Thursday, October 14, 2010

I've been feeling a lot better. Focusing on acceptance has proved to be very helpful. I pray for acceptance like a frat boy prays for beer and pussy. Imagining what it would be like to not feel ashamed for my delusional past has paved the way for more pleasant emotions. I'm still freakishly sensitive, however.

I had a horrible incident with my oldest brother a couple days ago. I was talking to him and some other family members about my depression and suicidal ideation. I was only a few sentences in when he joined the group and, preferring a lighter topic, demanded I stop talking. I was crushed, shocked, embarrassed and, of course, ashamed. Asking me politely would have been less hurtful than him saying, with irritation in his voice, "Let's talk about something else," as he gestured his hand down at me and looked away, demeaning my value. I stopped talking immediately and didn't share much for the remainder of my time at his house. When I got into my mom's car with her to leave, I burst into tears like a toddler. "How could he be so insensitive?" I said through my sobbing face. After vowing to never return to his home and saying "fuck mark," about a hundred times, I was ready to let go of the situation.

It was hurtful because it's taken me years to be able to talk about this stuff. Plus, I've always looked up to Mark, so his dissatisfaction with me was not what I intended. Believing his reaction to my words was not intentionally hurtful helps me let go of the whole thing. Truly, I believe his intention was to keep everyone else comfortable. Still, I probably won't be going over there for a while. And I'm certainly done looking up to him. I'll continue to admire Terrence McKenna, Ken Wilbur, Chali 2na, Del and everyone else who works to make other people feel good.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

I'm grieving about losing the life I had always envisioned for myself. I'm not able to take care of myself like other normal people are, and realizing this is very painful. I wish I knew when the the feelings of inadequacy and disappointment would dissipate. I imagine I can't feel bad about being mentally ill my whole life... I hope I can't.

I'm set on recovery. That's why I tried working, going to school, and not smoking pot. BTW, I started smoking again a couple days ago. I can't afford to not smoke weed. It makes me want to kill myself so much less than usual. I'm now beginning to see weed as an actual remedy. The therapeutic benefit is undeniable. The worst thing about it is that it's not viewed as helpful by my family or the medical community (although my psychiatrist told me she wouldn't advise me to stop smoking because of the mixed opinions in the medical community). So, for now, I'm making burning ganj part of of my recovery plan. IDK what else I should be doing, though. I know that working a part-time job and/or going to school is definitely out of the question. Maybe I'll get my massage permit and start doing a few massages a week.

IDK what I'll do. I guess, for now, all i can really handle is sitting in mental torment. It takes a lot of effort to not kill myself. It's like this constant battle that I've been in since a child. It seems so reasonable, yet, at the same time, it seems too permanent and like it would bring so much unnecessary suffering to my family and friends. I really don't want to make anyone feel bad, but sometimes I feel like them asking me to not kill myself is just ridiculous. Like, "Dude, if you knew how it was you'd feel ok with me choosing to end my life." But people don't know how it is. This is another thing I'm beginning to realize. People have a very small conception of the feelings that accompany suicidal ideation. I guess it's good for them, but I wish there was more compassion and understanding for people suffering from this highly stigmatized disorder.

And why aren't there groups of people who can't work who meet up during the day? I get so lonely during the week, and tv is so boring. Loneliness will probably always be a huge issue in my life. I relate so much better to other bipolar people, but they're pretty rare. Especially bipolar 1 people. Everyone and their aunt gets diagnosed bipolar 2, but I've only met one other bipolar 1 person. She tells me that I'm the only person she knows who shares her path of hardship. Not working/not going to school is another formulae for loneliness. I wish I could handle these things, but I have to be realistic.

I wish I could go beyond hating my life and be like, "ok, it's time to not feel shitty anymore," but I don't have that ability. All I can do is pray for acceptance of the never-ending nightmare that is my existence. haha, maybe that's a little dramatic, but you get the point. I'm just disgusted by my weak nature and have a really hard time finding hope. Actually, I'm way beyond disgusted. I'm absolutely mortified by my condition. It's the most debilitating thing I've known, and I'm still discovering just how debilitating it is. Having my dream of living a good life vanish before me because I'm afflicted with something so out of my control is constantly devastating.

I hate waking up and knowing I have to spend another day as a lonely mentally ill deadbeat. Thinking about trying to change my position in society is even more frustrating. I feel like all I'm capable of is taking bong rips and petting my chihuahua. I want so much to have a nice story that goes with me. Right now, my story is that I was a miserable child who grew up to be a miserable adult. Supposedly because I have a chemical imbalance in my brain.

I don't believe my suffering is just from a chemical imbalance. That's just what psychiatrists say. There is no testing of your brain that happens before they assure you that you're suffering from a chemical imbalance. It's just what they say after they've seen you act "not normal."

Oh well, at least I won't have to sweat on a farm or cry at school today. It could always be worse.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Food Stamps, Section 8 Housing, SSI

Since I've given up on my dream of having a normal life, I'm now seeking ways to make the most of my situation. It's hard because I always envisioned myself having normal life... even a comfortable one. I thought I'd have a wife, kids, a home, and clothes I wasn't embarrassed to wear. All my brothers do very well for themselves, and I always figured I'd be somewhere on their level. However, these past few years have made me realize that I'm not really in the same league as they are. They can handle much more than I can and not even consider killing themselves. I, on the other hand, can't even pull off nine units at junior college without considering what material I'll use for a noose and where to hang it. Sigh.

I want to spend as little amount of time grieving about my shattered expectations as possible. It's now time to move on, take advantage of being mentally ill, and make an effort to love the life I have. Definitely the best thing about being labeled insane is that it opens up a portal to many social services. I've been getting SSI for five years now and I think it's time to start getting more. I've had several friends tell me that I qualify for food stamps. I think around $150/month. This would great! I'm sure I could make some awesome meals. You can get a lot of food for 150 bucks at Food4Less. Another social service that requires my investigation is section 8 housing. I understand you can get an apartment for just a few hundred dollars a month which would be absolute dopeness. My parents pay for a lot of my rent now, and I want to take as little from them as possible. I feel better about taking from Uncle Sam.

