Posts Tagged ‘letters

06
Mar
20

Dear China, Don’t Punish the World

***

Hey, China, you’re making it harder for me to love you.

When I think of all the beautiful things to come from China (and Japan and a number of other Far-Eastern nations), I crumble; I melt.  I imagine going to China and exploding from the sight of too many beautiful women.  The mere thought of that experience is like catnip to me; I want to curl up in a ball and roll around on a plush rug.  I have been infatuated if not in love with the Far East since I was a teenager.

Then, not too long ago, Japan went and had a nuclear disaster which kinda spoiled my eagerness to travel there…just when I was considering making plans to take that big adventure.  I have heard about SARS for some years and found that both discouraging and disappointing.  And, how long ago was bird flu a thing?  I met some reaaaaally paranoid people about that one, who had a shelter, supplies and high-tech breathing masks ready.  Now….this…this new contagion that sounds like one dangerous alcoholic beverage, a cocktail of death.  And, it came from you, China?

I just have to ask…

Who hurt you?

I mean, I know the USA hasn’t been kind.  They’ve been demanding and making you do their homework for so long.  But, there has to be more.  Who else is to blame?

You’re hurt, and you’re taking the pain out on the rest of the world.  But, you’re hurting your own people, too.  You’re hurting the world.  And, as I said, it’s making loving you more difficult.

Don’t ruin my love for you, your people, mythology, astrology, landscape and culture.

Take back your biological weapon and show mercy to your enemies.  Work this out some other way.   It’s not too late.

Or, are we all doomed to be wiped off the planet?  Are you taking god-directed action to wipe out all mankind once and for all?  Are you Death?  Or, Fate?

Oh, China.  You just seem like a wounded cat right now.  And, it pains me to see you lash out this way.  I will not live in fear of your biological weapons.  But, if this continues, I will eventually have a broken heart that cannot be repaired.  And, that is the worst of it.  It would be the worst if I lost my love for you.

Sincerely,

Writingbolt

 

P.S.  If you are NOT to blame for the crisis that is still unfolding, if someone dropped this bomb on your territory, just point me in the direction of the culprit; and I will unleash my fury upon them.

24
Oct
19

$1,000 for the Makers of G5 Games

****

I recently invited people to join me in playing an online/offline game made by the G5 company. Since then, I’ve sampled two of their very artistic…and very vexing *free* hidden item games. If you are familiar with the games, then you will likely find what I have to say fairly amusing. If you have no idea what I am talking about, feel free to find out for yourself or just carry on with your mindless scrolling.

Dear G5 Games,

I am so pleased with your work. I’d like to offer you $1,000. I know you normally ask for less to buy various starter kits, chests and whatnot. I’m saving time and being generous for all your wonderful artwork and…ehem…time-killing entertainmennnn-tah. But, there’s a catch.

To collect this $1,000, you must find it in a picture, a picture that is very dark and blurry like a bad painting of a barn in one color, a picture set at *Magister* level. And, the money will be disguised as a thin silver thread, like a slender antenna, which blends in with about a million other brush strokes in the blurry painting. It’s a very dark picture; so you’ll likely need a flashlight (which is quite useless and only lasts five seconds) or a torch (which is slightly less useless and just as temporary). Just to make you feel better…or worse…I’m going to surround the item you are seeking with dozens of other things you’d like, including other dollar amounts, money bags, etc. Oh, wouldn’t that be sweet. But, no; they are just there to distract you…like so many pictures we players must search over and over and over and over and over and over again, looking at all the objects we normally cannot find so easily, laid out in front of us, mocking us.

Even if you find the silver thread, which is no bigger than an eyelash and partially hidden behind another section of the picture, you’ll find it difficult to click on. If you get weak, you can just wait a day to recharge and try again; or spend a few talismans to rev yourself back up in a fraction of that time.

But, wait, there’s more.

