Tag: Hope

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Darkness and Hope, Chapter 5 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

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Lately have been feeling rather hopeless about how the tone can change around here. And it becomes worrisome. Worrisome because of the darkness. It feeds into my fears.

The idea of having a roommate makes me nauseated. I hope that’s the right word for it. The last time I lived with somebody was back in 2008. I had a male roommate who was a referral that my ex-wife gave me.

My ex-wife knew that I needed a roommate. Required might be a more important word than required. She had met him at an indoor soccer game, a league she and I played in. She was always chatting with everybody because that was her way.

Let’s say his name was Coss. Coss was Canadian and just a very relaxed, smart guy, and a good human. So I want that to be the focus here, and I hope that comes across.

It wasn’t so bad, but man, I fucking hated having somebody else around. It wasn’t about Coss, and it was that darkness I have that consumes me and pushes me to hide. I didn’t want always to be hiding from Coss, but that would often happen.

Much like my ex-wife, I know Coss didn’t love that I’d get home and go into my office. I’d decompress for an hour or so, depending on how craptacular my day was. That was less about my ex-wife or Coss.

While having a roommate wasn’t horrible because of Coss’s personality, the extra money was excellent. But I had a $2000 a month mortgage payment, and he was giving me $500 a month. So while it helped some, it didn’t help that much.

If I said, “But that’s 25%, dude,” I would be forced to slap myself.

And queue the shitty inner monologue.

All of this is ultimately my fault because I took some job or made life decisions that were inconsistent with what I should be doing, and therefore I have to pay the price for them. I hope that makes sense.

I thought it would have a different direction in my life, just like everyone else. I thought I was getting away from the darkness, but I wasn’t. Instead, the darkness pulled me back in, no matter how far I ran.

Now I have this big fucking house that I’m renting. I bought a new car, which required me to trade in my diesel that I had paid off. Thus it got me nowhere. I’ve gone nowhere. Sigh.

In a moment of sadness and self-realization, I now have decided that I would start applying for jobs that I am so incredibly overqualified that the likelihood of getting an interview is minimal. On top of that, any offer would be so minimal.

That is because no sane manager or director will hire somebody with 15 years of experience, highly experienced, for a job where they’re answering emails all day for customer support. It’s just stupid.

My alternatives, though, are nearly as unappealing. I have to figure out how to bring home a certain amount of money, just like everybody else. I have to figure out a way to survive because my ultimate goal here is not to kill myself.

The ultimate goal is to get back to where I was, but if I get to that point and I know, I know what I have to do.

Elsewhere in my book, I make comments or notation on my fears with suicide because I do enjoy Dante’s Inferno and would it change to have the usefulness of the idea.

And in the darkness for me, that would take me to the seventh level. That isn’t a hotel, and nowhere anyone who had any hope or delusion of it being anywhere that the darkness would not find them.

I got to thinking about it one day, and I mentioned the topic to The RevCD. He’s one of the few people that I look up to, and I have the utmost respect for him. He’s a super fantastic human, and I value his opinion immensely.

He asked me why I thought so highly of Dante’s Inferno and

I’m talking about all my tattoos to see, and the tattoos represent pain to me because I have so much. I have full sleeves, a full vest, a full lower on my legs, and my back is about 30% done—330 hours or so at this point of tattoo work time.

At the very least, for this event, we’re talking $40,000. – $45,000 easy of money that I put into myself, but I, from a technical perspective, pissed away money that I could be living off of right now.

Let’s be real here, I still would’ve fucked around with that money anyway and got myself into the position I am now. Inevitable.

I think this is because I often feel like the walls are getting closer and closer and closer. Closing me in, strangling me and my life. It keeps putting me into hopeless positions where some of the decisions I have to make are a little less appealing.

All of my apathy aside, I wonder to myself, “What is it going to take to turn things around? What is it that I’m not doing right? How do I keep succeeding at failing at everything I do?” Does it lead me to know where? Or is it putting me right where I’m supposed to be?

What I mean by that I am curious if I am paying the price for something I did or didn’t do, for the actions that I have taken or not taken, and how much more do I have to pay for this, how much more of this shit am I supposed to handle and deal with before I break.

I ask it that way because I feel like I’m being punished. While millions upon millions of people in the United States are suffering like I am, there are millions upon millions across the planet who are suffering like I am.