Yeah, I feel better about deciding to embrace my situation as opposed to trying to change it by working or going to school. Why would I choose to give the system a handjob when I could have it give me a piggy-back ride? Well, I'll tell you why. Cuz it's not cool to live off disability, apply for section 8, and get food stamps. Few aspire to live this kind of life and there's definitely some shame associated with taking handouts. Plus, when you don't work, you're signing up for hours of alone time which can take some getting use to. Another horrible thing about not working is that you feel like you're not part of the world. It just keeps spinning without you. It's not uncommon for me to go days without seeing anyone I know in person. The shame, loneliness, and general feeling of not fitting are the reasons why people aren't aspiring to live off the dole. Unfortunately, for me, it's the better option. Fuck it, if I can deal with being labeled insane then I can deal with some people thinking I'm a drain on society.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Done With School

Yesterday was my first tutoring session for statistics. Because I'm mentally ill, I qualify for free tutoring. I felt like the hour I spent with the tutor really cleared things up. I tried doing homework today, but was totally lost, so I went to the math lab. I sat down in the math lab, looked at the problem and felt so defeated. Then it was time for a cigarette... actually, two. I came back in, asked for help and the only tutor in there said, "Oh, I don't know statistics." She directed me towards the answer book and I checked it out. It didn't make any sense to me and I left because I needed to cry.

I walked through campus trying to cover up the tears streaming down my face. Thoughts like, "You don't need to be attached to your performance in school," were going through my mind. And they kinda help, but I still have a lot of unpleasant emotions because I care so much about how I do.

When you're diagnosed with a mental illness, people tell you that it doesn't have to hold you back and you can do things normal people do. I'm discovering this to be bullshit. I can't even do math homework without wanting to kill myself.

I have mixed feelings about school. I want to learn and be a contribution to humanity, but I don't want to do it if it's going to be miserable for me. I try to love things that I have aversion towards, but I think for this lifetime, I'm best off not subjecting myself to a traditional western education. It's just like signing up for unnecessary pain with the hope that someday I'll look back and be grateful that I jumped through all the hoops.

I need to do something, but I'm choosing for it to not be school. I don't want to spend anymore time crying on campus :(

Plus, I feel like learning everything that they want me to is just like training myself to give the system a handjob. I'd rather continue learning how to not suffer at my own pace.

I've had the thought, "Well, I'm not insanely delusional at the moment, so I should be working/going to school." But when I actually try to do these things I find myself more miserable than when I spent all my time chilling and smoking herbs. I think I need a break, like, for the rest of my life. All I want is my time to do whatever I want. I hate obligations, needing to be places, listening to people I don't admire. I just have to learn to love my place as a mentally ill deadbeat... I'm barely capable of being that. Not feeling like I want to kill myself require a huge effort, and it's about all I can handle.

That last sentence felt really good. I shouldn't hold myself to the standards for people who aren't tormented by suicidal ideation. Everyone has a different capacity... mine's just a lot smaller than I had envisioned.. o well.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

No Smoking=More Raging

I've been raging like a bull since I stopped smoking herbs. I'm now much more likely to raise my voice, get angry, and punch walls. It really affects Chico, and he's been spending a little less time with me. I hate it. I hate not having complete control over my emotional response, and I really hate feeling angry. I'll go from being fine to being angry to planning to kill myself in a matter of minutes.

When I start planning how I'm going to kill myself I try to think of things in my life that are reasons to stick around. I try to make killing myself seem irrational, because I intellectually understand it to be. In my logical mind, my frustration and anger is from attachment which I have the power to overcome/let go of. I'll try to clear my mind, focus on my breath, think of my little brother, my nieces and my mom and the emotional pain I can spare them by continuing to endure the shit storm. I can have all these thoughts in my head and still have every fiber of my body saying, "do it. Kill youself! You've fantasized about suicide for years, and for good reason! Your existence sucks! You'll never be able to create a life worth living and you usually bring pain and suffering to those in your life. Sure, people may be initially sad that you're gone, but in the long run, you'll be doing more good by not existing."

It's not fun to imagine killing yourself, but it feels like the only solution. You know, I'm still not convinced that I was worse off smoking pot all day long. I have noticed some major benefits from abstaining from weed, however. I'm more talkative now and feel like I'm relating to people better. I feel more connected with the people around me. I've also been having a lot of lucid dreams, which are always fun. My sleep, in general, is really bad. I mean, I like what sleep I get, but I wake up at the tiniest sound or discomfort. Since I haven't been smoking pot, I wake up many times during the night. Like every hour or two. My sleep is very choppy, but I've learned to not let that make me get frustrated, or else I'd never sleep. I try to accept it and just feel grateful for having such few responsibilities that require my alertness. I really am grateful for that. I'm glad my mental illness is recognized as an actual illness, or else everyone would just think I'm a lazy asshole. The truth, I feel, is that I just have these intense emotions, and dealing with them is about all I can handle. Which kinda sucks, cuz my lack of ability to do normal things is very debilitating when it comes to making money. And it's really hard to attract a mate when you're super poor. Being bat shit crazy doesn't help much either. Fuck it, I can jack off the rest of my life and not care too much... who am I kidding, NO I CAN'T. I know I'm a little different, but there's gotta be someone for me. I feel like girls should be competing for me, but that's probably just another grandiose delusion... whatevs... you gotta play the hand you're dealt...

I started writing this blog in the mourning at 9am, and now it's 2:47 am.. the next mourning. I grabbed some drinks with some friends and some German boys one of them met. We got down at the Library (one of the more ghetto bars in SLO) and it was a fun night. On our way back home, we ran into some guys who wanted a cigarette. I always give cigarettes to people who ask appropriately, and these guys did, so I kicked 'em one. Right after that, one of the three guys asked my platonic girlfriend for a hug, and she gave him one. Unfortunately, for him, his drunk ass decided it would be a good idea to grab her butt. She was like, "WTF, don't do that!" I said, "WTF did you just do." He replied, "Hey man, she's the one that gave me a hug." He didn't know I hadn't been smoking herbs, and had the rage of bull. I knocked this little tatted bitch down after he threw the first punch. I kept socking him in his head until his friends came up and broke it up. They weren't gonna jump me... I just kicked 'em a grit. I'm a nice guy, but I will not hesitate to regulate on a white trash motherfucker who crosses the line. That fool is lucky I didn't stomp on his head, cuz that was definitely my next move.

