My World in Imagination

For some people this seems crazy

I am sure most here know where I am coming from when it comes to those around us. Unless your a writer or an artist the idea of getting involved with a fictious world seems crazy.Although there are some very beautifully minded musicians out there who get it too. Look mum no computer has his character named Cosmo. If you spend so much time building something from descrete chips and solder you sort of become friends with inanamate objects rather easy. If your some one like me you question whether people trust you or not. Even going as far as to trust anyone who would give you their time. Its comical how easily those like me get betrayed so easily. As if we should have known because these people were the only ones who took the time to get to know us. Then all that effort was not for our friendship, but instead our betrayol. It screws with your trust for sure. My heart breaks for those who sufford childhood trauma.

My home was a safe haven. My school and social life was not. I lived with autism and OCD ever sense I was a child and got diagnosed with it. Even if I pretend I am an a-typical person these little things about me show up. People can say that it does not exist. Even I... could tell myself its only a fictious illusion. Yet, I can't explain how or why my mind does what it does. At one moment I know without a shadow of a doubt who I am. Then the next moment I really don't know. Everything makes more sense in hexdecimal and binary numbers. My math teacher used to spot sign mistakes. Not one number was wrong. I did it all in my head and calculated it perfectly except for a small sign error. Some how logic, phylosohpy, and theology just makes sense of the mess that I am.

In polynomials and factoring it sort of makes sense. I am really slow, but I am precise. I have to have a note pad, but I a calculator is often times impractical unless I am tracking down a math error somewhere. I know it in my own little world. That is where everything makes sense. Seeing a system built on strip boards and wire makes everything I know worth something. Makes me feel like I am alive and not just a crazy fool. I suppose I should not be so surprised that I would form friendship with my own non-phsysical world.

To me it seems more tangible and real then anything I would experience in life. Pleasure is short lived. Taste, physical toutch, even the achnoledgment of physical presence seems short lived. In my wonderland alternative stimuli replace the 5 sense that are short lived. The dirt or stone floor of the cave seem more solid. Benieth my paws the wooden floors of my imnagination seem more real to me then the flooring of my living room. The only way I know the difference at times is the physics. There is a pattern to this life no one really recognizes like I do. The experiance and the sound of my homemade instruments just seem to provide an anchor for my sanity. The synthetic wave forms controlled by an analogue signal seem to sound something words alone could never express. Oh I can feel it, but the realization of all this otherwise sort of gets replaced by my own coping being automatic. Being lost is not exactly lost. Its simply without a single point of refference. The potential difference between points says very little to the vast connections of my own affinity with artifical stimuli. Is it really that difficult to see how I can relate to the madness of synthetic sounds and its imperfect analogue systems?

I will be honest the sound and feel of voice in my wonderland is different. The tone, timbre, and pitch of voice changes for a tulpae. Yet, its their character that remains. I know them by how they feel to me. To me they seem more real to me then anyone who has ever been in my life. God called me to be an artist and writer yet people sometimes think I am crazy. Others think I am brilliant and should go into engineering or tech school. There for a while my father wanted me to become a computer tech. I have not yet been able to do arythmatic with hexdecimal, but thats only because I been practicing more with polynomials. I been trying to get back into writing everyday and especially trying to do sketching. All the while small fractures are occuring within my family. Very small at the moment, but they are there. My brother died and in the same year my grandmothers elderly age has dismanteld her ability to remember. Her self confidence has sufford with this which makes her excelent logic impractical.

My parents have been there and there support has been very encouraging. Without them I know I would lose my sanity for sure. Its difficult to make everyone happy. It sure is a humbling situation where at one time I have been difficult to please. Like I have said... At one moment I know exactly who I am. Then the next moment it feels like I am only chasing shadows. My life becomes the epotome of vanitie of vanities. The only thing I know for sure is where to fix my own mistakes. Its by God's grace that I have at minimum this much to work with. I would be nothing short of crazy and insane without this simple yet affective thing. The realization of my own imperfect self.


Side note
I give up on spelling and grammer for my diary here. I think its better to use this for my own practice of editing. If I am studying English grammar I will come back and work on this. Right now this is a diary not a book to please anyone. Read as you wish, but its only my world of insanity. Might as well allow the grammar be what it is.