Sunday Walk (and the library)

I haven't been up to much today, but most of my day has been taking stock of some tasks that may otherwise put me off the actual tasks of today.

My favourite band has released two new songs. They've really given me a big buzz, not just that but they also remind me of me.

I went for a walk today, I went to the high street to observe people, any shopping deals, and just for some air. I also decided to go outside to wear some clothes. This might sund like a stupid thing to say but I wanted to wear my boots, my shemagh, my sexy black top, and my jacket and jeans. I wanted to go out, and have an appearance; the appearance that I've wanted to show to the world for a long time. I suppose I want to feel attractive in my apearance, but there seems to be something more than that, I felt a sense of self-exploration as I walked down those streets in my big boots and flowing jacket. I felt individuality and I felt like I could be a person that isn't hindered. I dont want to be hindered, I want to embrace the positives of life and hope for a better future.

I listened to those new songs of my favourite band. They have a new album coming out. The last time they released a new album I was in a mental hospital. The band has a special personal significance to me, it may be said.

There was a song that was stuck on repeat while I was in that hellhole, I'll send you a link to it now:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSus9jRxcNs]

I felt my eyes on the verge of tears, my heart on the verge of some personal realisation. Nietzsche says 'some of my best thoughts come from walking'; I certainly think that is the case. I felt a lot of strong feelings as I walked outside. I saw the various people out on the streets, families, single people, young people, old people...suddenly walking down the street made me feel human, even if I was a little bit anonymous

I also went into the recently refurbished library. I thought many different things upon entering this library. There weren't too many academic books, I also felt a sudden realisation that many of the authors I recognised but not necessarily read.

There is a large collection of tamil and hindi literature, which is nice considering the ethnic population of the area. There were some graphic novels, a couple of computer manuals, a 'teach yourself calculus'. Also of interest were audiobooks and dvds, quite a few of them. I think I'll be visiting this library a few more times.

I grew up with that library. It's vastly different to the place of my childhood. I only realised the disparity as I left; I was once there as a boy, and now, as a man I am entering a new and strange place. I am the nice friendly man in the library. I bet if I bumped into myself as a child there and he didn't know me, he'd call me sir. If I didn't know who he was, I'd smile and feel awkward. I'm not too used to talking to unfamiliar children, also I fear that their parents might think I'm a paedo, everyone is afraid of kids and paedophiles these days such that just having an interest in chidlren and an investment or interest in their futures seems weird. That's sad, very sad.

I shall apply for a library card. The library will be my place of refuge, and I might look for some graphic novels, audiobooks and other interesting literature while I am up there. Finally, I have a place in my local area that I will enjoy going to. I like the idea of libraries; its a very humbling and equalising place. I saw many migrants there reading elementary books on english, many people who want to educate themselves to better their literacy and numeracy. That's noble especially for older adults who may have had a vastly different kind of education and upbringing to myself. There was a nice mix of ethnic groups, a real sense of community without the dilution of people being sick all the time (like in a hospital) or wanting to buy something (a shop). The place was a community hub in the nicest possible way. It's quite a new concept to me.

I've also observed that it is incredibly cold lately. Maybe its just me, as it hasn't snowed in ages and it should be spring any time now.

I'm going to look forward to the library visits. Especially the audiobooks!

other changes this week

This week I have noticed:

1. My sex drive has gotten a bit crazy. This is good, it means my orgasmic capabilities are returning. Now I need a hot bod and I'll be a better man
2. My sleeping pattern seems a bit better
3. My eating habits are getting a bit healthier, but it is still a personal challenge. I am still psychologically in binging/compensation ritual behaviour, which I must surmount
4. My intellect seems to have returned. Perhaps this is the most welcome return.

I am becoming 'myself' again. But I am not like some past self, I am a new person that is forward looking

Also, I really want a keytar, they look fucking awesome

Pound for pound

I slept twice in the past 16 hours. I went to sleep about 8pm as an attempt to sleep early to avoid napping. It worked to a limited degree. I ended up waking up just before 10pm and then was pissing about until 5am. I woke up around 11.

During the night, I made a lot of comfort food (found in the house) and my shirt has a distinct garlic smell from oven-cooking some spring rolls. Not good. I feel fat this morning.

I shaved my beard off. I'm not quite sure why, I shaved today, and saw that my beard was uneven. I decided to trim it, then trim some more, and more yet again. The last time I 'trimmed' during those three times my mind was on keeping the hair as short as possible for when the shaving actually happened. Needless to say that there was a lot of pubic hair (face) on the sink.

After looking at my face beardless after about a month, I felt disgust at the face that I looked upon. I thought my beard was hiding a beautiful boy, the beautiful boy that Antonia saw in me, a sexual, brilliant plaything for her. Instead I saw a boy who was insecure at university who fucks pillows and has a horrible belly. I should have kept the beard, at least the face with the beard expressed inner strength and defiance.

No matter. I have resolved to go jogging today. After this post I'll see to getting my gear ready. Today I shall train with the velcro-weights. I have put on my slimming/suffocation belt. I shall have a shower upon return. I'll see how well the jog goes. I am intent on pursuing the fight to lose weight.

Some good news, despite feeling fat, I am objectively more beautiful. I have gone down to 229lbs today. Perhaps the most important realisation of this is that my weight is stabilising instead of flucuating up, then down,  then up again.

I know that the battle for beauty is fierce. I must fight pound for pound. I feel like I am placed in a boxing ring with my inner demons, and I have to go the 15 rounds to defeat my inner insecurities.

I'm going to win. But it's going to take the long slog. Here's to a good training session

Top o' the morning

I woke up fairly early. Well I got out of bed about 5am, had a piss, found out my audiobook was still playing and then went back to sleep (putting the book forward to the section on Romanticism).

I later woke up listening to an english man talking about the significance of Prussia upon the papal authorities. Suddenly, I was reminded of the importance of pax romana and the contrast of the multiple state model adopted by modern Europe; it resembled the polis system of ancient Greece, and not the institutional global unity of Rome. I then considered how this related to the importance of the place of unity in my own PhD proposal.