Events like these are why I consider myself a mediocre buddhist. I definitely do not adhere to the eight-fold path, but, I do practice a ton of mindfulness, compassion, and sympathetic joy. Perhaps, someday, I'll decide its worth my time to not swear, do drugs, and not engage in sexual misconduct, like the Buddha advised. But until my own logic decides these things are not worth my time, I'll continue to be a down-ass motherfucker. I fancy myself a psychonaut with a passion for mindfulness. This way I don't trip when I have to beat some fool's ass. Compassion, to me, has always come in many forms.

Monday, September 27, 2010


I'm almost certain I'm going to eventually kill myself. I want to not suffer so much, and this seems like the only way. Plus, I'm really impulsive.

I have a strong urge to kill myself right now cuz I'm feeling uncomfortable about having to do shit i hate. School is too hard, I have to stop going. But, I can't work. The only realistic option i have is living on SSI for the rest of my life. I'm sure I'll do this, i just have no idea how much longer it's going to be.

I don't want to cause other people pain with my suicide. This is why I haven't done it yet. Plus, I don't know what happens after death. I assume it's just like before I was born. Nothing. That sounds like heaven, but what if i just don't remember what I was doing?

I guess it's a possibility, but I have no idea.

Suicide is always seen as something bad, but maybe it will be the best choice I ever make. Or, maybe, like I've done in the past, I'll just keep feeling the pain and hope that it stops. It always stops eventually. My moods change really fast. Within one day I can go from dancing by myself to feeling suicidal. Like, a totally normal day.

Life has been such a dissapointment I don't know if I can hang. I mean, I could, Im just not convinced I'll choose to. uh, whatever. i'll just smoke a cigarette now and maybe feel like dancing in five minutes.

I scared chico and he's hiding under the couch now. I'm definitely not fit to be a paretnt: another major dissapointment. Oh well, I regret being born, my kid probably would too...

Monday, September 20, 2010

Manic as a Motherfucker

I've been feeling pretty manic this past week, but it really caught up with me today. I haven't been taking my risperdal over the passt couple months, minus the past few days, but I really should have been.

I stopped cuz I hate how it makes me lethargic and gain weight. Tomorrow, however, I'll be back at mental health to get a shot of Risperdal Consta.

I burst out into tears a few minutes ago while considering the loss that I experience from being mentally ill. I'll probably never get to be a dad or support myself financially. These common things are way beyond my ability as a mentally ill person. It's sad for me. I want a family, and I want to be able to take care of other people, but I know I don't really have the ability to be that stable and reliable. I hate being mentally ill. It's by far the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It's also hard for the rest of my family. My dad told me that dealing with my illness was the hardest thing he's ever done, and that included leaving his wife, and life, to be gay. This is tough shit.

I can't keep up with my classes. I couldn't go today cuz I was trippin' so hard. I also couldn't keep my mind still enough to do the homework. As I type this, I'm thinknig much faster than usual, and having trouble typing to keep up with my racing mind.

RRR. I hate this shit. I fucking hate my mind and it makes me wanna kill myself so much. Normies should wake up and thank their lucky stars every mourning. Actually, life seems to suck for just about everyone, so fuck your lucky stars. They aren't really lucky... just balls of gas, right? Maybe someone stole my lucky stars.

Oh well, on a lighter note, I'm really glad I have chico on days liek this. I didn't see anyone I know today, and it's great to have chico's light presence always around. We hiked today, on the lemon grove trail. It was pretty nice. I really needed to move, and chico was right behind! Gotta love that chihuahua :)

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Drugs, Drugs, Drugs

My appreciation for drugs started when I was twelve. I'd creep into the pantry, poor a generous portion of Black Velvet into a glass, and chug it, no chaser. Had I known what a chaser was, I would have opted for it, but I was an inexperienced drinker. I recall getting faded and loving it. I wouldn't do it often because I was afraid of getting caught. However, once every couple months, I'd sneak a drink to feel that security, confidence, and ease that alcohol is so popular for.

By the time I was 15, I was smokin' herbs. I was already an established rebel in my mind (it takes courage to sneak drinks at 12 years), and smoking pot seemed like the logical next intoxicant to experiment with. Just like boose, I had an instant love for the state that marijuana put me in. I felt like I was in a dream. There's no remembering what you just thought about and everything is always new. I started smoking every couple weeks or so, and by the time I was 17, I was smoking every day. This continued until a week ago, and I have no regrets :)

I didn't try any other drugs during high school except for prescription pain killers. When I got to college, however, I decided it was time to step things up! The first "hard" drug I did was cocaine. I liked it, but it wasn't as cool as weed. It's fun, but expensive as hell, and really takes it outta you the next day. Plus, it makes idiots talk way too much. I still don't understand how people get addicted to it because the side effects seem so bad.

I also tried mushrooms during my first year of college. They totally blew my mind! I had no idea I had the potential to feel like that, and no knowledge about the ego dissolving effects of psychedelics. I thought mushrooms would be like the other drugs I had taken. Ya know, just fun, and just a little different from your normal mind. I was totally wrong. Mushrooms provided me with a view of myself that I had never had, or even conceived of. I looked at myself not as Akasha, but as an aspect of nature. I couldn't realize it before, but on mushrooms, I understood how my mind had created an identity that I believed I was, when in fact, I have little idea of what I am. Sure, you can say I'm a dude. You can even go a little deeper, and say (like a lame ass hippie), "you're pure awareness." Or, "you're the capacity to know." While I find the lame ass hippie views more accurate, they still don't account for all of your experience. Existing is the MOST mysterious thing, but it's easy to forget that. Fortunately, because of mushrooms, it's also easy to remember :)

Later on, I did ecstasy. Ecstasy is awesome. It allowed me to understand sympathetic joy much more than any meditation I've done. BTW, one of my biggest beefs with buddhism is that they don't encourage experimenting with drugs. This is why I don't identify as a buddhist (that, and because a major point of buddhism is to not identify with concepts). I'm a down-ass motherfucker, and have a lot of trouble supporting any doctrine that discourages experimenting with drugs. Anyway, I digress. Ecstasy is cool. It highlights your compassion and joy, and let's you realize how much you love people. A totally straight guy may find himself wanting to give his guy friend a shoulder rub, just to be nice. If that doesn't sound cool to you, you're a douche, and you should go try some e and stop hatin'.

I also had to try acid. I did this for the first time just a couple years ago. I had never had to opportunity to do it before. It's pretty legit laying down and watching your mind form your reality. I mean, you can do it without acid, but a little lsd really spices things up! I also loved the depersonalized hallucinations. I had always thought that your hallucinations would be a reflection of the individual. Ya know, like you'd see what you think about. LOL, NO WAY! I couldn't account for the demons and angels. I mean, I thought I didn't believe in them. I also couldn't account for all of the sacred geometry you see on acid. Drugs definitely have a mind of their own, and they'll let you know about it.

