Sunday, December 14, 2008
As I Lay Living
Numbness. Pointless. Faulknerian manchildren. Larry David. I have tried so hard to beleive the negative philosophies in the world that I've ignored the validity of some of the nicer ones. I should be depressed, I should want to die. But medicines prevent that. Is that unnatural? I tend to believe in many natural aspects of life, aspects that revert to our hunter-gathering lifestyle, the way we were "supposed" to live. Like eating while standing, or being social. Two very strange examples. Elbow Grease. Momentum. I am nervous about Israel, afraid of being alone amongst many. My grades are plummeting, and I have no passion, or at least I do not pursue any that are fulfilling. I need to travel, much like Huck Finn, happiness is a lack of responsibility, and travel offers a type of that lifestyle. Like in previous posts, its all about movement, constant motion, everything in motion to the ocean. The road is the journey and the destination is the self. It may seem foolish to priase the soul-searching McCandless types for their lack of responsibility and care for their families, but as Rand puts it in her Objectivist creed, the goal is for personal happiness. I have come up with this a long time ago, and that was only 8th grade. I invented nihilism last year, and Existentialism this year. Next, who knows? Absurdism? Fuck my sleep. My schedule of sleeping is ridiculous, which is unnatural, something i am not fond of being. Being. Is. Was. Am. Are. Are these words representing something real or did we invent existence? Semantics and Noam Chomsky. Help us. Stutter. Deja Deja Vu. Obama Ben Gurion. Are there inherent truths? What makes a truth? The fact that it is always present? Then are we not truths if we die? Or do truths only surmount to specific units of time? Probably. So is it impossible to identify absolute truths? Science can only offer so many answers. And they are all theories, hypotheses except for laws. Can something be true if it just happens to occur over and over again? That seems weak. A box is true because it continues to exist for a time. Then eventually it becomes untrue. But everything amounts to nothing in the end. So what's the point. Sounds pathetic and stupid, but it seems applicable. Intense unstatisfaction is my motivator here. And I hope i find some. Truly, I do. Only time can tell.
Friday, November 28, 2008
i feel sick. i find it very amusing how this blog is basically like a map of my foray into depression, each entry marking another stage in the process. its also interesting how now im not writing it as much symbolizes, i think, the dwindling of my intelligence, probably worn out from everything during the summer and the medications. i feel hollowed out. but i do have hope. and it is always what has made me stay alive, save a few times where hope was lost, and that was the lowest of the lows. and now i can feel me reaching that point, with israel becoming more of an uphill challenge than an easy downhill slope. this is a make it or break it situation, and i feel like im more likely to break it, given my poor social skills with new people. i just need that gene or skill or knowledge and i can be fine. because, much like chris mccandless, i have realized that happiness is only real when shared, and i presently have little to none of that. israel is the light at the end of the tunnel, which could mean escape, or a head on train. its funny how i equate israel with automatic friends and ease from schoolwork, when it could easily be the opposite.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Another 16 years
So I realized that I have never really enjoyed anything in my conscious life. My life is a constant frustration, constant boredom that eats away at your remaining human frailty. I think its bothersome that society casts aside boredom as a non-issue, when it actually sits amongst the tenets of depression and anxiety and other higher class things of that nature. I also beleive that I wanted to kill myself because I am so afraid of death that when I had the feeling that I accepted death, I needed to take that opportunity immediately to take advantage of not having a fear of death. Now this is a blinding, paralyzing fear, enough to create a living hell, which is what my life is turning out to be. Coping skills? they have no use to me now. I feel like my life is coming beyond repair and my mind is permanently burned out. The only comfort I can possibly salvage is going along with this despairing fate of mine rather than trying to fight it. I dont understand how anyone can expect me to try to fight this torrent, this savage beast of life when I am so weakly armed and so weakly defended. they sit back and judge and watch while I act like David without a slingshot against a Goliath of torment. They yell things at me and toss little plastic pills but they just bother me more. The biggest mistake of my life was telling anyone how I felt, because it completely destroyed me and got rid of my only hope of getting help, and now that I am getting help, it doesnt work and only makes matters worse. Every ounce of hope is quickly washed away and seems completely fake and unenjoyable, and when Im not in a completely depressed mood I feel even worse that I am so empty rather than full of despair. Now, the only comfort I have is wallowing in my stupid self pity and exasperation and when I cry, and when i stop crying I want to cry again, weeping for nothing, desiring to go back to hospital, but to live there. I cant deal with a gradual change, I have no strength, I am burnt out from exhaustion. And I hate that the only time I feel remotely satisfied is when I am depressed. What a great birthday
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I need to write. Like stories and novels and plays and screenplays and scripts and poems and novellas and anecdotes and the like. I need to prove myself in some way, and I need approval. For writing is the only thing that I can communicate to any other person, speech is overrated.