Before you can even reach this picture, you must make a journey of a two hundred and eighty-five levels, gathering three billion coins and unfathomable “experience.” Are you up to the task? Cuz you sure put us players to it!

[You go from needing 20,000 coins to open one portal in Twin Moons to 84,000?! And, to rack up that kind of coin, you need to get combiners that are only available in portals miles upon miles ahead of what’s accessible, spend countless hours making what is available even more difficult and expensive than it already is…or buy our way there? You folks are cruel and nuts. You might as well just make all the portals accessible at no cost or need to collect a billion bitty things and just sell the game for $20 in a form that can be installed, uninstalled and reinstalled with ease, and call it a year. Because you are proving there is no “fun” in “game.” Like some video games of the past, you have lots of nice graphics but are lacking elsewhere. I’ve been tempted to try some of your other games, but I reaaaaally don’t want to go through more of the same grief. Wait; I am having a psychic moment…the big solution at the end of the game, the answer to the mystery…oh, there our missing elder man is, in the final picture, like reaching the end of Candy Land. Big whoop. By the time I get there, I’ll look back on all the time I invested in the games and cry.]

And, should you succeed, you may come away with any number of other useless items for combining one of your many random collections of images which the characters in the games fake caring about for flimsy reasons…or no reward at all. You might solve the picture and get nothing. That happens. Right? But, do try and try again and again, searching a thousand times if you must to find that lucky thread of payment. Then you can spend it on more useless stuff in your own games…or pay a small portion of a medical bill…maybe something for your eyes.

So, aren’t you glad I sent this payment? Aren’t you glad you made these ridiculously challenging and frustrating games that can crash, show pictures that don’t belong in the games and lose progress gained in a blink? Thank you for making them *free.* Now, I’d like my eyesight, time and heaps of patience back. [But, lovely artwork…the not-the-least-bit-creepy parts (not just about every male character that looks like some secretive killer), anyway.]

Sincerely, your pal,
Writingbolt

PS  The recent Halloween festival in Secret Society has been remotely refreshing, considering it didn’t involve a glitch…though that last glitch was somehow tied to downloading another of your games which does not seem to recharge energy and follow the clock/calendar of the other…as if you just cast that old child aside.

11
Apr
18

Like a Sad Puppy Looking Out the Window

***

No.  You’re not going to find any sad but cute puppy pictures here.  Go clog your storage drives elsewhere.

I’m just expressing how I feel at the moment…at this stage in my life.  And, just to let you know, I’m going to get a bit long-winded; so get comfy and prepare yourself for some heavy paragraphs if you care to read.  But, if you want a more intimate look at the real me, this is about as close as you get without making the effort to reach out and connect via the pathways I provide.  I may repeat a few things from previous posts.

I feel like time is slipping away while I struggle to stand and get moving.  I hear about neighbors I don’t socialize with regularly, finding out their kids have already married and bought houses when it seems like only a few years ago they were kids playing in the backyard.  Have I actually reached THAT age?  Am I already the gray-haired elder who talks about the little ones being taller than I remember?

I’m not particularly physically handicapped.  But, I feel emotionally and mentally challenged…crippled.  I feel starved and deprived of good energies that I’d assume propel other people into action.

If someone says I just lack motivation, what does that mean?  I should be whipped like a slave?  I should throw myself in front of a bus or hit my head against a wall til I get the picture?  I just need to take more risks, more chances?  I’m not charitable enough?  I’m not “hungry” enough?  Exactly what direction should I move in to be doing this life right?  [No.  Don’t answer that one.  There are way too many people doling out answers they think are right, already.]

It’s sad to say, too, but I look forward to and sometimes rely upon emails to communicate.  I used to turn to the landline telephone.  But, reaching people isn’t always as easy, anymore, now that there are “options” and more things to distract people (rather than connect them).  I don’t mind leaving a message if I know I’ll get a response.  But, I don’t want to be the guy calling at “a bad time” and feeling like I am expecting the person to be my therapist while they are wondering when I’ll stop gabbing because they have “more important” things to do (that I could/should be doing myself).  Often enough, talking on the phone makes me feel worse, later, than I do composing a letter or email (which, for me, often turns out as long or longer than some letters I used to write).

