Thursday, December 6, 2012

Another Update for Nick Kump

I'm in my longest stretch of sanity I've had in half a decade. I'm getting straight up arrogant about my ability to relate to normal reality. Sanity is pretty sweet.

I still have moments of wanting to kill myself, and I'm still probably far from normal, but I'm much better than I've been.

I've also been seeing a drug counselor because I have some interest in sobriety. It's interesting, though I'm not really convinced about the views about addiction. I don't believe addiction is an illness. There's too much free will involved. I do believe that I have developed an unhealthy habit, and quitting is way harder than I imagined it would be. It may take some effort, and I may never get there, but I'm willing to give it 100% .....or at least 15%.

I'm obsessed with a few ideas I can't seem to shake. First off is the messiah campaign. I've decided I'm going to campaign to be the messiah because it's the only career path that really interests me. I have little regard for normalcy, I like to go big, and I want to do something original. Plus, believing I was the messiah was my favorite delusion. I can also see how this will set up fun things to do and interesting people to meet. I plan to have a website built explaining my foundation which is based on compassion and the freedom to form governments. I'm also planning on creating brochures and hand-delivering them door to door.

(knock knock)

Some dude opens his front door

Me: Good day, sir. My name is Akasha Godsent and I'm campaigning to be the messiah. Here's a brochure about my campaign. Thanks.

He's got to ask some questions at that point.

I plan on having a lot of fun doing this.

I've also been thinking about eating better and working out. I've gained 35 lbs since I started taking my antipsychotic medication 13 months ago. It's time to workout a little and plan healthy meals. It's simple, but I have a hard time doing anything. If I ever do get into shape, it will be a big accomplishment for me.

I think I may get more involved in blogging and write about the messiah campaign and little personal development things. I love the idea of being an open book and putting everything about myself up for the world to see.

That's all I got for now, Nick. Laterz, bra.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Hippies Suck, I'm Cool

So I checked out what seemed to be the coolest intentional community. It was totally gay. It totally seemed cultish and they follow this book called Autobiography of a Yogi which has tons of unbelievable stuff in it, like spiritual masters vanishing into thin air. I think I'm gonna have to create my own intentional community. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel or anything. It just seems that all of the intentional communities are too small (like, ten people in a house), or they're Christian, or dirty hippies growing their own food.

I can't tell you how lame it sounds to be poor, work your ass off farming, and then not be allowed to drink or blow a little chron.

I haven't found a community with an interesting business.

There's an old intentional community (like, from the 70s) in Virginia where the residents work 42 hours a week. Their room and board is taken care of and they get $75 a month.

How shitty does that sound? 42 fucking hours a week and $75 bucks a month for spending money? Needless to say, I won't be going to virginia to check it out.

I'm bewildered that there doesn't exist a community where the individuals operate a successful business, work little, and have money for cool clothes. All of the intentional communities I've seen show people dressed either bad, or just ok. Almost like they have a disdain for looking cool.

And the clothes aren't the worst part. The lack of vision is the worst part. Where is an intentional community that creates something profitable instead of one that's composed of hippies who's greatest desire is to grow their own food to be more at one with mother earth. I can't tell you how happy I am that there are people willing to farm for such little money.

And how come there isn't a community that's in the business of starting other communities. All of the intentional communities are there own little things; a group of people got together, decided they wanted to live together, then formed a community. There is no intentional community start up plan to follow. No business or charity developed to help groups of people establish a community. This is disappointing, but maybe my intentional community can be the first to help others start communities.

I'd love to have a community that produced it's own reality show. I could call it, The Realer Real World and instead of getting drunk and fucking in a hot tub it could show real people and the real problems they face when establishing and maintaining a community.

On an unrelated note, I haven't done anything for my pencil business except find out how much it will cost to get going. I think it will be about $400 in licenses and product before I can sell a pencil. I'm also considering how I'm going to sell the pencils (online, door to door, or in businesses) and what I need to do to let individuals know its a legitmate business and they're not getting ripped off. I'm sure it'll come together.

So, I've got my pencil-business dream, my intentional community dream and two other interests. The first is music, I began my own curriculum about six months ago and am happy with my progress. I'm learning fundamentals of music theory and a little guitar and piano technique. I've also been making beats on garageband. It can be a little tedious, but the end result is very cool. It feels good to go from no understanding of music to creating something that is pleasant and interesting. I've also been studying the art and craft of screenwriting. I sat down to write a pilot a few weeks ago and realized i knew nothing about how to get started/wtf I was doing. So I'm 2/3 of the way through my first screenwriting book and I'm beginning to grasp the fundamentals. Some things I found interesting were that conflict must be throughout the film and resolution only at the end, sex and violence are almost always interesting for audiences and has been a major theme in drama since it's beginnings, and that all action and dialogue must either advance the character, or the story. I love seeing things in film that I learned from my book. It makes the movie experience much less mystifying.