But regardless, other things have been going on. I am seeing more clearly this idea of fate playing out in my life. I could be completely wrong, and probably am, but fantastic realities are so much more enticing to beleive. I see myself succumbing to this evolutionary fate that I bear that tells my body to die, and I honestly think that there are so many signs to suggest that I was meant to die, both through my mind and body, mentally and physically. I am killing myself without killing myself. OR, I can escape this fate by extreme measures, by leaving almost everything that is familiar and join something that was once beyond my scope of mind, something so radical or reactionary that is also real to me that makes me actually fight this suicidal infection. And I know staying where I am can only bring me so far in my journey, and so far I only see myself leading the way to the first path. That path tells me that my being wants me to die, that I am currently in a struggle with myself and the rest of the world, no support anywhere. I am hanging on by a loose thread right now whose savior is unknown. I need that moment, the sacred moment. I need a click, a snapping of the fingers, a genie with three wishes, I need help. Im getting help, but how can they help if they are only telling me to help myself, when I'm struggling with myself.
But regardless, other things have been going on. I am seeing more clearly this idea of fate playing out in my life. I could be completely wrong, and probably am, but fantastic realities are so much more enticing to beleive. I see myself succumbing to this evolutionary fate that I bear that tells my body to die, and I honestly think that there are so many signs to suggest that I was meant to die, both through my mind and body, mentally and physically. I am killing myself without killing myself. OR, I can escape this fate by extreme measures, by leaving almost everything that is familiar and join something that was once beyond my scope of mind, something so radical or reactionary that is also real to me that makes me actually fight this suicidal infection. And I know staying where I am can only bring me so far in my journey, and so far I only see myself leading the way to the first path. That path tells me that my being wants me to die, that I am currently in a struggle with myself and the rest of the world, no support anywhere. I am hanging on by a loose thread right now whose savior is unknown. I need that moment, the sacred moment. I need a click, a snapping of the fingers, a genie with three wishes, I need help. Im getting help, but how can they help if they are only telling me to help myself, when I'm struggling with myself.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
WTF
So I've been told by several cognitive seers and medical mediums that there's some sort of chemical imbalance in me, and if they read this, which they probably will, hello.
They mean well, wishing happiness and well being and objective health and function, and I heartily appreciate their help and effort. But I think I have found a reason of why I still feel so alienated. It's that they place happiness and well being and life as the foremost priorities for me and others. And it will apply to others, and they will be fully helped by their standards, and I'm glad for them. But its this idea and subliminal egotism in almost all people of trying to establish this abstract, manufactured rule of ethics and conduct and morality and purpose and loyalty and family that have been so ingrained by every society and every civilization in the animal kingdom and has been scared into everyone by the Judeo-Christian western societies. And this self-reinforces by making it seem "right" and built into man and beast. And it does work. But it relies on a stable human mind capable of accepting these manufactured laws and all rely on a sense of meaning and Godliness. And drugs can fix that. But who's to say that one person is right and the other is wrong? And drugs can answer that, and make me ask myself what I was thinking there and then and make me see the problem, but that cannot change what is real and that cannot change the fact that objective truth is impossible to prove. And the statements that these beliefs can be caused by something other than myself like depression just completely ruin my whole concept of "reality" or the lack of it. It's not a thought distortion or chemicals, these are seemingly logical observations of my world. By realizing the true physical and solely motion-oriented nature of everything, it is much simpler and real way of existing. It is extremely frightening, and that's why I think the human mind is designed to accept other realities in substitution or in addition to keep their body alive, which in essence is the role of genes and chromosomes. It's not animals that need to reproduce or live, but the genes and chromosomes. We are simply well-brainwashed hosts for the magnificently designed biological world. The genes aren't more powerful, just that their function and self-reinforcing, natural behavior is to reproduce. The "better" ones don't survive, just the ones that are well suited to the environment. I've been told I think too much, and that's why I believe these things and occasionally act on them, but how can someone say that's wrong when the same things have caused me also to be at the top of my class, and academia is something this human society so greatly admires? Am I cheating for my success? And that is the only thing I have, knowledge, and the only thing I can obtain to strengthen my understanding.