Lately, it has to be said, I've been indulging in more intellectual thoughts. I was listening to a few audiobooks that were really engaging, one, I note; was Darwin's autobiography. These are quite odd thoughts to have while you are half asleep and just about to wake up. Eventually I decided to open my eyes, get used to the bright light of the morning. Then, of course, the old morning masturbation.

I haven't masturbated in the morning and orgasmed with a sense of vigour (relativley speaking) in years. I feel like my teenage self again.

While on the subject of my teenage self, I am currently listening to the twilight soundtrack, it is very reminiscent of teenage fantasies that I used to have (oh, I feel really cheap now having my first morning thoughts about the geopolitics of 18th-19thC Europe) about faling in love, young hot teenage girls and enjoyign my life.

*Trigger*

I felt a bit down, on account of a realisation that my teenage and young adult life isn't quite as I may have wanted it. The tarnishment of being mentally ill, and perhaps worst of all, the tarnishment of being so shy and awkward that I had few friends. I am somewhat envious of people with lovely friends and cuddles and 'hello dahhling'-greetings.

My life is perhaps a little more humbling and pathetic. I spend most of my time with audiobooks and my own thoughts. Lately I've decided tobe a bit more of an 'editor' of my thoughts, insofar as my thoughts can take me to dark places.

I suppose I am a lonely person, isolated, socially my life could be better. But perhaps I can focus on the positives:

1. From the perspective of other people, i think that my everyday interests are quite interesting. It so happens that this morning I was thinking about Opus 19 number 2's Scriabin piano sonata and the Sviatostav Richter performance. I wonder if I would ever be able to play such a wonderful piece. I downloaded it on my ebook reader off the public domain. That's my fantasy piece

2. I think that some people might see me as the brilliant and possibly insane intellectual that I want to put myself out to be. I hate when people talk about their qualities as it sounds so cheap. It is nothing to say what you are, why should I believe what you say anyway. A person standing in front of me saying how she is 'caring' or 'smart and defiant' means nothing. Seeing her in the depths of difficulty and challenge will show the true mettle of her being. Will you show me that side of you instead of talking about it? I suppose this very blog begs of hypocrisy depending on how the reader interprets this

I am not writing to be read, I am writing to be realised. In my isolated life I have almost no one to talk to, no one to pose as a mirror to see my physiognomic face.

3. These past few days have been an emotional challenge, but I have rediscovered my spirit of defiance and challenge. I feel that person striving to be realised. There is a man in me, trying to come out of the boy. I suppose I am no longer a boy, even if I feel like it, if I even want to still be the boy. I suppose the beard I carry symbolises this expression.

4. I think coming off the Seroxat was the best realisation I've had in ages. I was feeling quite low with all the triggers and purging behaviour towards november/december. November seemed to be an eternally painful month. It felt longer than all the other months.

I must focus on the positives. This means not to dwell so much on the negatives or the past. I'm not so much interested in the past. I think that while the past will be an inevitable component of me; it has passed and its experiences are mostly no longer relevant to me now. I face a new world afresh, and as a new person.

Rebirth

I went to have a nap again today (three hours), because my muscles were giving me a bit of trouble. I had a fairly good rest. My muscles recovered from feeling sore, although I add that there is a very interesting satisfaction with feeling sore. I relish the feeling of feeling sore in my shoulders, upper arm and most poignantly, the set of muscles just under my armpits.

I did some situps earlier which focused on the inner thighs and hips, and some which focused on the abs. I feel my body growing stronger. I feel the muscles slowly emerging from a thin layer of fat. I see a new person emerging inside me, the hero that I always wanted to be. The emotions that are intense and yet delicatatious. The sensitive, brilliant, fierce and passionate warrior of the mind that I have forgotten. I SHALL RETURN!!!

The small changes that make a positive

Although yesterday was blighted by a sudden pang of fatigue. I wake today feeling a better sense of energy. I woke up just around 8:30 after probably 5-6 hours of sleep, masturbated, had a shit and then I decided to go for a jog.

Normally during mornings I feel exhausted. I think I will take any victory I can find. Of course yesterday's performance of a day overall could merit some improvement, however I feel that this greater sense of energy despite my current junkie hangover from antidepressants is meritorious of an improved physical state. I also had a quickie orgasm without feeling oh so tired.

I haven't had a quickie orgasm in ages. Well, an hour isn't exactly a quickie, but it sure ended well (and hurredly). Ah, I hope to have nice orgasms again soon.

I'll make a list of things I want, I am not normally so forward

1. Sorting out a job/PhD placement
2. A better , sexier body
3. Improved self esteem
4. Improved health
5. Improved motivation
6. Improved mood
7. Improved self-image
8. Improved intellect
9. Improved prospects with the opposite sex. According to the permission of my female friends, its okay for me to want to move on with my life, even if that includes flings or something a little less serious than what I had with my previous relationship.

Anyhoo, I'm off for a jog. I feel that my body's appearance is currently more important than my sexual prospects; not that I have any of the latter (ha ha ha)

Oh yes, lests not forget I have a piano lesson today (with myself as the teacher)

withdrawal symptoms

The past couple of days have been a challenge. I am experiencing very strong withdrawal symptoms from the seroxat medication that I am on. It feels like I am having very unstable mood swings and my body is shivering in a very odd way. It feels like a very small tremor. I also feel like my body is going to collapse whenever I stand up.

I had some night terrors last night. I was so afraid of going to sleep that I almost felt like I was losing my mind. It was not nice. I think that I was very vulnerable in such a personal and intimate way last night that no words can really communicate how it felt, also, I don't think I really even appreciate that fear of how I felt right now that it has passed. I felt genuinely that I was scared of losing my mind and that the world would deem me insane from this fear. I was very frightened, upset, and scared. Definately something the warm embrace of another would help to comfort me from, but alas.

