Note:  I changed my legal name to Cyberwolfman a while back, and this is one of my first Web pages, so much of this information hasn't been updated in a very long time.

  What am I like, what do I like, and what kind of a person am I?  These and other burning questions I hope to answer for you here.  But first, something to howl at.  ;-)

  Isn't she beautiful?  :-)  If that picture doesn't make you wanna howl, you're probably human.

  Following is a little information about me.  Hey, I'm not going tell you everything, okay?

  Quick description: Severe anxiety (primarily extreme terror of other people barely kept in check by medication and . . . other things like (sometimes) alcohol), PTSD (multiple incidents) and some shyness.

  Because of the above, I rarely leave home and it's usually weeks or months before I (even litterally) go outside.

  Since the very day I was born, I was seen as being different.  In fact, I'm different from anyone in the entire multiverse, as I'm fairly certain there is only one me.  And, in human society, being different is the very worst crime of all.  Since then, I have became even more . . . different.  I even have a unique way of snapping my fingers, which is very fast.  Some might blame humans themselves for my differences, as I quickly learned that humans are liars, hypocrites, unfair, violent, sadistic, cruel, greedy, and intolerant of anyone who is different in any way.  You're welcome to believe otherwise, but, my experiences with them since I was very, very young taught me the truth.  My differences are not only the most obvious (if you saw me in the real world, you would know exactly what I mean and visitors to my Web site should instantly recognise me), but also the way I speak, think, see, walk, dress, hear, and so on.  If you want normality, I'm about as far away from it as you can get and 'fitting in' is something I can honestly say I have never done and will probably never be able to do, and, after learning humans' true nature, have absolutely no interest in being like them.  If I could change my skin colour to any colour I could pick, it would be green (like the Hulk's).  Why?  Because then my other differences wouldn't be so noticeable, and, let's face it, humans are rather shallow, primarily judging people solely on their appearance.

  While my appearance and the way I act are different, the way I think and feel is probably the most different thing about me from others.  While most humans would derive pleasure from it (and frequently do) if I see you hurting a small child or torturing an animal for fun and I am within arm's reach of you, while I am normally non-violent and try to be nice to others . . .  That is quite possibly the kind of thing I am truly intolerant of.

  Before you ask, I'm not rich or a politician.  LOL  My political view is essentially that life, freedom (including FDR's four freedoms: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, freedom from fear), liberty, privacy, true justice, education, and the pursuit of happiness are sacred rights of the people unless what they do hurts others, or interferes with their own rights to do the same.  On my blogs or other opinion pages, some might get sick of hearing me talk about such things, although I think they're the most important things in life.  I love my country and have what many consider silly ideas of what it should be like, but, I don't trust the government (and hardly anyone else, for that matter).

  I'm not the Internet bogeyman (spelled Internet boogeyman, by some), either.  (Okay, maybe a howling bogeyman, but . . .)  While the regular bogeyman would be like a monster that growls in your closet or lives under your bed, the Internet bogeyman (or Internet howling bogeyman, AKA Internet howling boogeyman (for some) in my case) would be living on the Internet.  ;-)  But, remember, although the creatures you see in television shows and movies may appear frightening to you, the true monsters are humans.  Just ask any of the species they've made extinct, the people they've hunted in their genocidal rage, killed with bullets or nuclear, biological or chemical weapons.  Oh, right.  You can't . . .  But, if they could talk, they would tell you that sharing the world has never been humanity's defining attribute.

  For a time, I used to think that I was closer to a libertarian, but, corporations have proven that they cannot self-regulate their tendency to pollute the environment, they treat people as little more than tools to get a job done (the phrase human resources that they like to use is informative) and in almost all things, put profit ahead of people, so, that was a quickly-passing phase . . .  Governments should serve the people, not the corporations.  All you're going to end up with is a heavily-polluted planet filled with mostly poor people who cannot afford healthcare or an education more than what's needed to get them a basic low-paying job, while a few will be very rich in good health with large houses filled with expensive things.

  Playing your music loud could be used as one example of one person's freedom possibly interfering with another person's freedom (or right) to not be disturbed by loud music, especially when trying to sleep.  There should be a way to play it loud enough that you can not only hear it, but, also, allow you to maximize the good feelings you get from it, but, not so loud that it seriously disturbs others.  For motor vehicle owners, one way to do this is to have your subwoofer(s) under your car seat(s) instead of in the trunk of your car.  A kind of stubby thumper (or stubby thumpers in the case of multiple short subwoofers) if you will.  This would not only allow you to feel the very low-end bass of your music better without possibly damaging your vehicle and could save you some money on gasoline, since that's what your vehicle burns in order to produce electricity for your sound system.  It could also make you less hated by others in public and especially your neighbors.  How can a strong subwoofer damage your vehicle?  Very strong vibrations loosen things up, and having the source in close proximity to a fuel tank might not be the best of ideas, when you think of what could happen if you get a leak, park your vehicle somewhere and someone throws a lit cigarette or cigar which either rolls under or is blown under your vehicle and makes contact with the pool of gasoline forming under your fuel tank.  For the people who want deep bass sound on a bicycle or as a pedestrian, your options are kind of limited until someone comes up with a way to build it into a backpack, wrist bracelets and ankle bracelets AKA anklets or something similar (if it can be kept from doing you physical damage).  LOL  At home, you could possibly use something similar with the signal from your stereo being transmitted wirelessly to the devices and you could keep your regular speakers low in volume by increasing the low-end bass and lowering the rest of it on your equalizer.  This would make finding the best spot to enjoy the bass in your room a heck of a lot easier.  While some might be tempted to put subwoofers in walls, this isn't a great idea, especially if you share that wall with someone on the other side.  Just a little tip, here, bullets can go through drywall, so, keep that in mind . . .