But what about when I know my mood and attitude will change, fast enough and often enough and to different places enough so that I can never find a comfortable place in life, constantly out of place from myself and everything else, and that total picture is what is so discomforting, and something i can't imagine as I am always occupying a certain mood to the extent that I can't fully see the larger picture except to know that it exists. And when my mood changes I will reject my old logic and either be stuck in transitional limbo or go to any other countless emotions that obsess my existence. I think I need drugs.
And what bothers me is when I do enjoy something like music or art or the company of others and the experiences all around me to be had and especially of the beauties of nature. The reason they are quitely and not obviously bothersome but still nonetheless is that I see no logic or reason behind it, and I have trouble accepting something without those. Again, drugs, I think, can help. And I can enjoy them for a time, but times like now come and de-rationalize that enjoyment, as well as every other gut feeling and thought, good and bad. And the worst times come when I can't even think about my beliefs like I am writing now, when my mind goes blank and language becomes meaningless, simply dead words with little to no neural activity that it sparks. I value moments like these, when what I beleive are reason, logic, and rationality come into play and paint a sensible picture of everything, even if, paradoxically, It may be subjectively irrational to others. Have my suicide attempts been well masked self-destruct mechanisms by my body? Like the movies, must I die or at least be unable to communicate because I "know too much"?
I know one thing, for those viewers at home, is that camp and its very social and forested surroundings provide, at least from what I experienced, some meaning and hope in society's reality and subjective truths. I know drugs can do that, but cease to make me happy when I reach that stage and occurs much more slowly.
Now I feel like this post may get me into more trouble than I've already put myself into, and I hope it doesn't, but at least its helped progress to a more concrete foundation, and something possibly, very minutely, that can give me back meaning that I beleive in, strong enough to ignore what I have written as "truth". I know that discussing it has and will continue to make me feel more stuck and isolated, depressed and confused. I need something real, concrete, like friendships or real pure, un-forest-preserves nature. And everybody has taken away those opportunities that can help me. I don't think myself as the depressed kid that the doctors and directors want me to be, someone that they've studied about and dealt with before. The mind has infinite cures, but also infinite agitators. From my experience, the other depressed/anxious kids I've met do hang out with friends currently and have or have had strong and real relationships. I don't even have or have had that, and just when I think I did, and reached that point when i could tell someone something serious about myself, like my depression, it rains shit and I missed it. As I type I'm noticing a mood swing from logical and mildly epiphanic to one of hope and now one of anger and agony. I can trust my parts, but not my whole. I feel like Im stuck inbetween heaven, hell, and purgatory, always changing stations.