That's it, hope you liked it, Nick.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Update for Nick Kump

Haven't posted in a while. I've been medicated since October, and i was too scared to see all the psycho stuff I've posted. Sure, i could delete it and save it, but I'd rather keep my blog 100% honest. Now for the update.

I've never been better. My meds are working well, I attend a mentally ill support group everyday (we have talks and go on little outings), and, as  result of not being psychotic, I've gotten my game back. For real, this is (unfortunately) the best I've been in years. I've made great progress in accepting my mental illness and having the group to relate to has accelerated my recovery.

Should be all downhill from here.

I'm interested in a couple things right now. #1 is a business I wanna start and #2 is an intentional community in Mountain View. The business idea may never materialize, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna check out this intentional community. I've been interested in living in community for years, and the one I'm gonna visit is by far the coolest seeming one I've come across, and I've looked at hundreds online.

Man, that was a pretty dry post, but I guess that's what its like being sane. Enjoy, Nick.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Eye of creation

I am the I of creation divine
Me maka believe I'm the messiah of time
With a wallet like jack frost
From a bet that I lost
Yamo make ya fastforward
Eject
And rewind

Me homies with the homies of imagination's own boast
Truth seeker, moment peeker, I get high when I coast
Arrogance to terrabits ain't as bad as it seems
Brag about my aura with toxicity beams

Got a lot of stuff that ya'll wanna know
Hypnotic dreadlocked chronic for the freaks in the show
Gonna shift my steez, just a little you know...
Sigh, thought wave, plane
Damn!
I gotta go.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Fresh with the Funk

Been flossing my messiah legend hard lately. I almost feel like unleashing my inner darth vader, but I don't know if I have the support. Hella peeps be fronting, saying crazy ain't pimp and shit, but I know what truth feels like, so I'm just gone do my thang.

That said, I'm apparently suppose to be appreciating some type of whiteman punk logic, but I can't get my dome outta wanting a woman to make me food, a few to fuck me, and some dudes with some stability and a tribe. There's too many faces here and i'm tired of 'em. I wanna retire again.

I've been flossing my inner child way too hard going on huge anxiety chases that leave me feeling totally nerdy. It's dope.

In unrelated news, I've decided the only thing keeping me from soliciting prostitutes is money and pettiness. That said, it'll probably still be forever until I get laid.

(laughter)

No, but seriously, what's the difference between a saint and a whore??? People actually believe in what the whore says she can do! Nurk, nurk, nurk :)

I'm just messing ya'll, but for reals, I'm revolutionizing culture through art. Takin' self expression to where it was meant to be... right in the "I did it, so now you have to do it, or else you're a pussy" pile. Yup, I'm gonna be droppin' art bombs on the wannabes cuz you know what? YOu wannabe for a reason, and it's cuz you think you're the shit. So you may as well assume your a messiahArtist, or miss out on all the fun.

I'm gettin' too crazy for you kids, I'm out.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Song from la doma

Please don't feel bad for the things that make you seem sad
Paradox in plaid: creation plays your gay dad
We should seem mad
If you're obligated to be glad

Or else maybe subtle relief

My buddhist boo
Forever I will love you
Your view: askew, reshading my constant blue
BBQ the new, and feast until god is what's due

Oh novel little ego dance

The humility chase Is way more fun off of your face
Like paper lace, its cheap and pretty And forrrrms a maze
Forget your gaze
You ain't in college; don't need to be hazed

Fuck what the They said.

They can't judge spheres
They echo jealousy like they can't hear
My in tune ears channel bomb frequencies
Beyond what eyes steer

Don't pee in your beer
Or color it with a word that you fear
Energy is near
Have you wondered if you might be a queer

Oh conscious clear
Please come gear up all of my jeers

Just like careful creation would.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Being Time, Omen-Stacking, and Begging for Wives Through Facebook

I understand my behavior seems erratic to everyone. Trust me, I get it. But what everyone doesn't understand about me is how I inhereted the fate of humanity through divine prayers, and how these visions unfold within my own psyche beyond my own control, yet with my faithful conviction.