  A few brief glimpses into my life:

  Throughout most of my life, I've tried to suppress my emotions and as many of my memories as I could since I was little.  If I didn't, I wouldn't have survived.

  My early childhood was in a very poor family (which, because of most of them, I used to think of as the other f-word) when even money to buy food was scarce.  For years, there were times that on the days I was lucky enough to have food, I had something like part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  And, yes, I had more than one parent.  I'm the product of a multiply broken home (is it worse if it's more than just a couple of replacement parents?), and grew up very poor, but, I'm not the only one out there, so, nothing really special about that.

  One of my earlist memories included holding a bobbypin in an electrical outlet, unable to let go and feeling my fingers burning and hearing a woman who may've been my mother laughing as I screamed.  This memory comes and goes along with some where she tells me she's not going to give me anything to eat.

  When I was little and drew pictures of people, I drew them without arms because I was never hugged.

  Another memory was of being kidnapped by one of my dads and being hit so hard I flew across the room where I bounced off the opposite wall.  This kind of thing happened often in my family and I was beaten almost every day and by different people.  But, honestly, this happens to many around the world.

  Learned to set my own bones when I was a kid.  One time, I had set them before someone insisted that I be taken to a hospital and they took x-rays and found out I had set three broken bones, myself.  The emergency room doctor seemed to be freaked out about that.  He asked me how I had learned to set them and I kept my mouth shut, as the other things that were done to me weren't to be told to people.  Kind of hoping they don't convert the medical records from years back into an electronic medium.  From what I've been hearing, all your medical records may soon be on file for every doctor you go to.  If something like that pops up when they check my medical records before seeing me . . .  But, that was several years ago, so, I might be safe from that, at least.  *Crosses fingers*

  There were worst things done to me, but, they aren't what I share with others and I bury the memories in my mind as far down as I can.  Wouldn't you?

  Was my childhood different?  From what I hear of what's normal to most, I suppose.  Sad?  I have nothing to compare it to besides what I've seen in television shows and movies, which aren't real life, although sometimes, when I'm alone, I like to imagine I'm the child in a happy family who's hugged and loved, and I cry for a while before burying those impossible dreams and hating myself for believing in such a stupid fantasy.  What's truly sad is that many children don't survive their childhood.  It's far too late to help the child I was (he's buried extremely deep inside me and is absolutely not coming out because humans have proven over and over again that they are monsters) and it's definitely too late to help the children who didn't survive their parents' 'love.'

  It wasn't all bad.  Some things I've learned since I was small (was playing chess by the time I was four (and quickly got bored with it) and one of my dads was an M.P. in Korea, in the Quartermaster Corps and in the Signal Corps before he was transfered . . . somewhere else and I learned some of what I know from him) about weapons (and making them), history (including some of the not so well known parts of world history), military strategy and tactics (the difference is important to know as well as why you should be civil to civilians, unlike some in history who weren't and violated the rules of warfare), writing (under different names), reading everything I could get my hands on, computers, electronics, science, astronomy, technology, martial arts (although the latter I haven't practiced in years and have (thankfully) forgotten most of it and had also gotten out of shape, but, am at a healthier weight, now) . . .

  When I went to school, I discovered I already knew most of what they tried to teach me and more besides, but, learned to keep a low profile and let them think I was stupid and a fool, which helped me survive, but, since I didn't have any friends, I never learned much about socializing.  When I took tests, I tried to barely pass them and never tried out for teams, but the teachers discovered (definitely not by my intention) that I was one of the few best spellers in the school and I purposely failed the first question asked of me at the school's spelling competition so I could get out of it.

  Was once asked to do an oral book report in school and, fighting what I believed at the time to be my shyness (which I later learned was actually anxiety, that grew worse later on, so much so that there are sometimes weeks where I don't even want to go outside or talk to anyone on the phone or even on the Internet), I did it, including quoting complete paragraphs from the book word for word.  I got an A+ on it, but, for some odd reason, I was never asked to do another oral book report . . .

