<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="yes"?><oembed><version><![CDATA[1.0]]></version><provider_name><![CDATA[Ballastexistenz]]></provider_name><provider_url><![CDATA[https://ballastexistenz.wordpress.com]]></provider_url><author_name><![CDATA[Mel Baggs]]></author_name><author_url><![CDATA[https://ballastexistenz.wordpress.com/author/ameliabaggs/]]></author_url><title><![CDATA[Right here, right&nbsp;now.]]></title><type><![CDATA[link]]></type><html><![CDATA[<p>In my last post I talked about my tendency to have an automatic and instinctive assumption that dead people were still around. Again, regardless of my current religious beliefs at any given time &#8212; I am not talking about heaven hell or purgatory, not talking about ghosts, and not talking about living on in my heart. I mean the literal assumption that they are still living. Except possibly in another time period that I have no personal access to. But I process other time periods as &#8220;now&#8221; instinctively too, so it all gets very confusing and not conducive to the English language.</p>
<p>I got to thinking about whether it was a more general thing about my conception of time, or some other thing beyond specifically about people who have died. And I realized I do it about objects that have been lost or irretrievably transformed, and places that have been destroyed or transformed.</p>
<p>When I was a kid, there was a VIC-20 game called Omega Race, and a book having to do with a character called Underdog. Both of these objects were obviously and completely lost. Not coming back. I had no particular attachment to them beyond other similar objects, but I insisted on scouring every conceivable location for them over and over again. This was not (as it looked) because I thought I might have missed a place, or (as my brother said of searching for lost items) because I &#8220;kept looking in my favorite locations hoping they would turn up&#8221;. It was because they had been right here. Right in front of me. And therefore they <em>were</em> right in front of me now. And there must be something wrong with <em>me</em> that I could no longer reach out and touch them. Because in my mind back then, &#8220;They <em>are right here</em> darn it, I have grabbed them a zillion times, and it makes no sense that I cannot grab them now.&#8221;</p>
<p>If that was traumatic (and it was), when it happens with places it is even worse. I <em>know</em> somewhere deep inside me that there is a Video King store, right near D&amp;J Hobby. You go in and there are videos and Nintendo games for rent. Each video has a little tag you take off and bring to the register, and there are different ones for VHS and Beta. This <em>exists</em>. <strong>Now</strong>.  But I go there later and it is replaced or empty. And that is hellish, because it <em>should exist</em> and there is no reason for it not to.</p>
<p>(It&#8217;s strange. Sometimes things work like this, and sometimes the moment something is out of direct perception, it <em>never</em> existed &#8212; I can turn around and not remember what was on my other side, move a hand and the thing I am touching is no longer there and totally forgotten. I wonder what the difference is, and why I seem to have both of those reactions instead of the reaction I have only intellectually memorized, where things change and the past and future stay firmly outside of &#8220;now&#8221;, and you remember things as past while knowing it is the past and not now. I seem to overshoot that mark in both directions.)</p>
<p>Sometimes this even goes for tiny changes, so that, for instance, I perceive myself as currently and simultaneously in every location I have ever been. And it also happens with <em>myself</em> growing and changing, such that for a long time I had constant silent and wordless conversations with my &#8220;past selves&#8221; (for lack of a better term) because they were all &#8220;right now&#8221; at once.  And for awhile I would walk along routes that took me to places from my past (which I was sure were still there) and if I happened to find <em>people</em> from my past I would triumphantly interact with them and expect them to be as excited that they were still there as I was. (I had no way of explaining this to anyone though, so if anyone wonders the <em>real</em> reason I at one point started showing up at both of my elementary schools and giving long nonsensical reasons for it if asked?  This is the real reason.  I just had no way of saying it, so I made up the only responses that were available at the time (borrowed from dystopian novels, I think), with disastrous results on one such occasion. I knew you had to give responses, I didn&#8217;t know they had to pertain to what was going on inside my head, and if I had known I wouldn&#8217;t have been able to give one anyway.)</p>
<p>So I know this is how I have perceived things ever since I was old enough to figure out that unseen objects still existed (which I figured out late and sometimes still don&#8217;t know &#8212; it&#8217;s a skill that doesn&#8217;t permanently <em>take</em> for me, it comes and goes). I know it is not how most people perceive things, from the reactions I have gotten when I bring parts of it up with people. I can sometimes intellectually decide things are different than this, but my bones (or my brains) say otherwise. I don&#8217;t know if it&#8217;s due to my temporal lobe oddities or something else, but it is definitely related to how I perceive dead people. It&#8217;s one of those things I could never talk about or ask about growing up, where maybe if I had been able to I would have &#8220;corrected&#8221; myself. Or maybe not. But it&#8217;s still terrible to be confronted with the solid evidence that something that <em>is right now right here</em>, is&#8230; gone, or changed, or different.  And yet even past that point, my mind still believes it is right here.</p>
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