At least, that's the way it's always been in my life.
It is uncanny.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The Holy Ghost and the Iron Sword
Hahah, that last post waa funny.
You know what's interesting? I went to the hospital for this infection I have and the doctor listened to my lungs and said they sounded terrible. I could feel the wheezing in them. She said "You're 25, you really need to quit smoking."
I went home and did.
She will never know this.
You know what's interesting? I went to the hospital for this infection I have and the doctor listened to my lungs and said they sounded terrible. I could feel the wheezing in them. She said "You're 25, you really need to quit smoking."
I went home and did.
She will never know this.
Merry Christmas
Quitting smoking fucking sucks. Not having that first cigarette in the morning with my first cup of coffee blows. I am in a pissed off mood so probably won't be posting to my blog much because it is supposed to be all flowers and sunshine and shit. Fuck sunshine, give me a tanning bed and a lightbulb. Fucking Edison, spitting in the face of God.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Getting up and going
Dad didn't mean to get me a lame gift. Just what they sent was not what was represented in the catalog.
The klonopin is helping me out tremendously. I feel like my old self again, pre schizophrenia. It' weird.
It's why I haven't been writing much, I've been busy cleaning up my apartment and talking to some friends online. Everyone is saying how I'm back to my old self again, it is pretty cool.
I will tell you more of my past. What should I tell you. I don't want to tell you about the women yet. Maybe I will tell you about the leg.
When I was in first grade I was tipping back in my chair and falling out of it to make this one kid, Patrick, laugh. I kept doing it over and over, until I fell 0n my left leg and started crying. It hurt. Bad. I couldn't get up. They called my father and brought a wheelchair. I couldn't get off the floor, it was right by my hip that it hurt, this is a weight bearing area. My dad picked me up and carried me to the ambulance.
I was in the hospital for several months and finished out school there. My leg was in tracton, which means it was kept elevated by a metal pole through my knee. The doctors said I had a weak spot on my femur that was bound to break at some point.
When I got out of traction they put me in a half body cast and sent me home. I was a hyperactive kid, so I developed this duck waddle way of walking with this half body cast on. No wheel chair for me.
The body cast kept my legs spread at a 45 degree angle, and there was a steel bar between the legs above my knees for strength. The cast went all the way down my left leg, and down to the knee of my right. So I could bend my right knee and swing my left leg over. I walked like this for several months.
After awhile they cut the cast off. Doctor tells me "Okay now you won't be able to stand for a few weeks, and you shouldn't walk for awhile." I told him I'd already been walking in the cast. "Oh, if I had known that, I would have put rubber bottoms on it." or something like this.
Anyway we get home and my dad's like "Do you think you can stand on it?" I said yeah, probably. I stood on it. Fine. I started walking. Fine. We walked home.
What the doctors failed to realize was that I had monostotic fibrous displaysia, a tumor growing in my femur that made the bone very brittle and easily breakable. It's usually caught in that exact scenario, a kid breaks a bone from the tumor, they spot the tumor and remove it. This doctor didn't remove the tumor. It would grow back. It wouldn't be discovered until I was 18. It is the reason that I am schizophrenic.
I will tell you more later.
The klonopin is helping me out tremendously. I feel like my old self again, pre schizophrenia. It' weird.
It's why I haven't been writing much, I've been busy cleaning up my apartment and talking to some friends online. Everyone is saying how I'm back to my old self again, it is pretty cool.
I will tell you more of my past. What should I tell you. I don't want to tell you about the women yet. Maybe I will tell you about the leg.
When I was in first grade I was tipping back in my chair and falling out of it to make this one kid, Patrick, laugh. I kept doing it over and over, until I fell 0n my left leg and started crying. It hurt. Bad. I couldn't get up. They called my father and brought a wheelchair. I couldn't get off the floor, it was right by my hip that it hurt, this is a weight bearing area. My dad picked me up and carried me to the ambulance.
I was in the hospital for several months and finished out school there. My leg was in tracton, which means it was kept elevated by a metal pole through my knee. The doctors said I had a weak spot on my femur that was bound to break at some point.
When I got out of traction they put me in a half body cast and sent me home. I was a hyperactive kid, so I developed this duck waddle way of walking with this half body cast on. No wheel chair for me.
The body cast kept my legs spread at a 45 degree angle, and there was a steel bar between the legs above my knees for strength. The cast went all the way down my left leg, and down to the knee of my right. So I could bend my right knee and swing my left leg over. I walked like this for several months.
After awhile they cut the cast off. Doctor tells me "Okay now you won't be able to stand for a few weeks, and you shouldn't walk for awhile." I told him I'd already been walking in the cast. "Oh, if I had known that, I would have put rubber bottoms on it." or something like this.
Anyway we get home and my dad's like "Do you think you can stand on it?" I said yeah, probably. I stood on it. Fine. I started walking. Fine. We walked home.
What the doctors failed to realize was that I had monostotic fibrous displaysia, a tumor growing in my femur that made the bone very brittle and easily breakable. It's usually caught in that exact scenario, a kid breaks a bone from the tumor, they spot the tumor and remove it. This doctor didn't remove the tumor. It would grow back. It wouldn't be discovered until I was 18. It is the reason that I am schizophrenic.
I will tell you more later.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Sentry guards were everywhere.
Dad is making up for truly lame christmas gift by getting me the pins I need for my acoustic. He's also throwing in my favorite strings and picks. Score.
Fifty shots, he ducked to the floor.
I'm on clonzepam now. It works well, it has slowed my thinking down and made me feel more normal.
I am agitated right now because I had to smash the window open on my truck to get my keys. Oh well.
There's a cat that comes around loving on me and shit and wanting my attention. I fed it today. Give it a name.
I am agitated right now because I had to smash the window open on my truck to get my keys. Oh well.
There's a cat that comes around loving on me and shit and wanting my attention. I fed it today. Give it a name.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Humming through the clouds, a brilliant life is formed.
I tried to explain to my friend Heather that there is something past the opposites. Something past the good and evil, the yin and yang, the dominant and the subservient.
"What is past that?" She asks me.
"I don't know. I just know it's there."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
I am teaching it to myself, and I am teaching it to you.
...
At least this is something different.
"What is past that?" She asks me.
"I don't know. I just know it's there."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
I am teaching it to myself, and I am teaching it to you.
...
At least this is something different.
Pushing the envelope got you just that
There are two people who want to make music with me. A violinist and a drummer.
The drummer is my good friend Miles. We jam on the same groove.
The violinist played with us once. She has much more jamming experience. I've only jammed a handful of times, mostly with miles. 5 times, I think I've jammed, three times with Miles. This experienced person likes it.
That is good directions to go. I think I told you this.
When you are schizophrenic, you believe you are a terrible person, and that you are inherently evil. You tend to act out these things, believing that is who you are.
One of the girls I linked to is going through this. She has said that 90% of her life is drugs. Wow.
I wonder how many people in the world feel unsuccessful. Certainly they are the majority.
Perhaps they had a taste, and couldn't cut it. They were outlasted by their betters.
It stands to reason. There are going to be superior human beings born. This is powerful. We are built to know our place in the world.
It's like a great big number system, with you at the bottom.
No no, this is terrible, it is just sometimes you feel this way.
The drummer is my good friend Miles. We jam on the same groove.
The violinist played with us once. She has much more jamming experience. I've only jammed a handful of times, mostly with miles. 5 times, I think I've jammed, three times with Miles. This experienced person likes it.
That is good directions to go. I think I told you this.
When you are schizophrenic, you believe you are a terrible person, and that you are inherently evil. You tend to act out these things, believing that is who you are.
One of the girls I linked to is going through this. She has said that 90% of her life is drugs. Wow.
I wonder how many people in the world feel unsuccessful. Certainly they are the majority.
Perhaps they had a taste, and couldn't cut it. They were outlasted by their betters.
It stands to reason. There are going to be superior human beings born. This is powerful. We are built to know our place in the world.
It's like a great big number system, with you at the bottom.
No no, this is terrible, it is just sometimes you feel this way.
This has no meaning, and that's the point.
There are actually people who say that life has no meaning.
I suppose the argument against that is you make your own meaning.
The existentionalist will say "Well, you are wrong."
This is how I feel about religion. I believe it is made by man, and it is a wonderful thing. Hell, I should join it and you should to, but you know what? We'd be wrong. Who cares?
A friend of mine, Justin, said if you dedicate your life to being correct that would just be horrible.
Powerful words.
Today is the day I tell you things. There are about ten of you so far, on average, per day, that take time to read what I have to say.
That is a little nestle of perfect in your life. That means you are interested and enjoying, and I am just mad.
Heh, maybe you are not interested. Maybe it is just something different.
Maybe that is the part of life we are at right now.
I suppose the argument against that is you make your own meaning.
The existentionalist will say "Well, you are wrong."
This is how I feel about religion. I believe it is made by man, and it is a wonderful thing. Hell, I should join it and you should to, but you know what? We'd be wrong. Who cares?
A friend of mine, Justin, said if you dedicate your life to being correct that would just be horrible.
Powerful words.
Today is the day I tell you things. There are about ten of you so far, on average, per day, that take time to read what I have to say.
That is a little nestle of perfect in your life. That means you are interested and enjoying, and I am just mad.
Heh, maybe you are not interested. Maybe it is just something different.
Maybe that is the part of life we are at right now.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Math is at the heart of the Universe
I KNOW WHAT THIS BLOG NEEDS TO MAKE IT COMPLETE SOME BAD POETRY AND/OR SONGS. PERFECT.
I will pick out a song I wrote before (well going into) my schizophrenia and I will post it up. Yes, it really is one of those things where you are reading some dude's blog, and he puts up lyrics to one of his "songs". This is actually happening, hold on.
I am listening to it now, the guitaring is excellent. My voice is crappy, but as about as good as I could get it. The song meaning is obvious.
There was more to life
Then we ever knew
Now I see why
We could never get through
One time in my life I had thought that we could change
You said in broken numbers, hearts are gone, that you had ran away
And now I wonder if I ever fought back distressing true
In all these faces I've seen everyone but still it isn't you.
It isn't you.
And all your tears are gone
And I was never here
They love you now
You've got nothing to fear.
One time in my life I had thought that I had ran away
It turns out time goes onward, do or don't, oh it will never change
And we can sit here mournful spilling sobs of broken promise true
My child time goes onward, there is nothing you or I can do
I can do
I can do
Music change
And these two hearts did linger
In the dead of winter I was experimenting between song progressions
Music stylings for a little bit as everybody realizes the girl and boy broke up and it was sad
Now I remember every single word you ever said
This faded light and this long drive are all stuck in my head
And I remember turning and walking right out that door
And I still can't remember what all of this was for
And this isn't
How I should feel
But I didn't anyway
Everything sounds so vague when I say these twisted lies
I know what I said, know how I felt, I read between the lines
No rhyme or reason I'll sing it backwards for you today
Was each one the same or was it I who turned the other way
And I said
That I should care
But I didn't anyway
Let's take a walk between this broken glass and icy tress
They say a wise man walks across these grounds upon his knees
Was that a saint, a fool in love, oh wise can never feel
There's only scars from things and thoughts, it takes a strong man to kneel
Well I never
Gave in yeah
So I guess I've fallen anyway
So that's it, this is officially a real blog now. I wrote that shit when I was about nineteen. I kept writing all this esoteric shit, so I tried to write something normal but still had my own twist on it. It's not that bad, really. The music behind it was pretty good, it needed a better singer than I. It is your average 19 year old break up song. Pretty sweet.
The songs I write now will be totally different. I have no idea what I'll write about now. Maybe I will write about stars and sunshine. I certainly do not want to write about chaos and despair. Maybe just a little bit. Maybe I will do mostly stars and sunshine with a little chaos and despair. I will probably sound like everyone else, so I will keep it so nice and easy. I really don't have a message.
Shh, don't tell my other readers that I said that. Having no message is part of the revolution.
I will pick out a song I wrote before (well going into) my schizophrenia and I will post it up. Yes, it really is one of those things where you are reading some dude's blog, and he puts up lyrics to one of his "songs". This is actually happening, hold on.
I am listening to it now, the guitaring is excellent. My voice is crappy, but as about as good as I could get it. The song meaning is obvious.
There was more to life
Then we ever knew
Now I see why
We could never get through
One time in my life I had thought that we could change
You said in broken numbers, hearts are gone, that you had ran away
And now I wonder if I ever fought back distressing true
In all these faces I've seen everyone but still it isn't you.
It isn't you.
And all your tears are gone
And I was never here
They love you now
You've got nothing to fear.
One time in my life I had thought that I had ran away
It turns out time goes onward, do or don't, oh it will never change
And we can sit here mournful spilling sobs of broken promise true
My child time goes onward, there is nothing you or I can do
I can do
I can do
Music change
And these two hearts did linger
In the dead of winter I was experimenting between song progressions
Music stylings for a little bit as everybody realizes the girl and boy broke up and it was sad
Now I remember every single word you ever said
This faded light and this long drive are all stuck in my head
And I remember turning and walking right out that door
And I still can't remember what all of this was for
And this isn't
How I should feel
But I didn't anyway
Everything sounds so vague when I say these twisted lies
I know what I said, know how I felt, I read between the lines
No rhyme or reason I'll sing it backwards for you today
Was each one the same or was it I who turned the other way
And I said
That I should care
But I didn't anyway
Let's take a walk between this broken glass and icy tress
They say a wise man walks across these grounds upon his knees
Was that a saint, a fool in love, oh wise can never feel
There's only scars from things and thoughts, it takes a strong man to kneel
Well I never
Gave in yeah
So I guess I've fallen anyway
So that's it, this is officially a real blog now. I wrote that shit when I was about nineteen. I kept writing all this esoteric shit, so I tried to write something normal but still had my own twist on it. It's not that bad, really. The music behind it was pretty good, it needed a better singer than I. It is your average 19 year old break up song. Pretty sweet.
The songs I write now will be totally different. I have no idea what I'll write about now. Maybe I will write about stars and sunshine. I certainly do not want to write about chaos and despair. Maybe just a little bit. Maybe I will do mostly stars and sunshine with a little chaos and despair. I will probably sound like everyone else, so I will keep it so nice and easy. I really don't have a message.