I've tried nearly every drug I could get my hand on. I still haven't done ayahuasca, but I'm sure I will. I hate how our culture has little regard for the wisdom that drugs impart. I mean, even just getting drunk has a lot of benefit. Boose can inform you that your inhibitions are a block to happiness and fun. So, if you're smart, you'll cultivate a less inhibited state, be more open, more spontaneous, and pretty much, just cooler. But if you don't apply introspection to your drinking, and you still love it, you'll probably just end up drinking too much.

By the way, drugs are worthless without introspection. There's little benefit to drugs without being deeply reflective and honest about your experience. I've talked to lots of people who have eaten the same magical mushrooms as I, and they weren't so magical. If you experience a different state, and only describe it as "getting fucked up," then you're not going to learn what the experience has truly given you. But, if you're a good little boy, and use your words, then these same substances can be springboards for deep and lasting insight. And that's what IT is all about.

Friday, September 17, 2010

More Boose, More Memory

Since I stopped smoking weed, I've been drinking every night. Usually just a single high gravity malt liquor tall can. Like a hurricane, steel reserve, or old english. Just a little ghetto brew to take the edge off. Last night, however, I drank for reals, and I had no idea how much my tolerance to alcohol had increased.

Drinking affects you more when your always stoned. When I smoked pot (less than 1 week ago), I would very rarely have more than, like, 8 drinks. I'm a fairly large guy, and regular drinker, so eight drinks isn't gettin' too crazy for me. Last night, however, without large amounts of THC running through my veins, I drank 15 beers, and never felt really intoxicated. I couldn't believe it when I tallied up my brews this mourning. I can't remember the last time I drank so much without feeling really fucked up and forgetting everything.

My memory of last night is crystal clear. I can recall more from last night's drunken wanderings than I could about a typical day of being high. When I smoke, my memory just goes out the window. Last night my friend was talking about something we did a couple weeks ago, and it took me forever to realize what he was talking about. The memory wasn't erased, just very blurry. I was able to recall what we did, but couldn't remember any of the details of it. Like, what we were talking about and how I was feeling. I had even forgotten which friends I was with. Even though I drank 15 beers last night, I can recall all the places I went to, every individual I spoke with, and how my mood was. Weed even made me forget how my normal memory works! hahaha

I mean, I can laugh at it, but there has to be some serious issues about degrading your memory with habitually smoking weed. Of course, nothing comes to mind, but it's gotta make you dumber somehow. This is an effect from dank that never really bothered me. I wonder how my new awareness will serve me. What's life like with a normal memory?? I have no idea... I forgot...

I expect my tolerance to alcohol to decrease as the anxiety I have from not smoking decreases. I know from experience that heightened anxiety increases your tolerance to depressants. Once, while I was hypo manic, I drank a bottle and half of tequila, and didn't puke. I wasn't even doing blow, just had intense energy that alcohol barely effected. Hopefully, in a month or so, I won't need 15 beers to get my party on. But, for now, I give myself complete permission to consume as many budlights as my little anxious body desires.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

New Buddhist Class and Daddy Issues

Last night I went to a class on buddhism in Morro Bay that I signed up for months ago. I'm so glad I went! The teacher mentioned a number of things I haven't heard at the temple I usually attend. We'll also be learning several different types of meditation which I'm looking forward to. The meditation I practice usually is shinay, or, calm-abiding meditation. It involves bringing the attention to the breath, experiencing bodily sensations, and not getting caught up in your train of thought. It's great knowing you have some control regarding how peaceful you feel. I mean, I can't get super pissed and then feel fine just cuz I think about it, but understanding that my pissed offness isn't a direct reflection of the truth usually makes it not last so long. I still get pissed though and scream, "FUCK!", and punch walls... but I only do this a few times a year. It scares my chihuahua, though, and I really wish I had more reserve.

My dad use to tell me that all the time when I was young. "Have some reserve!" Looking back, it's some of the only legitimate advice he gave. His other famous aphorisms included, "There's a time for sex, and it's not in high school." I didn't like this one. Nor did I appreciate, "don't do drugs and don't hang out with others who do."

I wish my father would have given me advice on how to be a great contribution to humanity, but I don't know anyone with parents like that. We're just taught to be good, go to school, work hard and succeed, assuming the status quo brings ultimate peace to the individual and the society. I was never encouraged to think for myself or to question the culture I was born into. I don't feel like my father's son. I don't mind the role, but I feel like a little reflective parcel of creation. Even my identity as a male seems contrived and cheesy... and limiting. Sometimes I prefer to feel like what I would imagine to be a wise old lady, as opposed to my "actual" form of a 25 year old white male. The relationship between identity and feelings is definitely and interesting issue, one that I'm happy to explore. Peace and love, motherfuckers.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

No Dank Day 2

My body is cookin'. Last night's night sweats were slightly less intense and I woke up feeling a little less nauseous. I'm still sweating on my hands and feet. I feel super spacy, probably because I didn't eat anything yesterday except for a tall can brass monkey. I have some stats homework due today that I haven't done and I don't know if I'm going to be able to understand it in my current state. It's hard enough when I'm not feeling spacy and sick.

I'm expecting another long, anxious day, but I'm really looking forward to being done with the debilitating physical symptoms of this marijuana withdrawal. I had always heard marijuana wasn't physically addictive, but it is. I guess you just have to smoke a good amount before abstaining from it feels like hell.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Dying from marijuana withdrawals

Mother fuck, it has been a loong day. The anxiety and energy I have from not smoking is overwhelming. I had a three hour political science class today during which I couldn't stop fidgeting. Between my toe-tapping, drumming, pencil twirling and eventual rocking in my chair, I think it was obvious that I was experiencing some emotional turmoil. On a lighter note, I got a C- on a test I thought I failed.

I almost hit some resin I had in my chillum, but refrained. I've never had such a desire to abstain from pot. I really don't want it to be part of my life anymore... at least that's how I feel now.

Have I mentioned I'm sweating like a motherfucker and nauseus as hell? No wonder I waited so long to stop smoking pot. It's miserable! Oh well, gotta keep truckin'. Hopefully, someday, I'll look back on this decision with joy and gratitude.

