The subscription area is a bit cluttered but it’s over here somewhere———————————————–>>>>>

(I know, I know, I have to tidy and redo the site. Changes are forthcoming in the future… I’m a little old school, and wouldn’t even know where to begin at this exact moment. I’m not even sure how to properly “tag” for this type of content… sigh)

This, is one of those ramblings.

***

I’ve uncovered over the past few years during this quest, some simple concepts I can abide by and adhere to. Concepts which work for me.

The usual disclaimer: Results may vary person to person.

I’m a simple man, I need a simple plan. Life never needs to be complicated. We make it complicated.

Overtly simple ideas. But that simplicity has helped me reconnect with something missing. Something I needed to adequately function in my day-to-day operations. Something that truly and absolutely made sense to me, as the observer.

I’ve generated condensed philosophies and easily digestible ideas for my own consumption. In order to construct a true solid foundation for my reality, I had to find the right place to begin construction and where to lower the first corner stone. That’s what took the longest.

The starting point.

For me, the only method of gathering my tools and building that beachhead was to generate a handful of personal, basic principals at the get-go. I needed a guidepost initially to follow. A line in the sand I was ready to cross. Something that flashed bright neon colors within the darkness to latch onto, and was clear and concise. Moving forward with the mindset of, “whatever comes my way, I’m ready for it.”

At the time, the available road signs were pointing everywhere: up, down, north, south, east, west. Spinning in circles. Some pointed to brick walls, dark scary tunnels, and dead end roads, and I had to filter them out, and whittle them down to a select few. Then a couple… and then down to one.

It’s that “one” which has led me to, here. And it’s quite simplistic.

Nature doesn’t lie.

Then, the quest changed.

Nature does not lie. It doesn’t have the capability. Only people lie. Why do people lie?

It’s the easiest thing to do. 

Too simple? I don’t believe so, but that’s just me. Take it for what it’s worth.

We all share mass collective “common truths” on a surface level, but the deeper personal truths we ponder and debate are the ones we struggle to find answers for. And always have. The who, what, when, where, how and why conundrums. With a plethora of experts in their respective fields ready and waiting to answer and supply “truth” to the one seeking it.

Those conundrums and paradoxes can drive people to the brink of insanity. Almost put me there once or twice.

So, to find personal sanity, within what is believed to be a confusing and unsatisfying paradigm, we then turn to those whom we deem “trusted sources” for our answers to who, what, when, where, how and why: Scientists, or anyone wearing a white coat with letters after their name. Articles that boast, “NEW STUDY SUGGESTS.” The educated, or those who have run the full gambit of public education. Professors and teachers. Media, celebrities, politicians or elected officials. Social media blogs. Our pastors, and the varying words of the popular holy books. Corporations or those in authoritarian positions. Content creators with hundreds of thousands or millions of followers. Varying textbooks and historical documents. Memorized information passed down by others who had memorized information. Or, those opinions we respect within our immediate circles. Spouses, friends, family, significant others. The groups we join on Facebook who share a common mindset. Our television. Institutions we trust.

When THAT is no longer a viable option, when those answers to the ongoing conundrum questions are STILL not satisfactory, we MUST go elsewhere. Some are content with the provided answers. Go with the flow and make no waves.

For myself, to voluntarily stay bound to that which didn’t make sense was slowly killing me inside. The external chaos from the outside world, the bombardment of conflicting information, only increased the internal madness. The overlapping opinions, views, arguments, debates, visuals, and relentless noise over time amplified the non-nonsensical.

Toss in some fear porn: war, asteroids, alien invasions, pandemics, catastrophes, solar flares, societal collapse, ongoing division… this side, that side, and everything in the middle… mix in some distractions… enough to drive someone crazy. Make someone question everything.

If I have a specific question I’m seeking answers to, and the answers are different from person to person to person to person, web search to web search, agency to agency, friend to friend, country to country, trusted source to trusted source, article to article, textbook to textbook, church to church, scientist to scientist, pro to pro, news outlet to news outlet, celebrity to celebrity… etc… I have to go elsewhere. I must.

But that’s just me. I’m a hunter.

We choose to rely on the provided construct, because the commonly shared reality paradigm is comfortable, and “makes sense” to the individual experiencing their subjective reality, from that digested information provided from their various “trusted” sources.

Then, there’s people like me who scratches their chin, and says, “OK… but, ummm… something doesn’t make sense over here.”

Do I act upon that? And if I do, how far am I willing to go?

Or, do I let it slide and join the others who are merely content with what has been offered for truth…

I act upon it. I go all the way. After I ask the question, I hunt. I can’t help it. It’s a part of who I am.

The answer, “it just is,” is ridiculous to me. And if that makes me crazy… I accept.

I choose to seek the answers to my questions, and I enjoy exploring. I engage with the world, but I also experience it differently. The mainstream answers no longer work for me… and I’m not alone.

Nature doesn’t lie. It can’t, and won’t. I found my footing with that philosophy.

Then everything fell into place, made complete and total sense, and my life has changed as a result.

I rediscovered the power, reality, and truth of nature.

And through that discovery, I realized how disconnected we are from it, and how desperately I needed to plug back into that source.

I don’t believe we’re meant for cubicles, classrooms, and conformity for conformity’s sake. We’re meant to explore, connect, engage, and have a symbiotic relationship with the natural world. We’ve traded out real power and energy, for WiFi and black screen illusions.

But it’s not our fault.

Perhaps if we could reconnect with the energy and purity, heal ourselves, and fix our minds, we’ll better understand what we’ve been missing for most of our existence.

Something honest, and real. Something truthful.

But again… that’s just me.

Thank you for reading and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Better Half

“Re-think and restart if needed. Adjust, but resist the urge to quit.”–JSM

 

The first week of Nancy’s healing, was a time of madness. I can’t count how many times she wanted to close up shop, and quit on me.

I wouldn’t allow it.

When she begged me with tears streaming down her cheeks to put a pillow over her face, while she was sleeping, and end the pain… I knew she was in a bad place, to say the least. It was heartbreaking.

