Spurts of happiness
In a fountain of sadness
Im not complaining
Im just whining
Identity disputes
Consciousness dilute
Her I want..
Her I don't want..
I shouldn't want...
But I want.
Mad tinklings and twinklings
And moral decay
And shooting stars and jagged reaches off far
And my life in delay
Inspiration I can feel. Feel rip through my essence
A toothpick through towel
This isn't pleasant
But it is.
My heart reeks of desire
For the one I want
But she just flaunts
Flaunts her beauty
Her thoughts now too..
How can I stand this
This moralistic madness
Follow-up as I said I would. This piece was purposefully ill-composed, very rough around the edges, unrefined, obese rambling and stream of consciousness. It symbolizes how I'm trying to ignore Thunder and sweep her out of my consciousness, instead of dwelling on her and perfecting and polishing her memory like a certain gem of the past.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
A Rant To Clear The Decay
Life is hell.
Only 2 months with a girl I didn't even think I'd fall for and I am this miserable?
I need to learn self control. I've resorted to creating a fake facebook account to see pictures of her, as her privacy settings are low. I knew it was the stupidest shit I could do, but I couldn't help it.
It's like getting a big hit of something when you're in withdrawl. It is so fascinatingly sweet, but the cataclysm that follows rends the soul.
Oh well. At least I have this little corner of the internet to help make me feel just a bit better. It's a way to talk without burdening anyone. After my last breakup I wouldn't want to do this again to anyone.
I find it funny that the things which mainly support me from falling completely off the brink is a keyboard and a virtual wall of text.
I have some poetry swirling in my mind. Perhaps I'll compose it and post it this weekend.
Only 2 months with a girl I didn't even think I'd fall for and I am this miserable?
I need to learn self control. I've resorted to creating a fake facebook account to see pictures of her, as her privacy settings are low. I knew it was the stupidest shit I could do, but I couldn't help it.
It's like getting a big hit of something when you're in withdrawl. It is so fascinatingly sweet, but the cataclysm that follows rends the soul.
Oh well. At least I have this little corner of the internet to help make me feel just a bit better. It's a way to talk without burdening anyone. After my last breakup I wouldn't want to do this again to anyone.
I find it funny that the things which mainly support me from falling completely off the brink is a keyboard and a virtual wall of text.
I have some poetry swirling in my mind. Perhaps I'll compose it and post it this weekend.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Like Thunder She Struck Like Thunder She Left
Like thunder she struck,
Like thunder she left,
In a blooming summer bastion I settled,
but every bloom dies with summer,
it holds on...
and holds on...
but its not enough,
all leaves fall,
all blooming bastions become barren and wither and die,
and all light leaves,
in the colossal coming of winter's heart,
she left me...
Just another chapter in my channel of ventilation. More to come. This one came pretty easily as I wrote it in the midst of my emotions. The summer falling before winter in the autumn interlude thing was inspired by my drive home from last seeing her. There was a ridiculous amount of leaves that had fallen in the road behind the church, where I had not noticed before. Awfully suitable, but also beautifully suitable.
I was expecting to be burnt by Thunder. After all...it is dangerous to play with thunder. You get burnt all throughout your body.
One of the big things in all of this is the irony of the situation. I was so unsure about entering this relationship because I wasn't sure if I would come to like her due to our differences. This made me extremely scared that I would hurt her and get bored of her. The complete opposite happened. WHAT was I thinking? Thunder doesn't follow you. It's a force of nature, you follow it, and hope you can keep up with it. The only thing that could have ever happened was for HER to get bored of me. Irony born out of ignorance.
More to come in the future I think, but I'm tired. Goodbye my creative channel.
Like thunder she left,
In a blooming summer bastion I settled,
but every bloom dies with summer,
it holds on...
and holds on...
but its not enough,
all leaves fall,
all blooming bastions become barren and wither and die,
and all light leaves,
in the colossal coming of winter's heart,
she left me...
Just another chapter in my channel of ventilation. More to come. This one came pretty easily as I wrote it in the midst of my emotions. The summer falling before winter in the autumn interlude thing was inspired by my drive home from last seeing her. There was a ridiculous amount of leaves that had fallen in the road behind the church, where I had not noticed before. Awfully suitable, but also beautifully suitable.