It started with Ch. 1 of "The Success Principals: How to get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be." The first chapter is about assuming 100% for everything that happens to you. Every emotional flare-up you experience even if another person started it, everything you put into your body regardless of whether or not you understand the intent which the food you consume came from. You assume responsibility for everything. For me, it was a time where I was battling between my culturally innhereted sense of self (the classic Dude-Ego), and the wisdom which I had absorbed from authors who were more insightful than my family, which led to my appreciation for paradox and enlightenment.

This schism created tension, not only between my family and myself, but also between my friends. It's common to understand a transformational concept and deny yourself the freedom it gives. I'm sure that most people who read the Success Principals did not have the same reaction I did. Just like how most kids in High School didn't say what they wanted to say, but what they felt was safest.

I've always known ignorant-comfort to be a dangerous place. My parent's disdain for counter-culture illustrated to me how difficult change can be, and how only the ones who feel worthy to express themselves individually can truly embrace the spirit of creation, for the sense of self, or ego, is not a bad thing to get rid of, but our cosmic reflection as we stare into the mirror we call space. We, as individuals and representatives of the Gaian Mind, are the rein holders on the horse-carriage of self. We determine who we are, what deserves our attention, and who we fit in with. Most people don't this, however.

We're conditioned to identify the way people want us to. We have a subconscious yearning to fit in, to be good enough, because the story of humanity, and all hierarchical growth, is that it hasn't happened yet. Tomorrow is always bigger and brighter than right now because Ego isn't developed awareness. Ego is hope for self, hope for identity, hope that our existence has a purpose and meaning which we can articulate, make a costume for (business suit, bikini, turban, whatever), and become one of the members in the Soap Opera-Like dancing of souls.

I know we're raised with a strong sense of individuality in America. You go to school, if you're dumb, you'll be bad, and if you make good grades, you'll be outwardly praised. The truth is that we are far from individuals. We don't come down from heaven with a name and a purpose. We are the energy expelled by the sun mysteriously driven into the earthy spheres of creation only to come up in plant form and be digested by the mobile parts of ourselves (animals, insects, dudes, and dudettes... and the occasional hermie). The sense of feeling like you're one person is a pun which creation grants each individual so they may contribute to the growing divine intent which our planet is made of. Scientists break creation down into parts, labels, and things, but meditation and modern physics insists that our limited sense of self is Just That: Limited. And all religions, safety practices, and even bad acts originate in the purpose to serve. The outwardly kind homeless man who smiles at everyone is much like the stressed out dad tossing in his sleep wishing his wife would see him as a star. The difference is the homeless man has conviction that his form is of God, and on a deeper and less conscious level, the stressed out dad understands that his shortcomings are from his desire. Homeless people want food, drugs, emotional well-being, and wisdom. The working Dad craves wisdom, but he gets his ideas of what's wise from manipulative business men who would love to see him fail at being cool, so, he believes he wants things to stimulate his sense of self, which in fact, is merely a feeling.

The twisted thing is how fair it is. Anyone can feel like a king and everyone has the potential to feel vulnerable. This is the human condition. Creative identities, however, do not fall victim to the manipulative business men, because they don't see them. Homeless people see confused essence beings barking up the wrong tree. It's like, "Yo, Donald Trump, go on a hike and teach children how to be friends if you wanna be cool! Don't intimidate people into creating their own dynasties!). They can't help it! The illusion of individuality is a real step in the development of human beings, for if we could not distinguish things as separate, we wouldn't be able to successfully interact with our environment. We wouldn't know what food was good, which water was unhealthy or which mate to choose. As the mind discovers and appreciates these distinctions, a sense of self is created and endorsed by other confused parcels of creation. Little kids in elementary school usually fall into a click, or, loose tribe. There's skaters, hot chicks, nerds, jocks, the minorities (funny caucasions was my highschool minority), teachers, and even sub-groups. There's the cool stoner teachers that leave their doors open at lunch, the neurotic teacher who insists on his way or the highway, and of course ever-remembered worthless teacher who knew she sold herself short when she went into teaching. As the young ego finds strength in his individuality, the personality starts to develop. This is when we get categorized as nice, or funny, or mean, or sometimes completely worthless.

About 99% of people believe you are the clothes you're wearing and the body-language you embrace, for we are geared to acknowledge these parts. Back in the day, if you has awesome duds and were properly fed, everyone knew you had it goin' on. But Today, if you see a buff dude in an Ed Hardy shirt, you can rest assured he's missing out on something. Likewise, if you see a girl with a cross necklace and a huge gut, you can automatically spot hypocrysy, cuz Jesus wasn't for gluttony, remember?