All I could do was watch, wait, hold her hand, kiss her forehead, be close by, abide by a strictly designed routine, and catch incremental naps while she slept. Every five minutes reminding her, and myself, “everything will be OK. We got this. Everything will be alright.”

Always planting seeds, and trying to keep her spirit positive.

Try to keep her alive… and not just living.

Of course, I never fully slept. I had one eye and both ears partially open, and the moment she rustled, I was moving across the room.

Life was like that for a time. Two months of watching, waiting, helping her with minor stretches, and brief walks around the house. Helping her heal. Listening to her breathe, while sitting silently in my chair thumbing through a book.

I changed her bandages, administered her medications, and brought her to the appointments when she was cleared to be in a car again. I wiped her tears, applied the healing ointments, bathed her, fed her…

And I’d do it all over again if forced into that situation a second time.

My relationship with Nancy is a metaphysical unification that transcends time and space. It breaks all the rules and laws of nature and smashes the stereotypical boundaries into smithereens. She and I are cosmically connected at our cores, and destined to share a life together. I’d take a thousand bullets for her, if it meant she could keep smiling and sharing her energy with the world. Her smile can light up a football stadium. Our bond is carved in stone, unbreakable, unwavering, and if reincarnation exists, or Heaven takes our souls when we depart from here, she and I will meet again on the next go-around. I am convinced of this with every fiber of my being, and nothing can convince me otherwise.

Nancy and I are manifest destiny, written in the stars.

Aside from all that new-age mushy stuff, she’s just a bad ass, with the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Selfless beyond all comprehension.

I had to keep reminding myself during her struggle this too will pass, this too will pass. You can do this…

Bring her back. That’s your job. Nothing else matters.

Coming into the third month, was when the cabin fever kicked into high gear. Unfortunately, the third month was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was mobile at this point and able to climb the stairs to the second floor, unattended, if she moved slow, and at this point along the journey… I needed an escape, but was terrified to think about myself in any capacity. My job was kind enough to allow me to work from home during Nancy’s recovery, but I was confined (by my own choice) within what was supposed to be my place of contentment. My home was slowly becoming a claustrophobic cage. Every day the walls squeezed in another inch.

Sixty plus days of isolation.

All I did was work my job, attend to the chores, and help my wife with her therapy and getting back to “normal”. We had friends and family living close by bringing us groceries and necessities. Most times the goods and supplies were deposited outside the porch door and I was texted after they left the driveway.

There was no way I was going to a grocery store or a large public place and exposing myself to potential threats. Bringing home anything from the outside world was opening a door to disaster.

And no one entered the home.

We were on lock-down. And unbeknownst to us at that time, we would have close to three more months of quarantine to endure.

And I was on the cusp of losing my marbles.

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

Disconnect

“Nothing ’bout me is ordinary. My friends all say I’m going crazy. I don’t hear a word that they say.”—Shinedown

 

I go through periods of time where I have to separate myself fully from social media and mainstream everything. Sometimes upwards of a week or longer, before I’ll open it back up and take a look-see again. I’ll get the random urge to briefly inspect what the surface dwellers are up to, and then quickly bail out.

Typically, its more of the same thing which I saw a week earlier. Nothing new under the sun.

During my morning coffee, I’ll scroll for a few minutes and check out what madness is available for my eyes and mind to feast upon, but I’m not in there long. At my job, I’m the Facebook administrator, so my social media presence is mandatory, but I never stay for a lengthy visit. I mostly restrict myself now to message responses, tags, requests, and engaging in personal conversations, check out the patterns and trends, post a silly meme if I feel the need to get someone laughing, support those close to me… but as far as I’m concerned, social media is a cesspool.

So much arguing and fighting. Exclamation points, and words in all caps to prove a point. Barking, screaming, noise, and rampant negativity. Trolls, slander, insult slinging, and trying to convince cat people that dogs are the superior pet. Bellowing at random strangers trapped inside the vast darkness of the online echo chamber.

I have to disconnect.

Unplug from the matrix and divert attention elsewhere.

Unplugging, has been an interesting journey thus far. I used to have the “fear of missing out” and “not being informed” but not anymore. When intentionally depriving oneself of the designed constructs that supposedly defines who we are, and how we should exist within the great collective, and what we should be paying attention to based on what is deemed through institutional conformity as important, life changes.

Three years ago, I was “me”.

The me I thought I was supposed to be.

Today… I’m an entirely different “me”.

A better version of me.

A me I never thought I would become.

Perhaps in two years I’ll become a different me, again. I’ll have to wait and see. All I can continue to do, is be myself and hope for the best.

I have to be productive at all times. If I slow down, I fall back into those traps and snares which are designed to keep me down, docile, hypnotized, complacent, compliant, and vegetative.

Just the way they want me.

I looked back on the past twenty years or so of my life, and came to a startling realization… I have wasted years (literal years) of my existence.

“But, but, but, if not for those experiences, you wouldn’t be…”

Yeah, I get the argument. I’ve had the conversation multiple times.

I’ve been working on my man cave in the basement. Years ago I told my wife she can have every room in the house. Every counter, shelf, end table, cupboard, nook and cranny, closet and open space we have available in the home. I’ve become a minimalist, so “stuff” isn’t important to me anymore.

The kitchen table, however, is mine. I only need a small area.

Now, that her stuff has slowly migrated to my area (God love her)… to the basement I go.

It’s coming along. A little more junk to toss, and some wood products that need to find a burn pile, a little rearranging will be in order. The insulation is almost done. It’s heated and has good lighting. My workstation is almost complete.

Because I no longer engage in those activities which once defined who I was, I now have tons of time to use at my discretion. I created time, where time never existed before. I watch less than four hours of television programming a week and two of those hours are falling asleep to re-runs of funny shows I’ve already seen. My current unbreakable TV addictions are: Survivor, and the Star Trek franchise. I pay for two streaming services primarily for my wife and daughter.

