(no subject)
It says on my little meter that i haven't posted in 11 weeks. nearly 3 months.
I'd like to say that i haven't slept for a day or so, which for those who know, is not all too uncommon.
early this morning, i was watching the news on a couple channels, when there was a short, 2 minute blurb about "boey". I'd never heard of her, but she's dead. A little nine year old girl, who was unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. "They" said that she had a 70 percent chance of survival. That was in 2005, or 04 or fuck i don't know when. the point is...
the point is i don't know what the fuck the point is.
its said by some DWG, that one must live a self-examined life to be fulfilled.
Fulfilled means completed to perfection according to some online dictionary.
Perfection can't ever be achieved, or rather, i've never seen perfection.
I think perfection is another word for happiness, so what i'm saying is, i suppose, is that happiness can never be achieved, only strived for.
I'm not much for writing shit down. Mostly because what i think about on a constant ongoing basis, never stopping, always fucking always, is so sad and depressing to me that i try not to think about it as much as possible. Fucked up right?
Some other dead white guy said I think, therefore I am. and if Stewie ever taught me anything useful, which i'm fairly certain he did, it's that you have to look at what assumptions are being made when you say something. Obviously, this guys assuming that there is an "I" to think. but its a paradox. I'm fairly certain that i exist, and as the sun comes up, and clouds roll darkly through the goddam sky, i can't help but wonder what the fuck I am. So for my own personal use, i'm adding onto the DWG's little phrase. The whole thing should be "I think, therefore I am, but What the fuck am I"?
I've been asking myself this for months now. and i've come up dry. I'm like a fucking well digger in the sahara. There just isn't any truth at the bottom of this whole i've dug myself. But if there is, its so deep, and so far that i don't know if i'll ever fuckin get to it, so i can finnally get a drink. because i'm so fucking thirsty, i feel like i might just keel over.
but by keel over i mean give up. Live an unexamined life. fuck it all.
but that prospect is wholly unappealing to me. i don't want to give up on everything. but i'm not perfect(ha ha), and sometimes my thinking and worrying and needling and questioning gets so bad that i have to, i need to escape my thoughts. so i'll smoke, weed or ciggarettes, whatevers available. i'll drink some alcohol.
fuck, i've even snorted that fucking air shit in fake whipped cream cans, whip its or whatever the fuck it's called.
so i can get high, so i can get away.
I know people who do harder stuff, cocaine, crack, meth. and i wonder why they do it. do they worry like i do? do they have fucked up stuff that they don't want to deal with in their lives?
What are they trying to escape.
Something that occurs to me every now and then is what would happen if i took enough acid to completely wipe my mind out? where would "I" go? and i don't mean the body "I". i mean the Id, ego, super ego kind of "I" that people have tried to prove exists since some fucking caveman hit his chest and grunted to the other cavemen.
Whats weird for me right now is the fact that as i'm typing this, literally baring my soul(ha ha number 2), i can't stop shaking, twitching, sweating. its fucking annoying.
I hate it. I can't find a good balance. I don't tell people this, but i try to find balance all the time.
When or if i get a tattoo, its probably going to be a Taijitu. a yin yang, for the lazy.
Its simplicity, dark and light, fire and water, good and evil. it's all the same thing. not to say that fire is dark and evil, or that water is good and light. I think it's the best representation of a concept that i think i understand, but ultimately it will probably turn out i know absolutely nothing about. It means, marginally, kind of... fuckin hell, "I" think that it means that all things, everything, is and can be broken down into to halves. but i don't mean once. those halves have halves, and those halves have halves too(fuckin english, it's just an L, but it means the difference between an A and an F in English and Math to know the difference).
But mostly, or rather, in the end, what i'm searching for is something, anything with permanence. which is a fools quest, because nothing is permanent. I could give examples, but i think if you, whoever "you" are, reading this, think about it for a while, will realize that anything that is real, or you think is real, can be broken, burnt, destroyed, killed, raped, maimed, massacred, mutilated, genocided, bombed, vaporized. Anything, if someone or some force "decided"(which i use only loosely given that a force can't think. Actually, fuck, for all we know, maybe the wind and rain and fire and dirt is thinking, sensing everything around and thinking "fuck me, it's all goin to hell in a handbasket, and these fools are jerkin off the fuckin baby, hopin for a miracle") to, they could find a way to destroy it.
So maybe i rant when i'm sleep deprived, maybe the caffiene in that coffee i drank is fucking with my brain and making me uncomfortable and jittery. maybe thats it, and i can write this whole fucking "Journal Entry" off as a wierd form of tweaking out.
But i don't think so.
Psalm 90:12 "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."
And don't think because i'm posting a fucking psalm that i'm getting all jesus freak. read it, think about it. What is it saying.
one hint: Live a ( blank ) life.
and now, to commemorate my baby steps to psychotic-hood, heres a few pictures of happier times.