I know one thing for certain though, that there are two things that have led me to this place:
1. Atheism
2. Isolation
They mean well, wishing happiness and well being and objective health and function, and I heartily appreciate their help and effort. But I think I have found a reason of why I still feel so alienated. It's that they place happiness and well being and life as the foremost priorities for me and others. And it will apply to others, and they will be fully helped by their standards, and I'm glad for them. But its this idea and subliminal egotism in almost all people of trying to establish this abstract, manufactured rule of ethics and conduct and morality and purpose and loyalty and family that have been so ingrained by every society and every civilization in the animal kingdom and has been scared into everyone by the Judeo-Christian western societies. And this self-reinforces by making it seem "right" and built into man and beast. And it does work. But it relies on a stable human mind capable of accepting these manufactured laws and all rely on a sense of meaning and Godliness. And drugs can fix that. But who's to say that one person is right and the other is wrong? And drugs can answer that, and make me ask myself what I was thinking there and then and make me see the problem, but that cannot change what is real and that cannot change the fact that objective truth is impossible to prove. And the statements that these beliefs can be caused by something other than myself like depression just completely ruin my whole concept of "reality" or the lack of it. It's not a thought distortion or chemicals, these are seemingly logical observations of my world. By realizing the true physical and solely motion-oriented nature of everything, it is much simpler and real way of existing. It is extremely frightening, and that's why I think the human mind is designed to accept other realities in substitution or in addition to keep their body alive, which in essence is the role of genes and chromosomes. It's not animals that need to reproduce or live, but the genes and chromosomes. We are simply well-brainwashed hosts for the magnificently designed biological world. The genes aren't more powerful, just that their function and self-reinforcing, natural behavior is to reproduce. The "better" ones don't survive, just the ones that are well suited to the environment. I've been told I think too much, and that's why I believe these things and occasionally act on them, but how can someone say that's wrong when the same things have caused me also to be at the top of my class, and academia is something this human society so greatly admires? Am I cheating for my success? And that is the only thing I have, knowledge, and the only thing I can obtain to strengthen my understanding.
But what about when I know my mood and attitude will change, fast enough and often enough and to different places enough so that I can never find a comfortable place in life, constantly out of place from myself and everything else, and that total picture is what is so discomforting, and something i can't imagine as I am always occupying a certain mood to the extent that I can't fully see the larger picture except to know that it exists. And when my mood changes I will reject my old logic and either be stuck in transitional limbo or go to any other countless emotions that obsess my existence. I think I need drugs.
And what bothers me is when I do enjoy something like music or art or the company of others and the experiences all around me to be had and especially of the beauties of nature. The reason they are quitely and not obviously bothersome but still nonetheless is that I see no logic or reason behind it, and I have trouble accepting something without those. Again, drugs, I think, can help. And I can enjoy them for a time, but times like now come and de-rationalize that enjoyment, as well as every other gut feeling and thought, good and bad. And the worst times come when I can't even think about my beliefs like I am writing now, when my mind goes blank and language becomes meaningless, simply dead words with little to no neural activity that it sparks. I value moments like these, when what I beleive are reason, logic, and rationality come into play and paint a sensible picture of everything, even if, paradoxically, It may be subjectively irrational to others. Have my suicide attempts been well masked self-destruct mechanisms by my body? Like the movies, must I die or at least be unable to communicate because I "know too much"?
I know one thing, for those viewers at home, is that camp and its very social and forested surroundings provide, at least from what I experienced, some meaning and hope in society's reality and subjective truths. I know drugs can do that, but cease to make me happy when I reach that stage and occurs much more slowly.
Now I feel like this post may get me into more trouble than I've already put myself into, and I hope it doesn't, but at least its helped progress to a more concrete foundation, and something possibly, very minutely, that can give me back meaning that I beleive in, strong enough to ignore what I have written as "truth". I know that discussing it has and will continue to make me feel more stuck and isolated, depressed and confused. I need something real, concrete, like friendships or real pure, un-forest-preserves nature. And everybody has taken away those opportunities that can help me. I don't think myself as the depressed kid that the doctors and directors want me to be, someone that they've studied about and dealt with before. The mind has infinite cures, but also infinite agitators. From my experience, the other depressed/anxious kids I've met do hang out with friends currently and have or have had strong and real relationships. I don't even have or have had that, and just when I think I did, and reached that point when i could tell someone something serious about myself, like my depression, it rains shit and I missed it. As I type I'm noticing a mood swing from logical and mildly epiphanic to one of hope and now one of anger and agony. I can trust my parts, but not my whole. I feel like Im stuck inbetween heaven, hell, and purgatory, always changing stations.
I know one thing for certain though, that there are two things that have led me to this place:
1. Atheism
2. Isolation
Saturday, June 7, 2008
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