I was expecting to be burnt by Thunder. After all...it is dangerous to play with thunder. You get burnt all throughout your body.
One of the big things in all of this is the irony of the situation. I was so unsure about entering this relationship because I wasn't sure if I would come to like her due to our differences. This made me extremely scared that I would hurt her and get bored of her. The complete opposite happened. WHAT was I thinking? Thunder doesn't follow you. It's a force of nature, you follow it, and hope you can keep up with it. The only thing that could have ever happened was for HER to get bored of me. Irony born out of ignorance.
More to come in the future I think, but I'm tired. Goodbye my creative channel.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Dreams, Reflections/Confessions, and An Update
There's a lot of things I want to cover here. I suppose I'll start with the update:
I'm progressing well with getting over Gem, as I'm in a new, "friendship", with a person I will call Thunder. The name suits her for simple reasons: her hair colour, she came flying out of nowhere and we immediately got into what we are now, how impulsive she is, and I guess how "charged" she is.
Now for the reflections/confessions
The fun with Thunder has made me really curious as to why casual rebounds are helpful in emotionally getting over someone. Perhaps it is for some subtle, sexual reason, which I find disheartening because I'm very idealistic about love and its platonic/soul bond aspect. Well, whatever.
I've come to the realization that I'm a narcissist. I do get quite insecure sometimes, but more often then not, I am admiring many aspects of myself. When I look in the mirror, I see myself as quite attractive. I see myself as smarter than most people. I see myself as being able to charm. I see myself as sexually strong in bed. I see myself as emotionally genuine. Etc . I guess confidence is a good thing, but it makes me feel like an absolute dick. I can't really help it though, it's just the way I see myself.
So yes, I'm a narcissist.
The dream
I like recording dreams when I have them (which isn't very often), along with every mundane aspect of them. I don't see any strange significance in dreams, but perhaps I have some sort of superstition on some level. Anyhow, it's about a friend who passed away in the past. Seeing how he may appear again in this blog again at some point (or become a denizen of Praxis), I'll name him King. His hair is red, which reminded me of Crimson, which reminds me of Crimson King (the band).
The reality was alternate. Instead of passing away, King was merely in a coma, and had just come out of it. One of my friends was driving, while another, and King were passengers. King had shotgun. It was nighttime, I was standing outside the vehicle, and we were near pizza hut, about to set up a tent for some sort of musical tent. I reached through the passenger window, gave King and awkward hug, and said "thanks for sticking around". He was awkward about it too, so he just smiled at me. A bit later, I was setting up the tent, and King came over to me and started helping me out too. He then said "I'm happy I stuck around too", but it felt like he was trying to say something a lot profounder, and meant something different. I felt very confused about this.
I'm guessing that my knowledge of reality was getting jumbled up with my knowledge of the alternate reality, here. In reality, he had passed away, so him saying that he "stuck around" probably jived with reality, and resulted in that confusion, and latching on to him saying that, which resulted in the feeling of profoundedness. I don't know. Now that I type it, it seems like I jury-rigged some scraps of psychological logic together and a not too elegant way.
I'm progressing well with getting over Gem, as I'm in a new, "friendship", with a person I will call Thunder. The name suits her for simple reasons: her hair colour, she came flying out of nowhere and we immediately got into what we are now, how impulsive she is, and I guess how "charged" she is.
Now for the reflections/confessions
The fun with Thunder has made me really curious as to why casual rebounds are helpful in emotionally getting over someone. Perhaps it is for some subtle, sexual reason, which I find disheartening because I'm very idealistic about love and its platonic/soul bond aspect. Well, whatever.
I've come to the realization that I'm a narcissist. I do get quite insecure sometimes, but more often then not, I am admiring many aspects of myself. When I look in the mirror, I see myself as quite attractive. I see myself as smarter than most people. I see myself as being able to charm. I see myself as sexually strong in bed. I see myself as emotionally genuine. Etc . I guess confidence is a good thing, but it makes me feel like an absolute dick. I can't really help it though, it's just the way I see myself.
So yes, I'm a narcissist.