I'd like to say that i haven't slept for a day or so, which for those who know, is not all too uncommon.
early this morning, i was watching the news on a couple channels, when there was a short, 2 minute blurb about "boey". I'd never heard of her, but she's dead. A little nine year old girl, who was unfortunate enough to be diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. "They" said that she had a 70 percent chance of survival. That was in 2005, or 04 or fuck i don't know when. the point is...
the point is i don't know what the fuck the point is.
its said by some DWG, that one must live a self-examined life to be fulfilled.
Fulfilled means completed to perfection according to some online dictionary.
Perfection can't ever be achieved, or rather, i've never seen perfection.
I think perfection is another word for happiness, so what i'm saying is, i suppose, is that happiness can never be achieved, only strived for.
I'm not much for writing shit down. Mostly because what i think about on a constant ongoing basis, never stopping, always fucking always, is so sad and depressing to me that i try not to think about it as much as possible. Fucked up right?
Some other dead white guy said I think, therefore I am. and if Stewie ever taught me anything useful, which i'm fairly certain he did, it's that you have to look at what assumptions are being made when you say something. Obviously, this guys assuming that there is an "I" to think. but its a paradox. I'm fairly certain that i exist, and as the sun comes up, and clouds roll darkly through the goddam sky, i can't help but wonder what the fuck I am. So for my own personal use, i'm adding onto the DWG's little phrase. The whole thing should be "I think, therefore I am, but What the fuck am I"?
I've been asking myself this for months now. and i've come up dry. I'm like a fucking well digger in the sahara. There just isn't any truth at the bottom of this whole i've dug myself. But if there is, its so deep, and so far that i don't know if i'll ever fuckin get to it, so i can finnally get a drink. because i'm so fucking thirsty, i feel like i might just keel over.
but by keel over i mean give up. Live an unexamined life. fuck it all.
but that prospect is wholly unappealing to me. i don't want to give up on everything. but i'm not perfect(ha ha), and sometimes my thinking and worrying and needling and questioning gets so bad that i have to, i need to escape my thoughts. so i'll smoke, weed or ciggarettes, whatevers available. i'll drink some alcohol.
fuck, i've even snorted that fucking air shit in fake whipped cream cans, whip its or whatever the fuck it's called.
so i can get high, so i can get away.
I know people who do harder stuff, cocaine, crack, meth. and i wonder why they do it. do they worry like i do? do they have fucked up stuff that they don't want to deal with in their lives?
What are they trying to escape.
Something that occurs to me every now and then is what would happen if i took enough acid to completely wipe my mind out? where would "I" go? and i don't mean the body "I". i mean the Id, ego, super ego kind of "I" that people have tried to prove exists since some fucking caveman hit his chest and grunted to the other cavemen.
Whats weird for me right now is the fact that as i'm typing this, literally baring my soul(ha ha number 2), i can't stop shaking, twitching, sweating. its fucking annoying.
I hate it. I can't find a good balance. I don't tell people this, but i try to find balance all the time.
When or if i get a tattoo, its probably going to be a Taijitu. a yin yang, for the lazy.
Its simplicity, dark and light, fire and water, good and evil. it's all the same thing. not to say that fire is dark and evil, or that water is good and light. I think it's the best representation of a concept that i think i understand, but ultimately it will probably turn out i know absolutely nothing about. It means, marginally, kind of... fuckin hell, "I" think that it means that all things, everything, is and can be broken down into to halves. but i don't mean once. those halves have halves, and those halves have halves too(fuckin english, it's just an L, but it means the difference between an A and an F in English and Math to know the difference).
But mostly, or rather, in the end, what i'm searching for is something, anything with permanence. which is a fools quest, because nothing is permanent. I could give examples, but i think if you, whoever "you" are, reading this, think about it for a while, will realize that anything that is real, or you think is real, can be broken, burnt, destroyed, killed, raped, maimed, massacred, mutilated, genocided, bombed, vaporized. Anything, if someone or some force "decided"(which i use only loosely given that a force can't think. Actually, fuck, for all we know, maybe the wind and rain and fire and dirt is thinking, sensing everything around and thinking "fuck me, it's all goin to hell in a handbasket, and these fools are jerkin off the fuckin baby, hopin for a miracle") to, they could find a way to destroy it.
So maybe i rant when i'm sleep deprived, maybe the caffiene in that coffee i drank is fucking with my brain and making me uncomfortable and jittery. maybe thats it, and i can write this whole fucking "Journal Entry" off as a wierd form of tweaking out.
But i don't think so.
Psalm 90:12 "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."
And don't think because i'm posting a fucking psalm that i'm getting all jesus freak. read it, think about it. What is it saying.
one hint: Live a ( blank ) life.
and now, to commemorate my baby steps to psychotic-hood, heres a few pictures of happier times.