I went for a jog today, it was 35 minutes and quite intensive, although short. I felt a real sense of pushing myself and not stopping for anything (except a heart attack). I jogged hard today, I thought to myself: It's not about the time you put in, its about what you do with it.

I felt this sense of determination that was fresh. I hope to continue that pace. If I keep at least 20 minutes of high heart rate, and a controlled diet. I can reach a calorie burning equilibrium. I just have to think small steps, I need to take any victory that I can get. Today's jog was a small one. I really want pasta. I'm off downstairs :)

Confidence, drive, direction

These three things I rarely remember, but I have lately felt a distinct sense in which these are really important to my drive.

I considered this as I paced down the job centre this morning. I considered to myself that in recent days I felt a real and distinct sense of striving. I jogged to a few places today (such as catching the bus, going off to the next stop as a desire to both cut time and calories) and I felt my lungs burning, and my head very spacey and airy. My head seems to feel like suffocating during the morning. I felt a strong sense of fatigue during the morning, I perhaps attribute this to waking up earlier than usual, sleeping late, having a lot to drink last night, and perhaps, my latest reason is that I have been off the meds for a few days now.

I am aware that the seroxat meds that I've been on has chemical dependencies that need to be challenged. The doctors stress that I must not go off the drug cold turkey as there are strong withdrawal effects. I presume this feeling of fatigue and sudden light headedness that was so strong that I almost felt like collapsing while outside.

During the long wait in the job centre, I eventually stood to go to the job computers that look for vacancies. I also observed, while in my advisor interview, that there was another fellow next to me. This man looked very down and broken. The advisor next to him was very supportive and caring. From what I gather, the broken man was a recently trained plumber looking and struggling for work. The advisor used the phrase 'barrier to work', as often I've heard from advisors in their professional terminology. This man felt like giving up, this man felt hopeless because as a plumber no one seemed to want to take him on. The competition with already experienced (and unemployed) plumbers was great. I really felt for this man, because this was a man who trained in a good hard working trade. This was a man who trained in a skill that is really needed and important, compared to my stupid 'intelligent' bullshit profession and soft skills.

There is a greater nobility to the plumber than there is to a chewed out postgraduate like me. I have a research project that I want to carry out. I seem not to be worth a real job or a good wage that is hard earned and deseredly paid. This man next to me who was very upset had his 'confidence issues' as a 'barrier to work', despite all these air quotes and managementspeaks; this man needed a good pep talk. I hope he does well. I wish him well.

That man next to me in the job centre really hit home how much I need to be determined and see light at the end of the tunnel.

I impose a telos upon myself. See myself as going towards an end point, a growing towards a greater, better, more attractive self. I am striving. I must create the person I want to be by cultivating and placing the seeds of it now. I want to be determined and confident, driven and fierce. It must start NOW. If I want to have those muscles, I must build them.

The house begins from the foundations, every brick laid.

The equilibrium (Eudaimonia)

I'm always on about the equilibrium: the way of living a life without appealing to extremes which in a sense expose some form of self-indulgence. I suppose we may appeal back to Aristotle's Eudaimonia. In fact, I think it is exactly the same thing.

I am becoming more sensitive about two particular kinds of thinking: Mia thinking and Fat thinking. The very fact that I'm saying 'fat thinking' sort of makes me sound like a fat-ist person. I am looking at the moment at a girl on a social networking site, and seeing how cleverly placed photos try to make her look attractive. I was almost taken by her photoshopped procelain white headshot, taken from above. She looks almost oriental-esque (purposeful racial imagery in the 'shopping process, no doubt), glamorous as her shiny lips glow in the picture and how her porcelained white flesh melds into the expanse of nothingness.

The picture of this woman are all of her face, headshots. These pictures focus too much on the parts of her she wants to convey to others. The only parts that she likes about herself, and the ideals that she tries to convey is some warped notion of her 'thin' ideal. I see it so clearly she is a fraud.. This woman strives too hard to the ideals of the thin that she decieves through photography.

I sound like a bastard, a horrid bastard whose analysis communicates truths; be it my own inner insecurities, or hers. I suppose that is why my friends often say that my outlook promotes a good basis for being a stand up comic. I have increasingly considered that as an option. Could I be a comedian?

This woman hides her fat shame. That is how she sees it. A woman once said to me that a body is a history of one's life. Scars, stretch marks, little spots and those other so-called imperfections are what make us beatiful. We carry signs of past battles fought; the scars of self-harm, or a cervical scar from a caesarian; little childhood injuries which may cause a chipped tooth or a slightly shortened finger; tattoos of long forgotten girlfriends or favourite bands and those little spots and beauty dimples that are familial to us, like the Roman nose.

I am not advocating the view that only thin is beautiful. Oh hell no. I think that women can be beautiful in all shapes, sizes, colours, scents, personalites and genetic templates. I can envisage comfortably having some mind blowing sex with an MtF starlet; having a good laugh with an outgoing type; pining for the shy type; lustily playing with the voluptuous and pear shaped one. Personally, I am not sure how I'd see myself with a skinny girl. I mean, how I'd hold her body, how could I admire little dimples if they aren't there? I suppose I'd find some way.

I am increasingly aware of fat and mia thinking. Fat thinking is like the counterpoint of mia thinking. Fat thinking is the saving of face, where the embarrassment is the perception of a travesty body. Mia thinking is, well, aforementioned in previous posts.

I feel that the equilibrium that I must find, the golden rule of good life follows the avoidance of fat thinking without the appeal to dark mia-thinking. I was stupid yesterday and went on some 'manorexia' and 'pro mia' websites for men. It upset me instead of inspired me. I am insecure that I am fat (mia) but I also am afraid of showing the world my obvious fatness and use measures to try to hide it (fat thinking).

Perhaps I should just wear my body proudly, warts and all, belly out, but finding a notion of beauty from being me. I must let the the unchanged self shine through. Not 'thin' self or 'fat' self; just me.