So, when I finally do get an email or offer to email, I perk my head up a little and might even pant before responding as soon as possible.  Sometimes, I go out of my way, give it more time than most would, really try to make it into something special, something personal and considerate.  Over the years, I’ve realized that usually smells of desperation and is not–as often as I’d like–appreciated.

I try to be patient with others, particularly when they say they are sorry they cannot respond sooner/more often.  I say, “Oh, that’s okay.  You’re busy.  Take your time.”  And, then what happens?  I don’t hear from these people for weeks, months…  And, well, if it goes past a year, I pretty much assume our connection is dead.   [One sad, lonely dog, looking too hard for attention over here.]

“Back in the day,” (heh) you might write to a pen pal and wait a year for a response.  But, you were not considering that pen pal anything more than a seasonal visitor like the Easter Bunny or Kris Kringle.  You didn’t expect much from a pen pal and were grateful, hopefully, when they felt thoughtful enough to send a treat or souvenir.

I don’t look for pen pals at this stage of my life.  If my “circle” was that fulfilling but too local to satisfy my explorative interests, I might look for a stranger overseas to tell me tales.  But, these days, you don’t need a pen pal for that.  You can find people like that online!…in places like this one!  And, if they are friendly enough, you can exchange dialogue!  Isn’t that nice?  [Not that there’s much dialogue going around from what I can see.  More often, I see “award” notices, strangely worded/ignored comments from faceless strangers, brief words of vague sympathy and plenty of “snapshot” responses (the LIKES and the FOLLOWS) which are void of warmth.]

My timing and my low level of comfort with mingling are also terrible.  It seems I am always inside when others are taking walks outside.  [Again, the sad puppy looking out the windows.]  And, even if I cross paths with someone while walking, I’m in no way comfortable striking up a conversation.

For one, I don’t want to come off like an intrusion or misunderstood threat.  I don’t want to take away from the exercise or interaction someone else may be having with their exercise group/companion(s) (while I am almost always alone).  If they only have so much time to exercise, why try to or expect them to stop and gab as long as I may?

Secondly, or rather, additionally in regards to general discomfort, I am not comfortable talking on a walk or in public for more than a minute or two because I know my skin is thin and that I will break the dam wide open if given a chance.  And, the last thing I want is to get loud or breakdown among passersby who are likely to turn their heads and very quickly add to my discomfort.  What’s wrong with him?  Do you really want to know?  [Not to mention all the concerns I’d have of being rejected or “judged” for expressing or hearing something that disturbs one of us.]

What I really would like is to meet someone on a walk or online (or somewhere far more comfortable, wherever that is) and spark a conversation but take it somewhere more private so I don’t expose my “ills,” my concerns, my woes, my heavier thoughts to more people than necessary, especially to people you don’t know who are capable of doing things with your output that might shock and/or upset you.

And, I think that’s what I’ve been doing and striving to do since the internet began.  [I am pretty sure I’ve discussed my experiences with making contacts online elsewhere in my posts.  I just don’t feel like linking or repeating.  And, hey, if you really need to know, you just ask.]

I don’t or can’t expect someone I just met to welcome me into their home or car (and that doesn’t sound too smart to begin with, anyway). I really don’t know where to go to make this happen.  Nor do I have any bright idea or motivation to make myself more comfortable.  It’s one thing when you have a friend or “wingman” with you.  It’s a whole other to feel as fragile as I do and try to go it alone.  I mean, I am sure people do it and have done it.  And, if it comes down to it, I’ll figure out a way.  But, time is passing by so quickly, and I am still spinning my tires.