  Rode a department store 10-speed bicycle in 100 mile bicycle rides called centuries, done in a single day, while everyone else had expensive brand-name bicycles.  The bicycle century rides all seemed to start off with getting rained on, then, the sun came out, and I got sun-burned on top of being squishy.  But, hey, I finished, when many others couldn't.  The reason was probably simply because I had longer legs than most people.

  Designed and built my own stereo speakers (AKA speaker enclosures for those who prefer that phrase better), because the speakers they had in stores sounded bad and very flat.  My first set of homemade speakers wasn't very elaborate, and consisted of just a woofer and midrange speaker in each, with the interior dimensions based upon how much air the woofers moved, and I got the L-pads (1 in each and they put most of the power to the woofer) and crossover networks (higher sounds to the midrange and lower sounds to the woofer) from radio shack, but, they still sounded better than anything they had in the stores!  But, let's face it; corporations that mass-produce stuff like speakers frequently use the cheapest parts they can find and often rely upon their brand names to convince people that what they're selling is worth buying when it usually isn't.

  Built a pirate radio station that was only a few inches on a side.  After that, I made an antenna for it at the optimum length for the frequency I wanted to transmit on after checking to find one that didn't have a radio station transmitting near it.  Then, I realized that FM is pretty much line of sight (the higher the frequency, the more prone it is to being blocked by solid matter), and I was in a small valley area with the potential for only a few hundred or so listeners, even if I put the antenna above the roof.  So, if you have a memory of seeing someone standing on a roof some years ago, late at night, holding a homemade antenna with a long coaxial cable and looking a little frustrated, that was me.  And, sorry for howling in frustration . . .  (Which might've spawned some howling bogeyman rumours, somewhere.)  I do that, sometimes.  But, building another type of transmitter (or 'intentional radiator' as the FCC called it), and combining a little knowledge of propagation, along with some good timing, I could transmit for hundreds of miles, and about a thousand miles if luck was with me that night.  Good times!  The small size of the transmitter made it easy to be mobile and not using AC power also helped me to avoid that annoying 60 cycle hum.

  Was taught how to make things like nerve gas and nuclear weapons when I was a kid.  But, was also informed of their effects on people in rather graphic detail, so, my opinion on those who use such things on others isn't very high and creating some of my own isn't on my to-do list . . .

  My attempt to get people to think I was kind of ignorant (primarily true in how to interact with others) fool seemed to work . . .  Until they had me take the ASVAB, back in the olive green uniform days.  The lowest aptitude area score listed on my Personnel Qualification Record (DA Form 2-1) was 94 (this figure was based on me taking the older ASVAB, not the one they have now) which was in something I was doing for a part-time job at the time.  My highest scores were all well over 100 (only a couple were under 100), and, while they are known to the DoD, I'm not sharing them here or saying what the categories were.  When I took the ASVAB, I was told I needed a 60 to pass it, 80 to get into most of what they had, and 90 to take my pick.  Didn't have any kind of preparations before taking it, and I very rarely paid attention in class or read the books that the schools wanted me to study (I'll be honest, they bored me to tears, but, I still got passing grades).  Long test, but, it had some of the dumbest questions on it that I've ever seen on a test in my entire life.  Most of what they wanted to teach me in the service, I had already got a good head start on, having already been taught how to use firearms, learned some electronics, knew about the clandestine cell (AKA spy cells) system, used radio communication equipment on a daily basis, bicycled for hours at a time (which probably helped build my stamina, but, to be honest, I was safer riding a bicycle than I was at home), took all of the shop courses such as arc welding, oxyacetylene gas welding, woodworking, small engine repair and electronics (although I kind of already learned some when I was a little kid), et cetera.  Thankfully, nobody asked me where I got my real education outside of school or why my scores didn't jibe with my grades or the part-time jobs I had up to that time.

  My military career was shorter than I expected as I was ordered to jump from a structure during training by a superior officer (who didn't give the same order to the others with me and singled me out by name).  Afraid that if I didn't follow orders, I would be either dishonorably discharged or locked up, I did as I was told, believing that those in charge of my training wouldn't order me to do something which would get me permanently injured while training.  I was wrong . . .  There were other incidents, like the one in which I was poisoned, but, I won't detail them here.  After I was injured, I was unable to perform as a soldier and I was called into the sergeants' office.  After the door was closed, I was ordered to hurt myself or the sergeant there would "beat the sh*t" out of me.  After some time, the sergeant offered me a way out of the pain; to quit the service.  Seeing no other alternative, I agreed with his demands under duress.  After that, he continued with his little game, saying that he wanted to be sure I wasn't just saying what he wanted to hear as he sat behind the desk making noises.  Even today, I wonder how many people who wanted to serve their country were treated like that by that particular sergeant and others like him and how many of their victims grew to hate the United States so much that they joined terrorist organizations or helped fund them . . .  Could bullets and explosives which killed thousands of soldiers and civilians the world over have been paid for by the victims of those abusing their authority in order to get their sadistic jollies off on the pain of others?