Anti-depressant

When I woke up this morning, I had a horrible dream (see previous post). When I woke up, I realised that I slept through two alarms and worse of all, I missed my appointment with the GP. I thought, fuck. I had lots of reasons to feel shit as i woke up.

My mum after an hour shouted at me to get some vacuuming done. I thought: FUCK! I was pissed off at her tone, but perhaps I was hiding my emotional honesty in being angry at my mum. So I decided, I shall react differently, and vacuum the carpet. I soberly approached this issue and went through my morning tasks, which included: shaving, brushing teeth, tidying up desk, tidying up bed, putting clothes on. Putting my laptop on the computer table and off the  chair next to my bed.

I approached downstairs for some breakfast, enjoying the quiet of the house, I decided to watch some television. I put on the latest episode of Lost and sat for a short while before the noise came as my dad woke up. I then decided to put off telly watching and ventured to vacuum the house.

I felt better doing something constructive, instead of wallowing in my self-pity. Self pity is pityful, how ironic a use of words.

When I woke up, I felt in myself an energy, a sense of brightness, a slight spark. A spark that I haven't felt in myself since, since I started taking the antidepressants just before Christmas. That must be about three months ago by now (gosh how time flies). I realised that my feeling of stupour and lack of motivation; my overeating and sense of comfort seeking also coincided with my antidepressant taking.

I chose to take the drugs in hope, a hope to get better. I healed in that I chose to accept help, I healed in choosing life instead of hate. The drugs didn't help. My spirit of trust regained; but scientific method says that the drug failed.

I am going to do a little 'trick' myself. I'm going to discontinue the use of seroxat. I know that it is very difficult to stop the drug cold turkey. But perhaps I have had difficult times already with the drugs. I will experiment, for maybe a month, or maybe a couple of weeks how my body will respond to when I stop taking the drugs.

I am aware that growth takes place within the space of an equilibrium, an examination and altering of careful balances. I have altered the cycle of taking the drug. I am not anti-drugs. I am anti-depressants.

I want to stop feeilng low, I want to have better orgasms, I want to lose weight. I want to stop deperssion, but I also want to stop the things that depress me.

I've not beeng blogging very much. This is very much out of a want of words. I have not had very clear ideas or thoughts. I have lacked a sense of direction for the past couple of months and I feel I am merely existing through each day and trying to find some spiritual gin in which I can drown myself to hide away from the ever present of my woes.

I need to fight this, and I believe the next stage of this fight is to stop the drugs. I have used a process of elimination to show that this particular drug did not work. I hope that my empirical hypothesis works.

The emotional dream

I had a fairly vivid dream that I woke up from earlier this morning. I'll try to describe it as best I can.

For some reason I was the keyboardist of my favourite heavy metal band and I was having a TV interview for a Finnish television network. I felt quite intimidated and then I came into the interview late. There was a point when during the filming I needed to have a piss and I decided to pop out to the loo for the toilet after the commercial break started. The television people were condescending and insisted that I should return soon. i left on the left hand side exit and the room seemed to have a superficial resemblance to my common room from college. As I left the door it was busy and dark, a mix between the concourse of Victoria rail station (in its dankness) and Paddington rail station (in its crowded nature, and some of its architecture borrowed from).

I managed to leave and then there was a complicated series of stairways where one had to jump over a wooden barrier in order to go to the next floor, which made the point of having a stairway redundant as one had to still climb over ledges. I went to the wrong floor and there were some kind of German protestant christians who appeared both friendly but personally threatening. They welcomed me as I climbed over the ledge as if I were some member of their congregation and I felt embarrassed and wanted to leave politely. I then went through their doors (for some reason - dreams aren't supposed to be consistent), and then I sat down for a class. I then saw my dad talking to some workman and called him as they were passing through the classroom. Funny enough the classroom again resembled the dining area of my common room in my final year of sixth form.

I called my dad and walked down the corridor (exit left again) and asked what he was doing here. My dad said he was a contractor worker and that I shouldn't have called him out of his work because he could lose his job and money was tight, he was working hard for the family and if he lost this contract job it would be very bad news for us, especially in this economy. So I walked back to the classroom (from the same entrance as I came in).

I then came back to the classroom, and in my seat the female stern teacher (who for some reason resembled an arhetype of a cruel all girls school teacher) wrote a note that said something very mean to me with also soem noted mis-spellings of words (I do not know why it was mis-spelled or even what word it was). The stern teacher, who was very strict, said to me that I must not enter the classroom from that left entrance and that (by implication) I should not have left the class.

I felt embarrassed because I was told off and then I felt completely powerless and hopelessly out of control as I was in an oppressive regime of an all girls school. At that point I woke up.

I know this sounds fucked up and inconsistent but I'm just trying to tell you how I experienced it. Dreams aren't suppsoed to make sense in terms of logic or temporal linnear consistency. I didn't even have that piss (don't get me started on what happens in dreams about piss...).

I felt two distinct things as I woke up.

1. I was frightened and scared. I also wanted to be cuddled and comforted, yes like a little boy. I missed the emotional and physical comfort that Antonia used to give me, and how 'Mia' is a perverse representation ofthe hope of such an offer of comfort and coddling.

2. I felt uncomfortable with discipline and conformism. I felt that I didnt belong in such a parochial and disciplinarian environment. This is strange because I once thrived in such a place. I was once the short haired, obedient and dedicated all boys school-schoolboy, who was senior prefect, one of the top 15 pupils who had real power in the school.

My older, long haired and slothful self is but a shadow of that conformist and slave-like former self. I am a contrast to what I once was, but I certainly came from that environment and once cherished those memories. I do not dislike what I was back then, but now if I see that conformist short haired person in me I would not like myself.

As my hair seems to be thinning, I seem to reflect on what my personality represents. I felt like i do not belong in that dream world. I felt isolated in the kind of way that I was rejected from even my own psychological origins. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin for many reasons, perhaps the psychological reasons are the most difficult to deal with, as the physical discomfort in my body is merely symbolic of mental signs.