Shh, don't tell my other readers that I said that. Having no message is part of the revolution.
The sundry little things.
So mybloglog shows me individual readers, and is immune to the attacking internet robots, unlike my counter. I think I am going to leave the counter up, so that you can see the casualties of battle. What does it mean? I have to learn what the attacking internet robots motivations are. Only then could I truly defeat them, or use them to my advantage.
We had 23 unique readers yesterday.
I wonder what they thought about my revolution.
I wonder how crazy they believe I am.
After careful consideration, I am not that crazy. However I am still dealing with issues that resulted from the last two years, and trying to recover. So it is a journey.
Life goes on, and on and on, no matter what is going on with you. I try to get maximum satisfaction out of it, while still dealing with a number of issues. I suppose this is the same of everyone. My friend miles, who is really interesting on the drums, we jam well together, hooked up with this girl who plays a fiddle and violin and likes our stuff.
Really for truly. Me, who went crazy and didn't play guitar for three years, and barely remembers how to play now, was able to hold a rocking jam session together. I talked to the girl today, and her and I will get together, and I will play her acoustic. All I have right now is an electric that's missing a string that I fucking hate. My acoustic, the one I make good music on, is out of commission. I have to order pins and strings for it, maybe I could ask my dad to do that for me.
I have until January 3rd to get my guitar chops together to hopefully write some songs, miles won't be there so I won't have that beat. But I think it will be okay.
We had 23 unique readers yesterday.
I wonder what they thought about my revolution.
I wonder how crazy they believe I am.
After careful consideration, I am not that crazy. However I am still dealing with issues that resulted from the last two years, and trying to recover. So it is a journey.
Life goes on, and on and on, no matter what is going on with you. I try to get maximum satisfaction out of it, while still dealing with a number of issues. I suppose this is the same of everyone. My friend miles, who is really interesting on the drums, we jam well together, hooked up with this girl who plays a fiddle and violin and likes our stuff.
Really for truly. Me, who went crazy and didn't play guitar for three years, and barely remembers how to play now, was able to hold a rocking jam session together. I talked to the girl today, and her and I will get together, and I will play her acoustic. All I have right now is an electric that's missing a string that I fucking hate. My acoustic, the one I make good music on, is out of commission. I have to order pins and strings for it, maybe I could ask my dad to do that for me.
I have until January 3rd to get my guitar chops together to hopefully write some songs, miles won't be there so I won't have that beat. But I think it will be okay.
Monday, December 17, 2007
We'll float on good news is on the way
When I was a kid I realized I was different. I held on to that.
I have entered a No Man's land. That is what it is like, to be born, and to live on this earth, there are no rules. But you are told rules all your life. It is a No Man's land.
And you come to know yourself.
And other people. Which are all good things.
But for a revolution, it is a No Man's land.
Ignore me, and my fancies of revolution. I am just a (young) old man, okay, and I have needs.
I have entered a No Man's land. That is what it is like, to be born, and to live on this earth, there are no rules. But you are told rules all your life. It is a No Man's land.
And you come to know yourself.
And other people. Which are all good things.
But for a revolution, it is a No Man's land.
Ignore me, and my fancies of revolution. I am just a (young) old man, okay, and I have needs.
What's the officer, problem?
Doc12/17/2007 11:17 AM
reply · branch topic or poll · ignore · edit · edited · edit history
I'm glad you made that better vs. luckier argument, I was worried that you thought that people with better genetics were better people.
I'm lucky to be intelligent sure, but also, my genetics are mine. So I take ownership of it. I am lucky to have a pitcher's arm, it is me. Would you say that a person who is bred from a family of pitchers is lucky to have a pitchers arm, or a product of breeding. Where does the luck come in?
Scientists want to keep certain tribes in third world countries because they are resistant to certain diseases. Want to keep them around for their genetics.
If you do not know this right now, let me tell you about the Human Genome Project. They are mapping all the genes of the human, trying to figure out people's coding. What makes you tick. What is responsible for the person you are, and also, who you are, like all the tests you are taking online telling you about yourself.
This guy mapped his own DNA, some high falutent scientist. He wrote a book about it. He knows a whole lot about himself now. I will find out who it was and let you know about it.
Welcome to the revolution. I am directing you towards the future.
If you do not know this right now, let me tell you about the Human Genome Project. They are mapping all the genes of the human, trying to figure out people's coding. What makes you tick. What is responsible for the person you are, and also, who you are, like all the tests you are taking online telling you about yourself.
This guy mapped his own DNA, some high falutent scientist. He wrote a book about it. He knows a whole lot about himself now. I will find out who it was and let you know about it.
Welcome to the revolution. I am directing you towards the future.
And that's how the world began. And that's how the world will end.
I don't know if you underrstand capitalism, but you live on the Earth, you have an idea.
You are supposed to sell yourself.
What if you have nothing to sell?
Then you sell what you've got cheap.
Cheap vs. Expensive. It's a philosophy. Capitalism is bred into our brains.
It is very simple. An organism produces energy so that it is able to somehow take in energy from outside itself.
It's not a perpetual motion machine, that's impossible.
It requires outside force.
The idea is to take in more energy then you are expending. This is how to grow.
This is how a business grows. This is why you are fat.
Why are we at the pinnacle of everything? Where the fuck are we going.
You are supposed to sell yourself.
What if you have nothing to sell?
Then you sell what you've got cheap.
Cheap vs. Expensive. It's a philosophy. Capitalism is bred into our brains.
It is very simple. An organism produces energy so that it is able to somehow take in energy from outside itself.
It's not a perpetual motion machine, that's impossible.
It requires outside force.
The idea is to take in more energy then you are expending. This is how to grow.
This is how a business grows. This is why you are fat.
Why are we at the pinnacle of everything? Where the fuck are we going.
It is coming. It always has been. More people can feel it, now more than ever.
INTERNET ROBOTS ARE ATTACKING MY BLOG.
I had 53 unique visitors yesterday. I am not that interesting.
Who the fuck wants to read a blog unless they can benefit from it, or laugh about it.
Watch YouTube. It is harder to attract attention then ever before. Everybody is surrounded by genius.
Fuck recipe blogs, I am pissed.
I had 53 unique visitors yesterday. I am not that interesting.
Who the fuck wants to read a blog unless they can benefit from it, or laugh about it.
Watch YouTube. It is harder to attract attention then ever before. Everybody is surrounded by genius.
Fuck recipe blogs, I am pissed.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
You will never grow up until you turn around and look at what is behind you.
Okay so the google ads are in place. Would they sell me books about schizophrenia? Would they try to advertise books about perception? Could I buy a dead baby joke book?
No, instead they offered me Helium.com. This is a place where writers get together and get paid for the value of their articles, and it is completely free to join.
I suppose this means I need to work on the value of my blog writing. You do too. Maybe I will write how I went schizophrenic eventually and then the experience of it, and I will get hints and tips for making it better, and then someone somewhere will pay me 50 bucks to use it in something.
Of course, I completely reserve the right to publish all my shit on blog first.
They gave an example of some articles that won money, and one of them was "How to throw a kareoke party." They basically described what a kareoke party was, what made it successful, and then told you to do that.
This informative little piece of information was bought.
No, instead they offered me Helium.com. This is a place where writers get together and get paid for the value of their articles, and it is completely free to join.
I suppose this means I need to work on the value of my blog writing. You do too. Maybe I will write how I went schizophrenic eventually and then the experience of it, and I will get hints and tips for making it better, and then someone somewhere will pay me 50 bucks to use it in something.
Of course, I completely reserve the right to publish all my shit on blog first.
They gave an example of some articles that won money, and one of them was "How to throw a kareoke party." They basically described what a kareoke party was, what made it successful, and then told you to do that.
This informative little piece of information was bought.
Put that table over there.
Okay.
This basically means I will have a theme going. This is helpful to the revolution of the mind.
How does Google target ads to my website?
Once you've added the Google ad code to the webpages on which you want to display Google ads, we take care of the rest by automatically delivering relevant Google ads to those content pages. Google ads are targeted in two ways:
Our technology can also determine the primary language of a page
- Contextual targeting
Our technology uses such factors as keyword analysis, word frequency, font size, and the overall link structure of the web, in order to determine what a webpage is about and precisely match Google ads to each page.- Placement targeting
With placement targeting, advertisers choose specific ad placements, or subsections of publisher websites, on which to run their ads. Ads that are placement-targeted may not be precisely relevant to the content of a page, but are hand-picked by advertisers who've determined a match between what your users are interested in and what they have to offer .
This basically means I will have a theme going. This is helpful to the revolution of the mind.
Open to it, he flashed a light, and they were blinded
Is there a place on the internet that lists blogs by description and category? I need to find cool blogs. I don't mind having mental health blogs, but I need other blogs too.
Rape in a bottle
Okay, I installed that counter like last night, and the fregging thing is close to thirty now. No way.
The only people that I know that know of my blog are people from this message board I post to. And there are not that many people there, and certainly not that many of them would read it.
I changed it so that if you are not a blogger member, you can still leave a comment.
What I need to know from you is how you found out about the revolution (my blog) (the revolution you don't know about too much yet, if you are a loyal reader, I have vaguely mentioned it) (the revolution is going to involve other like minded blogs as well that I have to find, so I will have to go blog hunting. I will tell you partly that the revolution has enemies. Recipe blogs) (This is all I will tell you right now of the revolution) maybe where it was listed, or just how you came across it, because I need to know more about my readers. I do not live in a glass bubble, or whatever, I must know my audience. I just got up so the thought process is even more clunky then usual right now. The train wreck, the thought process, the million miles and hour that lasts only for a second. Fuck Deja Vu and all your friends who have it.
Tell me how you found this and why you read and tell me something that you'd like to see. I need to incorporate more people, but as my good friend Heather likes to tell me, you need to focus on the here more, and not what's next.
Well she tells me you can't get to the next, until you have focused on the here. She says it is impossible to get to the next without understanding where you're at now. PREPOSTEROUS.
She is probably right. Why are women always probably right.
I have not yet told my friends how to get to my blog. I have not listed it on Myspace or Facebook. I don't want a bunch of posts yet about people I know going "I know dude, remember that thing that you were talking about and did! I had a reaction, and other people did too, and I am pointing that out on your blog now!"
When the time is right I will introduce my friends. Maybe when the amount of readers I have that I don't know rivals the amount of friends readers, then I will have a good dynamic. This is why I need to know where you are coming from and who you are (what you like) so that I understand my fan base better. Only then can the revolution start to take shape. I have some hunches.
The only people that I know that know of my blog are people from this message board I post to. And there are not that many people there, and certainly not that many of them would read it.
I changed it so that if you are not a blogger member, you can still leave a comment.
What I need to know from you is how you found out about the revolution (my blog) (the revolution you don't know about too much yet, if you are a loyal reader, I have vaguely mentioned it) (the revolution is going to involve other like minded blogs as well that I have to find, so I will have to go blog hunting. I will tell you partly that the revolution has enemies. Recipe blogs) (This is all I will tell you right now of the revolution) maybe where it was listed, or just how you came across it, because I need to know more about my readers. I do not live in a glass bubble, or whatever, I must know my audience. I just got up so the thought process is even more clunky then usual right now. The train wreck, the thought process, the million miles and hour that lasts only for a second. Fuck Deja Vu and all your friends who have it.
Tell me how you found this and why you read and tell me something that you'd like to see. I need to incorporate more people, but as my good friend Heather likes to tell me, you need to focus on the here more, and not what's next.
Well she tells me you can't get to the next, until you have focused on the here. She says it is impossible to get to the next without understanding where you're at now. PREPOSTEROUS.
She is probably right. Why are women always probably right.
I have not yet told my friends how to get to my blog. I have not listed it on Myspace or Facebook. I don't want a bunch of posts yet about people I know going "I know dude, remember that thing that you were talking about and did! I had a reaction, and other people did too, and I am pointing that out on your blog now!"
When the time is right I will introduce my friends. Maybe when the amount of readers I have that I don't know rivals the amount of friends readers, then I will have a good dynamic. This is why I need to know where you are coming from and who you are (what you like) so that I understand my fan base better. Only then can the revolution start to take shape. I have some hunches.
Parade rest
So I have been trying to put myself in a more relazed state of mind. It paid off today.
Lars comes to me and says his girlfriend just broke up with him.
I know Lars pretty well, his girlfriend only a little bit, but I watched them interact at the party so learned a shit load there.
So I basically have some ideas for what is going on, and why he needs to do. All being relazed about it, following the thoughts step by step and trying to come to beneficial and positive conclusions. I ask him probing questions about his relationship. I explain to him some things he needsd to appologize about. I got him to think of the issues of the relationships, not just the problems. I explained to him that he and his girlfriend could list faults of each other til the cows come home, this is a waste of time because you want to be together, why say "Well you're a bitch." I explained to him that you could both have ten problems between each other, that stem from three issues, but if all you're talking about is the problems, you are not getting any done.
I helped him think. This is what I like to do. I am secretly in love with thinking. I don't go around getting people to think all the time, but I do enjoy when I get to do it with them. It is fun for me.
Jesus christ I am tired. I can't even keep up this writing style anymore, it is getting annoying.
Suffice it to say after Lars got a pen and paper and wrote down what I was telling him, and then writing a bit more for himself, we were able to come up with what issue was bothering him, and in a positive tone. I sent him off to his girlfriend and told him to tell her this. It will be a good thing.
He comes back to me later and says that everything went really well, and now his girlfriend who didn't like me much now likes and respects me. It was beneficial, I was trying to work on the beneficial and I'm glad it succeeded. I told Lars to ask Marybeth if she knew any single sorority girls, because frat guys are fucking retarded.
Lars comes to me and says his girlfriend just broke up with him.
I know Lars pretty well, his girlfriend only a little bit, but I watched them interact at the party so learned a shit load there.