  What I experienced in the service left me a little twitchy and very untrusting of humans and especially authority figures (who, if you read history, frequently have a tendency to be corrupt and abuse their power).  Since then, about the only way I can stand to be around or to interact with humans is to be . . . in an altered state of consciousness, preferably very altered, and, to be honest, I'd rather stay home and not have to deal with them at all.

  Shortly after getting out of the service, I was told I should apply for Social Security disability.  I did, and got it after they had me go see a doctor.  The monthly payments were far less than the FPL (Federal Poverty Level), but, it was better than nothing.

  Survived homelessness when one of my parents dropped me off on the street with my few possessions in grocery bags.

  I learned the hard way that humans lie, hurt and kill others whenever they think they can get away with it.  It's probably also where most of my confusion about humans started, when they kept claiming they were on your side, you were part of a team or unit and so on, but, they frequently hurt you or screw you over every chance they get.  So, it's very, very difficult for me to trust anyone, and one of my main expressions is "trust is earned, not given upon the asking."

  Because of my severe anxiety and PTSD, the worst of which and the permanent damage was caused during my brief time in the military.  After I left it, it was the reason I spent most of my time alone and when I had to work for a living, I frequently called in sick or was late showing up.  I've spent a lot of time watching television shows, movies and later, music videos.  Later distractions included gaming (almost always solo) and 3D chat programs, but, most of the time I stayed alone in both.  My social skills are virtually nonexistant.  But, I learned more about pop culture and I sometimes try too hard to fit in during the times when I can tolerate being around humans.  Alcohol and/or prescription drugs are required for me to (even litterally) go outside, which I usually don't do for weeks (or longer) at a time.

  Howled with a large pack of New Guinea singing dogs to welcome the new day.  Had a nice howlapalooza event going on there, for a while.  LOL

  Lived in slumlord kind of houses for most of my adult life.  When even walking is a literal pain and you only have a few hundred dollars a month to live on for most of your life, you can't really be picky about where you live.

  In one house I rented a room in, I only had to pay rent while the landlord paid the utilities.  But, he insisted that his tenants go to church (which made some of his tenants hate organized religion or at least that church) and he put a steel lock box over the furnace's thermostat to keep it at 60 degrees throughout the winter.

  At another time, I rented a very run-down house.  I had to show the lease to the various utility companies to get the electric, water and gas turned on at the house.  The landlord (Oscar Cohn or Oscar Cohen?) insisted they be in my name.  So, I tried to get roommates to split the rent and utilities.  Of the few roommates I could find, most of them were not very trustworthy.  I even had to go so far as to use a separate refrigerator (I found a working one on the curb) for my own stuff and put a padlock on it.  I also had to install a security camera on the front porch.

  During my brief stay in a housing project, I thought it was almost heaven.  The small apartment was on the 2nd floor so few people could break into my place via the windows and the entrance door to both the stairway below and my little apartment were steel with somewhat good locks on them.  I didn't have to share living space with anyone, didn't have to ask them for their share of the rent or utilities and didn't have to share a bathroom or kitchen with them.  I only had to pay for the rent and electric bill (together, they cost most of what I had to spend each month) and the only person I had to clean up after was myself.  Not the safest neighborhood to live in, however . . .  The sound of gunfire makes it difficult to sleep and you quickly learn to not look out the window.

  One of the houses I lived in during the mid-1990s to about 2003 is no longer there.  Why?  You probably don't want to know . . .  But, I didn't destroy it!  I'm assuming the people who conned me into leaving with a fake eviction notice (it wasn't notarized and they smirked when I took it) did it.

  Got on the Internet before there were Web pages.  I primarily played the MUDs (Multi-User Dungeons) games, back when computer games were all text.  Spent most of my time alone in the games, primarily exploring.  Didn't play the MUDs for very long, though.  Kept hoping something better would come out.  It did, but, it took a while.

  Spent a few years creating a 3D world, called This Is It, with a large park, streaming music, a pyramid, ziggurat, the Knowledge Infusion and Enhancement Matrix (where you could teach yourself whatever you wanted to learn at your own pace) and made TriviaBot, GreeterBot, ChessBot, Shadow, dancing girl bots and dancing skeleton bots (for Samhain AKA halloween AKA all hallow's eve) to name a few.  I was better at setting everything up than dealing with humans, so, I had the bots do that and had them automatically eject anyone who used abusive language more than once, after giving them a warning.  One of the things people said they liked about my 3D world was the Vidfeed Pavilion that had live video feeds from all over the world.  I doubt if anyone ever found all of my secret rooms.