The dream
I like recording dreams when I have them (which isn't very often), along with every mundane aspect of them. I don't see any strange significance in dreams, but perhaps I have some sort of superstition on some level. Anyhow, it's about a friend who passed away in the past. Seeing how he may appear again in this blog again at some point (or become a denizen of Praxis), I'll name him King. His hair is red, which reminded me of Crimson, which reminds me of Crimson King (the band).
The reality was alternate. Instead of passing away, King was merely in a coma, and had just come out of it. One of my friends was driving, while another, and King were passengers. King had shotgun. It was nighttime, I was standing outside the vehicle, and we were near pizza hut, about to set up a tent for some sort of musical tent. I reached through the passenger window, gave King and awkward hug, and said "thanks for sticking around". He was awkward about it too, so he just smiled at me. A bit later, I was setting up the tent, and King came over to me and started helping me out too. He then said "I'm happy I stuck around too", but it felt like he was trying to say something a lot profounder, and meant something different. I felt very confused about this.
I'm guessing that my knowledge of reality was getting jumbled up with my knowledge of the alternate reality, here. In reality, he had passed away, so him saying that he "stuck around" probably jived with reality, and resulted in that confusion, and latching on to him saying that, which resulted in the feeling of profoundedness. I don't know. Now that I type it, it seems like I jury-rigged some scraps of psychological logic together and a not too elegant way.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A Mania In His Mind
The doors open
and there's a thunder in his eyes
and a splendor in his heart
and a mania in his mind
The world stands in awe...
Don't really remember what inspired this one. I found it on the back of my assignment for a class in ordinary differential equations. I think it might've been partially inspired by my one friend who was diagnosed with bipolar. He had to take a semester off, and he came to me to talk to about his problems and ask advice about taking that semester off.
Developed quite a fascination with bipolar after talking to him. Feels somewhat similar to my fascination for autism. I'm fascinated with how the mind is capable of having superhuman abilities, although often at the price of some disbalance.
My bipolar friend told me that he would often get really sad, sometimes thinking about suicide, and then at other times he would reach some sort of maniacal level where he'd be extremely inspired to do mental and physical tasks. For example, he ran this ridiculous distance extremely fast. Can't recall the exact dimensions, but I remember being amazed.
He took a semester off to start taking meds, and keep a rigorous schedule (lots of physical activity, a strict diet, studying ahead) with the aid of his psychologist to help keep him stuck to some routine while adjusting to his meds. He's now doing great, has stabilized, and is getting better marks than me. I'm extremely happy about this, but I'm still worried. His dad also had some sort of mental illness, and is now in some sort of mental hospital. Hopefully he can maintain the stability he's achieved and not drop off.
I just had a chat with another friend (not bipolar). She told me about someone she knows who got meningitis, and afterwards, became a violent individual involved in gangs and robberies and whatnot. This led to talking about how the "distance" between various behaviours is very small. I guess "distance" here is defined as amount of prodding in the brain.
This discussion, along with the writing of this post also got me thinking about times in the past that I've been sad. It's very periodic, and oftentimes the jump from being depressed to being motivated was shocking, and seemed somewhat fucked up. Sometimes I'd be so down, and then I'd just rise up immediately, become very motivated, and happy and work away really hard or be optimistic about the future. I would then proceed to fall back down again.
This led me to think a number of things. Firstly, I noticed that that periodic happy-sad behaviour with shocking switches seems analogous to extremely mild bipolar. Then, remembering my discussion with my friend, it made me think that perhaps we all touch on bipolar to some degree when we get affected by depression.
I then remembered my mentor (someone to write about another time as I really enjoy her personality) telling me that social science for the most part is bogus (too many complex factors, I think was her reason), which I'm inclined to agree after having seen a good amount of pseudo-scientific psychology papers, (not to mention appealing to the authority of my mentor [I realize this is one of them catalogued logical fallacies, but it still does add a degree of confidence {I also realize that I love messily organized sentence structures with nested brackets because it makes me think of programming and logical hierarchies}]).