So I basically have some ideas for what is going on, and why he needs to do. All being relazed about it, following the thoughts step by step and trying to come to beneficial and positive conclusions. I ask him probing questions about his relationship. I explain to him some things he needsd to appologize about. I got him to think of the issues of the relationships, not just the problems. I explained to him that he and his girlfriend could list faults of each other til the cows come home, this is a waste of time because you want to be together, why say "Well you're a bitch." I explained to him that you could both have ten problems between each other, that stem from three issues, but if all you're talking about is the problems, you are not getting any done.
I helped him think. This is what I like to do. I am secretly in love with thinking. I don't go around getting people to think all the time, but I do enjoy when I get to do it with them. It is fun for me.
Jesus christ I am tired. I can't even keep up this writing style anymore, it is getting annoying.
Suffice it to say after Lars got a pen and paper and wrote down what I was telling him, and then writing a bit more for himself, we were able to come up with what issue was bothering him, and in a positive tone. I sent him off to his girlfriend and told him to tell her this. It will be a good thing.
He comes back to me later and says that everything went really well, and now his girlfriend who didn't like me much now likes and respects me. It was beneficial, I was trying to work on the beneficial and I'm glad it succeeded. I told Lars to ask Marybeth if she knew any single sorority girls, because frat guys are fucking retarded.
Was it wicked of me to kiss her when she couldn't have me?
This party was fairly interesting.
Lars had been talking about it for a week, and he invited all the people he knew that he liked, and a few of their friends. I knew most of them. A chunk of them were from the Honors dorm, and one was a mutual friend who wanted to bring two of his friends. I think Lars and I invited (of who came) 10 people or so, I knew all of them, and was on good terms with most.
Lar's girlfriend has an entirely seperate set of friends. She belongs to a sorority, so all of her friends are in sororities and fraternities. It is a wonder why she has such a low opinion of people, but I will say nothing more on that.
I was interested in what the fuck was going to happen, Plus it was Lars party, and he wants me to be his best man, so of course I am going to go.
The sorority party part was this. About five sorority girls, two who talked to each other the whole time before leaving, and then as the night progresed, small groups of boys would come, stay for a little bit and leave. The boys would generally talk about sex and boners and porn. Each individual group coming in one after the other would talk about the same thing. Penis
Then Lars and I mutual friends come over and are talking amongst themelves. Our friends didn't know the frat guys, and the frat guys didn't know them. Conversation would attempt a few times, but the frat guys were primarily interested in talking about penis to the sorority sisters. Can't say I blame them, I couldn't think of any witty but not too complicated weiner jokes, so I mostly listened to the play by play and read people's reactions. I also moonlighted with my friends and funneled a beer and drank a shit load of rum.
At some point one of the sorority girls gets a hair up their ass about Lars friends being there, but not me. I think it was because I was laughing at the stupid guy that everyone was making fun of. All of Lar's and my friend's are outside, because they do not know anybody else but each other, and the initial introductions fell flat. The sorority girl goes outside and makes up a street and says there is a keg party there, tell them I sent you, this party is lame and we will all be there.
I am not stupid. They had no intention of going to the keg party. She was basically kicking Lars friends out, who were already outside to begin with.
*sigh* I kind of figured this was going to happen. I didn't say anything to Lars from the get-go because why would I be pessimistic? Why do people get realism and pessimism confused all the time.
The honors kids aren't stupid. They realized that they had just gotten kicked out of a party their friend Lars invited them too. They went to find the party, I stayed. I planned on drinking what was left of the liquor there, and then joining my friends later with Lars once the booze was gone.
One guy there who wasn't in a frat, me him and Lars talked for awhile about some interesting stuff. We walk back in the living room and hear a guy go "Hey Ron, I bet you like that blowjob porn!"
Is this for real? Is this happening?
The keg party doesn't exist, and I convince Lars to come join me with some girls back at the dorm. Lars grabs a bottle of rum, and we go and have a really good time. I stay up all night talking to this one chick who turns out to be pretty damn smart, and in the morning Lars is on the phone with his girlfriend, bitching her out, another glorious fight that will quickly get swept under the rug.
Lars had been talking about it for a week, and he invited all the people he knew that he liked, and a few of their friends. I knew most of them. A chunk of them were from the Honors dorm, and one was a mutual friend who wanted to bring two of his friends. I think Lars and I invited (of who came) 10 people or so, I knew all of them, and was on good terms with most.
Lar's girlfriend has an entirely seperate set of friends. She belongs to a sorority, so all of her friends are in sororities and fraternities. It is a wonder why she has such a low opinion of people, but I will say nothing more on that.
I was interested in what the fuck was going to happen, Plus it was Lars party, and he wants me to be his best man, so of course I am going to go.
The sorority party part was this. About five sorority girls, two who talked to each other the whole time before leaving, and then as the night progresed, small groups of boys would come, stay for a little bit and leave. The boys would generally talk about sex and boners and porn. Each individual group coming in one after the other would talk about the same thing. Penis
Then Lars and I mutual friends come over and are talking amongst themelves. Our friends didn't know the frat guys, and the frat guys didn't know them. Conversation would attempt a few times, but the frat guys were primarily interested in talking about penis to the sorority sisters. Can't say I blame them, I couldn't think of any witty but not too complicated weiner jokes, so I mostly listened to the play by play and read people's reactions. I also moonlighted with my friends and funneled a beer and drank a shit load of rum.
At some point one of the sorority girls gets a hair up their ass about Lars friends being there, but not me. I think it was because I was laughing at the stupid guy that everyone was making fun of. All of Lar's and my friend's are outside, because they do not know anybody else but each other, and the initial introductions fell flat. The sorority girl goes outside and makes up a street and says there is a keg party there, tell them I sent you, this party is lame and we will all be there.
I am not stupid. They had no intention of going to the keg party. She was basically kicking Lars friends out, who were already outside to begin with.
*sigh* I kind of figured this was going to happen. I didn't say anything to Lars from the get-go because why would I be pessimistic? Why do people get realism and pessimism confused all the time.
The honors kids aren't stupid. They realized that they had just gotten kicked out of a party their friend Lars invited them too. They went to find the party, I stayed. I planned on drinking what was left of the liquor there, and then joining my friends later with Lars once the booze was gone.
One guy there who wasn't in a frat, me him and Lars talked for awhile about some interesting stuff. We walk back in the living room and hear a guy go "Hey Ron, I bet you like that blowjob porn!"
Is this for real? Is this happening?
The keg party doesn't exist, and I convince Lars to come join me with some girls back at the dorm. Lars grabs a bottle of rum, and we go and have a really good time. I stay up all night talking to this one chick who turns out to be pretty damn smart, and in the morning Lars is on the phone with his girlfriend, bitching her out, another glorious fight that will quickly get swept under the rug.
Window washers of he soul
And just like that, I beat them all. Veteran guy, who I had just met up until this night, goes "Yep, you are a poker player." I had told him that I wasn't that good.
Thusly I learned the truism that a relaxed mind is a better capable mind. This is why true meditation is highly spoken of. I believe it improves your cognitive abilities and all that too. Relaxation is a positive thing.
Then why is it so hard for some people to relax. Maybe they find it too hard to relax.
What I have learned to improve myself as a continue to grow into a man (I am 25 years old, and am probably a man in the conventional sense, but one thing you realize at 25 is how the last ten years shaped your life and who you are, you mature, and then you want to mature into a good man) is that I should probably try to always be as relaxed as possible. This will no doubt have health benefits, psychological benefits, I mean it's probably just full of benefits all around and is a "Good Thing to Aspire Too."
I am usually mostly relaxed as I understand it, but I'm sure I could get better relaxed. Maybe I can even work on relaxing my friends.
Which takes me to the other part of this story. Lars is going out with this girl, they've been together for about three years now, and they are fighting a lot. A good example is the party they threw the other night.
Thusly I learned the truism that a relaxed mind is a better capable mind. This is why true meditation is highly spoken of. I believe it improves your cognitive abilities and all that too. Relaxation is a positive thing.
Then why is it so hard for some people to relax. Maybe they find it too hard to relax.
What I have learned to improve myself as a continue to grow into a man (I am 25 years old, and am probably a man in the conventional sense, but one thing you realize at 25 is how the last ten years shaped your life and who you are, you mature, and then you want to mature into a good man) is that I should probably try to always be as relaxed as possible. This will no doubt have health benefits, psychological benefits, I mean it's probably just full of benefits all around and is a "Good Thing to Aspire Too."
I am usually mostly relaxed as I understand it, but I'm sure I could get better relaxed. Maybe I can even work on relaxing my friends.
Which takes me to the other part of this story. Lars is going out with this girl, they've been together for about three years now, and they are fighting a lot. A good example is the party they threw the other night.
The liquid burns
So basically having explained my general thought process about the whole thing, I still hope you like me, reader. You may think I'm incorrect about the shit I said prior. Let me know lay out for you my rationale.
I had been prescribed klonopins in the past, briefly. I did not die. It had been well over a year since I had done one, and one was offered and I took it. Recreationally, because I was not in front of a doctor determining if there was a need for me taking this.
I took them very briefly for high anxiety when I was first schizophrenic, dealt with the anxiety once it wasn't so bad, and stopped taking them.
I barely deal with my schizophrenia, now that I have dealt with it.
I took the klonopin and went to meet some new people through my buddy Lars.
By the time we get there, the klonopin starts kicking in, working on the chemical GABA in the brain, and basically inhibiting my thought process. This is a bare bones, least scientifical explanation of what a benzo does, and they do it in different ways, but it amps the inhibitory process in your brain which means you are generally not thinking so much. Your thoughts are calmer, and there's less of them.
So I became mellow. I had no anxieties. Fine by me.
Lar's friends want to play Texas hold em. I played maybe three times in Austin Texas three years ago, and just recently played about four games with a college student who spends a lot of her time playing online and brought some of my friends.
Readers let me tell you that I am horrible at this game. I do not know how to read people, I can't figure out straight or flush possibilties, I never see more than a pair or two pair or three of a kind. I bet horribly and usually lose fairly quickly on our dollar games, and will buy myself back in one more time, just because everybody is still playing, and I don't feel like going home. I'd like to last until the winner. But even some friends of mine that I'd bring over, some having only played once, did much better than I. My confidence in my poker playing is in the dumps, and I am trying to learn the game. A lot of times I have a hard time telling who's turn it is. I think I have illustrated my abysmal newbie skills enough.
At this dude's house one guy plays fairly regularly, one guy played three times a week for two semesters last year, and lars has been playing about as much as I, but usually does really well.
However, I am not anxious about looking like an idiot in front of these people. I want to learn this game. And for some strange reason, on this klonopin my thoughts are coming through linearally as opposed to making leaps and jumps and tangents, which is good for being really smart and getting your professors to like you, but not good for when you're trying to concentrate on simple shit. My thought process was inhibited at a nice comfortable place. I could stay on target in my head for what I needed to think about and was completing it to fruition instead of branching off possibilities. Also, in my relaxed state of mind, I was coming to better conclusions about things.
So I thought, let's play the game, and let's just try to be smart about it again. Learn from a mistake, look for opportunities, think of how you could improve. Simple shit.
My poker playing up to this game was a lot like how I approach math homework up til the test. I make every mistake in the book and not in the book, realize why it is a mistake, and then when the test rolls around I make a perfect score. Seemed like a sound strategy.
So perhaps this is the way I was approaching my poker games. Maybe this was the test, they were all better players. I also had the excellent opportunity to learn from them.
I looked at my hole cards (if you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, get off my fucking blog and never come back I am only being silly to you) and I calculated the odds of me getting a pair. Simple enough, seemed like a good strategy until I realized, not knowing the cards the other players had, I had to assume a 3/52 ratio per card, 6/52 for getting a pair, and hold on let me try to figure out the math for getting two pair. If I want to do computer science, I have to be good at math, so I am trying to use it more daily in my life. No, I can't figure it out, I am tirede.
However, with practice, I was able to weigh the odds of other things happening, and make my bets accordingly. This had never occured to me before. It sounded like a pretty good strategy to start off with. I had no idea whether or not it was beneficial, but it should get me started down a good path. Maybe it would be a waste of time, but my other strategies hadn't worked for me so far, so why not try this.
This started to help me out. I was basically learning better odds.
I studied a number of other things. The game wasn't rushed, like the ones I've played before, where everybody is always trying to make a quick decision. I brought this up in the card game, and the veteran goes "That is stupid, trying to make quick decisions."
I thought perhaps the people I played with that were good already knew there stuff really well. The people in the game who weren't that experienced weren't taking their time either, because I suppose they really weren't thinking about it, but in this game, with better players, they generally took their time before moves. I learned that a better poker player takes his time to think things through, which you would think would be obvious, yet I had not seen it validated.
I had been prescribed klonopins in the past, briefly. I did not die. It had been well over a year since I had done one, and one was offered and I took it. Recreationally, because I was not in front of a doctor determining if there was a need for me taking this.
I took them very briefly for high anxiety when I was first schizophrenic, dealt with the anxiety once it wasn't so bad, and stopped taking them.
I barely deal with my schizophrenia, now that I have dealt with it.
I took the klonopin and went to meet some new people through my buddy Lars.
By the time we get there, the klonopin starts kicking in, working on the chemical GABA in the brain, and basically inhibiting my thought process. This is a bare bones, least scientifical explanation of what a benzo does, and they do it in different ways, but it amps the inhibitory process in your brain which means you are generally not thinking so much. Your thoughts are calmer, and there's less of them.
So I became mellow. I had no anxieties. Fine by me.
Lar's friends want to play Texas hold em. I played maybe three times in Austin Texas three years ago, and just recently played about four games with a college student who spends a lot of her time playing online and brought some of my friends.
Readers let me tell you that I am horrible at this game. I do not know how to read people, I can't figure out straight or flush possibilties, I never see more than a pair or two pair or three of a kind. I bet horribly and usually lose fairly quickly on our dollar games, and will buy myself back in one more time, just because everybody is still playing, and I don't feel like going home. I'd like to last until the winner. But even some friends of mine that I'd bring over, some having only played once, did much better than I. My confidence in my poker playing is in the dumps, and I am trying to learn the game. A lot of times I have a hard time telling who's turn it is. I think I have illustrated my abysmal newbie skills enough.