228 lbs

Lately, I've told a couple of people my 'Conatus' identity and sent them a link to this blog.

I find this a bit of a breaking down of a psychological barrier that I have put up, namely, the barrier of secrecy; having secrets gives me a sense of power. On the other hand, what is a piece of clothing that we wear that ultimately can be shed to the true and naked form that is always part of us.

I feel some psychological barriers, or strong rituals need to be put into place. Obsessive behaviours such as recording my weight, brushing my teeth, having a shower on a regular basis, shampoo+conditioner+soap as part of my shower ritual. All of these seem simple tasks to the normal person, but there was once a time when this was just as hard as doing my MA thesis, or writing my conference papers.

As one barrier (my pseudonymity) has gotten down; another must come up, namely, my resistance against food. I've gained an unacceptable weight. I am 228lbs and getting increasingly fatter. I cannot continue this trend and I must make a real stand to fight this. I hate what I will have become if I become fat again. I absolutely will have lost everything I have spent so long to gain, if Ibecome fat. I also must fight Mia.

I'm also a bit jealous of another blogger that I follow; she has such eloquent intimate and personal thoughts, while my most intimate of thoughts do not address critical theory or philosophy or literary references; they are just the kind of thoughts I have while in the toilet. THey are a stream of words and thoughts that meander towards whatever topic I see fit.

In other news, today I went for a jog with weighted ankle weights, it was a killer on my legs. My lungs are burning despite not having went very far. I love it! Also, I made a tofu stir fry. It tastes gorgeous. Almost like chinese cuisine. I added a bit of peri peri sauce to embellish the dish. Mushrooms and onions and peppers and corgettes are all so sexy. I think I might eat a chilli to resist my snacking urges.

Onwards!

Lately

I thought I might list (what is it with me and lists, I must be awfully unimaginative a prose writer) various things over the week.

1. Saw avatar (finally) with Antonia (scary car ride)
2. Antonia broke my heart with a horrible speech on sunday of all days being valentines'. it was an otherwise good weekend until she broke my heart again. More on that another time perhaps
3. Another meeting with job centre. All seems fine if I keep on track with my schedule#
4. I was exhausted yesterday, I travelled from wales to england and then within the capital's crazy tubes, then home, then to the job centre and back. It may not seem much but having been heartbroken the previous day fucks one over, as well as the horrid smell of jasmine over my body (from Antonia's body scrub)
5. My beard seems to be growing, it seems to evoke a lot of feelings and associations. I don't like it.  I prefer appearing androgynous, or at least a feminine man.
6. I think I have hair problems. It may be alopecia (at its worst), or it may be ringworm (I've had past histories of skin problems which is conceivable)
7. Mia keeps knocking on my door, I suppose because Antonia upset me.
8. I asked out a girl who is coming to visit the country (a long time friend of mine from 2003), I said to her: I think we should go out on a date sometime. She's such an old friend it was so easy to ask ehr out, it was like I didn't give a shit, it was like no effort, no pressure, just me being me saying 'hey, you are single, I am single, we like each other, we have a connection, you think I'm pretty, I think you're pretty - hows about we go out sometime? hows about a picnic in the park, a date at the museum, and if it doens't work out, fine.' Gosh I think I should 'not give a shit' a bit more about life. I'd probably be more prosperous.
9. Social networking news: A girl messaged me today on the sort of dating site. She said 'well I'd like to be asked out sometime (no pressure)'. Gosh, she's really amusing! Is that how girls make themselves get asked out?! I'm astounded.

I am feelign a mix of things. On the one hand I feel a sense of validation from this girl messaging me. Its not enough to make a self-concept of myself entirely on a single event, but it did help me out of bed. Call it an emotional coffee.

I've realised a couple of things:

1. I don't want a girlfriend anymore. I've been hurt by too many girls, and the only girlfriend that I have had took away all the positive things that she made me into leaving me into a husk of what I used to be. I'll just develop as a person on my own.

2. I'm not even quite sure I want to date anymore. I might prefer just a fuck, just freely open, crazy sex. Not necessarily long term, just immanent. Crazy dates, fun kisses, lovely cuddles. Without the baggage of being bothered about arguments, or her saying that I'm changing too much. Am I allowed to just want to fuck and be a fuck dog? just to be some kind of man whore object? Am I too old at 23? Am I too mature to be immature being a MA holder?

Life's experience points

In RPG games, which I quite like, there is a notion of self-improvement which always appealed to me. This notion is of the experience point, and levelling up. Life provides challenges in which one can become a better person from persevering through. I wish life were really like that.

In RPGs, experience points did not really obey any differentials such as age. I could be a high level and defeat my elders. Conversely, olders could be at some ridiculously high level and defeat me with ease.

Sometimes I consider whether living through experiences helps me level up in life skills. I felt like levelling up when I lost my virginity (insert immature jokes here). I felt like levelling up when I did well at school. I didn't feel like levelling up at university or when I faced the adversities of depression, lonliness, social isolation or persevering through the difficult times.

Levelling up is a fantasy, the fantasy that experiences make us better people. The old adege of Nietzsche that 'what does not destroy me can only make me stronger. Nietzsche surely hasn't heard of PTSD. On the other hand, there are those who have certainly suffered in life but have surely persevered in their spirit, even if not in other aspects of their lives.

I know some family members who lost a son when I was too young to understand. The son was 19 years old (I think), and was the first born, not only in their family, but of the generation that my cousins encapsulated (I was the last in that generation). It had a powerful impact on the family. When I look at the parents of that guy who I never remembered, I see such love in their eyes, and a suffering that I could not even begin to fathom. They have a religious fervour that I find odd, but makes more sense in the context of their hardships.

I feel that the more that I engage in those tasks that I absolutely dread, the better I get at it. I feel a barrier slowly is brought down. I must not fear it but surmount it. PhD applications, emailing referees, applying for jobs, making phone calls, arranging appointments, chasing things up and most difficult a task has become almost mundane now: thinking about the future.

