Anxiety in Dystopia

It seems like ages since the last entry, and even that one didn't feel adequate. I'm not pushing this entry to any of my social networks. If anyone who happens across tonight's little slice of weirdness likes it, please feel free to spread some link love, thanks.

With regard to the last entry, the practical application of "The Spirituality of Whatever" does have its limitations. Like now. There's a saying in the rooms that any given behavior isn't an "old behavior" (ie: pre-recovery) if one's still doing it. Stuffing via denial my personal concerns isn't exactly an old behavior. Rather, it's somewhat cyclical. Lately though, some older personal concerns keep gnawing at me and new ones are trying to exert dominance. I can't really talk openly about any of them, not now anyway.

I don't write about personal issues much any more. Maybe the sense of possibly being monitored by Big Brother makes me a tad paranoid. It's not like there's much true online anonymity left anymore, right? Then again, fifteen years ago, deep down in The Vault of Internet Eventualities a voice whispered, softly at first. Now that voice bellows and bears Louisville sluggers made of website TOS agreements and government legislation, all while sporting a Wal-Mart clearance aisle halo and a used-car-salesman smile...

"Be your true self," The Voice sweetly hisses. "But don't forget to share your most intimate details. We're friends, you and me. Good friends don't keep secrets. You do want to be my friend, right? What's your full legal name? Where do you live, work and play, and with whom? What's in your fridge? By the way, you're nearly out of toilet paper."

Oh gee thanks, creepy, intrusive harvester of too much information! Have your analytic algorithms determined my overall net worth? Do I make the cut? The Voice booms, "NO! We want you to fill out all the fields and not just the ones with the asterisks." Oh yeah? Is that all you've got? Bite my asterisks, buddy. All of them.

Ok, it's limited confession time. Without getting into specifics, I'm ambivalent about... Aw heck. Pardon the copypasta quickie. The original conversation was intended only for family of choice.

...many of you already know the background behind "fugitive247" and why I've fought for more than 15 years to maintain some modicum of personal anonymity online.

Folks, I'm simultaneously excited and near-panic stricken about the inevitability of having to publicly display my full name anywhere online. TOS registration matters not withstanding, this transition is being fueled for professional reasons. Before anyone suggests it, no, I have zero intention of starting brand new profiles on any of the services where I'm already registered.

Perhaps my biggest source of gut-gnawing apprehension is having to reconcile within myself the fact that I absolutely refuse to sanitize thousands of posts in which I mention specific 12 step recovery programs. I won't do it because it's disingenuous, period. As fugitive247, have I not developed some sense of credible transparency? Conversely, I sure don't want to publicly make myself appear, either as fugitive247 or Chris "Whomever," as a self-appointed representative of any anonymity based recovery resource. My ego really isn't that big, friends. =)

Why is this such a big deal to me? Mainly because I value Tradition Eleven. It's kind of doubtful that it's soon going to be amended to include internet as one of the venues which merits the maintenance of personal anonymity. Still, this is an example of how sometimes it's a hassle to have been in recovery since before ever going online and using a single nom de guerre the whole time, and certainly prior to the existence of social media. So modern internet convention now pretty much demands from me a degree compliance if I am to make continued progress in the Big Room. Will this make me a recovery sellout? Honestly, I'm working hard to quit judging myself harshly on this one matter, therefore others' critical opinions about this transition (which are really none of my business anyway) will likely amount to zilch in my book. I mean seriously, it's not like anyone's going to be able to repo my recovery... Just for today.

Like a Sore Thumb

~ originally published to Newsvine on November 24, 2009 ~

Some people demand more scrutiny than others. Then there's that old saying which poses that just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Ah, the grand Boogey Man incarnate rears his shadowy head. They. Them. Those entities who are not you.

They were at it again. Again? Hell, They are never not at it, whatever "it" is.

Jesse had been aware of covert eyes and ears since junior high school. Periodic visits from dark-suited agents asking personal questions about loved ones were par for the course. Did she know if so-and-so is frequently drunk or uses drugs? Is the subject having any financial difficulties? Is there a gambling problem? Does this person go to strip clubs, or ever hire prostitutes? Even if any of those scenarios were relevant, Jesse certainly never would have indicated as much to some federal wanna-be goons.

In public the goons were usually subtle, nearly indistinguishable from regular folks in a crowd, depending on the venue. Still, if one paid attention They could be spotted. After all, who else would be stupid enough to wear Florsheims with faded denims and a knock-off Grateful Dead concert tee to a NORML meeting? At those kinds of functions there might occasionally be only one of Them. Usually They traveled in pairs. Just like nuns, Jesse had mused on many occasions.

A certain level of paranoia can be a healthy device for self-preservation. Compound these levels between two individuals whose pre-couple lives have both been impacted by Them since childhood and things can get pretty intense. Jesse discovered this the hard way.

The funeral home was quite crowded when Jesse and her mate arrived. The two were greeted warmly outside the entrance by a few family members. Once inside the atrium Jesse and her sweetheart each signed the guest book. A relative directed her to an impressive display table laden with mementos of the deceased's personal and professional life. There They were at the table, supervising the appreciation of a dead man's remarkable achievements.

Jesse's late grandfather had been an highly awarded career NSA employee. Her mate's late father had been a career military trouble-shooter, active throughout southeast Asia during the Vietnam War era. Plus, there remained the close ties with others who could not discuss their professional lives, thanks to tight security clearances. It didn't help matters that Jesse's mate had personally drawn Their attention more than once. Nor did it help that, as an over-zealous rookie investigator, one of Them had relentlessly interrogated her mate more than a decade prior.

Jesse knew of the infamous crackdown. He was in his teens when it happened. They swarmed on multiple locations, cutting a swath of chaos. Professional conduct and constitutional rights be damned; all were considered guilty if for no other reason than association.

"Sundowner," he whispered into Jesse's ear, subtly cocking his head in Their direction. She nodded, casually guiding him towards a favorite uncle. During the service They lined Themselves along the rear wall, obvious strangers observing that which was none of Their business.

At the podium Jesse introduced herself for the benefit of her grandfather's friends. At the rear of the room she noticed two of Them scanning the guest book.

Jesse addressed her family, speaking cryptically of a long-standing rift in need of resolution. That's when she noticed one of Them gesture to another, as if to indicate identification of her mate. Thank goodness that Their attention following the memorial was focused on answering attendees' questions, and collecting table display items that were on loan from the agency. Jesse and her mate slipped away unnoticed.

"Do you think They recognized me? You know, Him?" asked Jesse's mate.

Jesse lit a cigarette, shrugged her shoulders, then put the van into drive. "I'm not 100% sure, baby, but if They did, They now know me, too."