At this dude's house one guy plays fairly regularly, one guy played three times a week for two semesters last year, and lars has been playing about as much as I, but usually does really well.
However, I am not anxious about looking like an idiot in front of these people. I want to learn this game. And for some strange reason, on this klonopin my thoughts are coming through linearally as opposed to making leaps and jumps and tangents, which is good for being really smart and getting your professors to like you, but not good for when you're trying to concentrate on simple shit. My thought process was inhibited at a nice comfortable place. I could stay on target in my head for what I needed to think about and was completing it to fruition instead of branching off possibilities. Also, in my relaxed state of mind, I was coming to better conclusions about things.
So I thought, let's play the game, and let's just try to be smart about it again. Learn from a mistake, look for opportunities, think of how you could improve. Simple shit.
My poker playing up to this game was a lot like how I approach math homework up til the test. I make every mistake in the book and not in the book, realize why it is a mistake, and then when the test rolls around I make a perfect score. Seemed like a sound strategy.
So perhaps this is the way I was approaching my poker games. Maybe this was the test, they were all better players. I also had the excellent opportunity to learn from them.
I looked at my hole cards (if you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, get off my fucking blog and never come back I am only being silly to you) and I calculated the odds of me getting a pair. Simple enough, seemed like a good strategy until I realized, not knowing the cards the other players had, I had to assume a 3/52 ratio per card, 6/52 for getting a pair, and hold on let me try to figure out the math for getting two pair. If I want to do computer science, I have to be good at math, so I am trying to use it more daily in my life. No, I can't figure it out, I am tirede.
However, with practice, I was able to weigh the odds of other things happening, and make my bets accordingly. This had never occured to me before. It sounded like a pretty good strategy to start off with. I had no idea whether or not it was beneficial, but it should get me started down a good path. Maybe it would be a waste of time, but my other strategies hadn't worked for me so far, so why not try this.
This started to help me out. I was basically learning better odds.
I studied a number of other things. The game wasn't rushed, like the ones I've played before, where everybody is always trying to make a quick decision. I brought this up in the card game, and the veteran goes "That is stupid, trying to make quick decisions."
I thought perhaps the people I played with that were good already knew there stuff really well. The people in the game who weren't that experienced weren't taking their time either, because I suppose they really weren't thinking about it, but in this game, with better players, they generally took their time before moves. I learned that a better poker player takes his time to think things through, which you would think would be obvious, yet I had not seen it validated.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
This is a long one
My first title of the conventional sense. Congratulations. That is to my loyal fans.
I bought some very low dose benzodiazepams. If you are a crazy person, then you already know what I am talking about, if you don't, benzodiazepams are basically like valiums. They ease anxieties. Hell, you might know some people who are prescribed benzo's such as valium, klonopin, and the godwful xanax. These are considered by the medical community ti be overall safe to use because of their mild sedative effect and the temporary relievement of worries and anxieties. If you know a person that is prescribed a benzodiazepam, then you know a person who usually has a lot of anxiety, all for different reasons.
You could be one of my reader's that believes it is possible, or even says it's possible to just deal with the root issues. You may be one of my readers that people do not need a benzodiazepam, they just need to just chill out or relax, either from within themselves, or from help from friends.
I am not arguing with any of you.
I am young, and of an experimental nature, so I did research on the drug first, both as a recreational drug, and a drug for pharmeceutical use, and I basically came to the conclusion that if I was to take the smallest dose of a benzo, I would be safe. Bad Things weren't going to happen.
Two things about Benzo's One of the reasons they are falling out of favor with prescribers is that over a long period of use they can become (physically?) addictive. We can extrapolate a little bit on this and realize that some people really get used to the drug, and can't deal with not being on it. Let us just say about these types of people that the doctors feel they are chronically anxietic (and probably gloss over the problem as a medical doctor, this is probably a psychological problem, or quite probably a domestic abuse problem because we all know that people from the ghetto domestically abuse each other.)
Ha ha, my wit is so so.
There is also the chance that it is physically addicting, which is a whole 'nother ball game. Take a drug long enough and your body eventually needs it. This would get into the long term effects, which you will find arguments out the wazoo of conflicting reports. Or it could be just that it always ends up causing brain damage, I have no idea. Look it up yourself, I am not prescribed the things.
If you have a friend who has been on valium or a benzo for a long period of time, and may have even tried to stop once, you may or may not be concerned for them. If you are concerned for them, then it is generally because of their behaviour, and this obviously gets into friendship limits. If you are one of my readers who has this problem, and you really care for them, then try to help them, unless you are not worried about them being on benzo's at all, you actually think the person is doing better, then don't worry about a damn thing for awhile, if it gets on like two years, start doing some research, I'm just this guy.
So anyway, I decided that I was going to purchase a low dosage klonopin for myself, educated and not worried about the side effects. It would be safe for me to use. If you had a bad back, and someone offered you one of their prescribed low dosage muscle relaxers, if it turns out it's not going to kill you after researching it (but there is always the chance it might because you are not a doctor) and you took the muscle relaxer and your back felt better and then you went about your day and went to sleep, and you woke up and you were fine, you are probably not going to think twice about the fact that you just abused someone else's prescription drugs. I think I understand a large population of americans with this.
I am not recommending you do this in the slightest.. Drugs are inherently evil.
I bought some very low dose benzodiazepams. If you are a crazy person, then you already know what I am talking about, if you don't, benzodiazepams are basically like valiums. They ease anxieties. Hell, you might know some people who are prescribed benzo's such as valium, klonopin, and the godwful xanax. These are considered by the medical community ti be overall safe to use because of their mild sedative effect and the temporary relievement of worries and anxieties. If you know a person that is prescribed a benzodiazepam, then you know a person who usually has a lot of anxiety, all for different reasons.
You could be one of my reader's that believes it is possible, or even says it's possible to just deal with the root issues. You may be one of my readers that people do not need a benzodiazepam, they just need to just chill out or relax, either from within themselves, or from help from friends.
I am not arguing with any of you.
I am young, and of an experimental nature, so I did research on the drug first, both as a recreational drug, and a drug for pharmeceutical use, and I basically came to the conclusion that if I was to take the smallest dose of a benzo, I would be safe. Bad Things weren't going to happen.
Two things about Benzo's One of the reasons they are falling out of favor with prescribers is that over a long period of use they can become (physically?) addictive. We can extrapolate a little bit on this and realize that some people really get used to the drug, and can't deal with not being on it. Let us just say about these types of people that the doctors feel they are chronically anxietic (and probably gloss over the problem as a medical doctor, this is probably a psychological problem, or quite probably a domestic abuse problem because we all know that people from the ghetto domestically abuse each other.)
Ha ha, my wit is so so.
There is also the chance that it is physically addicting, which is a whole 'nother ball game. Take a drug long enough and your body eventually needs it. This would get into the long term effects, which you will find arguments out the wazoo of conflicting reports. Or it could be just that it always ends up causing brain damage, I have no idea. Look it up yourself, I am not prescribed the things.
If you have a friend who has been on valium or a benzo for a long period of time, and may have even tried to stop once, you may or may not be concerned for them. If you are concerned for them, then it is generally because of their behaviour, and this obviously gets into friendship limits. If you are one of my readers who has this problem, and you really care for them, then try to help them, unless you are not worried about them being on benzo's at all, you actually think the person is doing better, then don't worry about a damn thing for awhile, if it gets on like two years, start doing some research, I'm just this guy.
So anyway, I decided that I was going to purchase a low dosage klonopin for myself, educated and not worried about the side effects. It would be safe for me to use. If you had a bad back, and someone offered you one of their prescribed low dosage muscle relaxers, if it turns out it's not going to kill you after researching it (but there is always the chance it might because you are not a doctor) and you took the muscle relaxer and your back felt better and then you went about your day and went to sleep, and you woke up and you were fine, you are probably not going to think twice about the fact that you just abused someone else's prescription drugs. I think I understand a large population of americans with this.
I am not recommending you do this in the slightest.. Drugs are inherently evil.
Turn on the light
Okay so my blog is growing bit by bit, surely by surely. I am now linked in one other person's blog, a person who is crazy. Lovely, I can't seem to get away from my own people. Hopefully you are not crazy as you are reading this and enjoying it for what it is, writing that you enjoy.
I wonder if someone has done a map of the blogiverse. Maybe a pie chart. 15% of the Blogiverse are English Majors trying to get a deal. Coming in with a modest 17% are recipe blogs. The average age of a "Look at my party!" blogger is 16-22. The statistics of what gets posted to the blogiverse in a single day will average 36% bad poetry.
I need blog stats so I can start my revolution.
I wonder if someone has done a map of the blogiverse. Maybe a pie chart. 15% of the Blogiverse are English Majors trying to get a deal. Coming in with a modest 17% are recipe blogs. The average age of a "Look at my party!" blogger is 16-22. The statistics of what gets posted to the blogiverse in a single day will average 36% bad poetry.
I need blog stats so I can start my revolution.
When your eyes speak to me they are saying tell me more. I can do no wrong.
Okay, adsense is set up. I didn't want to click that I wouldn't click my own ads, because if I am talking about guitars and I see a sweet ad for a guitar, I am going to click it, but I had to say I wouldn't do it anyway, and that is is prohibited. Quite possibly they are not going to find out if I click one of my ads every now and then.
Another thing was copyrighted material. I want them selling copyrighted material on my blog. If I am talking about Camus and Absurdism I want them selling the Myth of Sissiphus.
I use profanity, but I am sure it is not excessive profanity.
I do not make racial comments. Well sometimes I will say things like black people eat a lot of chicken, but everbody already knows that, it is not a racist comment. I would be just kidding if I said that there are a lot of black people in jail. The joke is that there are a lot of white people in jail too. But there are a lot of black people in jail.
Holy shit I am going to get in trouble because I am making a joke about their being a lot of black people in jail. No! I mean, there is not a lot of black people in jail, it is funny to pretend that there is.
Oh my god I am going to hell.
Man, everything will be pretty sweet though, with these ads. If I find them gay, or distracting I'll get rid of them, but the day I am selling Britney Spears new album is going to be a happy day for this blog.
Another thing was copyrighted material. I want them selling copyrighted material on my blog. If I am talking about Camus and Absurdism I want them selling the Myth of Sissiphus.
I use profanity, but I am sure it is not excessive profanity.
I do not make racial comments. Well sometimes I will say things like black people eat a lot of chicken, but everbody already knows that, it is not a racist comment. I would be just kidding if I said that there are a lot of black people in jail. The joke is that there are a lot of white people in jail too. But there are a lot of black people in jail.
Holy shit I am going to get in trouble because I am making a joke about their being a lot of black people in jail. No! I mean, there is not a lot of black people in jail, it is funny to pretend that there is.
Oh my god I am going to hell.
Man, everything will be pretty sweet though, with these ads. If I find them gay, or distracting I'll get rid of them, but the day I am selling Britney Spears new album is going to be a happy day for this blog.
Jasper told me not to worry, all is well, and that he died.
I am going to run adsense on my website, not for money, I probably won't set that up, but to see what the fuck kind of advertising would apply to what I talk about.
We have breached the network.
I am on facebook and myspace if you want to add me. Myspace is DocRokken. I don't know how you're supposed to find my facebook.
I like the anonymous readers who read my blog. I do not know if I want old friends of mine to read my blog because, even though it is super cool, I broadcast on the front page THE LIFE AND TIMES OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC and that might be a shock to some people. If you think that my blog is worth it for my friends to know about, drop a comment.
I like the anonymous readers who read my blog. I do not know if I want old friends of mine to read my blog because, even though it is super cool, I broadcast on the front page THE LIFE AND TIMES OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC and that might be a shock to some people. If you think that my blog is worth it for my friends to know about, drop a comment.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Anthromotivation and morphology and the ever after
Oh also my friend Miles who is really good on the drums, and plays to my music style pretty well, and I play with him really well, we definely have a connection in this sense, we've been jamming with other people, just getting jam sessions going on, and they have been going good. Played an improptu session with this chick on a fiddle and she liked it very much. She plays at bars and shit and says we are good enough for that. Fucking sweet.
The helpless fallen and slain
Here is something cool. Everyone I meet and become friends with thinks I am the most intelligent person that they have met. I am starting to meet more intelligent people then regular people, and I'm meeting more people that are like me in different ways. Everything is going pretty gravy on the social scene. I am putting together groups of diverse friends. As a schizophenic, I have to work hard on my social skills, and all of my trial and error over the semester is paying off. I am meeting cooler and cooler people who really dig me. The girls find me interesting. Fucking sweet.
Also, I have been working on my blog, and I am getting readers, not a lot of comments except for the HoB crew giving advice, but so far two people have commented on liking my blog, and one person called it brilliant.
All of my hard work trying to improve myself is paying off.
I just got down playing a guy at texas hold em, who has played for more than a year three times a week, and I beat him, with hardly any real experience under my belt. I just spent a lot of time thinking about each move, and then made good choices. While I was playing, I was asking him questions about how to play, and what I was thinking with my moves, and he agreed with me a lot and says "You're a poker player."
I will post some more good stuff later on tonight. I wanted to include this article I read on my favorite messageboard about how whether time slows down for you during times of crisis. Has a small tie in to schizophrenia, and I'll tell you about time stops. You are reading this now, after you have already read it. Backwardsology about to commence.
I am proud of the backward nature of my blog.
Also, I have been working on my blog, and I am getting readers, not a lot of comments except for the HoB crew giving advice, but so far two people have commented on liking my blog, and one person called it brilliant.
All of my hard work trying to improve myself is paying off.
I just got down playing a guy at texas hold em, who has played for more than a year three times a week, and I beat him, with hardly any real experience under my belt. I just spent a lot of time thinking about each move, and then made good choices. While I was playing, I was asking him questions about how to play, and what I was thinking with my moves, and he agreed with me a lot and says "You're a poker player."