More on job hunting

This week I found a lot of vacancies, I've changed the gear of my job hunt, however, I've still found myself in a bit of a stupour. I found lots of vacancies, but many of them I am just about not able to qualify for them, so I didn't bother. Some other ones I thought to myself: this isn't worth the effor, I know they will turn me down.

I've found a batch of vacancies (thanks to university vacancy directories) which I may be able to do. They are just admin, but a job is a job. If I can get it it's great work. At least I'd be paid! Anyhoo, I have found a nice batch of applications, but I feel that my achilles heel is my lack of experience (yes, this again). Despite my academic life and all my superficial activities (like being a musician, giving conference talks etc). Office experience and 'working under pressure' are desired. I can work under pressure, I guess its not seen that way by them.

At the moment I dont think I'm proving that I can work under much pressure. That volunteering oppurtunity that I applied to would give me a lot of good work experience. If they got me in. They say the vetting process takes a while.I hope they let me in. It would be my hope of getting a job (viz experience). I need experience, but I need a job to get experience. Jobs want people with experience, so I'm fucked! Well not so. Volunteering helps a bit.

Here's to hoping

One's present thoughts

I thought that since I have a blogging diahorrea, I might just talk about some things on my mind (and my face). Since, I find blogging very therapeutic and I want to share these little things going on.

1. Beard. I've decided to grow a beard at the moment. This seems a minor change in appearance. I used to grow beards willy nilly back in the past without keeping them for long. In the recent couple of years I have been consistent in my regular shaving. For me, shaving symbolises being organised. Growing a beard is a bit of maintenance, it's a goat more than a full beard (so I can have smooth cheeks with the distinction of a beard.

Having a beard changes my face, it also seems to change my aura of appearance (I hope that's not too metaphysical or spiritual a term as it is not intended). I'm not sure if I like my 'beard face'. It was often the case that in some star trek episodes a beard represented an alternate reality or evil counterpart, or future self. I suppose 'beard'-conatus is a different aura to '¬beard'-conatus. I'll see how long I keep it for

2. Food. I'm eating way too much. My mum says she wants to abstain from meat during lent. I think I agree. I would like to try to avoid meat, or at least respect no meat while in their house. I shall try to avoid meat. I think it will make a serious difference to my diet and calorie usage. It will be hard to avoid fast food though. Vegetarian fast food is lame. I'll abstain from alcohol for good measure. I've been tempted to go to lidl to buy gin. I think that's very bad!

3. Valentines day. I'm spending valentines with my ex. I know how that sounds, and it probably sounds the same in my head too. I bet you, the reader, are thinking that I'm going to indulge the thoughts that I love her and will end up hurting myself again from opeining my heart up to her and having to confront the inevitable reality that I'll never get with her again, and feel taunted by her telling me stories about all the new men in her life and her making me feel pathetic and inferior.

Well, I suppose I admit this is a possible, well, likely mistake. But I'm lonely and I don't have many friends. Antonia happens to be one of my 'friends'. These days, I don't have many people to talk to and my habit of talking to strangers on chatrooms isn't very healthy so I must avoid. In short, if you were here to stop me, feel free.

I'm waiting...

See. So, I'm off to be stupid and spend valentines with my ex. I probably won't have sex with her, but we will talk, have a few laughs, do some farming, eat meals together. Maybe we'll watch avatar and then sleep together. I'll also have some nice yummy cuddles with her.

4. Job hunt. My job hunt isn't going so well of late. I also have to chase up this new internet thing that the job centre has put me on, and they have not been helpful at all! More about that another time perhaps

My daily ritual

My daily ritual presently includes:

1. Getting out of bed/pep talk
2. Listening to podcasts until I get out of bed (usually R4's 'The Archers')
3. shaving/brushing teeth
4. going downstairs to check mail
4'. (not capitalising sentences out of laziness, it seems)
5. my medical cocktail: antidepressants, 2x fish oil, various supplements (4x tablets presently), weight loss tablets (one in the morning, one in the afternoon, optional painkillers
6. Check podcasts/email
7. entering aforementioned tasks in calendar
8. occasional blogging (but not always)

coffee for the mind

As an adult, I've found the ritual of waking up very difficult. Having a system often helps, but also having some determination also aids the day.

I more or less got up pretty late today, but in context, I think that I got up reasonably early.

I'll admit something. I've not been pretty organised since the end of Xmas. I mean, I've gotten things done and pretty well to that end, but I have not gotten a morning ritual. On the other hand, I have kept busy into the late evening in place of the morning. What would be really nice is to have some coffee for the mind. I like how coffee perks one up in the morning, gives that feeling of physical invigoration and a sense of wanting to get things done. I guess literal caffiene is coffee of the mind, although perhaps more the body.

Maybe the real 'coffee' fix I need is within myself; namely, one's motivation.

retail therapy

After going to see the advisor at the jobcentre, I decided to stay on the bus and go to the high street. I went to the local computer game shop and indulge my possessive muscle; I saw all sorts of things that looked amazing that I wanted to buy. Games consoles, mobile phones, laptops, gadgets of all sorts. I would really like to have a games console. Maybe a nintendo Wii, or perhaps an XBox 360. I want to play the games all the people talk about and spend time enjoying those indulgent and time-wasting games.

On the other hand, I am a different person not having done so, perhaps a more productive one at that.

After the games shop, I went to primark. Yes, I know its evil and endorses poor indians labouring with their children at ridiculous rates. I won't say 'but...', because I am essentially endorsing it by purchasing there. I bought a shirt that was slightly different to my regular look, but I thought I might consider a new look, or at least changing my present one. It has an old-time aesthetic, harking back to the generation of my grandfather. It has a button up top so it can show my chest and chest hair. That has macho factor, and it also looks like my current look so I thought I'd go for it. The shirt was only £2. I might go there again and buy more!