Marvel Comics - The Punisher

Growing up, I was a huge fan of the Punisher comic book by Marvel. Not the movies because they kind of weren’t great but yeah. I appreciated his tenacity and determination to make people pay the price for their misdeeds when the system isn’t.

Now while I don’t condone his murdering of lots of people, I do entirely grasp and understand nay I get it. However, I don’t believe I have transgressed in such a manner that the punishment is so intense and relentless in my life.

I recognize that how I feel is dependent upon what is around me, the transpiring events. And that is the same to be said for so many people. But fuck them. Just kidding.

It presents a specter above and beyond what it is now that I am dealing with. Its black cloud brings me pain, suffering, and misery.

I don’t feel like I can ever be pleased, and it’s not just because of some of the things that I have lost in my life, just like everybody else. But not everybody else has mental health issues, and I would want to say I’m thankful that they don’t.

I wonder. I wonder what I did wrong. If you could hear me speaking right now, it would be incredibly somber and self-reflecting or self-reflective. I always want to make myself a better person, and it is a driving factor in my life.

But now I have no drive. I have no desire or push, or motivation to get there. I feel dead inside, and while I’m not scared of this facet, it is a bit concerning because my friends aren’t exactly helping me. How could they?

Meanwhile, Good sister is doing a fantastic job of taking care of some financial sides of things. It is challenging to maintain any positivity and maintain my brain.

I mentioned this to Debo a few weeks ago while we were doing technical stuff at his house, and I commented that I was concerned that I was losing my mental acuity and technical skills because I was not using them.

One of the reasons why I felt this way was due to a project that I had started working on a specific and specialized system build, which had been slowed by parts being delivered that I had ordered off of eBay.

I had ordered a new video card, upgraded processors, a wifi card, and a few other bits in the hopes of building a system that can replace my iMac, the one I’m dictating on right now. Potentially a second system on top of that for downstairs as the video card in the kitchen is just going to shit.

The punishment that I’m getting or taking is often related to having to sell or part with things in my life that are part of me, that defined me and embodied who I am.

The paintings, the DAC, the tube amp that I love so much, the diamond engagement ring that my ex-wife gave me back so I could sell it (that lays around my neck). That one hurts a lot. And then my computer. These all represent things that are part of me, and it hurts.

I find myself questioning myself and what I have done, what did I do that was so egregious that I’m being punished in such a manner that I feel like I’m falling apart, and I just am having such a fucking hard time dealing with it. The darkness increasingly tears at me.

When you start thinking about or planning out how you’re going to commit suicide and then work on getting all the things in place to carry that out, you know you have issues. Or at least you should know!

And the last thing I had wanted to do was bring harm to the gatos.

Another aspect of this is the consequences of talking openly and honestly with your friends. They either don’t want to hear it or are afraid of it because it is tough to deal with that fact.

What I don’t understand, and I’m not second-guessing the motives of my friends because I care about them and they are essential to me, and I enjoy them is that either they’re not taking me seriously or they don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.

The only thing I can do is hope that I can find what I did so horrible that I am being punished the way I am or find a way to break out of this. But, unfortunately, I don’t see either of them being plausible or possible, for that matter, at this time.

I think of what I write on my blog, and often it’s just something that comes up in my mind, and I say, oh, that reminds me of this song, and I write a couple of hundred words about it I posted. Then from time to time, I come up with good ideas or ideas and write about them.

This morning I posted up a rather lengthy blog about Anesthesia, which is my absolute favorite song from Type O Negative.

I noted in the first paragraph the following quote “In case you didn’t know, Anesthesia from Type O Negative is my favorite song. That includes every Dream Theater song, ever. It holds powerful meanings to me and in my life.”

And as I go through, a couple of bits are of interest to help give context to what I’m writing today. and here are a few quotes from my post:

  • I fucking feel like everything is a surgery now. I feel like parts of me are being destroyed, removed.
  • My whole life, my whole world, was destroyed to block the pain, to relieve myself from it. To make me comfortable, comfortable with this horrible shit. I don’t feel anything.
  • I am fighting the future; I am fighting the past. I cannot win the present.
  • I am so broken now I dissolve into a mess of alcoholism, drug use, and substance abuse. I am trying to find a way to NOT FEEL ANYTHING! I don’t want to feel anything.

If those quotes do not give you enough background or understanding as to how I feel and how it is that I think I have no hope, how I cannot win, then there might not be enough words to do so.