I will post some more good stuff later on tonight. I wanted to include this article I read on my favorite messageboard about how whether time slows down for you during times of crisis. Has a small tie in to schizophrenia, and I'll tell you about time stops. You are reading this now, after you have already read it. Backwardsology about to commence.
I am proud of the backward nature of my blog.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
And so it began.
If you have a blog, I would like to put your blog on my page if it is any good. Who am I kidding, if you put me on yours, I will put you on mine. When I figure out how. Just leave a comment. Or if you know of any really good blogs, just comment on it, I will check it out and include it.
Then we tripped the light fantastic
So in commemoration of the backwards nature of my blogging, I wanted to tell you a backwards joke, but the internet was not too helpful on finding a good backwards joke, so I will tell you this dirty one instead.
A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "But they are sperm samples!" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."
A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "But they are sperm samples!" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."
Time went flying by, and we laughed.
I keep forgetting that you read these in backwards order, and to me they are sequential. This must make for an odd experience, I appologize. I do not think I will ever remember this.
Jokes kill
I limped heavily all through high school. I had a terrible pain in my leg growing up. When I turned 18 and had an x-ray they had found that my femur had a large tumor in it that had cracked and crumbled. It would break, and I would walk on it, and it would heal twisted, so that my left leg pointed out to the left. I am not lying.
I hung out with people anyway, though I was in constant pain. I did not tell anybody. Nobody knew.
I hung out with people anyway, though I was in constant pain. I did not tell anybody. Nobody knew.
She's back, but with a different perspective.
I will tell you more of my life another day. I am building up to it all. It takes time.
Keeping down the underground - A Tribute
I am older now, and realize drugs for what they are. For a lot of people they are a problem. I do not preach to people, but much like alcohol, drugs make you stupid, and that's about it. I know this is a hard line to take, but the truth of it is is that they alter your conciousness and dumb you down a bit.
Not that things like pot, or ecstacy or acid are really that bad. But there is occasional stupidity and all the time stupidity. You make your choice.
At around 16 I started posting to a comedy website. This was when the internet was still new.
I still know lots of these people and talk to them everyday. I will tell you more about this later. The humor has turned decidedly dark. Make of this what you will.
I met a girl online that lived in Connecticut and I lived in New York. We were "together" all through high school and I saw her whenever I could. I lost my virginity to her. I bought her a promised ring. We were going to get married. I had my father's name and she had my mother's name. We were young, too, like my mother and father were, but I knew that I would not get this girl pregnant for a long time.
There was also another girl in High School that I really liked. Well, there were about three or four girls that I really liked, but this girl I really liked, but I was in a relationship.
In my junior year in High School I started taking a creative writing class. Everybody liked my writing, including this girl. She was there when I read my poem at the coffee house.
Let me tell you a bit about my personality. I like the goofy stuff. I like the funny, light stuff. I also like the dark stuff. I was into the Smashing Pumpkins for christs sake, I liked the good and the bad. I still do, to this day, the interplay between both is incredible. I will get more into this at a later date.
Let me see if I can find one of the poems I read at the coffee house. The best one. Hold on.
Don't think silly of me, I was 17 when I wrote it and thought I had my teeth sunk into a livewire with this.
Not that things like pot, or ecstacy or acid are really that bad. But there is occasional stupidity and all the time stupidity. You make your choice.
At around 16 I started posting to a comedy website. This was when the internet was still new.
I still know lots of these people and talk to them everyday. I will tell you more about this later. The humor has turned decidedly dark. Make of this what you will.
I met a girl online that lived in Connecticut and I lived in New York. We were "together" all through high school and I saw her whenever I could. I lost my virginity to her. I bought her a promised ring. We were going to get married. I had my father's name and she had my mother's name. We were young, too, like my mother and father were, but I knew that I would not get this girl pregnant for a long time.
There was also another girl in High School that I really liked. Well, there were about three or four girls that I really liked, but this girl I really liked, but I was in a relationship.
In my junior year in High School I started taking a creative writing class. Everybody liked my writing, including this girl. She was there when I read my poem at the coffee house.
Let me tell you a bit about my personality. I like the goofy stuff. I like the funny, light stuff. I also like the dark stuff. I was into the Smashing Pumpkins for christs sake, I liked the good and the bad. I still do, to this day, the interplay between both is incredible. I will get more into this at a later date.
Let me see if I can find one of the poems I read at the coffee house. The best one. Hold on.
Don't think silly of me, I was 17 when I wrote it and thought I had my teeth sunk into a livewire with this.
The breathing that you ran, it has gone away
Let me jump a million years into the future to the time I was 15 or 16 or so. This was about the time my uncle, Dan, introduced me to marijuana.
No, hold on, let me tell you a few things.
My mother was the first person I smoked marijuana with. She told me, when I was younger, that if I ever wanted to try drugs, to come to her first, since I was probably going to try them anyway, so I might as well do it with her initially. Or some such rationale. So I went to her at about 13 and smoked my first joint. Then I drank a glass of wine and had such a giddy fit that I about peed my pants.
I don't smoke weed anymore. I never much did. Well, there were periods in my life where I smoked about once a day for a few months, it depended on my friends. If I was hanging out with weed smokers, I smoked weed. If I was hanging out with non weed smokers, I did not. It was all pretty much the same to me.
But at about 15 or 16 my uncle Dan, who is the same age as me,
hold on, hold on, let me back up for a second, I keep beginning to tell you about this, but then I think of things.
My father and mother were 19 and 18 respectively when they had me. My grandmother was also pregnant at the same time with Dan, he would be my brother that I didn't live with.
Dan went crazy with drinking and drugs and then quit. He is a good man.
Sometimes he has what is called a 'relapse'. You have probably heard of it, when one of your friends or relatives has a relapse. It usually starts when the person says "I will have just some drugs to feel good, and then I will stop!"
But they don't stop. They just keep consuming more and more drugs until they wake up in or out of jail, or someone's house and they are like "What the fuck did I do?" Then they stop again for awhile.
I do not have this problem. I have my own problems.
So Dan introduced me to smoking marijuana with people my own age.
My lord did I make friends! Suddenly I had things in common with a large population of the school.
This was when I was at the teenaged point in my life where I thought drugs were cool. I did something horrible though, while experimenting with drug culture and making friends. There was this kid on my bus that liked me and didn't have a lot of friends. He was a goody goody and lived a sheltered life. I told him "Do some drugs."
I shake my head at this now. This is not good advice for anybody.
However I did read an article that people that smoked a joint occasionally in high school were more well-adjusted then kids that were straight laced, or smoked all the time. Think of that what you will.
I do not do drugs much anymore, though I did drop some acid like two weeks ago. I basically sat in my room and listened to music and looked at how everything was green and purple. I also thought incoherent thoughts. This is about the extent of an acid trip. My first time tripping acid was with Dan, when we were sixteen. We were trying to get some E pills. Or X, I think I am uncool if I call it E, though I like to call it E.
Well, we were trying to get some acid. But then we settled on an E pill because that was all we could get. I took one. Dan took like two or three.
These things were not E pills. We walked around and I started to get very angry, which is the exact opposite of an E pill. To this day, I do not know what we were on. It was about 3 o'clock in the morning and we were walking around the neighborhood when Dan saw the house of a friend of his. "Let's see if she's home, dude." White people are always calling each other dude.
"No, dude" I said "It is about 3 o'clock in the morning, and we are on drugs and going over someone's house like this is a Bad Idea."
"No dude, we are going. Let's go."
So we went.
She was up. So was her friend, and her boyfriend. He boyfriend was back from college and had a giant bag of acid. A GIANT BAG OF ACID.
We tripped fucking face that night. I started twitching laying on his couch and he was staring at me and going "Oh my god are you alright?" He was Stuck to the Chair.
"Yes, I am alright." I had a big smile on my face while I was twitching. This went away after a little while.
It came to be about 6 in the morning. We were heading into a full on serious acid trip. My uncle says "Dude, we need to go to sleep."
"Okay. We will sleep."
We laid there as purple monsters ate are brains for awhile.
After about 5 minutes my uncle says "Dude, are you asleep?"
"No."
"Oh shit dude."
The ceiling was stucco and dripping.
At about 8 in the morning, Dan's mom, my grandmother comes downstairs and says "Dan, you were supposed to be at work an hour ago!" She thought we had just woke up.
He worked at McDonald's. We were tripping balls. I did not have to work.
"Doc, I am driving you home."
"Okay."
So Dan went to work tripping his goddamned balls off.
I went home. My dad tells me "Hey, we just rented Blair Witch." I forget who he was with, probably a girlfriend.
"You are welcome to watch it if you want." My dad does not talk like this.
So I watched the Blair Witch project tripping face. I was fucking lost in the woods with these guys. When the fat dude kicked the map into the river I started flipping out on him.
Well the movie is over, and my pupils are dilated as fuck and my dad is back. I tell him "I left my bike at work."
I worked at McDonald's too.
"Alright I will give you a ride."
I go into McDonald's and there is Dan, standing hunched over the patty grill and he has someone next to him trying to help him flip patties. Dan looks at me and I look at him and we both freak out. The guy who is helping him was in mid conversation with Dan trying to figure out what was wrong with him, gets one look at the two of us and goes "Holy shit."
I got my bike and got the fuck out of there.
No, hold on, let me tell you a few things.
My mother was the first person I smoked marijuana with. She told me, when I was younger, that if I ever wanted to try drugs, to come to her first, since I was probably going to try them anyway, so I might as well do it with her initially. Or some such rationale. So I went to her at about 13 and smoked my first joint. Then I drank a glass of wine and had such a giddy fit that I about peed my pants.
I don't smoke weed anymore. I never much did. Well, there were periods in my life where I smoked about once a day for a few months, it depended on my friends. If I was hanging out with weed smokers, I smoked weed. If I was hanging out with non weed smokers, I did not. It was all pretty much the same to me.
But at about 15 or 16 my uncle Dan, who is the same age as me,
hold on, hold on, let me back up for a second, I keep beginning to tell you about this, but then I think of things.
My father and mother were 19 and 18 respectively when they had me. My grandmother was also pregnant at the same time with Dan, he would be my brother that I didn't live with.
Dan went crazy with drinking and drugs and then quit. He is a good man.
Sometimes he has what is called a 'relapse'. You have probably heard of it, when one of your friends or relatives has a relapse. It usually starts when the person says "I will have just some drugs to feel good, and then I will stop!"
But they don't stop. They just keep consuming more and more drugs until they wake up in or out of jail, or someone's house and they are like "What the fuck did I do?" Then they stop again for awhile.
I do not have this problem. I have my own problems.
So Dan introduced me to smoking marijuana with people my own age.
My lord did I make friends! Suddenly I had things in common with a large population of the school.
This was when I was at the teenaged point in my life where I thought drugs were cool. I did something horrible though, while experimenting with drug culture and making friends. There was this kid on my bus that liked me and didn't have a lot of friends. He was a goody goody and lived a sheltered life. I told him "Do some drugs."
I shake my head at this now. This is not good advice for anybody.
However I did read an article that people that smoked a joint occasionally in high school were more well-adjusted then kids that were straight laced, or smoked all the time. Think of that what you will.
I do not do drugs much anymore, though I did drop some acid like two weeks ago. I basically sat in my room and listened to music and looked at how everything was green and purple. I also thought incoherent thoughts. This is about the extent of an acid trip. My first time tripping acid was with Dan, when we were sixteen. We were trying to get some E pills. Or X, I think I am uncool if I call it E, though I like to call it E.
Well, we were trying to get some acid. But then we settled on an E pill because that was all we could get. I took one. Dan took like two or three.
These things were not E pills. We walked around and I started to get very angry, which is the exact opposite of an E pill. To this day, I do not know what we were on. It was about 3 o'clock in the morning and we were walking around the neighborhood when Dan saw the house of a friend of his. "Let's see if she's home, dude." White people are always calling each other dude.
"No, dude" I said "It is about 3 o'clock in the morning, and we are on drugs and going over someone's house like this is a Bad Idea."
"No dude, we are going. Let's go."
So we went.
She was up. So was her friend, and her boyfriend. He boyfriend was back from college and had a giant bag of acid. A GIANT BAG OF ACID.
We tripped fucking face that night. I started twitching laying on his couch and he was staring at me and going "Oh my god are you alright?" He was Stuck to the Chair.
"Yes, I am alright." I had a big smile on my face while I was twitching. This went away after a little while.
It came to be about 6 in the morning. We were heading into a full on serious acid trip. My uncle says "Dude, we need to go to sleep."
"Okay. We will sleep."
We laid there as purple monsters ate are brains for awhile.
After about 5 minutes my uncle says "Dude, are you asleep?"
"No."
"Oh shit dude."
The ceiling was stucco and dripping.
At about 8 in the morning, Dan's mom, my grandmother comes downstairs and says "Dan, you were supposed to be at work an hour ago!" She thought we had just woke up.
He worked at McDonald's. We were tripping balls. I did not have to work.
"Doc, I am driving you home."
"Okay."
So Dan went to work tripping his goddamned balls off.
I went home. My dad tells me "Hey, we just rented Blair Witch." I forget who he was with, probably a girlfriend.
"You are welcome to watch it if you want." My dad does not talk like this.
So I watched the Blair Witch project tripping face. I was fucking lost in the woods with these guys. When the fat dude kicked the map into the river I started flipping out on him.
Well the movie is over, and my pupils are dilated as fuck and my dad is back. I tell him "I left my bike at work."
I worked at McDonald's too.
"Alright I will give you a ride."
I go into McDonald's and there is Dan, standing hunched over the patty grill and he has someone next to him trying to help him flip patties. Dan looks at me and I look at him and we both freak out. The guy who is helping him was in mid conversation with Dan trying to figure out what was wrong with him, gets one look at the two of us and goes "Holy shit."
I got my bike and got the fuck out of there.
And it's a wonder, that you came.
I was born July 4th, 1982. That is right, I am an independance baby. This means that as a child I had fireworks on my birthday everytime. This is a special thing for a child, to have fireworks for his birthday. It is a day of celebration for people.
My mother would throw parties with lots of beer and no one would bring me a present.
Take this as you will, my birthday is a holiday.