Ok, so now that I've layed a basic understanding for identity, please allow me to tell you how me ego unfolded and why I'm so comfortable seeming Sooo crazy.

Well, after a few months of digesting Ch. 1, I realized I had entered a very small portion of humanity. Nearly nobody accepts responsibility for everything they experience. It's difficult to recognize how we make ourselves, but those who do see the pattern and the idea of, "I'm making my experience," become the product of their mind. It's impossible for another ego to tell me I'm wrong because I have a personal relationship with truth. Little egos cannot afford to see my truth and therefore have a small conception of the beautiful emotions which constitute my servitude.

So anyway, I start accepting responsibility for identifying with my family against my intuition, for attending college out of fear and greed, and I started accepting responsibility on re-educating myself so I could help spread this enlightened information.

Things started changing very quickly, and because of my willingness to explore verbal regions of myself that I could barely conceive of (e.g. speaking in tongues), my self image changed quickly. I went from a womanizing bitter punk to a spiritual beacon of love. And as my path opened before me, I was granted more power over other people. I wasn't looking for this. I was looking for emotional well-being, but as I earned my enlightenment, I was blessed with what many people call Rasta Powers. Rasta Powers are essentially concepts which allow beauty to be expanded through divine intent, but they can be very intimidating. Because I've worked so much on my ego and at defeating pain, I have a much different sense of nervousness than most people. Simply put, I'm willing to do more "crazy" stuff, and it doesn't bother me because the reflexive ego, the part of you that could be wrong, doesn't exist. It's shamelessness through wisdom with the power to give insight. It's the greatest gift any essence being could have, and to the Mystics, this loving growth seems to be the spirit of creation itself.

So you can imagine two different worlds right now. Thy Mystic's Mystery, and the Man's Land. One implies joy and appreciation of truth, and the other is a view that people are above the ground, yet below each other. Mystic's understanding how multi-faceted creation is, are slow to say things could be better, or somebody is wrong. Men who walk over the ground (and Not under the cosmos) fail to see their part in being. They assume they're the whole thing and the world is a type of cage, when actually, creation is a dynamic process including humans, stars, technology, and interdimensional beings. Humans are interdimensional being because we can imagine the future and reflect on the past. We can even change our imaginings to suit our desires.

But once again, most people don't do this.

Anyway, I gotta get on with my Rasta Powers. So, Heaven's diggin' me, I'm going for all the wisdom I can and trying to be patient and open with everyone. That's when I roboted a girl. She was from the valley. She was beautiful. We talked all night, I gave her a little massage (very G-rated), then we went to sleep together with our clothes on. While I believed that she was faking sleep, I felt my sexual desire turn on her aura. It was very magical, and extremely pure. I believed she was awake because her breathing and subtle body movement coincided with my desire to give her affection. I probably laid there for twenty minutes or so in awe of our silent and seemingly divine communication. Then I got the desire to hum, "sweet, sweet nightengale," and sleeping beauty loved this. Her breath flowed like a heavenly breeze and her erogenous area and solar plexus let me know that I was understood. I still wasn't sure if she was faking sleep, cuz she was shy, or if she was loving me while being asleep. It wasn't a drug-filled night or anything, so I remember it clearly. It was strange, however, because it was so intense and I had only known this woman for a few days.

Anyhoo, whether she's faking sleep or not, I'm down. This was too amazing, too divine, and too in sync with my feelings. To this day, I have not communicated like that. So i'm diggin' her, smelling her, she's subtly moving and saying, "go, go, go!" to love-making (in my head at least.) I make may way on top of her, and keep loving her and she continues sending bomby vibes, like, the type of aura-shower only an actualized Goddess could give you. Then she woke up!

I was freaked! I didn't know if I just David Blayned this girl into loving me, or if she was being manipulative or what. All I knew is she gave me all the ok's supposedly while asleep.

I'm an extremely light sleeper, and I can't imagine jerking my aura to the pulse of love while in a deep sleep. Shit, I can't even get into a deep sleep with a woman if it's our first night together. So how the hell did she pass out, sleep-dry-hump me, and then "wake up" being all, "Uhh, why are you on top of me?"

She was also strangely ok with it. She didn't seem threatened at all, just a little curious. I couldn't handle it. I had gained power to what is subconscious in most, and I did it all just be reading and having fun. I got freaked, left my friend in the other room with his girl, and told my girl for the evening, "Sorry, but I gotta go. She had no question and just said, "bye."