I've realized something important lately, and it really sank in today. I've always fancied myself smarter than average. Like, the top 2% of the population. I don't know how I came about this idea (probably a grandiose delusion from being bipolar), but I'm realizing how not true it is. What I am discovering is that i'm of average intelligence, and possibly a little below. I also have a hard time paying attention in class. A really hard time. It feels like torture having to pay attention to stuff I'm not interested in. I also don't appreciate listening to someone much more educated than I am who throws a word I don't know into every sentence. I feel insecure about my vocabulary and education. I grew up on shame and television and it hasn't made for the most insightful adult. I mean, i usually think I'm great, but when I earnestly look at my contribution to humanity I lose my unwarranted confidence. I imagine you can't shame creation, but if you could, i think I'd be a bit of an embarrasment.

Pot Free For 24 Hrs

At this moment, I have been free from marijuana for 24 hrs. I have nearly all of the withdrawal symptoms: night sweats, sweaty hands and feet, insomnia, nausea, no appetite, and I'm very irritable. The only symptom I'm not exhibiting is having a headache which is suppose to be the most common side effect. I'm glad my head doesn't hurt because this inner-unrest and mild nausea is all I wanna deal with.

I've considered quitting marijuana occasionally over the past several years. Before, it always seemed worth it to me. The comfort and relief I got from marijuana compared to the cost (monetary and emotional) was totally worth it. It didn't matter that pot made me lazy and unable to follow complicated thoughts because it kept me from wanting to end my own life. My parents, who aren't afflicted by mental illness, had no respect for my decision to use this wondrous herb. Looking back, I'm really glad I played the rebel and followed my intuition. Pot gave me an appreciation for life that I was blind to. However, I think I've inhaled all the wisdom pot has to give to me now and I'm feeling I'll be best off abstaining from it and pursuing healthier interests.

I'm still fascinated by spirituality and plan on using my new clear head to develop personally. I'll probably attend more buddhist meetings and hopefully start exercising. When I'm high, I usually opt to not go to the buddhist group I like so much cuz everyone there isn't high. Getting high also eradicates any desire to exercise. Not being high should also make school easier, like, a lot easier. I try to not smoke three hours before my class, but even after three hours of not smoking I'm still far from average. The shit makes me dumber... there's no questioning that...

The hardest part of abstaining from marijuana that I foresee is going to be the whole friends thing. All my homies are stoners, and I'm going to want to smoke around them. I don't know people that don't smoke herbs. Oh well, we'll see how it goes down. Wish me luck!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

When i sit down to write it's as if i come face to face with the void itself. The place from which all comes, neatly placed in my head somehow. At the edge of your creativity and staying nice and calm keeps a steady flow of ideas. Until you hit a little insecurity road bump and experience the infamous writer's block. I've suffered a lot from writer's block in the past. Especially during high school when I'd have to write an essay. I'd always struggle to find the words to express whatever idea I had. It's still an issue, which is why I do little exercises like this.

By the way, this blog is a writing exercise, just to get in the habit of writing. I'm also looking to review my thoughts, develop my voice, and connect with anyone with similar interests. I'm not trying to make an interesting blog, I just want to share myself online and rant about shit I hate.

I try not to talk about shit I hate too much because I find it irritating when others do. But I definitely don't mind blogging about it! Here's what I hate: tradition, social expectations, the way children are treated, how much everyone works, the distribution of wealth, being confined to a nuclear family growing up, drug laws, having a gay dad, being heavily dependent on marijuana, being single, being poor, being bipolar, feeling inadequate

Now I'll mention things I love, like: meditating, chico, my plan to live in a van and be a freelance writer, the love and support I get from my family, having lots of unscheduled time to think by myself, not having to work (thanks mom and pop, I swear I'll be worth ur investment someday), the emergence of new culture, entheogens, the power of words, honesty, personal growth, buddhism, reading, writing, sharing ideas, how I treat people, dancing

K, that's enough for now.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

hating class, potential career, and the admittance of wanting only to be a rapper

Boy, am I glad to be out of my statistics class. After years of quiet solitude (not all the time, but a lot) I've grown accustomed to doing what I want. Spending an hour and a half sitting down and listening to someone talk about something I'm not interested in feels like a Herculean task. I wonder if I made the best decision by going back to school. I mean, I think I did, but I hate forcing myself to pay attention in class. It's so tiring. Plus, I feel like if what I'm learning isn't interesting then I should just learn something else. Life's short. I don't wanna spend my limited time focusing on shit I don't care about.

But I also don't wanna have to do farm work (or soemthing like it) all my life. and my parents are glad. But seriously, isn't there a more efficient way of learning? I hate the teacher-student relationship, and I really hate it when I have to listen to someone who doesn't have a pleasant and engaging voice. That's how my stats teacher is. I mean, he's well intentioned, but damn.... this fool is boring. The only time he's really sounded interesting is when he geeks out and talks about something unrelated to statistics. The nerd's got passion, but he's not channeling it for the majority of his lecture. Oh well, I shouldn't bitch so much. I get to go to school and chill while most people have to work all day.

Speaking of work, I've continued to focus on what type of work I'd like to pursue. I have to pick a major at cuesta, and I think I'm leaning towards creative writing. I think I'd love writing tv shows, although I've never done anything like this. I never write stories of any kind, really. Still, I have this belief that I can do whatever I want and freelance copy writing would be a nice way to pay the bills if I couldn't make tv shows. I really want to do something creative.

Really though, I just wanna be a rapper. I just don't think anyone wants to listen to a middle class white guy rap about his disdain for mainstream culture. Lol, maybe I'm selling myself short though, I mean, it's a big market...

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Writing Exercise

I'm about to try a writing exercise where you write what your doing for ten minutes. K, lets go! I'm typing words on my computer. I'm considering the potential of writing. I'm reflecting on my previous sentence. I'm considering an engaging question to get me thinking. I'm wondering, "what do I wanna write about??"

I'm losing interest in my writing. I'm breathing. I'm meditating. I'm feeling obligated to continue writing. I'm taking a moment to think about what I'm going to write. Ok, I know. I wanna write about the potential of humanity. I'm experiencing joy considering the possibility of helping people through writing. I'm feeling appreciation for the direction I've chosen, and appreciation for this exercise. I'm wondering why I can't always appreciate what's going on. I'm thinking about buddhism; my sense of identity, my emotions.