There are lots of things I could tell you about my childhood. My father and mother split up when I was about 8 months old or so. I was very distraught and probably cried.
I am over it now, as I am over a lot of things.
I am making a joke here, I was too young to know the difference. All I knew was that I had a mother and a father that were seperate from each other. And they were radically different. Times spent with each was radically different.
Both were poor, very poor. My father lived in Lake Anne in New York, it is a place for a lot of poor people to live, like blacks. Black people are poor. No, this is wrong, some black people are poor, like some white people are poor.
My father was not a very sociable person. He kept mostly to himself. When I say mostly, I mean about 90% of the time. My mother on the other hand was always having people over to drink beers and smoke pot. I decided when I was a kid that it was funner when it came to people to be around a lot of beer drinking and pot smoking. My father taught me jack shit about dealing with people, because quite frankly he just didn't find much use for them.
I am endlessly entertained by people. This is why I want you to like me, and for me to be entertaining to you.
My mother lived in Lake Anne briefly, but there was always people around.
Oh, also, my mother is crazy. It is why I am crazy now.
My mother would throw parties with lots of beer and no one would bring me a present.
Take this as you will, my birthday is a holiday.
There are lots of things I could tell you about my childhood. My father and mother split up when I was about 8 months old or so. I was very distraught and probably cried.
I am over it now, as I am over a lot of things.
I am making a joke here, I was too young to know the difference. All I knew was that I had a mother and a father that were seperate from each other. And they were radically different. Times spent with each was radically different.
Both were poor, very poor. My father lived in Lake Anne in New York, it is a place for a lot of poor people to live, like blacks. Black people are poor. No, this is wrong, some black people are poor, like some white people are poor.
My father was not a very sociable person. He kept mostly to himself. When I say mostly, I mean about 90% of the time. My mother on the other hand was always having people over to drink beers and smoke pot. I decided when I was a kid that it was funner when it came to people to be around a lot of beer drinking and pot smoking. My father taught me jack shit about dealing with people, because quite frankly he just didn't find much use for them.
I am endlessly entertained by people. This is why I want you to like me, and for me to be entertaining to you.
My mother lived in Lake Anne briefly, but there was always people around.
Oh, also, my mother is crazy. It is why I am crazy now.
Gazing on the light I saw
I will begin telling my story in chapters, on my blog. It is sometimes a sad story, it is sometimes a happy story, but it is a me story and I will hope that you like it. If you do not like it, then you do not like me. And that is sad for me, because I like you. All I ask is that you like me. Why is this so hard for you? I will take my time telling you my story.
I will begin telling my story now.
I will begin telling my story now.
Turn around and gasp at misfortune
I am sorry that I have not been posting in a day or so, because I know you are achingly tender on my sweet sweet blog posts. It is okay. I make the teasings of my bloggings at you, so that you may whine appreciatively.
I say this with a smirk on my face because I just watched a good porn where these guys are in a bus and they are making the sex with a woman and they are asking her to whine and beg for penis. Man oh man is that hot. If you are a woman and you have a man then ask him for some penis some time, he will become your instant friend.
I say this with a smirk on my face because I just watched a good porn where these guys are in a bus and they are making the sex with a woman and they are asking her to whine and beg for penis. Man oh man is that hot. If you are a woman and you have a man then ask him for some penis some time, he will become your instant friend.
THIS ACHING HEAD OF MINE CANNOT BE STOPPED
Hello, hello and thank you everybody for commenting on my blogs. Everybody knows that the worth of your blog is by how many comments you have, so I thank all of you that took the time to read my blog and then comment on it. Keep commenting on all the awesome things I have to say, so that when a new person comes on here they will say "Man, this guy sure does have a lot of comments, he must be a blog master!"
I will laugh the laugh of a thousand deaths at them and they will die and become reborn again in my new blog image. It will be an undead army that I will lead against Hilary Clinton or Rudy Guiliani, whoever you hate more.
Unless of course you are an Obama McBonBon man then I will just laugh at you.
Haha, I am just kidding, I love black people.
I will laugh the laugh of a thousand deaths at them and they will die and become reborn again in my new blog image. It will be an undead army that I will lead against Hilary Clinton or Rudy Guiliani, whoever you hate more.
Unless of course you are an Obama McBonBon man then I will just laugh at you.
Haha, I am just kidding, I love black people.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
The balls, man.
Someone is telling me that they think it is awesome that I am admitting my blog is just ridiculous. Apparently most people like to pretend their blogs are totally awesome. Well mine is totally awesome. It is awesome and ridiculous. EAT THAT.
This is for all the people who were against Biggie Smalls. Fuck you. He was just a black man trying to make it in the world. Like me.
This is for all the people who were against Biggie Smalls. Fuck you. He was just a black man trying to make it in the world. Like me.
Blogspot
I forget that you read these things in backwards order. What follows is a horrible joke I made about babies. It is about being mean to a baby and I am against meanness to babies.
I was thinking I should tell my college radio to have an interview with me. I should demand one.
I was thinking I should tell my college radio to have an interview with me. I should demand one.
I came, I saw, I went
Man am I feeling better since I started this blog. I have found that I can have casual conversations with people, now. This is a strange ability that I haven't had in a long while. It may seem silly to you to want to have casual conversation, but unfortunately for some schizophrenics it is difficult. I am more relaxed since I started talking to you like this. I will continue to talk to you like this, because it is to my benefit, this way. I hope it is to your benefit too, to what end, I have no idea.
Other things happened too. I have found how I can get more readers. This is all I want is more readers. You are fine, for reading this, but can you tell your friends? It is silly of me to ask you to tell your friends to read something that only you find interesting. They will say "Why read this!" That is a good question. Perhaps I will make up stories, or jokes, for your benefit.
I know, how do you get a baby out of a swing set?
With a baseball bat.
Oh my god I have really done it now. I will never get readers this way, please forgive me.
Other things happened too. I have found how I can get more readers. This is all I want is more readers. You are fine, for reading this, but can you tell your friends? It is silly of me to ask you to tell your friends to read something that only you find interesting. They will say "Why read this!" That is a good question. Perhaps I will make up stories, or jokes, for your benefit.
I know, how do you get a baby out of a swing set?
With a baseball bat.
Oh my god I have really done it now. I will never get readers this way, please forgive me.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Keeping, and the broughten light
No, I don't feel ridiculous for my blog. I just wanted to give you a glimpse of what it was like. It is a diary, after all. OOOOOOO WHO WILL READ MY DIARY OH BOY
Hahah, people all over the world are doing this. This is crazy.
Hahah, people all over the world are doing this. This is crazy.
Quadrophenia
It is time to go to bed, and at the end of every night I feel ridiculous for everything that happened. I can't seem to help this. And I know I am alone in this. Hell, I wouldn't want to talk to anybody that felt that there whole day was ridiculous. And this is why I hope you will like my blog. It is strange, I know.
Abandon hope
I wonder why I have become so nice. There is nothing wrong with being nice, I suppose.
I have learned that niceness is important. I know this now because I have personally seen the pit of hell.
I've seen it and heard it.
There is a million directions I can go to right now, I have to tread very carefully, not for me, but for you.
I am not saying, as a schizophrenic that I have seen hell. It is an expression. I have seen the hell that can only be inspired by one's own mind. You know when you are a kid and you ask about hell, and your parents say "Imagine something truly horrible, your worst fears, and then that would be hell, but worse."
This actually happened to my experience.
I wrote about terror when I was 18. Such a moving piece I was told to read it at a coffeehouse. The result was the same, it sucked everybody in.
I did not know terror then, and one day I will post this poem.
I will tell you about my experience, when the time is right. You see unfortunately it is a reoccurring thing sometimes.
I understand that niceness doesn't work for everybody, or people have varying degrees of it. This niceness works for me, because I realize something, I, the little smart thing, have seen something.
You take the worst experience that happened to me, and the worst experience that happened to you.
You compare them and you can say one is worse.
But they share in the fact that they are the worst experiences that have happened to either of us. Haha, all I am saying is that life is hard. Be nice. I am done with this.
I have learned that niceness is important. I know this now because I have personally seen the pit of hell.
I've seen it and heard it.
There is a million directions I can go to right now, I have to tread very carefully, not for me, but for you.
I am not saying, as a schizophrenic that I have seen hell. It is an expression. I have seen the hell that can only be inspired by one's own mind. You know when you are a kid and you ask about hell, and your parents say "Imagine something truly horrible, your worst fears, and then that would be hell, but worse."
This actually happened to my experience.
I wrote about terror when I was 18. Such a moving piece I was told to read it at a coffeehouse. The result was the same, it sucked everybody in.
I did not know terror then, and one day I will post this poem.
I will tell you about my experience, when the time is right. You see unfortunately it is a reoccurring thing sometimes.
I understand that niceness doesn't work for everybody, or people have varying degrees of it. This niceness works for me, because I realize something, I, the little smart thing, have seen something.
You take the worst experience that happened to me, and the worst experience that happened to you.
You compare them and you can say one is worse.
But they share in the fact that they are the worst experiences that have happened to either of us. Haha, all I am saying is that life is hard. Be nice. I am done with this.
We're in
Haha, hello my faithful reader, you have returned.
This is awesome.
Anyway, yeah.
I have emailed the person who does http://the-wife-of-a-schizophrenic.blogspot.com/ to she if she would include me on her list of cool blogs for cool people to go be cool at. Or something.
I don't know, but she talks about her life with a husband who is schizophrenic and she has won awards! She has quotes from people talking about her blog. That is amazing. She is probably reading this right now. Hello to you, and kudos.
I hope my blog wins some awards. That would be nice. I would win a silliness award, or an award for apologizing. Hahaha, I hope you are laughing at this by now, I am working hard!
I will tell you all about being schizophrenic in good time. I hope you are getting an idea for some of the things I think about, and feel. That would be nice. Perhaps you will like me. It is silly to say that you hope someone likes you. Nobody says this anymore. Nobody.
Maybe they do. They probably just secretly think it.
This is awesome.
Anyway, yeah.
I have emailed the person who does http://the-wife-of-a-schizophrenic.blogspot.com/ to she if she would include me on her list of cool blogs for cool people to go be cool at. Or something.
I don't know, but she talks about her life with a husband who is schizophrenic and she has won awards! She has quotes from people talking about her blog. That is amazing. She is probably reading this right now. Hello to you, and kudos.
I hope my blog wins some awards. That would be nice. I would win a silliness award, or an award for apologizing. Hahaha, I hope you are laughing at this by now, I am working hard!
I will tell you all about being schizophrenic in good time. I hope you are getting an idea for some of the things I think about, and feel. That would be nice. Perhaps you will like me. It is silly to say that you hope someone likes you. Nobody says this anymore. Nobody.
Maybe they do. They probably just secretly think it.
The Testing
I walked to get cigarettes.
A friend of mine told me that I should write about my reality objectively, like I used to. I have seen the sane world, and now I have this new world, and I should compare and contrast the two.
It hurts me to do so, because I am so different then I used to be.
Not really. I have become handicapped, in a way. I express my thoughts differently.
I have to adjust to this new reality and still grow and change as a human being. This is the same as everybody. Do not weep for me, you, reader, for I am fine.
There I go, being depressing.
It is helpful for me to talk to you like this. I do not talk to other people like this. I talk about similar topics some times, but I am not talking in this voice.
Think of this what you will. I am here for me, and you, but I am supposed to not write for what I think people will enjoy. I am supposed to write to write, or something. I am supposed to have a purpose, and I have to make it clear. This is my way of expressing myself written, clearly.
I do not want you to worry for me, then, if I start to become unclear. Perhaps you are a friend of mine, and read this. You will have your own opinions. If you are not a friend of mine, but have come across this absently, perhaps you were searching for the words, I am here. Hello. And I am writing this for you.
See, now that was gay. Hahah, maybe not to some people. It is new, perhaps.
So I went to go get cigarettes. I counted up some change. Three dollars even, for a pack of the smokes I could afford. I began my walk.
I often make long distance walks, I walk for a very long time, and I just tune out my surroundings. I do this often, I do not know if you do this. No, I am not supposed to be talking to you, I am supposed to be talking to me. Forgive me, I have no purpose, I am just writing.
Enough with the apologies. I write. Just pretend that you like it.
It was cold out. Not so cold though. Not so cold that it mattered. It was night, as well. I had to walk several blocks to the gas station. I was thinking about my blog, thinking whether or not I was satisfied with the particular way that I was writing it. I ruminated.
I came to the intersection that I would have to cross. I saw two young kids skateboarding on the major road, late at night. One was bigger one was smaller, they couldn't have been more than fourteen, probably younger. The younger kid looked like, ten. These fucking kids were skateboarding on the road in the middle of the night. The bigger one took off to cross the street as an SUV was coming up behind him. A voice in my head said "I can do that." It sounded like it was coming from a speaker. I don't know if I misheard other people talking, but this is what I heard. This is not unusual for me, so I ignored it. The odds that I'd here people talking at an intersection were minimal. Perhaps I was supposed to believe that I was hearing the younger kids thoughts or something. I do not believe this, I am not easily fooled, so this trick of my mind didn't work for me. It did make me wonder for a second if it was something that I wanted to do, to be dangerous, and young, to feel chemicals spurning in my brain and body and to feel the need to control them. The kid took off across the road with a burst of speed. The younger one stayed behind. The SUV plainly saw them and was driving slow. I am glad that they did not honk their horn because that probably would have scared the kid straight off his fucking skateboard.
The little fucker probably got an adrenaline rush from skirting danger. A badass in the making and his little brother or whatever, maybe the bigger kid was doing it so he didn't have to. Big brother had his little brother skating on the road though. I probably should have yelled something at them like "Hey stupid, you're in the road!" This would have made the kid feel bad about what he was doing, and maybe not do it again.
Who knows, it is lost to time now. The kid would have bigger fish to fry later on, and so did I.