I no longer “binge” anything, unless I’m under the weather and laid up. I can’t recall how many shows I’ve abandoned over the years, shows I was once in love with, and I haven’t been to the movies since John Wick 3 premiered. The only video game I play is a tower defense on my phone and I only play when running into a brick wall, hitting a mental block, or finding myself at a standstill. I couldn’t tell you the name of any new band formed over the past year, or the name of the next big up-and-coming celebrity.

What to do when no longer engaging in those things which once defined who I was. Those things that once made me, “me”.

Everything.

Anything and everything. There is no limit. I rejected the reality presented, and I constructed my own, from the ground up.

I believe we are designed to create, tinker, philosophize, invent, and make things. To use our minds constructively. Even if we struggle at first, we only get better with time.

I strive now to create. To make my own entertainment. Rewrite my reality to better suit my goals.

We have the literal ability to transform thoughts into reality. We can think it… and it will manifest. However, if we voluntarily continue to constantly relinquish our power, and stay plugged into the construct, thoughts remain as nothing but thoughts. While thoughts are important… they stay confined within the brain.

My laptop is blanketed with folders. Poetry, blurbs, short stories, timelines, outlines, downloaded PDF’s, images of art, full length novels with free companion stories, names and bloodlines, links, blog posts, sections of edits, device and technology research, silly songs, screen plays, fragments of unfinished works, ideas ongoing, ideas discontinued and untouched for years, maps made in simple paint programs…

And that’s where I live.

When I’m not writing, I strive to grow in other arenas. I read, ask questions, and do research in my areas of interest. My interests have expanded to other realms now, hence the reason for a workstation in the basement. I want to physically create, as well as write.

I want to make things.

I enjoy transforming thoughts into reality. I love watching my mind manifest something before my eyes.

The downside is, I’m an idiot. I have to rely on others sometimes. I’m a stranger in a strange land solely depending on the village to raise me, the child. Research is long. Self-education is a chore. Waiting is difficult. Asking questions and applying the knowledge, can be tedious. Many diverse answers and many opinions. Self discernment is crucial.

However, it’s not the endgame and outcome of the journey that’s important, it’s the growth along the way.  The outcome is just a perk, and the tasty icing on the cake. The adventure is the most important.

And I believe that’s where folks get tripped up. The adventure looks difficult and daunting to the tired mind.

Some of that education and research along the way includes what I should be doing along this leg of the creative journey. Because I’m currently in “this” phase of the writing process, I should be talking about “this” topic. Or, discuss the writing procedure and the step-by-step method to get from point A to point Z.

“Make this content a part of your blog.”

Not gonna happen. In my world, you’ll never read about grammar rules or the difference between a pantser and a plotter or a line and a copy edit.  I’ll leave that to the pros. I just like telling stories. That’s the source of the entertainment in my mind. That’s where the fun is.

Writing the story is easy. One word at a time. Finish.

Once committed to the story, and finally typing “the end” (regardless of the length) it’s far from over. Everything after “the end” becomes work.

Lots, and lots, and lots of work. Patience. Timing.

But is it work worth doing?

Is patience truly a virtue? Is the timing going to work?

Yes.

For myself, and myself only, in order to stay committed to my cause, I had to find time to do the work I believed was worth doing. To find time, meant changing how I engage within a pre-designed reality.

The old paradigm was not fulfilling. I felt empty. Lost. Broken. Fearful. Anxiety ravaged. Bouts of depression and hopelessness. Tired. Sedentary. Stagnant. Off-balance.

Altering the paradigm, altered reality.

I no longer have anxiety, stress, hopelessness, anger, depression or fear of any kind. I’m no longer tired, stagnant, or sedentary. I’m no longer empty, broken and lost. It’s not easy to disconnect, but since unplugging, I’ve become better.

Because I’m waiting on edits, I needed another outlet, other than my blog stuff and tinkering with ongoing projects… So… I’m off to the basement for today. It’s time to finish the cave, create something at the workstation which has always fascinated me… and I can’t wait to see the end result.

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No-Man’s Land

“Joe Schmo sat in the snow. He didn’t know which way to go. All he knew, was his ass was cold.”–JSM

 

While standing beside my snoring, heavily medicated girlfriend sleeping soundly on the couch, drooling into her pillow, I believed at the time the remainder of Nancy’s life would be filled with hardship. I couldn’t help it. During that period of my journey, I was a bit of a fatalist. Shields were always up, and weapons always ready to fire. Always thinking worst case scenarios and structuring my life around that mentality.

I’ve met others who have had their chests broken open for major medical procedures, and years later, they’re still healing. The thoughts on her future hardships only lasted for a heartbeat, before I buried it deep, and then flipped the robot switch back on into survival mode.

Before bringing her home from the hospital, I was named her official “caretaker”.

I was provided a lengthy list of do’s and don’ts littered with medication doses, and time-frames, acceptable temperature readings, and pertinent information. What to be aware of. Potential side effects. Fliers and various tri-fold brochures with numbers to crisis centers, councilors, groups, and advisers. Advertising, and websites for healthy, organic foods. When to do what, and how often, when its necessary to call 9-1-1, and here’s a bucket of medical supplies to help get us started.

I was angry.

I wasn’t angry with any one specific person. I wasn’t angry at Nancy, or the doctors, or the hospital staff.

I was furious with the situation. It’s fine to be angry with an ugly situation, but the question becomes… what to do about it all?

Arm in arm, guiding her along the twenty minute walk from the car to the inside of the home, one foot at a time. Rest. One more foot. There it is. Don’t rush. One more step. There ya go. Don’t be embarrassed. We’re almost there. I gotcha. One foot on the stair, rest. 

Holding her upright as she crept across the grass, I kept thinking to myself, everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. This is all happening for a reason.

The entire span of time of what should have been a quick 10 second jaunt from the car door, and up the porch stairs, I repeated those words over and over in my mind. I had to.

It was the only way to keep calm, and level headed.

Once inside the house, and she was settled in comfortably, she returned to La-La Land within minutes. I stood at her side until she was fast asleep.

