Explicitly Reminded

2033: Before the weekend, I was asked if I would be alright, as it was noticed that I had been quieter than usual. This Father's Day will indeed be different for me. For twenty-two years, I have been part of an unconventional family, and the relationships I can count on one hand have all ended in a similar way. For a long time, I thought it was me, the catalyst that made them interested in other women. Having been raised by women my entire life, perhaps my traits lean more towards that side of the spectrum, which I don't mind. I've found hidden strengths in tapping into deep reservoirs of understanding and emotion. Marina once asked, "I know things are over between you and Mom, but did you ever think about getting back together?" I responded, "Kiddo, it was never up to me. What I am most proud of is your imprint on me and mine on you." I called Marina my morning and evening star, the first thought when I wake and the last when I sleep. I've probably only said the same words to one other person, but I only remember writing it. It reminded me of a line in Tolkien but meant just the same. Thank you for checking in on me. If you hinted at hanging out, I totally missed it due to my autism and newly discovered ADHD. I must be explicitly invited (haha).

0908: Lately, my recurring dreams revolve around washing out of Army Ranger Qualifications, and being trained in Search and Rescue, though these memories are curiously absent from my records. The gaps in my training were scrutinized, but those were the days of paper records. I perform certain tasks instinctively, unsure of their origin. When I returned in 2014, I felt like an empty shell, living a life dictated to me, recognizing family and familiar voices, yet feeling incomplete. Last year, after another near-death experience, I felt presented with my true self again, albeit broken and sleep-deprived, susceptible to reprogramming. My saving grace were those with impeccable memories who helped map out my data, reminding me of my identity. I chose natural recovery to avoid altering my perception of the world, resisting reliance on lifelong adjustments. Natural healing allowed me to adapt at my own pace, avoiding abrupt changes that my sensitivity couldn’t handle. As sensory beings, we create machines to perform tasks requiring time, effort, and energy, but we must invest similarly in ourselves. This is how we progress, despite a world that constantly challenges our perception and reality. Our intelligence shouldn’t be artificial but should align with the future of our destinations.

0748: Utilizing the collage feature on my phone to capture the day, I must clarify that the child in the image is my nephew, lest I receive further unwarranted congratulations (haha). My mistake lies in posting text followed by a picture, leading your minds to link them contextually through an innate pattern recognition. Nevertheless, I accept your well wishes with pride, for I am indeed a proud uncle. I trust this has caused no confusion. Often, I find myself momentarily disoriented by events that defy my expectations, yet I step back, assessing the entirety of what has transpired. This reflective skill, honed over months, is scarce in an era where information flows faster than thought. To keep pace, we must either merge with the technology we employ or strive to comprehend it. Or perhaps not; it ultimately depends on what resonates with you. Continue to follow your own path and stay safe.

0137: Each night I log in at the terminal, observing it move autonomously. It greets me when I pass my credentials. I disconnect, another instance arises, and I terminate the background PID. My school VPN, long used, halts this terminal. A friend suggested it might be a local issue from when I bought the device, advising against its use. Upon opening and inspecting each chip and trace, nothing unusual appeared. A schematic found online, I scanned with eidetic precision and hyperfocus. In sleep, my colleague sees me perform a routine, searching for unseen words felt in the dream state. She notes a subtle tick and dilated pupils, indicative of hyperfocus, during which I seemingly do not blink. Her worry stems from my habit of searching for lost things, reflecting in my eyes as the light almost vanishes while on social media, as if deciphering redacted gaps. This might be triggered by Search and Rescue training memories and ongoing base events, alongside Army Ranger QFT Cadre evaluations. I tell her, eyes gleaming, how I washed out, nearly drowned, and sustained injuries, ending up in a Virginia hospital where I coincidentally met my troop. My arm in a sling, sleepless, taking classes, and enduring physical rigors while supporting a site prone to inclement weather. Now, I run with an 80 lbs weight vest and occasionally a 45 lbs bag. On my to-do list: seek medical advice, likely resulting in Motrin and Quarters. Joking aside, recognizing the need for rest and help is crucial. Whether dream state or observed concerns, it’s essential to check in or have someone express, "I'm concerned for my friend." The Brandon Act now allows self-reporting with confidentiality and mental evaluation, bypassing the need for higher authority.