I'm breathing again. Forgetting as much as I can while keeping attention on my mind. I'm judging my writing exercise, thinking I may have been better off to just meditate for ten minutes. I'm looking at the clock on my computer. I'm laughing at myself for being embarrassed about how lame this blog post is. K, that's ten minutes!

Review: Hm, I felt a little anxious about staying writing. That seems odd considering I was able to write about whatever came to me. Whatevs. Let's see, what themes do I have going here... I'm intrigued by the potential of humanity to gain awareness through words and appreciative of my role. That's good! I'll do this writing exercise again sometime.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Shame: A Reason to Blog

I'm tired of feeling victimized for being mentally ill. The past few years have been rough in a lot of ways, but I don't want to feel defined by my struggle, or really even care that I have been diagnosed bipolar. It seems like it comes up all the time. People are like, "what do you do?" I so wish I had something cooler to say than, "I live off disability for bipolar disorder." It's just not a good pickup line, but, at least I can say it without so much shame.

I was talking about shame with a gentleman in the buddhist group I attend. He told me he had also experienced debilitating shame from mental illness, in this case, depression. He then suggested a book, or maybe it's an audio program, called Radical Self Acceptance. The author is a therapist and buddhist, so I'm sure it's got some great info, but I just love the title. The concept of radically accepting yourself seems inspiring to me, cuz in a lot of ways, I feel like I'm just always beating myself up. I beat myself up for being lazy, for not eating right, for prioritizing debaucherous fun, for looking down on other people's views.... the list goes on. What I'm wondering is if I need to be so hard on myself, or if just a gentle correction would do. I'll try to correct myself as gently as possible and see how it goes.

On an unrelated note, I'd like to blog about why I blog. It's therapeutic, I think I've mentioned that, but nobody reads this blog so it doesn't really matter. This blog is like my online public journal. I also want to develop my writing. Shit, I need to get use to talking about stuff I care about instead of just submitting to whatever is going on around me. This is what I really hate about myself: I never have anything interesting to say when I'm around other people. Hm, this is sounding pretty shallow, but!! this is pretty organic and from the heart, so I'm gonna roll with it! So yeah, I never have anything to say and it's irritating cuz I feel like I have so much to offer, but I'm scared about what people will think about me if I share deeply personal thoughts with them. When I'm alone I'm often in a state of wonder and joy, and I'm engaged in endless fascinating conversations with myself about the nature of nature, emotions, meditation, the power of language, whatever. Conversation always seems topical whether I'm with friends or family. People all over just talk about events that happen in the world: sports games, shit on the news, they're job, whatever. I feel like if I try the shift to conversation to something a little more interesting then I won't be welcomed. Plus, I don't know what to say. I hope with time that I'm able to artfully guide, or at least start, interesting conversations frequently. I have the rest of my life to express myself, improvement is sure to come.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I've been smoking pot heavily since I was 17. Marijuana gave me hope and appreciation for life when disdain and resentment for society ruled me. The decision to incorporate marijuana into my daily life was an easy one; it's fairly excepted among young people, it's cheap, and makes you feel amazing. And that's not all, there's more that's good about pot:

it makes you giggle
it makes you appreciate food
relieves nausea
makes you aware of your body
it let's you not care about being a loser
aids sleep
and, according to Terrence McKenna, marijuana brings the subconscious mind to the conscious mind

But, marijuana obviously isn't without it's pitfalls. In fact, some of it's positive aspects can also be negatives. Here's the dirt:

It can make you overeat, leading to "weed weight"
it can make you laugh at anything making you seem silly/dumb
it can make you pass out inappropriately
it makes your thoughts and therefore your life extremely unorganized, discombobulated
makes you lazy
it can be habit forming
makes a block between you and non stoned ppl
can produce social anxiety

For me, marijuana has been a life-saver and an addiction. I truly believe had it not been for the relief marijuana provided me in high school that I would have ended up committing suicide. The relief has been undeniably therapeutic when I wasn't open to cognitive therapy or traditional western medicine. But now, I'm open to both, engaged in one, and thinking that it may be about time to put down the bong.

It's not gonna be easy though.

All of my friends smoke pot religiously. I've been smoking with them for years in the area I grew up in. Abstaining from dank would mean not seeing them, or seeing them much less. This would mean I'd be spending a lot of time alone which isn't always my favorite thing to do.

The discomfort of not smoking is another factor keeping me hooked. Just like an opiate addict, if I go too long without smoking, I start to get nauseous. I'll be irritable for about a week, and I'll think about smoking constantly for months after quitting. I've read up and learned that it usually takes about two months before you get back to normal, and even then it takes sustained effort.

It'd be hard and I'd have to find new friends. Hm, I think I'll just keep smoking for now.

This is what happens when you blog to get your thoughts out. You start with an idea "maybe i should not smoke pot" then you weigh it out, and decide, man, that would entail more than I'm willing to do. I'm not willing to part with my stoner friends yet. or am I? Hm, guess I'm not sure. At least I know I'm intimidated by the idea of finding new friends.

I'm also unconvinced that I even want to stop smoking pot. Sometimes I think I'm just way better off spending my time stoned. It may sound ridiculous to many, but there's something liberating about caring so little about yourself. Not that marijuana breeds personal apathy, but superficial concerns like what you do for work, how you look, if what your saying is politically correct seems less important than how one feels and how others feel. I'd rather spend my time trying to make others feel good and feeling good myself than thinking about what I have to do and getting stoned seems to take me out of my critical mind and let's me appreciate life.

But I've been stoned for soo long that maybe I can do this on my own now. I need to stop writing. This is all bullshit.

I may stop smoking, I may not. I think about it. I value self reflection, openness, honesty. I have a deep desire for more connection with people and within myself. I know language is the medium through which the subjective is known, and my ability to connect with will be determined by my use of language; body and verbal. That's all I wanna think about for now. I'm out.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Haven't blogged for a while. I've been mildly depressed. But, for me, mildly depressed isn't such a bad thing. I actually thought I was doing pretty well. I still do think I'm doing pretty well, but anyway, lemme get on with my news. First thing, I quit my farming job. Yup, it comes as little surprise to those who know me that I chose to quit my manual labor job after about two months of work, but, at least I know what's it's like. Secondly, I've decided that I do wanna work, so I'm opening up an outcall massage business in town. I hope I can give one or two massages a day and take some classes at the cuesta. Those are all my plans for now.