Tip-toeing to the adjacent room, I set the timers for when she needed her medications, pain killers, and the first bandage change. Once calculating the times, organizing the contents of the hospital bucket, and getting all the supplies in order in a straight line, I returned to her side and watched her sleep.

It wasn’t until she was in deep REM, did Joe show up from nowhere.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his Velcro sneakers the old man appeared in my periphery and said, “If you don’t do something about all this, right now, today, this moment, you’re going to go right out of your fucking mind.”

“What do you suggest? I whispered to him in my mind with my eyes locked on Nancy’s breathing patterns.

“Well, that’s not up for me to decide, but I think you know what you want to do.” He walked by me and slipped into the kitchen, around the corner out of my line of sight.

I kept my attention on her fluttering eye lids. I held my hand out, snapped my fingers with barely enough force to make a slight noise to test her level of consciousness and when she didn’t flinch, I felt safe to leave her side for a moment, I stepped away from the couch and sought him out.

He stood back to me, hands still in his pockets. Staring out the kitchen window facing the neighbors home, he muttered, “We know what she needs, right?”

I stood beside him, looked between my feet and whispered, “She needs sleep.”

“You know why, right?”

“Sleep heals.”

“What do you need to do, to allow her sleep?”

“Keep her comfortable. Keep the TV off. No TV, no video games. No audio distractions. Stay out of the squeaky recliner. Memorize all the creaky floorboards. Turn off all device notifications throughout the house. Deactivate all alarms. Plug headphones into every jack, just in case… OK… first… Buy headphones. Keep the music off. Think about purchasing a white noise machine. Keep the dog quiet. No microwave. Do chores only when she’s awake.” 

Mulling through the noise cancellation list and home quieting strategies, my brain overloaded. Like light splintering through a prism, bouncing around the room chaotically, fractured thoughts raced around my brain. I was inundated with unfinished ideas, spiraling rabbit holes of what ifs, and questions rattling around.

Oh, no. This is way bigger than I thought. What are we going to do about… How are we going to get around… what happens if… this changes everything… diet, sleep, routine… work… my children… social time… spending habits, what are you going to… next week we have to… tomorrow I have to… I have little back-up. Find someone to help with… send out the messages… call… email… text… This is no-man’s land. Uncharted territory. A ship destined to be dashed to pieces across the rocks.

A wave of dizzy crashed over me and Joe watched calmly as I stepped back from the outside view of my backyard, and slunk into a nearby kitchen chair. I closed my eyes and tried to breath through the anxiety.

How are we going to pull this off?

I felt weak and drained, lost, alone, and completely overwhelmed.

Out of one frying pan, and straight into another with the burner cranked up to full. Nothing can really prepare someone for all the variables involved. It is indeed a paradigm altering, reality shaking cataclysm of epic proportions. I didn’t know which direction to focus my thoughts on, so I sat still and silent in the kitchen, listening to her snore in the other room.

Without speaking a word Joe turned my chair with me in it, to face the table.

Standing behind me, he grabbed my wrists as though I were a puppet on strings and lowered my hands flat on the table’s surface.

Focus.

Find a balance. There’s a balance to everything. 

Right now, there is no we. There is only you. You have to find homeostasis, in order to survive this… in order for her to get through this. It’s up to you to fix it. It’s all on your shoulders… and you know it.

OK. She’s sleeping. I have some time. I thought to myself. What to do with the available time that requires no noise. 

A light bulb went off.

Angry Birds.

A mindless game will help me escape. And I truly needed to escape. I needed to shut my brain off.

I swiped my phone, downloaded the app, switched the music and game sounds to ‘off’ and kicked my feet up on the table.

Joe stepped in front of me and pushed my feet to the floor. I lowered the phone.

“What are you doing?!” He bellowed.

I’m occupying time. I’m doing what I’m comfortable with. 

“If you turn that game on, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

I have no idea what you want me to…

“Write something. Anything. Doesn’t matter what it is. Take advantage of this moment.”

Why the hell would I do that?

“Because it’s something you’ve been wanting to try, since childhood. No better time than the present. Take advantage of moments. Take advantage of the quiet. Write just one line. Write me some poetry.”

I laughed, until I cried.

I snatched up a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the chair.

“Poetry, huh?”

“Just one line.” He stood beside me.

“I have no idea what I’m…”

“Visualize a place. A place you enjoy. Somewhere you’d like to be right now.”

Red faced, feeling ridiculous and no less lost than I felt before, I wrote the first thing that came to mind.

“Joe Schmo sat in the snow. He didn’t know which way to go. All he knew, was his ass was cold.”

I ripped open my nearby filing cabinet, and with a side arm throw I tossed the small pad in the back of a drawer. Enough of that nonsense.

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. I’m fairly new to the platform and don’t post much, but you can find me here on Instagram jeremy_morang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mortal’s Enemy

“Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.” –Chinese Proverb

“The world is a vampire, sent to drain.” –Smashing Pumpkins

 

At this phase of my journey, and it happens in phases, I’ve come to understand some things. Bear in mind, this is all coming from subjective personal perspective. My truth.

To quote a friend, “there is no truth, because everyone’s truth is different.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Seeing my world through my own individual lens, I say the following, based exclusively on my own life experiences. Results may vary person to person.

  1. Any passion that provides us joy, and subsequently brings joy to others, is a passion worth following. Doesn’t matter what it is, just do no harm while pursuing it.
  2. The work involved, is work worth doing, if it brings happiness to self, and others, despite the pitfalls and struggles encountered.
  3. The past does not dictate the future.
  4. Existence is a test.
  5. The more we stumble, and fall, the stronger we become. We may feel the fool for falling, but that feeling goes away; eventually replaced by something better. All scrapes and bruises heal.
  6. Never live in fear. Fear is a brutal, ruthless force to be reckoned with. Fear takes no prisoners and shows no mercy. It’s influence is provided free of charge to anyone looking for a taste, and fear peddling salesmen are lurking on every corner. Be wary of fear, hopelessness, and despair merchants. Looking to bury some fear and despair? Disconnect from the source. My disconnect was television and movies. Ditch TV for one year… you’ll never want to go back. It’s depressing in there.
  7. Time cares not for us. It moves forward regardless.
  8. Fear, is time’s wielded weapon of choice.
  9. Time, is the mortal’s enemy.