  Since the mid 1990s, I've been doing my best to warn others about people in a slavery ring cult (some of them have even gone so far as to try to get it declared a religion) whose philosophy seems to match that of the Nazis and think that women should be treated as slaves, kidnapped, raped and killed whenever their masters decide.  They use ActiveWorlds and other 3D chat programs to find victims.  Unfortunately, I seem to be one of the only people who oppose them or think such things should be stopped, as evidenced by the lack of support to keep this Web site going.  The thousands of unique visitors this Web site has every month have only donated a dollar or so every year or thereabouts, sending a pretty strong message that they approve of things like Nazism and modern-day slavery ring cults, and want them to continue.  Even the FBI, who I've sent numerous letters to for years, didn't think it was worth the time to even send a form letter response telling me they got the letters and saying they'll look into it.  The lives of the victims aren't even worth the cost of a stamp, apparently . . .  I believe that the only time the authorities go after such people is when they get embarrassed into doing so by the media.  One of the serial killer goreans wasn't stopped until he had killed multiple women and stuffed their remains in chemical drums or metal barrels.

  Survived homelessness, again, as an adult.  About the only things I have of any value now are a cheap computer, some comic books and my books.  Maybe I should save up what little money I can and buy cheap digital copies of my books and comic books and get a really inexpensive tablet to store them on in case I become homeless again . . .  Preferably one of the largest tablets they make, but, since I don't play the games that require the higher-end graphics chips, it can be relatively cheap.  To be safe, I could make a physical back-up copy of the memory card, storing it somewhere safe, and update it every so often in case I lose the tablet or it gets stolen or damaged.

  Moved to the Bermuda Triangle.

  Once got married in a straitjacket.  Yes, a real straitjacket.  LOL

  Survived hurricane Wilma, and the weeks with no power.  This is when I noticed that utilities are restored to businesses and those in the upper-class neighborhoods first and those in poorer neighborhoods have their power restored last, long after the radio stations stop giving updates about how many people are still left without power.  So, something to be mindful of for my Web site visitors who might live in a poor neighborhood and are hit by a natural disaster.  Prepare to be without power and possibly other utilities for some time.  In the event of something much bigger, you might have to fend for yourself, so, keep that in mind.  Not that I would know about anything bad happening on such a large scale in the future . . .  But, wouldn't it be at least mildly comforting to know that you had prepared for such an event, if it should happen?

  For almost four years, I was essentially fighting for my life with the Florida DCF.  For some odd reason, it took them almost four years after receiving a court order to change a single database field when I got my name changed.  More information about that is on the Florida Department of Children and Families: Incompetent or intentionally sadistic page.  If it takes them years to change a database field, let's all hope that they're not responsible for keeping children safe from abusive and quite possibly murderous parents.  That would be bad . . .  But, at least I told others about them, so, hopefully, it'll be looked into before any children are killed.  :-)

  Aside from that, I've been spending most of my time watching television shows and movies (most of them suck, and make me realize how much time I'm wasting by watching them).

  Years after being tortured into quitting the service, hoping to get a little extra money per month to help someone who was obviously in more need of it than me and to maybe get an inexpensive online education so I could help others like the homeless by trying to build them homes, I learned that thanks to the sadistic sergeant I mentioned earlier, I didn't get a medical discharge for the permanent damage that was done to me in the service or disability compensation from the Veterans Administration.  So, gone are any silly dreams I had of possibly helping thousands of others with the remainder of my life.  Now, I may have to spend the rest of my life trying to get the veterans disability I should have been getting for years.  I acted honorably and followed orders.  The reward for doing the right thing is to get screwed over for life.  This is the lesson the military has taught me.  My only desire was to be a good soldier and serve my country.  I hope that sergeant (and others I've met in life) gets back ten times what he did to me and when he dies, he burns in Hell for all eternity.  If I'm sent to Hell for that thought and the things I think he deserves to have done to him, I hope that I'm allowed to spend at least part of my time there punishing him and others like him.

  Each and every day, I pray (sometimes multiple times every day) that people get back ten times what they do to me and what they will do to me.  Worded with care, this is not a curse or a blessing, but simply the heartfelt desire for people to get what is due them.  Perhaps if a person's karma is multiplied many times, they will learn that helping others instead of screwing them over or hurting them benefits them and all those they interact with.  But, if they are incapable of learning this valuable lesson, maybe the entity or entities or the underlying force within the universe or multiverse which is responsible for rewarding or punishing people based on what they do in life will take notice and deal with them.  If you did something nice for me or something bad to me and your life has changed one way or the other, now you might know the reason for it.

  Haven't had any college education.  Not even a single day of college classes.  Most of what I've learned, I've learned on my own, like Web site design by looking at multiple Web sites and their code.  I'm probably not as good as professional Web site designers (who aren't in very high demand now, since things like Facebook have started up), but, I do well enough to make my own basic Web pages, and I come up with things that the professionals lack the imagination to come up with themselves.  If nothing else, I feel that my Web site is unique and, quite frankly, having a Web site where every single page is made to look like all the other Web pages on the site looks mind-numbingly boring and possibly shows a lack of imagination or creativity in the minds of those who made them.