It sure would be nice if more people reached out to me, too.  Ya know?  I feel worse thinking the world is only going to get better if I make it better for myself (and others).  For all the stories I read of people making things happen, starting businesses and such, I don’t see people reaching out to me.  I keep getting the feeling like I’m different and have to do the leg work for others.  They might have tons of offers or be going through applications/resumes like some location seeking employees.  But, I remain the lone applicant just hoping to make a dent, to get my foot in a door.  [Stop looking like that, sad puppy man!]

Am I just living in some TV show or video game?  Is this just a 4D world in which I have the controller to make things happen?  Have I been so bewildered by the simulations that I forgot I am Player One?

Some would say I just need to get busy or be busier with my life.  When you’re busy, you don’t think as much (about these things).  And, while that may be true, do I want to busy myself with work that does nothing other than feed the careless, wasteful impulses of others (just because someone chooses to make a business of that, because someone convinced them this was profitable) or work for someone who sells a lie built around fear/doubt?

Oh, sure, I could get very busy.  I could not make any money and devote my life to charity because the world sure needs plenty of help.  But, I am terribly afraid of my social and general anxieties getting in the way, of ending up penniless and dependent upon some system I don’t necessarily understand or like.  It’s not like I would be good at balancing charity with doing everything I need to support myself.  I’d more likely give my all and wind up with nothing…or give so little that I feel like a cheapskate/miser.  It is all a bit too risky for me.  [Yet, charity sounds better than some alternatives.]

Sigh.  Woof!

 

 

 

 

31
Aug
15

New package, Same Product, Still Losers

********

That’s a quote (I think) from Megatron in the second season of Beast Wars.

********

It randomly comes to mind as I think about the concept of mail, letters, keeping in touch with those we care to converse but can’t quite reach by phone or in person for whatever reason.

I think back to a time when I first learned how to write a letter.  It was a very important matter that came in two varieties.  I wrote my first classmate as a pen pal, and we both laughed as if it was cute.  But, that didn’t last.  I wrote my first business letter and got one of the best surprises of my life.

The years roll by…and I would write letters in high school the way some kids pass notes in class.  No one really appreciated the effort.

More years roll by, and I see something in a magazine about pen pals.  I gave that a try.  And, lucky me, I met a gal who liked to doodle on envelopes the way I did.  We stayed in touch for a while.  But, I started to feel like I was back in grade school, only talking kid stuff and never really connecting with the person on what mattered at my “age.”  I needed more of a persona, mature connection, someone I could sit with and cry about adult matters.  Not a crazed toy and video game fan who only wanted to discuss the latest product as if she was working for the company.  So, I let that go.

Then came the age of the internet, and I learned the ropes of email and online chat.  I’ve approached countless strangers from around the globe and emailed a handful.  That handful comes and goes like the tide.  Faces change…heck, I don’t even get to see faces.  I didn’t see faces when I wrote on paper.  And, I don’t often see faces on the computer screen.  That much hasn’t changed.

But, what HAS changed is how–in this age of quick and easy responses–more time seems to escape me between contacts.  I go longer periods without hearing from someone I like and wonder if they haven’t just floated off into deep space or read something they didn’t care to read and took off like a scared gazelle.  I feel like I am stuck on an island sending out messages in a bottle.  And, how foolish I am to think I could keep speaking with any one who has the guts to respond just once.

Heck, it might even be my own fault sometimes….no, I do my part.  At least, until technology fails me.

How do I end this emotional rant?

How about…

Sincerely, the friend you haven’t met yet,

Writingbolt

02
Sep
13

How Do I Relocate A Lost FOLLOW?

I don’t see a search option bar where I could type in an ID or word I remember to relocate a blog I was following.  And, I am not sure how I stopped following it.  It just disappeared the day I lost control of my wireless mouse.  I’d like to get it back.  It’s like communicating from space.  If you lose contact with the planet, it’s just a lil bit (if not a great big bit) more lonely “up here”.




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