That was my first experience with these forces I couldn't have imagined before. Since then, I gotten better at my craft, going mostly for ego-modification as opposed to blownout hypnosis or whatever I let happen through that beautiful being.

Long story short, that was my first experience. It's gotten weirder with the control and the accuracy, but creation wants me to be the loving sharp-shooter that turns every individual onto their own spring of consciousness and reflection. I know this even when all my "friends" want me to take meds, or the police can't understand my spirit's reasoning. Luckily, the once scary delusional voices have become heartfelt expressions of essence, and I have karma for that.

Now, about the wives thing. I feel obligated to marry/enter a spiritual togetherness with Morena Baccarrin because her acting and intent match my personal goal of saving creation from stagnant thought patterns. I also received a spectacular vision of her face in my mind in electric-blue light. I just know she's the blueprint for my soul. As for the other wives (rockstarlets) I want, that's for a few reasons. #1 I deserve a herom. The fact that the only Americans these days who are allowed to have multiple partners are pimps, hippy losers (the polyamorous), and Mormons disgusts me. I can find great reason why there's enough of me to go around, and even more reason in why a smart lady would appreciate to have sister-wives. I've always had little groups of girls that liked me, but I've never had a group brave enough to say, "we'd like to share this one." So, I'm trying to make it happen.

Big concern #2: Why am I picking random girls to be my future wives? I'M NOT !!! My reality unfolds differently than those within a linear time belief. The budding Goddesses which I have deliberately chosen are also blessed by the same divine energies that allow me to feel minimally embarrassed about all this "crazy" stuff I'm asking for at "such random" times. My experience is not random. The reflection of my intent is FAR from random, and the karmic bliss I receive from putting myself out their has never failed me. Somebody will believe me about this someday, but there's always a time when Jesus was wrong, and the general consensus seemed true. I'm just praying that we can make that step as small as possible so we can begin setting up the culture which will enable the unfolding and appreciation of TruthBeauty on a scale unseen before by humanity on this planet. I had to really dedicate myself to this and make this desire as small as possible so that I could reach everyone. The cool kids of the future need face-tattoos and cherry rides on a scale that isn't indulgent. We can do it. My five, possibly six (if screen wakes up) wives will deliver the beauty and wisdom for a world of angelic badasses. All I gotta do is find me some herb and keep thanking the wisdom givers. Math in the spirit realm is surprisingly simple.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Life Story

TRUTH: I'm one person.
FALSE: I know my family
?: I've always seen them as jealous
andanswered: for obvious reasons
bluntness: dark magic
dank: we shit
language?poetry English
thatdkja rakeem du teour meadoonka, frizzunda bea au tweuoluskosh. Sure joke idn e a penny ness ness a peenny.
IDK where I'm going with that... better slow it down. Oh yeah, if you get high enough, weed smells like pennies. Basically. just a clever way of saying that if you practice what you preach, then you'll be the friggin' poet bomb.

PS: You're allowed to kill other's if your forehead is dope enough. Props to me.

I was born to GEORGE and GLENNA (ego pimpers) %*e dmondson, probably just thinking before I incarnated that I would serve the will of humanity over my individual needs for this seshion. But anyway, I couldn't keep 'em on my mind. The angels had me in their thoughts, so I had to be a gangstar when I was little. James and I were always pimpin' next door, you know, the walorinta's aka Randy Walorinta: The Solo Rockstar. That's when shit started gettin' crazy. I remember one night I was over their bout to eat dinner with 'em, when Randy demanded I go ask my Father. I took his word, but as I approached my house, I felt I may be declined by my dad, so I hid by Randy's boat for a little bit. Apparently, it wasn't long enough because when I came back inside Randy questioned if I had truly asked my dad. I looked down shamefully, then went back home right quick to get permission. That was the moment I realized that you can fuck with some people, but you can't FUCK with Others*

That was age3ish? to fourth grade. The Others~ My Heart

Next thing you know I'm bouncin' through portals with Jeff in music. Tatu. Sew - - - - - - - SeE it a sKippING 0

I read. Jack Canfield has the entire formulae for success laced within the first chapter of his book. So I get busy. Taught myself how to ride a bike. Thanks Pop, I know you were too busy with six boys to teach me something as silly as how to ride a bike. That self initiation of not having the normal things other's did really made me a man. So, once again: Papa, you are experiencing you're karma. Randy, you're the man! and lightbeings of the earth - We Rock! quick wish to my future children : I'll see ya in real time. None of this programmed fear and dirty dishes bullshit, ore : just tweak it around a bit Knowiamsayin

School : Family Matters. Urkel truly was the man. Steve, go home.