  Wouldn't mind going to college, but, being below the FPL (Federal Poverty Level), I don't have thousands of dollars to spend for each year of college (or even for a community college) on tuition, fees, books, transportation (don't have a car or even a driver's license and couldn't afford the insurance on a car, anyway, and, as for public transportation, having me sober and straight (so I can pay attention in class) on a crowded bus filled with humans for one to two hours or so every day that I go to school isn't a good idea) or rent for an apartment or very small house where I can feel safe and be away from humans on or very near a college campus (which I'm sure is probably a lot more expensive than living in slumlord type houses), et cetera, so that's out.  Having problems being around humans is also extremely difficult for me.  I've been on the receiving end of their true nature too many times to trust them, so, I don't think that being in a class with a lot of humans in it is a good learning environment for me . . .  Thought about the on-line education stuff, but, you still have to buy the textbooks, which aren't cheap.  If you're well below the poverty level, the cost of textbooks isn't something you have the money for.  Then there's the whole accreditation thing . . .  If I have the training, but no degree, I may not be able to get an entry-level job in the field I want to get some on-the-job training in.

  How I feel inside:

  Skip this part, if, like most people, you don't give a crap.

  You may have noticed that I haven't said much about my feelings, or how some of the above makes me feel.  How do you think it makes me feel?

  There are vast periods of time that I cannot remember clearly and some not at all . . .  Except when something triggers a memory.

  Can you imagine what it's like to keep most of your memories hidden from your own conscious mind?  To have to constantly keep yourself distracted and your thoughts on almost anything but what you've been through and the stuff that keeps going through your mind?  But, that doesn't work very well, either, as you sometimes see in a television show, or movie, or hear on the radio something that draws one of those memories up, spiking into your mind and driving a red-hot dagger of pain through your heart, twisting in your guts.  But, crying is a no-no.  Humans, being humans, think that other people's pain and misery are amusing, so, if you cry, they'll likely just laugh about it and will probably hurt you so they can watch you cry some more.

  Those who doubt the cruel, sadistic and vicious nature of humans are welcome to watch how they react when they see someone hurt, killed or publicly humiliated.  The things which seem to make them laugh the hardest are when someone dies in a way which is very humiliating.  That should give you a clue to the true nature of humans, but, if there is any lingering doubt in your minds, watch what they will do when they think they can get away with something which will hurt, humiliate or kill someone, especially if they can make money off of it.

  One of the things that hits me hardest is scenes in movies or television shows where it shows a family sitting down together for a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner or people joining together to help someone out.  That's right, go ahead and show me something that I never had and can never have, and rip the heart out of my chest.  What is a family Christmas like, where you are surrounded by those who love you and you can trust not to hurt you or screw you over in some way?  Don't ask me.  All those 'feel good' movies are just bull.  For a minute or so while watching something like a Disney movie, you might be caught up in the illusion that humans can be nice to others, but, that's a short-lived illusion, and you quickly remember the truth.  If nothing else, watch, listen or read the news and see how many stories are about the 'good, kind and caring' nature of humans as opposed to their true nature.  Get the picture?

  When I'm asked in public how I feel, I usually say I'm fine, or I give them some goofy line I made up so I can avoid answering that question honestly.  Besides, I doubt if they really care.  As I've said elsewhere, most humans don't care about anyone but themselves, and the only time they act nice to you is when it's their job, or they want something out of you, or they're doing it for better P.R. for themselves or their organization.

  But, through most of my life, and even today, I live in fear of humans, the cruel, sadistic monsters who are intolerant of even the slightest difference in anyone and take such great delight in hurting others in any way they can, if they think they can get away with it.  In addition to that, I'm frustrated with almost every part of life and not just when stuff doesn't work the way it's supposed to and isn't built to last, which seems to be almost everything, these days . . .  I feel like I'm totally alone even when I'm in a large room filled with people, and in such a situation I want to get out of there as soon as possible.  I've never fit in or truly belonged anywhere.  That feeling really kicked in after I joined the military and realized the 'team spirit' kind of thing you hear about was nothing but B.S. especially if you're treated like you're not part of the team soon after you start your training.  Very few people can understand me or could comprehend the thoughts, emotions, and memories that I keep bottled up inside of me.  Those who might have been able to understand me likely committed suicide or have been locked up because society thought they were crazy or because they couldn't take it anymore and wanted to hurt someone back.  So, I try to act (for the most part) how they think I should act as I keep the majority of my thoughts and emotions inside, knowing they wouldn't be understood, while feeling as though my attempts to socialize with others are more awkward appearing (as I've sometimes been told) than the more embarrassing moments of an old Jerry Lewis movie.