I let those feelings soak in that day. It hurt that I felt so sad and lost. I know that I want to go back to normality, but what is normality?

And just like that, I realized I was so fucking far into my head that I could see myself from afar. Just drifting.

Darkness, Darkness and Hope, K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 3 – Fear without Hope – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 4 – Fear with Darkness – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Lost, Chapter 2 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

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There is always hope when you have fear; there always needs to be hope. Otherwise, there’s no hope. There is nothingness in life. It’s like a Nine Inch Nails song stuck in my head.

editors note – 20220223 – adjust some ? that were supposed to be emojis that aren’t rendering.

As we stood in the kitchen, my buddy Debo made us some drinks as I prepared to start making dinner. This was the first time that we’d gotten together in some time. I promised Debo to tell him this story for a while now, and I was eager to get started.

“I do not want to be that person who ends everything,” I said as I started to wash up the salad fixings. “I don’t want to live with the specter of that hanging over my head.”

“This is a very long dissertation on being a good person and how easy it is to fall prey to evil. The very thought, the very notion, that one can turn evil in such an easy manner is unfathomable. I would further suggest that it is super saddening.” That was hard to get out.

I continued, “The overall theme as if it wasn’t obvious, I said it like fifty times over the years, it is at the end of my nightmares is blackness. Nothing but blackness. There is no light, and there’s no hope, there’s no anything.”

I thought that I could not allow that to happen for myself or the boys. That echoed in my mind for a while as I put the now cleaned veggies into the colander, allowing them to dry off a little.

Debo motioned me to my drink, a concoction so simple and delicious that I couldn’t resist the temptation to gulp down half the glass of Vodka/Zevia (with some lime to prevent scurvy).

“I can’t let that happen for myself,” I continued. “The people of this country and all of the world’s citizens. This is not a threat, and it’s not a manifesto, not an instruction guide. It’s just a way to talk about a personal hell. I hope that I’m not going there in the first place.”

“Hope it is a multi-faceted gem, as seen with the hope diamond. Hope comes in many forms and is implemented in many different methodologies.” I was starting to wonder if I would be able to get this all out tonight.

“Hope can come from religion. Hope can come from family. Hope can come from a spiritual leader or your faith. Hope can come from somebody you emulate or adore, a celebrity or a role model of sorts.”

I took another sip of my drink and searched for some coconut oil to season my bamboo cutting boards.

“Just a note; because I want to be a dick, I don’t believe that there are very many celebrities or (air quotes) “famous people” (/air quotes) that should be emulated or looked to as a standard-bearer of any sort of hope.”

“When you have people, who are only interested in money, power, wealth,” I continued. “When you have people like that, there is no hope. Our society is falling apart because there is no hope.”

“I mean, for fuck sake, we have rappers who shoot people, often killing them, and we hold them at a higher reference than people who cure a major disease.”

I paused for a second and looked over to Debo, he didn’t look as if he was glossed over yet, so I continued.

“Having no hope is the beginning of a recipe for disaster.” I proclaimed as I was working on the cutting boards… “With no hope, you could easily slide into fear and suffering at the air and then sure evil.”

“Ok, I feel better now that I’ve gotten that little rant out of the way,” I noted. My brain says to get back on track.

“A few days ago, I was awoken with the gentle meows of the meows of Truffle. That was because Truffle wanted to be fed and it was 3:30 in the morning. I sighed through my nose to profess my displeasure with his request. He didn’t care.”

“I annoyingly got out of bed and took a quick bio break.”

“When I turned around, Truffle had enlisted his cohorts, Takao and Shiro. The three of them were sitting there at attention, looking at me like I was fucking with them.”

“I took a deep breath and quietly mumbled something about Ambien and dying going down the stairs.”

“So, we made our way to the stairs. I paused on the third step, hoping that the clowns would start down and therefore be less likely to make my dope ass “crash and burn” down the stairs.”

“It seemed all safe to proceed and I get halfway down when Truffle stops and flops down onto the stair in front of me. What a dick!”

“I step around him, giving him the “half-opened eye” and a smirk that says “sucka, can’t get me.” Today will be a fun day, and I very distinctly recall saying that to myself.

“I fed Truffle, Takao, and Shiro, and went back up to the bed, hoping to get more than 3 hours of sleep before I was awoken again by Truffle.

I walked over to the cutlery drawer and slowly took out a standard eight-inch knife. “Shit, I need to get these knives sharpened. Not like I haven’t been saying that for years.”