Right now I'm hanging out at my Mom's house in Burlingame. I love seeing my family up here. I got an awesome/kinda crazy book the other day that I've been digging, by Terrence McKenna, called Food of the Gods, where he hypothesizes that eating magic mushrooms made us into the linguistic creatures we are today. He really seems to jump to conclusions in his essays, but it's interesting and fun to experience the ideas of such an original and uninhibited thinker.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Strepp Throat, Again

I don't know why, but I'm extremely prone to strepp. I get it a few times a year and I hate it. Right now I'm on day 5 of having strepp and it's just about gone. I'm about to go back to work after missing three days. It'll be nice to get back to the farm.

Other than that not much is new. My mom came into town to play bunco. She plays bunco with a group of moms, and I guess she loves it because she now commutes four hours from the bay area to the central coast just to play.

I still haven't made any progress on looking into becoming a monk. There will be a nun at my buddhist temple this week. I'm planning on asking her if she knows of any monasteries I could check out and maybe stay for a weekend. I don't think I'll actually become a monk.... to discipline really turns me off, but I have a lot of interest in it, and I have to at least check it out.

Monday, May 3, 2010


I dig my farm job (pun intended), but I definitely don't wanna be doing it for the rest of my life. I've had lots of things to think about these past few years, but mostly, I've thought about how I want to spend my time. Working takes up just about all your time these days, so it's important to me to have a job I'm passionate about. Guys, what I'm trying to get at here is that I think I'm going to become a Buddhist monk.

Yup, I've at least decided I'm going to look into it. I figure I'm gonna be busting my ass in one way or another. Might as well bust it on a zafu! I've thought a lot about becoming a monk in the past, but I was always turned off by the strict discipline the monks abide by. After working for a while, however, my aversion to discipline has faded away. I'm no longer turned off by the idea of hard work or strict discipline.

Hopefully their will be a lay teacher at Bodhi Path (the Buddhist temple I go to) this Sunday. I want to inquire about monkhood. I don't really know anything about becoming a monk... but I'll find out and share it here. Peace, ya'll!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

First Day on the Tractor!

That's right, motherfuckers. Today was my first day driving a tractor, and I gotta admit, it's not too shabby. I mean, it definitely beats the hell outta hoeing. It was pretty fun, actually. After another way-too-short tutorial, I had my first job. I can't believe I don't have to be trained for this. My boss, we'll call him O, showed me how to work the gears and the hydraulics, then about two minutes later I followed O to a nearby field. He showed me which field-roads I'd be smoothing out, then asked if I needed more time of him watching me drive. I declined. I knew I had it. The tractor driving went well, without a hitch (pun intended).

Work is going well in general. I feel like I'm a part of the normal society now and it's pretty sweet. Maybe I'll do this for a while. Who knows?

On an unrelated note, the old flame I mentioned in the previous post actually ended up coming back into my life. I'm glad :)

Thursday, April 22, 2010

This is too many days off work now

Still off work due to the rain. It'll be nice to go back to work without being sore!

An old flame called me yesterday. It stirred up a lot of feelings, don't really feel like going into it on here. Long story short, I'm debating about whether I should still talk to this girl. I haven't seen her in a year, but she still calls, and I still like her a lot. I think it's about time to count my losses and forget about her tho...

On a better note, I think I'm at my all time most stable. I've been able to handle my job, and my suicidal ideation hasn't been dominating my brain. Wanting to kill yourself is very draining. I hate it! My mood overall has been much more pleasant than I'm accustomed to. I think I'm slowly getting nicer! Having Chico (my chihuahua) has really helped with my mood. Had I known what a difference a dog would make, I would have gotten one sooner. He's such a little blessing!

I've had so much time off that I feel like I'm back to my old schedule. Wake up, smoke some premium reefer, then go online until ppl get off work, then smoke bowls with them. Yes, it's not that bad of a lifestyle. Though, most would probably find it unfulfilling and tiring, it's been my routine for years.

I was thinking about how my life has been the past few years, and how it would have been different without the mental illness. My bipolar episodes have seriously set me back. But you know what success guru Jack Canfield says... E+R=O, or event plus response equals outcome. I definitely haven't responded well about being crazy. I'm just pissed, mostly. Oh well, can't go back.

this blog is done.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

थिंग्स ठाट मके यू गो हम्म

No work today. Everything is still too wet from the rain.

One of my brothers has requested a blog: Things That Make You Go Hmmmm!

I'll now share all the things I wonder about... you know, those things that make you go hmmm.

Hmmm. I always wonder how everything we experience as the outside is actually a projection occurring within us. You know, like you look at the wall, and think you see the wall, but what you see is the picture of the wall ur head has made.. IDK, just trips me out.. make me go hmmm

Hmmm. I wonder how words and stories hold our realities together. I often wonder what I'd be like without words defining my experience. I'm just about always engaged in words, whether out loud or in my head, it seems to be constant. Only when I meditate consciously am I not experiencing words.

I also wonder about the nature of words. They're weird if you think about it. Auditory symbols strung together to describe phenomena. I think it's amazing how quickly we're able to articulate our ideas and feelings. We definitely seem designed for speach.

I have many hmmm's about the state of humanity. I have trouble understanding why we don't have easier lives. I think I'd prefer to live as a hunter-gatherer than a modern person. I hear they actually worked about four hours a day, and the rest of their time they spent chillin'. IDK how accurate this is, but I like the sound of it!

Hmmm, I also wonder how we've made it this long without unifying. I guess not everyone feels like a citizen of the world, or the world would be a very different place.

I have hmmm's about me. Hmmm, will my existence always be mysterious? Probably.


Monday, April 19, 2010

Weekend Update

After a long three days at work the weekend finally came. Boy, was I glad to not be at work. That hoe was really testing my patience!

Saturday was sick. Cruzed down to shell beach with some homies. It was beautiful, and even warmer than we expected! We smoked a bleez, drank some beers and finished off the day with a bbq in SLO. Man, I love the easy culture around here. I feel blessed to have friends with similar values!

On sunday I threw a doomer party. For those of you not familiar with westcoast slang, "doomers" is slang for magic mushrooms. We gobbled some and hiked through the oak grove in Los Osos. The canopy of oak trees provides a very majestic environment, perfect for communing with nature. We hiked around for a while and then went to the beach at Los Osos. Or, maybe it's montana de Oro. Anyway, we kicked it on the sandstone and tripped for a few hours. I had an awesome trip. Great collage like visuals with my eyes closed. I'm always amazed and amused by the mushroom experience.