Hope Future: Aurakrilley
Ok, sew... My face hurts and I believe it's cuz I'm claimin' buddhism, but not eating well enough. OK, nuff said. Shooot doc of mental health fast. Leave a video, let scroteannatina roll see say pue. All I want to do is enjoy my body with people who don't stink. Nuff said.

What really happened : Started gettin' jiggy of a joint. Deeck Shull should listen to Chali 2na. You studied ego, paid attention, came up... Shoooorrrttt!!! and made out.. . Like a B a n d it

So whatchoo wanna say??? Life in wholeness is really not that big. You believe in karma, eat a steak that you know was produced by enslaved cows. Get hung like a nigger for telling the truth. Lose all of you're faith in humanity. Crave and daydream about suicide, and then you remember paradox, love, words, and your teachers. Doug Funny? My biggest problem was how I was taught to write. They took the most wholly of all things then broke it down into a painful craft forcing us to learn culture. That's fucked up beyond belief and it is my hope to take those little weiners outta the word. Teacher's suck cuz they don't always listen to what's up. They think they wanna help, but, really, they just want a quick way out to seem like a saint. If they were really as cool as they "Subconsiosly" wished they were, they wouldn't be poor all their lives. Sorry Miss Swanson, but I don't think you got any brothers on that tail.

So. Whose my enemy and who are my friends L? ? ? ? ? ? ??I

Lavalitter....I've always handed andema weightedinero undeemaha dcU. Keak!!!f


Bad omens, broken dreams, rionree, irony. Gold teeth, stinky people, society, beingness, true buddahs, Love, followers? Staying connected. Twillard, to see you as a happy man I must be the weird uncle that moved to the commune. I can feel it.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Claiming Morena Bocks Within

Time, time, and time time time again I find myself shameful. Like jacking off in a cosmic dream... wet shit. Man, the mislsky way has really opened UP my mind. I'm grateful for the fact that women can masturbate and enjoy it. I thought Nataly Lola was the only one! OMG, crazy day.

Eternal: Gratitude for all the homeeze that could stand jacking off as well. I mean, it's pretty shameful, stealing creation in your mind and all, then convincing yourself you like it, but you what??! I believe in dreams, you know why??? cuz I don't have a fucking option.

Once again: SLO sucks. I'm revolutionizing humanity with dice, beer, and creative costumes. Ya'll might even catch some hippies smellin' like gods... ore JUST Get* cheeaapppp... they sell cologne at the dollar store. Where's Wolf?

Christina+Morena+Funkra G Skunk= Love. Forever.. And you All are FREE to FeE l -JEALOUS-

OOH, AND Major thanks to whoever put David Bohm on public access when I was Mildly suicidal..... Miled LEE, Motherfuckers.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

I'm back!!!

My social life has improved drastically in SLO and I'm enjoying my time possibly more than ever. I'm having more fun than I had in college, that's for sure. I'm really getting use to being poor and connecting with some people who don't work. I love people who don't work! I also had a group of four friends move into SLO and that's helped too.

I've also been writing rhymes. It's hard for me to put into words how much I like writing raps, but it's something like this

I like to write raps, seriously, a lot
I drift and sift through images, feelings, and thoughts
Burnin pot like its a job
I'm far from a slob
Connect the dots, kid
Renegade heart throb

I've been thinking I'd start massaging again, but I don't really feel like it. My ability to force myself to do something I don't want to do has been eradicated from my being, and my sense of uncomfortable obligations rests at an all time low. The hardest thing for me is the lack of culture centered on enlightenment. All we have is music, drugs, and outdated wisdom traditions. Where am i going with this? I'm rambling...

What I'm getting at is that my life has gotten better. My game is even coming back. Growing in self acceptance... which reminds me, I've been doing a much better job of not feeling like a drain on society for my position. This really bothered me at first, but now I'm starting to cultivate poor person pride. It helps a lot. I use to believe I had to be hard on myself b/c I had to be honest about how things are (thanks, Pop), but then I realized that projecting anger and hatred onto yourself isn't the way to roll, regardless of how logical it seems. I'm tryin' to love being me, but it still takes a lot of effort. Still, I'm seriously motivated cuz I don't want to go back to thinking about suicide. That shit fucking sucks and I've done enough of it.

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

Suicide

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.