  Let's face it though, when you spend most of your life living in terror every waking moment (primarily of humans), and not just of your feeling of social awkwardness of saying or doing the wrong thing even if it's just to say hello, you have a tendency to keep stuff bottled up very tightly.  I'm the kind of guy who wouldn't feel safe even inside of a house of his own design, with both steel and concrete walls, deadbolts, security cameras, weapons and locks that can only be opened with a combination of a password or PIN, a retinal scan, and a security card swipe.  I can easily imagine ways to kill people inside such places, so, I know they're not safe.

  As you might imagine, I don't get much real sleep, and my nightmares make horror movies look pretty tame by comparison.  The full color remote viewing and precognitive dreams (even the ones that have big buildings in them, maps with odd symbols and people with blue guns) aren't very relaxing, either . . .

  One person called me a misanthrope, although that only really touches the surface.  In my case, that means I have an extremely deep distrust of humans.  My time in the military contributed a lot to that . . .  Some of the things I mentioned above might give you a clue as to why I don't trust humans.  Put it this way; if someone attempts to hug me, I expect they're either going to literally stab me in the back or they're trying to distract me from noticing someone doing something which will affect me in a bad way.

  As for what I try to distract myself with:

  When I was younger, the primary thing I liked to do was learn pretty much everything.  I had always liked learning new things, especially if I could use what I learned.  Most of my time as a young kid (and occasionally as an adult when I'm not too distracted with what's going on in my head) was spent reading up on subjects like cybernetics, genetic engineering, history, transmogrification, cold fusion, telekinesis AKA psychokinesis, nanotechnology, technology, biological mimicry AKA biomimicry AKA biomimetics (scratchproof sunglasses and eyeglasses, anyone?) dark matter and dark energy (yes, they're two different things), electronarcosis, artificial intelligence, the technological singularity, stealth technology, virtual reality, precognition, gravitational lensing, teleportation, and molecular regeneration.  When I was younger, most of what I read was science-fiction and when I read a word or phrase I didn't recognize, I looked it up in the dictionary.  If it wasn't in the dictionary, I wrote it down so I could look it up in the library in the big dictionary or find more information about it in the card catalog.  This was how I got some of my real education before I joined the military.

  After getting on the Internet, during those times when my brain was . . . better behaved, my learning rate shifted into overdrive.  While I used to spend most of my free time in the libraries, looking stuff up in the card catalog, going to where the book should be on the shelves (if it wasn't checked out, or someone left it somewhere else in the library), checking the index in the back of each book for page numbers where the author thinks information about what you're looking for is, and reading on average, about half that page, and, in most cases, finding out that it was absolutely no help whatsoever.  Now, I just do Web searches, use the Ctrl+f keys to find what I'm looking for on the page faster, and, if that wasn't what I was looking for, try another Web page.  So, yes, when I'm able to learn, and things are quiet for me, I learn a lot faster, now.  LOL

  But, I try not to let most of the people in the real world know how fast I learn and all the subjects I get interested in.  Sometimes, though, I screw up and they find out.  Which usually ends up with them figuring out that I'm some kind of freak . . .

  For example, I went to see an ophthalmologist once, and, as usual, being nervous, I talked too much.  Usually, it's not so bad; I bounce around with multiple subjects and odd trivia, but, this time, I stayed (more or less) focused on the field of ophthalmology, talking about slit lamp biomicroscopic examinations, the dilated eye exam, presbyopia, CVS, wavefront aberrometry, a simulated computer screen for an eye exam (since that's what I primarily needed the prescription eyeglasses for), progressive lenses versus bifocals, where the top part of the bifocals are for the computer, with the focal length about 35 inches, while the bottom part was for reading and seeing the keyboard.  He asked me where I studied, and I made the mistake of being honest with him, and told him I had simply spent a few hours during one of those rare times I could concentrate studying ophthalmology before the appointment to see him.

  Among some of the things that you can see of mine on this Web site are my writings, photography and web page designs.

  Writings:   You can find a few of my short stories here, and I've also written other things, but most I tend not to share with the rest of the world.

  Photography:  Some of my pictures I've included on my pages for the general public to view.  Others, I keep private.  I take pictures of sunsets, storms, historical buildings, fountains, monuments, people (but, dealing with humans works better after I've had at least a few drinks so I'm not so . . . me), animals, parties (where drinking is the norm so I'm not as socially anxious), parades (by staying back in the crowd so I'm not noticed as often) and other city events, et cetera.

  Web pages:  You're looking at one.  ;-)  They may not be as fancy as some professional Web sites are, but, at least I can say I don't have those annoying spinning things where content isn't loading, very many broken image links, or advertisements.  I used to have a set of framed pages, along with my non-framed pages, but I removed the framed pages once I was able to produce them easily.  Now, I'm avoiding using almost any Flash and using almost entirely CSS for some special things.  I've done coding for some Air Force people, and once had my own web design business, but, dealing with humans wasn't something I could take on a regular basis (even e-mailing with humans as part of the job was a pain), so, that didn't work out for me.  My latest experiments in HTML can't be seen correctly in crappy browsers, even though I'm using things that have been standardized since 1996 (I really don't like micro$haft!), so I recommend good Web browsers like the free Firefox Web browser.  Some people like Google Chrome, too, but, it seems to be made more for those who don't like to fiddle around with customization features, which are quickly fading away.  For example, to turn off JavaScript in Firefox, you now have to use the 'address' about:config in the address AKA location field and you can no longer right-click on an advertiser's picture and have it block images from that server.  But then, most of the world (including the politicians, police, and courts) seem to be controlled by corporations, and allowing people the ability to block ads would cut into their profits, so . . .  They took that option away.  Freedom of choice is a big no-no in the humans' eyes!