My goals in life are simple within my allotted time: Provide for my family, first and foremost. Be the best dad and husband I can be within my current paradigm. To be in this world, and not of it, and always pursue personal growth. Stop living vicariously through others. Publish my full length novel, and it’s sequel shortly thereafter. Work on the series until completion, continue to work on developing skills that make me a better human being…

… Done.

That’s all folks.

Sounds easy, some would say.

Well… it’s not. (sigh)

At least for me, it’s been a trial by fire. I’ve been burned to certain degrees to a point where I question why I bothered. Listening to the conniving words of the despair peddler knocking at my door. At the time, taking it all as a sign. A sign induced by fear, and I recognize that now. I’m learning my lessons the hard way. Focusing on passion, and interests, while being a parent, husband, and a worker bee in the world hive, I’ve learned to be effective with time.

Burns will heal too. It just takes a little longer to recover from sometimes as the wounds demand some extra attention.

Time is not friendly, and when it sends its energy sucking fear minions to run amok and drain the essence and spirit from us unsuspecting victims, time becomes even less friendly. I’ve learned along this journey, that thing called fear, was the biggest obstacle I faced. A fear of failure. Fear of falling down. Fear of even starting the adventure in the first place. Fear of thinking about that thing I feared. Fear of asking questions. Being afraid to ask for help. Fear of being burned along the way.

The ol classic, “You want to do… what now? You’re not special. Foolish mortal.”

It has nothing to do with being special. Just… proving to myself I can do more, and be more, than what I’m told I should do, and be. 

What if? What if? What if? What if?

Stop being afraid. You are your own worst enemy.

Running around the brain 24-7.

You have to.

Why?

Because you do.

Why?

You’re asking impossible questions.

Eventually this content will wrap back around to where it all started over one hundred posts ago with Nancy, Bill, the dreams, and my imaginary friend, Joe, but for the moment, I need to take a second and apologize.

My intention here is not to preach. That’s not how I roll. If I ever sound preachy, my apologies. I fully understand it can be taken the wrong way, and to some, might sound a little like a skipping record.

I don’t want anyone to listen to me, or believe the things I believe, or say, or take my advice, or do anything other than live your own individual truths.

I’m an idiot. Don’t listen to me.

All I want to repeatedly convey is… don’t be afraid… of anything. Fear is everywhere and takes many dastardly forms. It poisons the soul, and provides no rewards. Live fearlessly and unapologetic. Succumb to fear, and you will be trapped forever. Right where it wants you.

I believe we all have a little spark, made up of some kind of innovation, rooted deep inside us, hiding. Every-now-and-again, that spark comes to life when we least expect it, and subtly whispers in our ear. It’s that moment in time, that fraction of a second where the enemy is weakened enough to where the fear can be pushed back… that’s the moment to strike.

I believe our individual spark can light the sparks of others, if we allow it to be seen and shared. I believe that’s the ultimate goal. The true reward.

Sparks light fires.

If my teeny tiny spark ever has a positive impact on someone else, and ignites their spark…?

Mission accomplished. The more sparks and fires, the better. That’s how we heal the world.

If that spark whispers to you, listen for a moment and react to it with an open mind and heart. Create. Inspire. Sing. Write. Sketch. Draw. Build. Paint. Pursue the passions, share them with the world, and do it fearlessly. If you have a skill, utilize it. If you have passions, pursue them. Have a talent?… do something with it. Time moves forward and waits for no one.

Don’t be afraid to let your spark out. Battle through the fear, face it head on, and make the enemy your bitch.

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. I’m fairly new to the platform and don’t post much, but you can find me here on Instagram jeremy_morang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Addiction

“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery–isolation.

Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”― Charles Bukowski

Too many moons have passed.

To the folks who’ve been here, reading since the beginning and supporting me… my sincere apologies (sigh). Every now and again life gets out of hand, and unpredictable, and reining it all in can be a struggle. One day can blur to the next, to the next, to the next.

Sometimes our focus shifts, attention is drawn elsewhere, and we can get lost along the way.

My problem is, I allow myself to get lost. I intentionally put myself in those mindsets and predicaments. Some may say, “everyone needs an escape. A recharge. We all need distractions,” and while I agree, I’ve now become accustomed to different distractions. Those distractions once provided for my enjoyment and pleasure, don’t cut the mustard anymore.

I have my own methods of escaping. My interests have changed… radically.

When I revert back to my old distractions, and the vices I once enjoyed, my current addiction can’t be satisfied and I feel unfulfilled.

When I ignore that thing which I enjoy to the core of my being, I feel empty inside. An addict, looking frantically and desperately for his fix. My stomach becomes a hollow pit. When I battle my addiction, and try to sever myself from its influence, I can physically ‘feel’ the after effects.

It’s a thirst that must be quenched, and I indulge.

Chatting with a friend recently I said, “I sleep, eat, breathe, work, socialize, and partially exist in other universe. I live there. A universe I can’t escape.”

(And no… that’s not meant to be interpreted as, “oh wow, he thinks he lives in…”)

To bottom line it, I have an overactive imagination.

A few years ago, sitting in silence after work one afternoon, in my office chair, slowly spinning, thinking, questioning and wandering around my brain, I came to the conclusion through a personal epiphany of self-awareness, that I was lacking in an abundance of skills. Skills I wished to obtain, and I had no choice but to seek that knowledge on my own time. I own that fact about myself.

I’m high-school educated, have had brief stints in higher education over a period of years (not going back), worked multiple jobs since graduation, and I currently grind through my 40 hour work week; and to my credit I’ve been called a ‘people person.’ I have decent people skills, and that’s probably why I did well in retail and middle management. I have life experiences. And the buck stops there.