We both chuckled as Debo made the turn to make another drink. “You ready for another?” he asked me.

“Fuck yeah!” and I slammed the rest down. “I love only having one giant two-inch ice cube! It’s always good for two drinks.”.

As Debo made the drinks, I took a minute to use the frequently loud sharpening stone to ensure good cuts tonight.

“I hate that disappointing feeling that you get when faced with a lack of continuous or REM sleep. This whole multiple-times-a-night escapade with Truffle was getting on my fucking nerves. And because of that, it’s making me grumpier each day.”

By the time I had finished sharpening the knife, Debo had motioned to come to get my drink. We tend to fill them right up to the brim, where you really can’t pick them up. So, it’s a slurp or two, and then you are on your way.

Debo took his drink, went over to the kitchen table, and sat down. I could tell that he wasn’t bored but very thankful that there was alcohol. That’s not uncommon.

I grabbed some of the veggies and started to chop away in hopes of not cutting off a finger while I was talking away. Typically, it’s the other way around where Debo tells me a fantastic story, and I listen to it while cooking.

“I have faith in myself.” I proclaimed as I was getting back into the story. I smiled as I thought to myself, damn, that was a hard turn.

“This will sound outrageous, but I’d like to end the story here in a minute, not because I don’t want to talk about it, nor that I am worried about losing a finger in the process, but…”. And with that, I started to trail off with my thoughts.

“This’ll be a great time for me to step outside and have a hit on the vaporizer. That sounds good?” Debo asked.

“Sure, I’ll keep working on the salad”. ????? Fuck, that sounded stupid.

Debo is a great friend, and I know he doesn’t always enjoy how dark I can be when I speak. And that’s in regards to the fact that I’m incredibly open and honest and am always willing to discuss something. And what we’re talking about here, Debo knows the complete backstory.

But still, he does not want to hear it when I talk about some of these topics. I respect that, and I felt like I would start down that road, and I know that this is going to be a long conversation. Not in terms of today but… but it’s something that I will have to reveal to him over the next few weekends when we have dinner.

I have a lot of respect for my closest friends. And I’m very aware of how hard it is to keep them. I’ve known Debo for almost 13 years now, and he’s been my best friend.

He’s had to deal with me and my relationship problems with the various exes, and he’s had to listen to some rather gory details therein.

And that leads into the last part I was going to bring up when Debo comes. In from his smoke break. I wouldn’t say I like the sound of that fucking device that I’ve forced him to go outside now. It also allows him time so that he can fiddle with his phone, likely texting with his girlfriend.

“I have faith in myself,” I said again to myself as if I needed to.

I have faith in myself and I have faith in my convictions. I have faith that my strength is beyond comprehension, and that my will is stronger than imagination. I can handle anything that is thrown at me. I’ve stared down anger and hatred knowing all the time that I was better than that.

I knew that I was a human and not built on hatred or living with hate. I never want to be that person.

I think it’s important that when you have faith, it is first and foremost in yourself. If you have faith in a creator, that’s great. If you have faith in some object or a tangible asset, that’s great too.

I continued with the salad.

  • Cucumber [✓]
  • Red bell pepper [✓]
  • Red onion [✓]
  • Romaine lettuce [✓]
  • Balsamic vinegar [✓]
  • Balsamic glaze [✓]
  • Peppermill [✓]

I got everything was set for final preparations for eating when Debo came back in.

He sat down at the table as I worked on getting it set with the appropriate utensils for the evening.

“Please, continue with your last statement about faith,” Debo noted.

“I have faith in myself,” I repeated.

“My feelings on the topic of faith stem from a very simple principle of libertarianism, which is not an official party policy.” And with, I rolled my eyes in the annoyance of having said that.

“Generally speaking, I don’t give a fuck what people do, so long as it doesn’t impact me, it doesn’t hurt children, it doesn’t harm the elderly, nor does it harm animals. Otherwise, if it’s within the scope of the law, I don’t care… do your thing.”

I put the salad fixings together and handed off the plate to Debo, gave him the peppermill and we sat down to eat.

I paused to ensure that this philosophy about humanity was properly registering. “I don’t think this week is the right time to continue, so I’m going to leave it there with my generalized philosophy,” I said, and then stuffed my mouth full of salad.

As we ate, all I could hear aside from the sound of vegetables being destroyed was Every Day Is Exactly The Same, it haunted me.

Hope.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022

 

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