  Space Exploration:

  Yes, I'm the Grok Wolf that had his name inscribed on the Stardust spacecraft, part of which returned to Earth on January 15th, 2006 after its seven year mission to the comet Wild 2.  When it completed its mission and dropped off the sample return capsule to Earth, the Stardust spacecraft remained in space, and it will carry my name on it forever.

  My name is also on the Mars Exploration Rover Mission.  In both the Mars rovers, Spirit and Opportunity.  DVDs with my name on them were at Meridiani Planum in the Opportunity rover, and at Gusev Crater in the Spirit rover.

  You can also find my name on the New Horizons spacecraft, that launched on January 19th, 2006 and headed for Pluto, its moon, Charon, and the Kuiper Belt.  Also on board are some of Clyde Tombaugh's ashes.  For those of you who don't know who he is, he's the astronomer who discovered Pluto in 1930.  He was born in Illinois in 1906.  Not being satisfied with the quality of a store-bought telescope, he made his own.  I frequently do the same thing and for the same reason, or if what I need doesn't exist yet (humans have limited imaginations), and I have to create it, myself.  LOL  On February 18, 1930, Clyde Tombaugh discovered the planet Pluto while at the Lowell Observatory (Percival Lowell predicted that a planet would be found beyond Neptune, where Pluto sometimes is) in Flagstaff, Arizona.  He died on January 17, 1997, at the age of 90.

  What will the New Horizons probe find as it peers deep into Pluto's cold heart?  Will the sight of a spacecraft from the inner solar system melt the icy heart of Pluto and produce a forbidden love between these two in the cold depths at the farthest reaches of the solar system?  Who knows?  But, like the song says, you've gotta have hope.  And, you've gotta have heart.  Miles and miles of heart . . .

  An interesting side note about Pluto:  The name Pluto was suggested by an 11 year old girl named Venetia Burney from Oxford, England, for the Roman god of the underworld (his Greek name was Hades or Polydectes).  Her great-uncle was Henry Madan (1838-1901).  He was the guy who suggested that Mars' two moons be named Phobos and Deimos.

  So, I'm certifiably spacey.  ;-)  But, some would just say certifiable . . .

  Guess I'm really crazy if Alice Cooper thinks I'm nuts.  LOL

  Non-serious reading:

 

  Favorite authors that I read for fun: Robert A. Heinlein (or RAH to some science-fiction fans, and he was one of my favorite teachers and he told many people about covert cells AKA the clandestine cell system back in the 1960s), Larry Niven (I hope they someday make a movie or television series about his Known Space stories and the Ringworld), Christopher Stasheff, Wilson Tucker, Roger Zelazny, Steven Brust, Murray Leinster, Marion Zimmer Bradley (also known as MZB.  I mostly like her Darkover series), and Neal Stephenson.  About the only place I can find to get away from everything and escape the harshness of life, where I seem to be surrounded by cruel, sadistic humans who only care about themselves, or, if they care about me at all, was what they could get me to do for them, is sci-fi books, and these, along with lots of other authors (I've read literally thousands of sci-fi stories) opened up whole universes to me.  If I was able to, I'd prefer to spend my time living in my imagination, inside the various versions of reality and the worlds within them that were based, sometimes loosely, upon what I've read, or what I thought up myself.  When I was younger, my favorite form of escape started off with me reading something I liked and thinking about how cool it would be if I was there, or if it was different in some way I thought up on the spur of the moment, as I read the text, and away I went, if only in my mind.

  I've read and collected a few comic books, but, can't afford to buy new ones, anymore, since they now want a few dollars for each one.  The primary comics I liked were the X-titles (Wolverine, Excalibur (They've canceled the comic, and I really miss Rachel Summers.  Primarily because she seemed to be both a fairly intelligent and powerful female character, who wasn't evil, which is kind of rare in a non-villain character), X-Men, X-Factor, X-Force, Uncanny X-Men, X-Man, et cetera), but some others like Gen-13 and Deadpool (he actually made a reference to Alice Cooper in volume 1, number 2 of his own comic book series) as well.  BTW, for those interested, I read in the letters section (called X-Pressions in this title) of issue #86 of X-Men dated March, 1999, that since the X-Men have been published back in 1963, only about seven years have passed for them in their lives.  Sounds like they experience duration on a different temporal axis.