OK… that’s cool and all. But what else do you have? Look around…

I have “things”. Material possessions, objects, books, mediocre technology.

I have a good job, a good roof over my head. I have a family, a wonderful wife, decent caring friends, a loyal dog…

Fantastic… but what else?

I don’t understand the question.

What else do you have that determines who you are? What are you good at?

My job. Being a good dad, husband, friend…

Stop running around the circle. Does your job determine who you are?

I don’t think so… I can’t think of anything I’m ‘good’ at. Mowing the lawn? Shoveling snow? Driving a car? I have what I need and want in my life. What else is there?

That’s your problem.

Then I stepped out of my box, closed it up tight, and attempted to break it down for myself a little further.

Go below the surface and name one thing you can say definitively, is all yours.

My feelings, my thoughts, my responses and actions…

A little deeper…

My consciousness, my dreams…

You’re getting warmer.

My imagination.

I have an overactive imagination and its easy for me to get lost.

And boy oh boy, do I get lost.

Something once compelled me to get my imagination down on paper. I had to start, create a foundation on which to build, and that foundation has crumbled more times than I care to admit. But I couldn’t stop. I had to somehow, someway, exercise that singular thing I felt I had to my advantage. I had to do something within the realm of my imagination… somehow.

The process has been a blessing, and a curse. More work than some can imagine. Meals skipped, sleep lost, missing time, bloodshot eyes, snoring at the desk, endless reading, researching, and attempting to apply the knowledge garnished along the way. Scrolling through countless threads, browsing hundreds of articles, weighing options, and generating lists of pros and cons. Comparing, contrasting. Guzzling gallons of coffee, muttering, and pacing the room. The weekend gone in the blink of an eye. Added unforeseen challenges to claw and scrape through, worry, anticipation, doubt, anger, frustration, and all the other feelings that accompany following a passion.

Wow… that sounds like hell.

It’s the greatest experience I’ve ever had. Watching my imagination take shape and form, through my own efforts, hard work, and assistance from others, and seeing a vision once trapped in my head becoming animated with words… despite the daily struggle and the labor entailed, has been the most amazing adventure of my life, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

That’s where I disappeared to for a time. My editor sent a batch of edits and then life got to a point where I had to step back… and escape from my escape for a bit. I was a little overwhelmed. I had to find my focus and footing again, return to the manuscript with fresh eyes, and the only way to do that was to retreat into my old distractions. It had to be done. I had to reassess.

If I’m going to do this, I have to go all the way. I can’t look back, or second guess, and allow those splinters of fear and intimidation steer me away from what I want to accomplish in my world. I have to tackle it head on. I’ve found something I’m passionate about and despite the idea I may only be a drop of water, in a vast ocean of billions of ideas, I still wish to pursue that dream regardless. Without those individual drops of water, there wouldn’t be an ocean to swim in.

(Shameless plug) I’ve reached a point in the process now where I have to consider and develop marketing, self-promotion, and navigating areas I’m unfamiliar with and perhaps even a little uncomfortable with. However, if I’m going to do this, I have to go all the way. The finish line is in sight now.

I still have some work ahead of me, but I can say with a hint of pride and a beaming smile, I have something I’m proud of which is near completion, and I can’t wait to share it with everyone. I couldn’t have done it without those good people who have supported me since the beginning and have been there for me during the process, whether personal or professional.

I’m convinced now. As long as ‘one’ person believes you can do it, and is willing to stand at your side, then you can indeed do it. It only takes one. Fear is the only enemy. I know that sounds a bit cliche, but I don’t care.

So, I want to say to all the readers and anyone else who may stumble upon this along their journey, I believe in you. If you decide it can’t be done, or its too much work, or its work not worth doing, and adopt a self defeating mindset… I’ll never try and change that mindset, that’s not my place… but “I” believe you can do it, with all the sincerity of my heart… even if you can’t believe it. I really do. When I struggled to believe in myself, a heart full of doubt, one person stepped up beside me and said, “bullshit. Of course you can do it.”

All we have to do is start, commit, then decide to go all the way. Never be afraid of tripping up, stumbling out of control, and falling. Be afraid of what might happen if you stay down.

It feels good to be back, and I’ll keep you posted.

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter @jeremymorang. I’m fairly new to the platform but you can find me here on Instagram jeremy_morang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

Conspiracy Theorist, Part 3:

“Expectation is the enemy to happiness.” –JSM

 

My daughter walked behind me as I was starting this installment. She stopped in her tracks, leaned over my shoulder and said, “Oh, wow! Cool!! You’re doing conspiracy theory stuff? Those are fun! Part three? What are you covering? I’ve seen “this” and watched that, and read “this” and “that”. My friends talk about “this one”. You might like “this” channel, hold on and I’ll dig it up on YouTube.”

I didn’t have a substantial answer for her. She was expecting a concrete topic to be covered and probably wanted to talk about it casually with me. Instead of replying I closed the laptop, and stopped writing for the day. I can’t be certain if there truly is a specific topic to be hashed out and dissected, regardless of the plethora of options.

Designing a conspiracy, typically involves the plotting and scheming between two or more people with similar interests. The Latin breakdown of the word becomes, “to breath together, or, to breathe with.” Most conspiracy theories, or conspiracies in general, are widespread and well established, mainstream, controversial, bizarre and a little wonky, but there are some more localized and close to home. Sometimes a little too close for comfort.

A management team meeting in private, speaking in hushed whispers behind a closed door. Designing, plotting, and concocting a sneaky underhanded method of compiled trickery and mounting lies to remove an employee from the workplace. Intentionally setting someone up to fail. A spouse and their lover cuddling in the darkness, navigating malicious ideas to remove an unwanted third party from the picture, and getting others involved in the charade. People gathering in a small group to somehow devise a way to benefit from the misfortunes of others. A conspiracy doesn’t have to be well-known, widespread, mainstream, or news worthy… it occurs right under our noses.