Remembering this discouraged my further thought into the bog that is psychology (this interests me because it reminds me of a conversation with non-bipolar friend about philosophy being a bog [seems like an awfully tangled, interconnected web {which reminds me of non-bipolar friend once talking about how her mind often consists of a web of interconnected questions accompanied with a healthy dose of overanalyzation <which reminds me AGAIN of the bog that is psychology || ad infinitum...WE'VE ACHIEVED A STRANGE LOOP || > } ] ).
So yes, the results of this meandering, sometimes finitely regressing, sometimes infinitely regressing discussion is that:
1. Me thinking about complex topics goes in circles.
2. Strange loops are awesome and everyone should definitely know about them and how they run rampant in the world (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strange_loop). It's incredibly sexy when they appear in mathematics via Godel's Incompleteness theorem. The proof somewhat involves transporting the phrase "this sentences is false" into its analogical counterpart in number theory. This strangely looping statement relates to the liar's paradox which I also strongly recommend checking out. I don't think anything fascinates me and obsesses me more than this stuff.
By the way, speaking of tangled logical hierarchies, and strange loops, I totally realized this stuff makes you feel a bit maniacal when you mentally tumble with it for awhile
which relates back to the title....
which relates back to the poem....
which relates back to the bipolar story...
which relates back to each following sequential piece of the conversation....
which eventually relates back to THIS (woo! self reference!)
which AGAIN relates back to that word (or even THIS)
ad infinitum...
Do you see what I just did there? I just introduced a plethora of strange loops. Even more fascinating is that the strange loop I first introduced earlier involving nested brackets is somehow branching off from the strange loop that we just saw.
The mind map is a truly beautiful thing, giving blossom to infinities and infinities of infinities when you go looking, or, if you prefer a less flowery, more gory description (since the brain really is a hunk of meat), an apoplexy of infinities.
and there's a thunder in his eyes
and a splendor in his heart
and a mania in his mind
The world stands in awe...
Don't really remember what inspired this one. I found it on the back of my assignment for a class in ordinary differential equations. I think it might've been partially inspired by my one friend who was diagnosed with bipolar. He had to take a semester off, and he came to me to talk to about his problems and ask advice about taking that semester off.
Developed quite a fascination with bipolar after talking to him. Feels somewhat similar to my fascination for autism. I'm fascinated with how the mind is capable of having superhuman abilities, although often at the price of some disbalance.
My bipolar friend told me that he would often get really sad, sometimes thinking about suicide, and then at other times he would reach some sort of maniacal level where he'd be extremely inspired to do mental and physical tasks. For example, he ran this ridiculous distance extremely fast. Can't recall the exact dimensions, but I remember being amazed.
He took a semester off to start taking meds, and keep a rigorous schedule (lots of physical activity, a strict diet, studying ahead) with the aid of his psychologist to help keep him stuck to some routine while adjusting to his meds. He's now doing great, has stabilized, and is getting better marks than me. I'm extremely happy about this, but I'm still worried. His dad also had some sort of mental illness, and is now in some sort of mental hospital. Hopefully he can maintain the stability he's achieved and not drop off.
I just had a chat with another friend (not bipolar). She told me about someone she knows who got meningitis, and afterwards, became a violent individual involved in gangs and robberies and whatnot. This led to talking about how the "distance" between various behaviours is very small. I guess "distance" here is defined as amount of prodding in the brain.
This discussion, along with the writing of this post also got me thinking about times in the past that I've been sad. It's very periodic, and oftentimes the jump from being depressed to being motivated was shocking, and seemed somewhat fucked up. Sometimes I'd be so down, and then I'd just rise up immediately, become very motivated, and happy and work away really hard or be optimistic about the future. I would then proceed to fall back down again.
This led me to think a number of things. Firstly, I noticed that that periodic happy-sad behaviour with shocking switches seems analogous to extremely mild bipolar. Then, remembering my discussion with my friend, it made me think that perhaps we all touch on bipolar to some degree when we get affected by depression.
I then remembered my mentor (someone to write about another time as I really enjoy her personality) telling me that social science for the most part is bogus (too many complex factors, I think was her reason), which I'm inclined to agree after having seen a good amount of pseudo-scientific psychology papers, (not to mention appealing to the authority of my mentor [I realize this is one of them catalogued logical fallacies, but it still does add a degree of confidence {I also realize that I love messily organized sentence structures with nested brackets because it makes me think of programming and logical hierarchies}]).