I walked into the store. Dude with brown hair and nice eyes is waiting for me. I have watched this dude haggle with a customer about getting money for a lottery ticket or something. He was completely involved in the transaction, trying to do the best possible and right thing during it. I gave him credit. I interrupted this little thing that was going on and asked if they had any limes. I was going to buy some Dos Equiis if they had limes. His eyes closed for a moment as he had to back out of the thought process he was going through and try to remember if they had limes. He said no, and when he went to talk to the lady again, I caught his face and he kind of had this half sigh in the making before he dived in again. He was willing to explain why he couldn't do what he wanted to do with the lady in terms that she could understand. He didn't have to be so nice about it, but I liked that he was.
So he is the guy that is going to sell me cigarettes this time. Nothing happened. I bought the cigarettes and left. This might as well have not happened.
I walked to campus. I began thinking about oprah constantly being on stage, talking to important people, trying to be interesting and insightful. She adopts a regal posture. She says that everything is energy. I would believe that too if everyone was hanging on my every breath. Moments for her are televised with a hundred people watching. So she believes we are channeling energy.
You will find a lot of people believe some very strange things.
So I am thinking about this, walking on campus. I am imagining that I am saying something important, to a lot of people. Perhaps I am telling that about how cats are really cool, and they are hanging on my every word. Oprah is telling me that this is energy. This feeling she has about it. I say it is just ideas. I say to myself, outloud, "As long as they do not hurt anybody." There is a guy walking in front of me, and I hope that he doesn't hear me.
I would hate to have a million people listening to me, and I say something that hurts someone. This is all silliness, I am thinking. I wonder if I'm a good person.
Moving on.
I get to Miles and Joe's room and there is a note tacked on the door from an RA named Dee. It is a nice note. No one answers the door, so I leave.
As I am walking out of the building, there is a black man, walking all hunched over like he is a gangster. Gangsters are role models for black people. You have heard rap music for the past several years now. I used to laugh, back before I was crazy, thinking yeah right, gangsters being role models for black people.
No more, black people are supposed to act thuggish now. Hopefully he doesn't believe all that jazz about big bootied women and partying all the time. He is young, maybe he does.
Anyway he comes up to me and looks me in the eye, which is a completely normal thing to do to anyone. This is of no significance whatsoever, so I return his look and try to have an intelligent look on my face. I am so vain.
He is wearing a key around his neck, so I recognize him as an RA. He goes "Hey man, what's your name?"
I tell him.
"I see you around here often." He is back to his thuggish crawl, head forward, arms out, looking ready to rumble. I can't think of a suitable word for his particular style. I'm not one to judge because mine is crazy. We are both united, at this moment, with our silly modes of life.
"Yeah, I have two friends in here." I am wondering if he heard me kick open the door earlier, because I didn't have a key. I noticed the room with the RA was open when I came back.
He makes it to another door, he is about to go in. "Well, see you around man."
I ask him his name. "Dee." he says.
So I move on.
Actually, no, I take that back, I turn around and there was Sean, a friend of mine. Well, acquaintance, whatever. We've hung out. I think he is alright.
All of this would have freaked me the fuck out back when I was learning to handle schizophrenia. Now I know this is normal. I knew it was normal before I was crazy, and running into the Dee that left the note was just a coincidence or whatever, but schizophrenia makes you freak out about coincidences. I know, I talked to a schizophrenic last week, whom I didn't like, because of how he was handling himself, and he went crazy later that night. He had been up drinking for like 48 hours and hadn't taken his pills. I didn't want to be around him. His name is Brad and I will tell you about him later.
So Sean, who wears a hearing aid, and has wild bushy hair that he keeps down with a bandana, has come out of the door in front of me. I ask him if I can borrow his cell phone to call Joe. I go back to Sean's room and see it for the first time. His roommate has twin wide screen LCD monitors and plants and a bookcase. Sean has nothing. I ask them if they hang out, which is probably a stupid question because there is an obvious class difference, but I can think of nothing else to say.
"No, he is like, a goody-goody."
Right, I should have been making fun of the rich fuck. Duly noted.
I get ahold of Joe and he is at Carolyn's playing cards with Miles and Lars.
Me, Miles and Joe hang out pretty much everyday. Lars I met when I first got here, and me and him are really good buddies. He was the one who convinced me to stay in school when all I could think of was suicide.
It was very close for me, when I first got here. Being schizophrenic is not easy, though I make it seem like a bed of roses.
I will tell you more about everybody later. Tonight is not the night for that.
I was a little hesitant to play cards, because I had played last night, and couldn't keep track of the hands, or whose turn it was, or anything. It was not fun. However, I was feeling better today, after all my writing, so I went over. I will tell you how bad it is for me later, when it is getting bad. It is not always this bad. You might not like it. I wouldn't blame you for it, but it is me. My grandfather says it should go away. Perhaps it will. I will keep writing, regardless. There is always a chance that someone will come across my words and like it. Then I will be happy. Perhaps that person is you. How about this, you and I will make a deal. If you like me, I will like you. It is simple. This is how friends are started. I am so crazy.
I did fairly well at poker this time. Miles was winning, he had just learned to play yesterday. He said he had been thinking about it, and then everything just clicked for him. I like Miles, for this ability. He was winning hands down. Miles, Joe and Carolyn went upstairs to smoke some weed, and Lars and I went outside to have a cigarette.
I started telling Lars about my blog. He was impressed. He is often impressed by the things I say. I am one of the few people that catch his interest. He is considered supremely cool by most people, and he makes a lot of acquaintances who like him, but he does not get that personal with them. He also has a bitch of a girlfriend (his words) who he has been with for three years and loves.
Anyway, I was telling him about my blog, and a little bit about what was in it, about the scenario I was thinking about with the athletic type guy and the girls and what have you. Lars said "I bet jocks do that all the time." He hates Jocks. I love them. No I don't, I don't love them, but I understand.
He started telling me about this sketchpad his girlfriend had given him for him to draw cityscapes in. He talked about the beginning of the book where the cityscapes weren't that good, but then they got better and more intricate and how he wrote things on the walls, because he wanted to incorporate his writing with his art. Lars is pretty scientifically minded. He gets great grades like I do. Not so much with Joe and Miles. But I will tell you more about these two later.
I realized why he was telling me about the sketchpad. Well, he could have been telling me for a number of reasons, sharing an act of creation, but what I realized, among other things, is that at first it is shitty and rocky. I realize this about my blog. I hope you can stand it.
Miles came down from smoking and opened the door and made a silly face. He is usually doing things like this, and I love him for it. I think it is awesome. We started burning leaves.
I should probably write more about the in-depth analysis that Lars and I get into when we talk about things. We were talking about how people's perceptions determine each person's moment for them. Perhaps the not so hot girl had a completely different perception on the situation. I should have brought up how Ayn Rand said there is no collective conscious, but an average of independant thought. I did not think of this at the time. It was a light conversation and turned to frivolty once Miles arrived, as it usually does.
Miles and Lars went heads up at Texas hold em. Miles had all the money and Lars was the only one left. It was a dollar buy in. I was trying to convince Miles to give us some money so that we could all keep playing, a losing argument, but I went at it gamely. Lars was trying to beat him so he could get his money and hand it around so we could all be back in. Miles, the jackass, won, with his fat stacks of chips. The night ended, except Lars tried to scare a black woman with his car, and she didn't react because she was "looking for crack".
I hope you don't think I'm racist. I probably haven't worked on this impression enough. I am not.
A friend of mine told me that I should write about my reality objectively, like I used to. I have seen the sane world, and now I have this new world, and I should compare and contrast the two.
It hurts me to do so, because I am so different then I used to be.
Not really. I have become handicapped, in a way. I express my thoughts differently.
I have to adjust to this new reality and still grow and change as a human being. This is the same as everybody. Do not weep for me, you, reader, for I am fine.
There I go, being depressing.
It is helpful for me to talk to you like this. I do not talk to other people like this. I talk about similar topics some times, but I am not talking in this voice.
Think of this what you will. I am here for me, and you, but I am supposed to not write for what I think people will enjoy. I am supposed to write to write, or something. I am supposed to have a purpose, and I have to make it clear. This is my way of expressing myself written, clearly.
I do not want you to worry for me, then, if I start to become unclear. Perhaps you are a friend of mine, and read this. You will have your own opinions. If you are not a friend of mine, but have come across this absently, perhaps you were searching for the words, I am here. Hello. And I am writing this for you.
See, now that was gay. Hahah, maybe not to some people. It is new, perhaps.
So I went to go get cigarettes. I counted up some change. Three dollars even, for a pack of the smokes I could afford. I began my walk.
I often make long distance walks, I walk for a very long time, and I just tune out my surroundings. I do this often, I do not know if you do this. No, I am not supposed to be talking to you, I am supposed to be talking to me. Forgive me, I have no purpose, I am just writing.
Enough with the apologies. I write. Just pretend that you like it.
It was cold out. Not so cold though. Not so cold that it mattered. It was night, as well. I had to walk several blocks to the gas station. I was thinking about my blog, thinking whether or not I was satisfied with the particular way that I was writing it. I ruminated.
I came to the intersection that I would have to cross. I saw two young kids skateboarding on the major road, late at night. One was bigger one was smaller, they couldn't have been more than fourteen, probably younger. The younger kid looked like, ten. These fucking kids were skateboarding on the road in the middle of the night. The bigger one took off to cross the street as an SUV was coming up behind him. A voice in my head said "I can do that." It sounded like it was coming from a speaker. I don't know if I misheard other people talking, but this is what I heard. This is not unusual for me, so I ignored it. The odds that I'd here people talking at an intersection were minimal. Perhaps I was supposed to believe that I was hearing the younger kids thoughts or something. I do not believe this, I am not easily fooled, so this trick of my mind didn't work for me. It did make me wonder for a second if it was something that I wanted to do, to be dangerous, and young, to feel chemicals spurning in my brain and body and to feel the need to control them. The kid took off across the road with a burst of speed. The younger one stayed behind. The SUV plainly saw them and was driving slow. I am glad that they did not honk their horn because that probably would have scared the kid straight off his fucking skateboard.
The little fucker probably got an adrenaline rush from skirting danger. A badass in the making and his little brother or whatever, maybe the bigger kid was doing it so he didn't have to. Big brother had his little brother skating on the road though. I probably should have yelled something at them like "Hey stupid, you're in the road!" This would have made the kid feel bad about what he was doing, and maybe not do it again.
Who knows, it is lost to time now. The kid would have bigger fish to fry later on, and so did I.
I walked into the store. Dude with brown hair and nice eyes is waiting for me. I have watched this dude haggle with a customer about getting money for a lottery ticket or something. He was completely involved in the transaction, trying to do the best possible and right thing during it. I gave him credit. I interrupted this little thing that was going on and asked if they had any limes. I was going to buy some Dos Equiis if they had limes. His eyes closed for a moment as he had to back out of the thought process he was going through and try to remember if they had limes. He said no, and when he went to talk to the lady again, I caught his face and he kind of had this half sigh in the making before he dived in again. He was willing to explain why he couldn't do what he wanted to do with the lady in terms that she could understand. He didn't have to be so nice about it, but I liked that he was.
So he is the guy that is going to sell me cigarettes this time. Nothing happened. I bought the cigarettes and left. This might as well have not happened.
I walked to campus. I began thinking about oprah constantly being on stage, talking to important people, trying to be interesting and insightful. She adopts a regal posture. She says that everything is energy. I would believe that too if everyone was hanging on my every breath. Moments for her are televised with a hundred people watching. So she believes we are channeling energy.
You will find a lot of people believe some very strange things.
So I am thinking about this, walking on campus. I am imagining that I am saying something important, to a lot of people. Perhaps I am telling that about how cats are really cool, and they are hanging on my every word. Oprah is telling me that this is energy. This feeling she has about it. I say it is just ideas. I say to myself, outloud, "As long as they do not hurt anybody." There is a guy walking in front of me, and I hope that he doesn't hear me.
I would hate to have a million people listening to me, and I say something that hurts someone. This is all silliness, I am thinking. I wonder if I'm a good person.
Moving on.
I get to Miles and Joe's room and there is a note tacked on the door from an RA named Dee. It is a nice note. No one answers the door, so I leave.
As I am walking out of the building, there is a black man, walking all hunched over like he is a gangster. Gangsters are role models for black people. You have heard rap music for the past several years now. I used to laugh, back before I was crazy, thinking yeah right, gangsters being role models for black people.
No more, black people are supposed to act thuggish now. Hopefully he doesn't believe all that jazz about big bootied women and partying all the time. He is young, maybe he does.
Anyway he comes up to me and looks me in the eye, which is a completely normal thing to do to anyone. This is of no significance whatsoever, so I return his look and try to have an intelligent look on my face. I am so vain.
He is wearing a key around his neck, so I recognize him as an RA. He goes "Hey man, what's your name?"
I tell him.
"I see you around here often." He is back to his thuggish crawl, head forward, arms out, looking ready to rumble. I can't think of a suitable word for his particular style. I'm not one to judge because mine is crazy. We are both united, at this moment, with our silly modes of life.
"Yeah, I have two friends in here." I am wondering if he heard me kick open the door earlier, because I didn't have a key. I noticed the room with the RA was open when I came back.
He makes it to another door, he is about to go in. "Well, see you around man."
I ask him his name. "Dee." he says.
So I move on.
Actually, no, I take that back, I turn around and there was Sean, a friend of mine. Well, acquaintance, whatever. We've hung out. I think he is alright.
All of this would have freaked me the fuck out back when I was learning to handle schizophrenia. Now I know this is normal. I knew it was normal before I was crazy, and running into the Dee that left the note was just a coincidence or whatever, but schizophrenia makes you freak out about coincidences. I know, I talked to a schizophrenic last week, whom I didn't like, because of how he was handling himself, and he went crazy later that night. He had been up drinking for like 48 hours and hadn't taken his pills. I didn't want to be around him. His name is Brad and I will tell you about him later.
So Sean, who wears a hearing aid, and has wild bushy hair that he keeps down with a bandana, has come out of the door in front of me. I ask him if I can borrow his cell phone to call Joe. I go back to Sean's room and see it for the first time. His roommate has twin wide screen LCD monitors and plants and a bookcase. Sean has nothing. I ask them if they hang out, which is probably a stupid question because there is an obvious class difference, but I can think of nothing else to say.