I know it’s happened to me once or twice over my forty years. Has it happened to you? I’m guessing there’s a good chance it’s happened to quite a few of us.

“They screwed me over. I never deserved that. I was blindsided. They could have told the truth instead of all the secrets and intentional deceit. What they said was a lie. The wool was pulled over my eyes. I was set-up. It never happened like that and everything said was fabricated.”

You’ll never understand the true meaning of being “set-up” and the horror that follows, unless it happens to you. I pray no one ever has to experience it. Truly devastating.

Sometimes those closest to us, those people we trust or thought we could trust, will conspire against us. That’s not even a “theory”.

It’s a fact, Jack.

We just don’t ever expect it to happen to us.

We have such grandiose expectations as a species. I least I did. I’ll never speak for others. I can only reflect on my own life. We expect life to always work to our favor. We expect our children to be happy. We expect our family, and those we love, to love us in return unconditionally. We expect nothing bad will happen to us. We expect politicians and those in the authoritarian positions to work to our benefit. We expect our opinions to have weight and meaning. We expect our friends, significant others and spouses to be loyal and honest no matter what. We expect our leaders to be truthful and decent. We expect apologies when we’ve been wronged. We expect drivers to NOT text and drive, or drink and drive. We expect truth. We expect the best of people. We expect to be comfortable, content, happy, successful.

For the longest time, that was one of my near fatal flaws. I expected too much. I had a ‘karma” mentality.

The universe will make things right. You’ll see. Good things will come to those who wait, and those who seek patience. Bad things happen to good people all the time, and the universe will course correct. 

I had to somehow find a way and muster the courage to cast those shackles of mental constriction off, and as far away as I could cast them. I was becoming my own worst enemy by expecting the universe to fix my problems. Expectation was the enemy. Expectation was the nemesis to my personal happiness.

Expecting something in life, for me, became an impediment.

I’ll never forget the time the steel mill was going through lay-offs and employee cuts. I was one of the few at the bottom of the totem pole and my name was floating around the building. I was terrified I was going to lose my job. Five years invested and fantastic benefits.

“Don’t you worry, Jere. Your position is secure. You’re not going anywhere. We need you.” Said the head honcho of the company, right to my face, during a lunch break.

Whew. OK… back to life.

Less than a week later, I received the ‘ol’ pink slip. “Sorry, Jere, we have to do what we have to do. I hope you understand.” He extended his palm for a parting handshake.

It took me a long time to fully contemplate the philosophy of, “We have to do what we have to do.”  I was so utterly and completely distracted with “life” I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

I never contemplated worse case scenarios. I never had a plan of attack. I expected my position to be protected and my superiors to be honest and upfront with me.

The opposite of that was true. I should have expected to be canned. I should have expected potential dishonesty. I should have been seeking employment elsewhere as a contingency plan, once I heard my name mentioned in rumor.

Therefore, I now work towards a new mentality of zero expectations. Hoping for the best, but prepared for the aweful. Not to an extreme, mind you, but a simplified mindset of, “Anything can, and will happen. What to do with that information? What to do………….what to do……………..”

I no longer expect apologies when I’ve been wronged. I no longer expect this fractured, cruel world to owe me anything. I no longer expect decency even when I project decency.

In regards to conspiracy theories I’ve come to a conclusion. My own conclusion of course. If people whom I once trusted and were once close to me, had the uncanny ability to lie straight to my face, be deceitful, be cruel, heartless, manipulative and have malicious intent in their hearts for their own personal gains, then why would I trust anyone or anything with absolution? I never believed those things could happen to me. Why would I believe total strangers would be any different?

All I can do is trust myself and those few folks inside my circle.

For me, trust is hard. When trust is gone or threatened, I burn bridges. It’s safer that way. I can better focus on what I believe is important when those bridges turn to ash. In my opinion, happiness is the most important thing in the universe. Each and every one of own personal quests should have an end goal of finding happiness.

The path to happiness can be a trial by fire. My trial revolved around Nancy. I was so focused on priority, obligation, bills, money, her health and healing, I never considered happiness. The idea of finding contentment within the new paradigm, was an alien concept at the moment. We had such a long road ahead.

He disappeared from my psyche for roughly two months, but Joe was the catalyst for me locating the path to my own personal happiness. A made up character. A figment of my imagination.

A crazy old son of a bitch who spent twenty minutes of our afternoon belittling me and pushing me around. Telling me I was ruining everything. I would be in just as much pain as Nancy and if I didn’t figure something out, it would all fall apart.

He didn’t stop his rant until I paid attention.

***

If you’re interested in checking out my contribution, and the contributions from twenty other international authors in a recently published anthology, here is the link. Paperback and eBook are both available for purchase. Thanks for your support and your continued reading.

 

Thank you for reading Tales of the Chronicles and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter@jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conspiracy Theorist, Part 2

Having one of those “bizarre” conversations a couple of months ago, centered loosely around “theories,” a statement from a friend really hit me hard, but not quite hard enough to knock me off balance. The words had an impact, but it wasn’t a take-down. In fact, the conversation was initiated by them, which indicates to me, a subtle intrigue and fascination on their part in wanting to pursue an answer and initiating dialogue. Perhaps it was merely curiosity. I don’t recall bringing anything up, but I was happy to oblige.

“It must be difficult, and scary, believing everything is a lie.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa now… put on the breaks. Time out. I never proclaimed everything was a lie. That’s an absurdity. I explore the theories, nothing more. I enjoy looking into things most people would rather ignore or blatantly disregard.

To believe that absolutely everything is a lie, would be almost unbearable. I don’t think most people could properly function in life if they believed nothing was true, and everything was a lie. A hoax. A joke. We’d be in a constant state of anxiety and paranoia. Panic stricken. Fearful to start our day. I can’t, and won’t, live under those conditions. I refuse to be fearful and paranoid. Been there, done that. I prefer living, and not restricted to just being alive.

I do, however, have the right to be skeptical, just like everyone else. Being skeptical, leads to investigation. I enjoy exploring the questions. I enjoy the investigation, regardless of my determinations and findings, or lack thereof. 