Remembering this discouraged my further thought into the bog that is psychology (this interests me because it reminds me of a conversation with non-bipolar friend about philosophy being a bog [seems like an awfully tangled, interconnected web {which reminds me of non-bipolar friend once talking about how her mind often consists of a web of interconnected questions accompanied with a healthy dose of overanalyzation <which reminds me AGAIN of the bog that is psychology || ad infinitum...WE'VE ACHIEVED A STRANGE LOOP || > } ] ).
So yes, the results of this meandering, sometimes finitely regressing, sometimes infinitely regressing discussion is that:
1. Me thinking about complex topics goes in circles.
2. Strange loops are awesome and everyone should definitely know about them and how they run rampant in the world (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strange_loop). It's incredibly sexy when they appear in mathematics via Godel's Incompleteness theorem. The proof somewhat involves transporting the phrase "this sentences is false" into its analogical counterpart in number theory. This strangely looping statement relates to the liar's paradox which I also strongly recommend checking out. I don't think anything fascinates me and obsesses me more than this stuff.
By the way, speaking of tangled logical hierarchies, and strange loops, I totally realized this stuff makes you feel a bit maniacal when you mentally tumble with it for awhile
which relates back to the title....
which relates back to the poem....
which relates back to the bipolar story...
which relates back to each following sequential piece of the conversation....
which eventually relates back to THIS (woo! self reference!)
which AGAIN relates back to that word (or even THIS)
ad infinitum...
Do you see what I just did there? I just introduced a plethora of strange loops. Even more fascinating is that the strange loop I first introduced earlier involving nested brackets is somehow branching off from the strange loop that we just saw.
The mind map is a truly beautiful thing, giving blossom to infinities and infinities of infinities when you go looking, or, if you prefer a less flowery, more gory description (since the brain really is a hunk of meat), an apoplexy of infinities.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Whenever I Die
I noticed that very often, tribute pictures are made to individuals who have passed away. Often there's a cross off to one side or something, and the old person's face watermarked on the other, captioned with some fluffy phrase in soft italics. I don't mind that people do that, but I find it very tacky, and don't want my old wrinkled face to be the subject of that silliness.
Hmm, I figure I might donate my body to science. Cheaper than buying a coffin, good for the world. I got the idea from my dad as I remember him in the past stating he'd like to do that. It's a good idea. Of course, I guess it's possible that some loved ones, or perhaps a future wife or something, wouldn't want me to do that, so I'll see how that goes.
Death will be an interesting experience. I'd much prefer to get to choose when to die, however, as opposed to dying of old age, so that I can experience everything I want to. Maybe in the future, we'll be able to cheaply replace organs, or upgrade ourselves with cyborg mechanisms (> 20/20 vision robot eyes, anyone?). I find I'm more afraid of being an old, incapable, halfwit old person, than death itself.
Hmm, I figure I might donate my body to science. Cheaper than buying a coffin, good for the world. I got the idea from my dad as I remember him in the past stating he'd like to do that. It's a good idea. Of course, I guess it's possible that some loved ones, or perhaps a future wife or something, wouldn't want me to do that, so I'll see how that goes.
Death will be an interesting experience. I'd much prefer to get to choose when to die, however, as opposed to dying of old age, so that I can experience everything I want to. Maybe in the future, we'll be able to cheaply replace organs, or upgrade ourselves with cyborg mechanisms (> 20/20 vision robot eyes, anyone?). I find I'm more afraid of being an old, incapable, halfwit old person, than death itself.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Just A Funny Memory
I just remembered something.
They have those popsicles called "itsakadoozie" or something like that. I remember really liking them, and one time being at a concert and asking for one. Never before had I actually had to ask for one. It felt really ridiculous and embarrassing saying "Hi, could I have an itsakadoozie?" Should I just have called it a kadoozie?
They have those popsicles called "itsakadoozie" or something like that. I remember really liking them, and one time being at a concert and asking for one. Never before had I actually had to ask for one. It felt really ridiculous and embarrassing saying "Hi, could I have an itsakadoozie?" Should I just have called it a kadoozie?
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