"No, he is like, a goody-goody."
Right, I should have been making fun of the rich fuck. Duly noted.
I get ahold of Joe and he is at Carolyn's playing cards with Miles and Lars.
Me, Miles and Joe hang out pretty much everyday. Lars I met when I first got here, and me and him are really good buddies. He was the one who convinced me to stay in school when all I could think of was suicide.
It was very close for me, when I first got here. Being schizophrenic is not easy, though I make it seem like a bed of roses.
I will tell you more about everybody later. Tonight is not the night for that.
I was a little hesitant to play cards, because I had played last night, and couldn't keep track of the hands, or whose turn it was, or anything. It was not fun. However, I was feeling better today, after all my writing, so I went over. I will tell you how bad it is for me later, when it is getting bad. It is not always this bad. You might not like it. I wouldn't blame you for it, but it is me. My grandfather says it should go away. Perhaps it will. I will keep writing, regardless. There is always a chance that someone will come across my words and like it. Then I will be happy. Perhaps that person is you. How about this, you and I will make a deal. If you like me, I will like you. It is simple. This is how friends are started. I am so crazy.
I did fairly well at poker this time. Miles was winning, he had just learned to play yesterday. He said he had been thinking about it, and then everything just clicked for him. I like Miles, for this ability. He was winning hands down. Miles, Joe and Carolyn went upstairs to smoke some weed, and Lars and I went outside to have a cigarette.
I started telling Lars about my blog. He was impressed. He is often impressed by the things I say. I am one of the few people that catch his interest. He is considered supremely cool by most people, and he makes a lot of acquaintances who like him, but he does not get that personal with them. He also has a bitch of a girlfriend (his words) who he has been with for three years and loves.
Anyway, I was telling him about my blog, and a little bit about what was in it, about the scenario I was thinking about with the athletic type guy and the girls and what have you. Lars said "I bet jocks do that all the time." He hates Jocks. I love them. No I don't, I don't love them, but I understand.
He started telling me about this sketchpad his girlfriend had given him for him to draw cityscapes in. He talked about the beginning of the book where the cityscapes weren't that good, but then they got better and more intricate and how he wrote things on the walls, because he wanted to incorporate his writing with his art. Lars is pretty scientifically minded. He gets great grades like I do. Not so much with Joe and Miles. But I will tell you more about these two later.
I realized why he was telling me about the sketchpad. Well, he could have been telling me for a number of reasons, sharing an act of creation, but what I realized, among other things, is that at first it is shitty and rocky. I realize this about my blog. I hope you can stand it.
Miles came down from smoking and opened the door and made a silly face. He is usually doing things like this, and I love him for it. I think it is awesome. We started burning leaves.
I should probably write more about the in-depth analysis that Lars and I get into when we talk about things. We were talking about how people's perceptions determine each person's moment for them. Perhaps the not so hot girl had a completely different perception on the situation. I should have brought up how Ayn Rand said there is no collective conscious, but an average of independant thought. I did not think of this at the time. It was a light conversation and turned to frivolty once Miles arrived, as it usually does.
Miles and Lars went heads up at Texas hold em. Miles had all the money and Lars was the only one left. It was a dollar buy in. I was trying to convince Miles to give us some money so that we could all keep playing, a losing argument, but I went at it gamely. Lars was trying to beat him so he could get his money and hand it around so we could all be back in. Miles, the jackass, won, with his fat stacks of chips. The night ended, except Lars tried to scare a black woman with his car, and she didn't react because she was "looking for crack".
I hope you don't think I'm racist. I probably haven't worked on this impression enough. I am not.
The winds of the world
You might ask yourself how the words of a schizophrenic would be good for your soul. I do not know. I will not profess some fruity crap like "I am in touch with my soul!" or something silly like this. I just have one, like you. Heheheh, do not take my words on the soul too seriously, it is beyond our comprehension. Just know and love. Hahah, I am saying these things again. I am silly, I hope you can forgive me.
Tourniquet for the weary
A good friend of mine just told me that the secret to being interesting is very closely related to the secret of being cool. Perhaps they are ideas born of similar Gods of creativity, granted to human beings as boons in their minds to do as they wish. Perhaps it is so. I am wistful, if I understand the word correctly. Perhaps I do not. I think you should read this. It will be good for your soul.
The equivacy
I wish these blogs were posted from first to last for the day in that order. I will have to figure out if that is possible, because I start something, and then add to it. I mean, that is just natural. Anyway. What I was going to say is that I am silly to ask you what you think about caring for the evils in the world. No one is reading this. I am curious as to each person's own philosophy for how to handle the evils of the world, however. I am essentially curious about everything.
I do not know if this particular mode and style of thinking and talking is working for my blog. I will have to change it up. Unfortunately I can think of no other way to do it. I'm sure I have a reason for coming across this way. Perhaps I am secretly trying to lull you in, to think I am a harmless person who wonders about things. That is not very interesting. Perhaps I will tell you of some of my schizophrenic terrifying moments. They happen unexpectedly. Oh boy this is fun.
I do not know if this particular mode and style of thinking and talking is working for my blog. I will have to change it up. Unfortunately I can think of no other way to do it. I'm sure I have a reason for coming across this way. Perhaps I am secretly trying to lull you in, to think I am a harmless person who wonders about things. That is not very interesting. Perhaps I will tell you of some of my schizophrenic terrifying moments. They happen unexpectedly. Oh boy this is fun.
Docility
I have just read over my first blog post and it is amazing to see how docile I have become. I am concerned with saying Hi to people so that they feel better.
This is more playing around though. I am kind of joking about docility. I believe a part of my mind believes that I should say fuck the world, and not care about the happiness or unhappiness of random individuals. Ahh, but I do want to care for people! Therein lies the rub, for you see, I think many people truly do want to care for people, but some people learn then you cannot, or something. Perhaps they become jaded with it. I have a friend that believes that you should not care about the evils in the world, since they are too numerous and unstoppable. I suppose he thinks that caring about them puts you in a bad place. What do you think?
This is more playing around though. I am kind of joking about docility. I believe a part of my mind believes that I should say fuck the world, and not care about the happiness or unhappiness of random individuals. Ahh, but I do want to care for people! Therein lies the rub, for you see, I think many people truly do want to care for people, but some people learn then you cannot, or something. Perhaps they become jaded with it. I have a friend that believes that you should not care about the evils in the world, since they are too numerous and unstoppable. I suppose he thinks that caring about them puts you in a bad place. What do you think?
Backwards or forwards, does it matter?
This is my first post, and it will be last on the list. unless there is a thing that can list them chronologically. I will have to figure that out. It'd be nice to have the day listed on the main page, and then the dates listed to the right in chronological order. I will have to call Google and recommend this. They will hire me for having such good ideas and then I will be making real money. What I am talking about is such a genius idea. This is the silly part, because I know that is how it is. I am being silly right now, forgive me.
Seeing as how this is my first post I should probably explain a few things, though because of the way this is laid out, I should just explain things as I go along. I have spent all day posting on a message board getting the guts together to create this blog. Here it is. My phone has been ringing, but I'm out of minutes and the darn thing doesn't tell me who is calling when it's out of minutes because the company is gay like that. Seriously. When you are poor, you have to deal with gay companies. I have a thing on my truck, a horrible piece of crap truck, that will keep it from starting if I don't pay my bill. This gets to be a pain in the ass because my due date is unfortunately the day I get paid. This used to not be a problem because I lived right near the place to drop off my payments, but then I went to college, and now I have to mail the fuckers in. You'd think that I would pay a few monies extra to move the due date. I may very well do this someday. Why don't I? Because I forget. I am incredibly absent minded. It's pretty bad. I was absent minded before the schizophrenia, but now it is a million times worse. Also, I do not have much money. I live on disability, which was an achievement in and of itself because I was able to get on it without a lawyer. It really wasn't that hard, and I do not understand why people have difficulty with it. Perhaps most people don't follow up. Are maybe people aren't as hardcore as me. Anyway, it was something I needed while going to college, so I did it. College is difficult enough for me, though I make good grades (real good grades most of the time) and a forty hour a week job working in some restaurant would be hellish enough. College is fun. Well, no it's not, I have a lot of free time that I have to fill. Schizophrenia blasts your social skills, some days are better than others, so though I do have friends, it is difficult for me to make new ones. This is often because I do not know what to say in social settings because my mind is inundated with a lot of odd thoughts. For some reason, I used to be able to work within a social framework, but now my brain just analyzes it and does not fill me in with what to do. I am often confronted with this scenario:
Walk through a door into a residence building. Two girls are walking ahead of me, one hot, the other not as hot, but still hot in her own right. I find a lot of girls hot. Anyway, enough of this. Big tall athletic looking fellow opens door and comes from other direction. I wonder what he is going to do. He of course makes eye contact with the hot one and smiles a bit. Nice. I however am completely floored because it is hard for me to do this. I wonder how the other girl feels. I wonder if she notices this. Most people live in the moment, but their perceptions muddle what they are thinking about a present situation. Mine could be too. Perhaps dude knowz the hot girl, but probably not because he didn't say "Hey what's up" or exchange a greeting. Perhaps number two friend is used to this kind of treatment from strangers. It is the way it is, I suppose, that judge jury and executioner of the moment.
One time me and two friends of mine, Joe and Lars, I will tell you about them later, were walking out of a dorm. This fat girl who was slightly unattractive because she was fat (I am sorry if I am pissing anybody off, I am talking about the superficiality of strangers) opens the door and come at us. I make eye contact with her noncomittally, because quite frankly I am just scared of strangers most of the time and am unable to look at someone and smile unless I can think properly. I probably need to work on this, though I feel that my smiles are often fake, but this is not important. I need to work on my fake smile. Anyway none of us say anything to the girl and she kind of mutters "Hi guys" to herself, and half to us, because obviously she is used to this, this ignoration of her attractiveness or whatever, and she feels that the system is ludicrous. People base whole idealogies based on just such occasions. Who can blame them? She reminded me that I have to make sure that I say something nice to people more often. Heh, but then I am saying Hi to the fat girl. Hahahhah, maybe that is okay with me. People are pretty shady.
I am going to go walk to the store and get some cigarettes, I will tell you if anything interesting happens. Probably nothing. It is cold outside. In fact, I may go see what my friends Miles and Joe are doing. They are good people. I don't get that schizophrenic around them. I like them because we are constantly making jokes.
This was a good first blog post, I think. It was a warm up. I hope you don't think I am too crazy.
Seeing as how this is my first post I should probably explain a few things, though because of the way this is laid out, I should just explain things as I go along. I have spent all day posting on a message board getting the guts together to create this blog. Here it is. My phone has been ringing, but I'm out of minutes and the darn thing doesn't tell me who is calling when it's out of minutes because the company is gay like that. Seriously. When you are poor, you have to deal with gay companies. I have a thing on my truck, a horrible piece of crap truck, that will keep it from starting if I don't pay my bill. This gets to be a pain in the ass because my due date is unfortunately the day I get paid. This used to not be a problem because I lived right near the place to drop off my payments, but then I went to college, and now I have to mail the fuckers in. You'd think that I would pay a few monies extra to move the due date. I may very well do this someday. Why don't I? Because I forget. I am incredibly absent minded. It's pretty bad. I was absent minded before the schizophrenia, but now it is a million times worse. Also, I do not have much money. I live on disability, which was an achievement in and of itself because I was able to get on it without a lawyer. It really wasn't that hard, and I do not understand why people have difficulty with it. Perhaps most people don't follow up. Are maybe people aren't as hardcore as me. Anyway, it was something I needed while going to college, so I did it. College is difficult enough for me, though I make good grades (real good grades most of the time) and a forty hour a week job working in some restaurant would be hellish enough. College is fun. Well, no it's not, I have a lot of free time that I have to fill. Schizophrenia blasts your social skills, some days are better than others, so though I do have friends, it is difficult for me to make new ones. This is often because I do not know what to say in social settings because my mind is inundated with a lot of odd thoughts. For some reason, I used to be able to work within a social framework, but now my brain just analyzes it and does not fill me in with what to do. I am often confronted with this scenario:
Walk through a door into a residence building. Two girls are walking ahead of me, one hot, the other not as hot, but still hot in her own right. I find a lot of girls hot. Anyway, enough of this. Big tall athletic looking fellow opens door and comes from other direction. I wonder what he is going to do. He of course makes eye contact with the hot one and smiles a bit. Nice. I however am completely floored because it is hard for me to do this. I wonder how the other girl feels. I wonder if she notices this. Most people live in the moment, but their perceptions muddle what they are thinking about a present situation. Mine could be too. Perhaps dude knowz the hot girl, but probably not because he didn't say "Hey what's up" or exchange a greeting. Perhaps number two friend is used to this kind of treatment from strangers. It is the way it is, I suppose, that judge jury and executioner of the moment.
One time me and two friends of mine, Joe and Lars, I will tell you about them later, were walking out of a dorm. This fat girl who was slightly unattractive because she was fat (I am sorry if I am pissing anybody off, I am talking about the superficiality of strangers) opens the door and come at us. I make eye contact with her noncomittally, because quite frankly I am just scared of strangers most of the time and am unable to look at someone and smile unless I can think properly. I probably need to work on this, though I feel that my smiles are often fake, but this is not important. I need to work on my fake smile. Anyway none of us say anything to the girl and she kind of mutters "Hi guys" to herself, and half to us, because obviously she is used to this, this ignoration of her attractiveness or whatever, and she feels that the system is ludicrous. People base whole idealogies based on just such occasions. Who can blame them? She reminded me that I have to make sure that I say something nice to people more often. Heh, but then I am saying Hi to the fat girl. Hahahhah, maybe that is okay with me. People are pretty shady.
I am going to go walk to the store and get some cigarettes, I will tell you if anything interesting happens. Probably nothing. It is cold outside. In fact, I may go see what my friends Miles and Joe are doing. They are good people. I don't get that schizophrenic around them. I like them because we are constantly making jokes.
This was a good first blog post, I think. It was a warm up. I hope you don't think I am too crazy.
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