Now, following that, I went to TK Maxx. Gosh, I live in a really chavvy area, I imagine you saying to youselves. Well yes I do but it's my childhood home and I love it all the same. Anyhoo, I bought some fitness gear there for some pretty interesting prices. I got a slimming belt and some ankle/wrist weights. Those will be prospective for when I go jogging, or just general wear. I dont think that the slimming belt helps my belly appearance, but it does at least constrict it and makes it more difficult to move when breathing. The resistance may provide some toning, so the theory goes.

I also bought some weight loss tablets. They are of the same kind when I moved into the house (during limbo year 08-09) that belonged to a previous housemate that I took and tried for myself. I bought it mainly for the quantity, the memory association with the past (I was thin back then), and it was on sale.

Now I've done that retail therapy, I feel quite better. I am now interested in some lunch. Mum's roast dinner remains to be finished fromyesterday!

The first step is the hardest (so they say)

I must set more targets for myself. The idea of using google calendar has been successful. I've probably used GCal for two years now.

I now am considering setting a very specific target: Lose one 1lb a week. I'm 225 at the moment. Next week I aim for 224.

I did a jog today and it changed my whole mood, I think all that oxygen pumping into my heart changes my energy levels and gives me a bit of a lift. I've also started some new vitamin-supplements that I found in the house. This stuff is probably useless but I'd prefer to utilise them rather than those horrid pills stay around the house. Also, I may suspect it might work.

My ex used to have homeopathy pills. She gave them to her daughter and she at them willy nilly. I miss them. I sent her a valentine's day card, and a gift. I'm chatting to a lot of girls on a certain dating site lately. I'm also participating in another social networking site. I'm the obsessive type and I should probably not do that too much; I should focus on myself. I have realised that I rarely spend time with my thoughts anymore. I hide behind TV, food, music, audiobooks and so on. In a way that was a coping strategy with some moderate success to avoid the deperssive thoughts. I feel my own voice is coming back, and I perhaps can benefit from listening to it. The problem comes if I am open to listening to my thoughts, and then Mia comes to talk to me. I'm not very good at resisting her.

Being told that I'm special and that I am wanted and being tempted into feeling that way by purging can be temptation. I must abstain from such emotional delights. I shall be a bit more platonic and live in my intellectual side. Here's to a productive day

beard thoughts

I used to love beards. I suppose because in my jesuit school beards and facial hair were not allowed (so no sikhs were welcome there). I used to keep beards all the time while at university; it was part laziness, and part cool. Lots of guy students kept beards or lame man fluff. I suppose they came from similar boys schools like myself.

I kept growing beards and shaving them off; neither keeping a beard nor staying beardless. I see it as a sign of instability on reflection. My own personal instability, the instability of deciding to keep a beard, and the instability of not shaving regularly. It reflected the instability of not choosing a 'look' that I was happy with and an instability of not being happy with myself.

After 'mia' and Antonia came into my life, I felt attractive without a beard, I found my 'look'. I haven't shaved for a few days, I was keeping a beard to look 'metal' for the gig this week. Now the gig has passed, I chose to trim it a bit and shave my face but keep a goat face.

While I stared into myself, with the razor at hand. I thought about how many changes I have been through; things that seem regularities now fade into distant memory. It was once regular to feel inadequate on a saturday night and stay in; having no friends and only a pillow for mastabatory relief and entertainment (2005 summer); then at some point I was living entirely in my head in a depressive stupour (2006 late); or listening to my flatmates go out to club nights, coming home and an inadequate guy fucks the inadequate girl because he didn't want to go home empty handed, or with a load in his balls (2008-9 year of limbo). I stared into myself as I was shaving, thinking of all the faces I've seen in the past before that mirror image. I thought of all the ways I used to escape my feeling of inadequacy.

I then thought abuot the £40 in my wallet, and how cheap sainsbury's basics alcohol can be. I thought to myself. I could go and buy some alcohol and drink myself silly in my room. I am still warm to the idea, but I feel something is terribly wrong about it. Something is terribly sad about it. I am also overly dependent on takling to people on MSN.  I seem to want to do everything but face my problems within myself. I hide through conversing with people; through fast food; through porn; through busying myself and now I am considering again to hide through alcohol.

Sobriety means a lot of things. One meaning is to face reality with a calm and realistic view. Unhindered by mental delusions or chemical rose-tints.

The half-step forward

This week I have advanced my social life in small ways:

1. I went to two gigs. that increases one's cultural capital, not to mention, it assists with my conversational prowess
2. I went to a bdsm 'munch'; that is a social event where kinky people meet up in a 'vanilla' setting and make friends, talk, or just be friendly.

That was pretty cool. I'm the shy type and I found it very friendly and welcoming an environment. I didn't feel too much of an inadequate freak. What I found really interesting was despite my hermit nature, I can often pretend to be a social and sociable human being. I think that I can be quite good at conversation when I want to be. when I am utterly depressed, anxious, or I have a trigger, however; I just freeze.

My depressive thoughts are increasingly less these days. I am so used to being depressed that it is a 'default' to just moan about things. I must get out of that stupour of an attitude. I am however, in a slight void because I am having triggers lately (doesn't matter what theyare), Mia is sometimes talking to me, and I am placed in the position of getting better, but not knowing how to move forward. In short, I don't know how to be a happy person, or simply not an unhappy person.

I live with routine, and perhaps that is the only thing that gives my life meaning. Rarely do I reflect on why I do the things that I do, it is ironic, considering that I was the most self critical person around. I associate critical thinking with such depressive tendencies that I am left in a dogmatic mindlessness. I should try to find an equilibrium.

I think that I am getting close to that by engaging in self-conversation. I talk to myself, in my head. I think about things critically in my head and ways to improve myself.