Later in the day, after a nap, I met my Mom for dinner at her friends. My mom's friends bicker and bitch at eachother a lot. When they do, my Mom stares at me and smiles. It is kinda funny. Especially some of the shit the man says to his wife. He'll just rip her one, then she has the worst comebacks! Its pretty funny, but in all seriousness, these people need to grow up a little, don't ya think? Growing up, my parents never fought, and when I hear other couples do it I'm offended. Oh wellzers.

My weekend continues through tomorrow because I don't have to work! I can only work 35 hrs/wk and keep my SSI benefits, so that's what I'm going to do. I don't wanna work anymore than that anyway. This mourning, I woke up at my Mom's, had a lovely breakfast at Coco's, and then my dear mother took me shopping. I got some workboots, socks, chonies, and a pair of basketball shorts. It was definitely time for a little shopping, and I'm so glad my Mom took me! I know what some of you haters might be thinking... "um, Godsent, aren't you 24 years old? Should your mom really be buying you stuff?." I know, it's bad... but I've taken less than one of my five brothers, and I'm friggin' mentally ill. You try being normal when you've been idealizing suicide for over a decade... and believing your moses when you don't wanna end your own life. I'm tellin' you, it's ruff. All of you normies (normie: term mentally ill people use for people not afflicted with mental illness) should be thanking your lucky stars that you still have your sanity. I wish I had mine.

BTW, in case it's not obvious, I'm still absolutely pissed that I have to be mentally ill for the rest of my life. Honestly, I think I preferred denial, and if I could go back I would. Unfortunately, I've been forced forced to accept it. Gotta move forward now.

I just got off the phone with my brother. We had a long talk about goals, life-purpose, and happiness. He's pursuing his dream of being a professional comedian. He hopes to be living from his comedy earnings in three to four years. I'm stoked he's doing this. He is SOO FUNNY! I'm sure he's gonna make it. He goes out and performs every night in San Fran. He's been paid and headlined, and he's only been doing it for under a year. He's totally committed and super hard-working. As for me, I'm just a wannabe renegade guru. I have aspirations of becoming a monk, but am turned off by the required discipline and structure. Oh well, maybe someday. For now, I just wanna get rollin' in my van, chillin' in SF, and seeing my family more often. I'm only about a year away...

Thursday, April 15, 2010

My Dogs Are Barkin'!

Today was my fifth day of work, and I've got to admit it; my dogs are barkin'. Troubled tootsies aren't the only thing I've noticed though. I'm beginning to discover my appreciation for hard work as well as my inner-worker. Trust me, nobody saw this one coming, yet, somehow my lazy never-do-anything-but-smoke-premium-reefer ass has found value in the menial farm work I do. Sometimes I surprise myself.

And on that note, of surprising yourself, I must describe a peculiar experience I had yesterday. I was coming home and listening to country (I'm trying to delve into the culture I find myself surrounded by at work), and I noticed I had no aversion to the lyrics. In fact, I felt I could totally relate to the song. It was about workin' hard, gettin' off, havin' a barbeque, and crackin' a cold one. I heard this song yesterday, and I must have enacted the law of attraction because today I found myself doing these exact four things!

Ah, the perks of a blue collar lifestyle.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Hopes and Fears

My brother sent me a text a little while ago

"I'm requesting a blog post today. The title should be 'Hopes and Fears'."

Hence this blog.

Since this is a new blog, and this is my first post, I'll start with a little background info. For starters, I've named myself Akasha Godsent. No, it's not my legal name... and yes, I did name myself while being mildly psychotic. I'm 24 now, and was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder when I was 20. I've been through several manic episodes and finally started taking medication in August of '09. 

I'm a bit of a deadbeat. Before I started working on my cousins farm I spent all my days smoking premium reefer and kicking it with the homies.

I just started working (on the farm) and am at a cross roads in my life. Will I learn the value of hardwork and conform to society? Or, will I just continue smoking premium reefer until I'm forced to become a transient? Who know?!

Other than that, I come from a loving and large family. I have five brothers, was born and raised on the central coast of california. Um, what else... I go to Buddhist Temple and practice a lot of Vipassana. Oooh! I'm also an aspiring vandweller and plan to live full time in a class B motorhome within the next year. I'm planning on boondocking (free camping) on the streets of San Fran so I can see more of my family. Ok, that's enough background. Now, onto my hopes and fears.

Hopes. Hm, I do have a lot of them. I hope I can make my life so fulfilling that when I wake up in the mourning I'm just stoked. I've gotten better already. Gone are the days of waking up and wishing I was dead, but I'm still not amped on being me first thing in the mourning. I'm sure I have the potential and feel that if I were just listening to my experience closer, then I'd be able to identify what makes me tick and I'd be able to help myself to feel better while contributing to humanity. Maybe my blog will help with this!

I hope I can have work that is gratifying to my heart. I don't wanna slave away just so the upper-middle class can enjoy their organic baby greens. Not for the rest of my life at least.

I hope I can have a relaxed life and have enough time for introspection and meditation. I hope I can have open, honest and intimate relationships with everyone in my life.

I hope I can live comfortably and stay in a flowy state most of the time.

Now for the fears. #1 Fear, by far, is that I won't be able to take care of myself. This has been my fear since I was able to conceptualize that I'd have to work to survive. I've never felt like I could do it... like, it's just too hard and beyond me. I know it's not really logical, but I seriously have this fear and don't really understand it.

Fear #2: I'm going to remain a lazy creature of habit and smoke my way to homelessness. I'm going to alienate myself from society, stop bathing, and continue to blame "the man" for everything in my miserable life. Pretty much fear #1.

Fear #3: I conform to society, get some job I hate, and spend all my time jumping through hoops... more or less giving the man a handjob. This is what I was going to do before I dropped out of college. It would also involve me being around a bunch of other hoop jumpers who just do things cuz they're expected of them. I have no interest in being around these wankers.

Fear #4: I live a life of mediocrity and experience little love.

I seem to be preoccupied with "making it." I'm fearful about being inadequate and hopeful about being fulfilled. Standard shit, right? I think so. One more fear

Fear #5: I become a vandweller and am too weird for anyone to be friends with.

There you have it, folks. My hopes and fears.