We tell our children to question everything. “No matter what, you question everything. Don’t believe everything you see, and hear, and read in books and on the internet. Ask questions!”

However, once those days of childhood are over, and we reach a certain age, we no longer ask questions. We accept. We comply. We’re told, “It just is.”

Why? There has to be more than that…

Then life picks up the pace and we have to somehow keep up. Scurrying frantically through the endless maze looking for an exit, or a small prize along the path to satisfy some inner cravings. Priorities take precedence and we forget those things that once had our curiosity. Our sense of wonder disappears. Connection disappears. Thrust into the real world armed with only that which was presented and delivered to us along the way. We become zombified, calcified, dead-eyed, and terrified to make a mistake.

I have truly made my fair share of intense mistakes. As if the world and everyone around me was conspiring against me.

One of those mistakes was attending higher education when I should have considered the plethora of alternatives instead.

My first stint in higher education was, English Literature: Shakespeare, Beowulf, the classics, and creative writing intermixed within the criteria. I thoroughly enjoyed that component of college. I had fun. Mathematics, however, has never been friendly to me, but it was mandatory for college success.

Why?

OK… let’s give it a try. How difficult can it be?

I was forced to take, (some specific level of) Algebra. The concept of unwillingly participating in math classes, to receive a degree in literature, boggled my mind. I wanted to write fun stuff and seek out my creative side, utilizing history, sociology, art and basic psychology as backbones and templates for my aspiring writing goals–not designing complex graphs, and breaking down complicated equations to calculate estimates. But it was mandatory.

I understand our chemists, scientists of varying degrees, biologists, physicists, and theorists require high level mathematics to do their work, but it has never applied to me. Being forced to participate in an activity, that has no meaning to me, doesn’t make sense. If it doesn’t make sense, I have to explore the why.

I’ve had to use remedial math and basic measurement fractions when I worked in the steel industry, and those few retail jobs in between other retail jobs, but the mathematical “stuff” that was being taught at my university, never made any sense. None-what-so-ever. And to top it all off, the instructor couldn’t help me make sense of what I was attempting to learn. And as much as I hate to say it, there’s a specific reason for that distinctive outcome. Math isn’t meant for me. I ponder why math is a language I can’t process.

My questions are always focused on one word: why?

“Why is it this way, Mr. Smith? I don’t understand how the conclusion was determined and why the formula has ‘this’ specific outcome. The end result points toward a rough estimate, not a definitive. Why?”

“It just is.”

In order to get through this, you have to accept those things that don’t make a lick of sense. I see how it is… just go with the flow and ride the wave. It’ll be over before you know it. Just muscle through, and don’t ask questions cause you’ll look the fool.

Shouldn’t we be asking questions though regardless of their absurdity? Isn’t that the human mentality? We ask questions, to broaden our horizons and become more educated. Shouldn’t we strive towards making it all make sense and applicable? I don’t understand…

“It just is,” isn’t good enough anymore.

I believe what it all boils down to is personal preferences. I enjoy challenging my own perspective based preconceived notions based on what was provided to me when I was thrust into the real world.

For instance (only an example): I understand millions of individuals from all over Earth believe in the existence of the Loch Ness Monster, even though they have never been there or caught a glimpse of the elusive creature first hand. Many claim to have actually seen ‘ol’ Nessie themselves, up-close and personal. They’ve witnessed the ripples, and the humps and breaches, and snapped blurry and grainy photos, and wrote stories and articles based on their discoveries. 

That doesn’t necessarily conclude I should, by default, therefore believe in the Loch Ness Monster. Instead, I believe, that they believe. Regardless of the mass consensus, I don’t have to believe. Perhaps I’d truly believe it if I saw it first hand and could be convinced what I was seeing was in actuality an ancient sea dragon. Until that time comes, I’ll just continue to believe that people believe.

And I leave it at that. People can believe (in) whatever they want. I can believe (in) whatever I want. 

Each personal journey of self-discovery is diverse, exclusive, and unique. My rabbit hole adventures and the exploration of my interests and fascinations have taken me to some places which have challenged how I think, dream, rationalize and how I conceptualize my reality. My reality is different from everyone else, and I have to live and experience it in my own way unhindered. I am merely an individual walking my path toward parts unknown, within the confines of my provided reality.

Reality however, is never easy. 

Sometimes, the world feels as though it’s conspiring against us.

At one point along the journey my reality included a sub-conscious conjuration of an imaginary fictitious illusion formed from an immediate need, as a coping mechanism, which manifested randomly as an old man wearing a superhero tee-shirt, at the most inopportune and stressful of moments.

Joe was my biggest question. Why is he here? Why does he exist? Why, why, why? I needed answers to impossible questions. The types of questions that don’t seem to have answers, no matter how far down you dig and how much time is invested in research. Do we keep digging and seeking answers regardless, or do we give up…

*** 

Joe showed up unexpectedly at Nancy’s side that afternoon and issued a statement to me. He had become that nagging, irritating little voice in my mind always hovering over my shoulder, and whispering things I didn’t want to hear. Like having an angry conversation in your head with someone you despise. You can see their face as clear as day and hear the venomous hate in their voice as though they were right there in the room with you. Joseph Everette twisted, warped, bent, distorted, and manipulated my reality to the point of no return. I haven’t been the same since. 

He stood over her sleeping body with his hands on his hips. He sighed through his nostrils, and then pointed to me with a shaking finger. “If you don’t do something about all this, right now, today, this moment, you’re going to go right out of your fucking mind.”

It took me three days of silence and thinking, watching Nancy’s every move, responding to her every need, sitting cross-legged at her side always at arm’s length and remembering those chaotic inner voice conversations, to finally figure it all out.

Thank you for reading and joining me on my journey. Please subscribe in the provided area to receive a notification of new posts by email or feel free to follow me on Twitter@jeremymorang. Please give this a like if you like it, share with others, or leave a comment if you wish. See you at the next one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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