One way that I considered improving myself was through the following methodology:

Problem: I have poor grammar
Analysis: my poor grammar is a result of thinking too quickly and speaking before thinking. My writing style adopts this practice as well so the poor grammar of quick thought trickles to bad writing.
Posited solution: think in cells. Think in short bursts. Think with pauses. Avoid long sentences. Keep to short, quick, and well thought-out thoughts and sentences. This may mean that my spoken punctuation may be different to before, or unusual by social standards. I may also have a slower reaction to answering questions or speaking to people in conversation, however; I think that this may help me not only establish clarity of thought, but I will avoid gramattical problems.

As I considered this new method of speaking and thinking about speaking; I was led into a whole set of thoughts about how to organise my life, and evaluating my future actions. I do very much wish to move forward in my life. I am unhappy with the way things are and I do feel at times lost. I hide in my gluttony and I hide through my social persona. My social persona is increasingly empty unless I strengthen the core of who I am, that being; the thinking self. The author of these thoughts.

Frosty day

Today there is a thin but dangeruos layer of sleet about the roads. Most of the roads have been wiped of this dangerous slippery stuff but more of the smaller less travelled roads are a bit hazardous to traverse.

So far, after I posted earlier this morning, I went to sleep for about 2.5 hours before having a wank (with some difficulty to orgasm). I prepared some of the materials for the job centre review that I had today. Upon coming home I felt a mild sense of dread at the fact that the advisor said that I had to meet with someone for six weeks every week. This would mean that I'd have to get up and take time out of my day, considering that my schedule is temperamental already, I really must push on more with things.

Right now, I don't have PhD applications over my head, or a book review (it's going to be published soon).  I shall strive to move forward today, although I have learned that I should not try to do too much in too short a time. Pace things out, and get it done slowly but surely. It is like jogging, if you sprint the whole way you work up a sweat but do not effectively get an excercise.

This week I must make more of an effort to do the following:

1. Apply to jobs/stick to the schedule
2. Jog more (failing that/excercise)
3. Avoid comfort eating and being lazy
4. Spend more time reading and learning, but not at the expense of the above.
5. Strive to be goal oriented.

I shall try to aspire for 1lb per week to lose. Perhaps that would be a reasonable target of excercise and weight loss. I hate yoyoing and my teeth really can't deal with another purging.

So, that's my itinerary for the week. Let's hope I'll keep busy. Maybe if I keep posting blog posts frantically its a sign that I'm going through some emotional growth and progress.

Here's to a better life.

A short burst of energy

Awake I find myself.

Everything is dark, but I feel a sense of energy as I wake. I do not have the feeling of wanting to stay in bed. Although it is cold and the warm duvet gives me comfort. I do not find the need to stay in bed.

What time is it? I ask myself. I have no idea. I presume it is late enough for my parents to be asleep. I forget to realise that my dad, who is the late sleeper; is doing a night shift tonight. I lay in bed, the computer is not on, and I feel a sense of surprise at my burst of energy as I am awake.

What brought this about? I question to myself. I suspected at first that it was because I closed the laptop. I am so umbilically attached to my computer that I suspect that it interrupts my sleep patterns. I do not find this explanation comprehensive, although it is probably partially true.

Perhaps it is the medication, perhaps I am feeling more energy in my body as a sign of getting better, as a sign of getting out of this depressive stupour that I have been in. I haven't had many triggers for a while, I have had small ones that I have been able to manage but they have not been as bad as in the recent and not-so-recent past.

Eventually I put on the laptop. The bright lights surprise me, but not as much as they had a few mornings ago where it took two minutes for my eyes to adjust and read the computer. I put on my password. The time on the laptop says 21:19

Fuck. I thought to myself. I then saw the start bar pause as if to load, the egg timer appears. This must be the time that I closed the laptop, but not when I went to sleep. I was fast asleep maybe two hours before but opened up enough to close the laptop probably at that time.

The actual time loads. It's 1am? Fuck. I thought to myself. Do I stay up or go I go to sleep again? I felt too much energy to do the latter. I felt also it was not the best time to have a wank. I am never feeling this energetic so I thought I would make good use of it. I listened to soem podcasts. One of which featured an old lecturer of mine who is a big shot award winning professor.

I made a music playlist consisting of the beethoven CDs I have. It is about 150 CDs long, and I decided just earlier that I will play them before I go to bed instead of standup comedy. I suspect Beethoven will be a suitable contrast to all the heavy metal and industrial music I have been playing of late. I feel a personality shift in me, on the one hand I am liking less of the mainstream and broad categories of heavy metal and leaning towards wider musical interests. On the other hand I really like depressive black metal specifically; black thrash; black ambient; and other kinds of black metal. I think I am going veritably European in my music interests. From Norweigian metal to Beethoven. I see a continuum personally.

I ate for an hour while watching star trek. Now I'm back upstairs. I decided to do some blogging because I hardly ever blog these days, and I feel I am skipping parts of my developmental and thought processes by not typing as often as one might have wanted to. I have realised of late that I am good at being the depressive, but I am not so used to being happy. Im not used to not being depressed, such that I dont know how to behave. I suppose I could be shy and nervous and unsure of things, that would make a contrast to the 'comfort' of certain depressive and cynic moods. The latter leads more prone to anger, sometimes triggering and otherwise not nice behaviour.

My dress sense seems to have changed given my current wears: I am wearing a pea green jacket because it has a fleece layer and feels like wearing a blanket. I've had this jacket possibly since I was 17 and I hated wearing it. It was the colour and the fact that it wasn't a long flowing jacket but an almost 'puffa' jacket with an anorak hood in the collar which I deemed too geeky and outside of my tastes.

I think that I am changing. I'm going to a metal gig later this week. I'm not sure a lime green jacket wearer will fit in too much. From my experience, I think I will take as few items as possible. No camera, maybe a wallet. possibly not the phone. I have to dress light, else I am robbed or worse, things break. It also can get quite hot. I'm not sure where I am as regard the jacket situation.

I must sound exceptionally boring and dull. I suppose the dullard at least hs the consolation of contentness. Not that I have that, but at least I can aspire...

Onwards

Well I think I may try to sleep for a couple of hours now