Enlustered


get real
January 29, 2014, 3:20 pm
Filed under: Human Potential

I keep making cookies that come out gummy and I finally found that it’s because of the vegan butter I made myself and used in them. The butter has too much of either xanthan gum or soy lecithin. Both these ingredients are used to bind things like salad dressing and flours in gluten-free baking. This gumminess is God calling to me to call out the false ways people try to connect in this dream world. Fake smiles, fake nice, fake relationships, fake facebook statuses that reflect a person in chains within themselves. People don’t say a damn thing but talk a lot. So I’m going to say something (like the song, “Say Something” by Timberland that I like and that I hear sometimes in my head): This shit is fake and you know it. The zombie apocalypse has occurred because everyone here wants to eat people’s brains so they can say and do only socially acceptable things. “I walk around without a brain,” a depressed facebook friend of mine who is suicidal said to me the other day, and I told her, “Everyone here does, you just has a problem with it.” Happiness is not here and cannot be here because unconditional love is not here. Marriage is conditional love, parenthood is conditional love and education is just straight fucked up social conditioning that teaches people that they are broken and need to be taught total fucking bull shit that means nothing in order to be worth something. Marriage, parenthood and education are all most celebrated and successful amongst whites because they are most against themselves believing that they don’t deserve unconditional love. They are the most “civilized,” i.e. unnatural. Blacks are the most upfront (UNASHAMED! like in rap music) and have been the most oppressed. They embrace society’s rejection, many calling each other “My nigga.” Yet they hold their head high because they embrace society’s rejection because they know they are God and God cannot be offended or hurt like people pretend with that stupid XMas vs. Christmas shit. That is FUCKING STUPID. Talk a lot and SAY NOTHING. Blacks have stared the “devil” (i.e. the conditioning whites made) down instead of believing him that they are broken and they are the most close to God here, especially the most disenfranchised black people who are unmarried, not the most present parents, with higher dropout rates and lower employment rates. Work is just the belief that we have to work to be worthy of God, it is what I believed in all three of my psychotic episodes and it plagues us everyday in dirty bathrooms that need to be cleaned and dirty dishes, etc. This is hell because it requires constant upkeep to maintain. We are Sisyphus in Greek Mythology pushing the boulder up the Hill and yet it rolls down again and again. The realest things, like natural black hair as opposed to relaxed hair, for example, require the least upkeep. The conquering of indigenous blacks all over the world is reflective of the oppression of the natural self in favor of a false self, something we all do everyday. This is why it is said that whites are the devil because they try to usurp God or that which is most natural/easy/simple/”no thing”. This is a dream world. Give me any one word and I will tell you it’s symbol. Nothing is real here because only love is real and it is not here. We are only here because we do not believe in love because we do not believe in ourselves and we are love. Unconditional love. THE. ONLY. LOVE. This is why these symbols occur because we believe in lack (i.e. CONDITION, LIMITS) and we have the power to create based on our beliefs because we are God. We are also hoping to prove ourselves wrong, in our most wrong beliefs we have set ourselves up for release from ourselves. If only one person would tell us the truth. I only slightly edited this post because I am hoping not to let the devil or my conditioned self rule me. I walked into traffic to get the devil out of me in my first psychotic episode and I was not crazy. The devil is in me. The way to get him out is to free myself. Break through the chains on me and say what I want to say, reveal myself. No. One. Here. Reveals. Themselves. Because they worship the devil. This is someone with a brain speaking. You can call me crazy, but you are the crazy one believing in what is not real, even though you know it’s not real. Putting on a clown face, smiling when you are not happy here. I guess I do the same, but I’m not going to lie about it, like you.



Better Apart
January 26, 2014, 12:33 am
Filed under: Human Potential

It’s a thin line between love and hate. — Old Saying

[The following post is mean, but I’m growing and I need to let my anger out and play with things a bit to be freer. I would want the same for anyone… to have space, that is. “Everyone is a box of flowers.” (Blossoming.)]

I think time with a clingy person is equivalent to a one-night stand. Like with one-nighters, clingy people want you for one thing (your warm body) and then they’re “on to the next one.” Like men looking for just sex, clingy people aren’t really willing to give of themselves (who they are), probably because they (just like men who just want sex) do not realize they are Somebody. Both types, in my view, use others to fill the void they inevitably feel, not really enjoying or desiring to know a person, as if others are objects, which is probably how they see themselves.

Maybe I treat people this way, too, since they say what we say about others is true of ourselves? I do know what it’s like to use myself as an object, eating more than I really want because something tastes good, for example. For the record (and another example of using myself as an object), I have had four one-night stands out of my seven sex partners, at least a couple of those was because I felt like I was missing out. At some point I’d like to write a post on my views on sex. To me, it’s just one of many empty promises in this world, like romantic love.

Anyway, I think writing rather than discussion with “friends” seems best for me at this point since there’s no one in my life I feel I can really be myself with or express myself with. I’d rather be alone anyway; it’s just very fruitful for me. At one point I felt more open to making friends, but I’m starting to feel I’ve been right all along with having no friends. Intimate connections with people are elusive in my experience. I’m not bitter, a bit glad that I haven’t missed out on anything in having no friends (except one that I am actually really grateful for — even though we’re not super close, we’re both morally open-minded and enjoy discussion a lot–I’ll write about this some time, too).

It’s hard to say no when someone wants to go to dinner with me or have me over her house, but it’s clear now that the person I’m thinking of doesn’t really want to spend time with me, at least that’s how I feel. It appears that the person is getting nothing from my presence, except maybe a break from being with herself. The person does accept societal judgments of her situation, like saying, “I’ve been sick all my life,” about having a mental illness and saying it’s best not to tell people that she doesn’t work because she feels ashamed. I told her I disagreed and I felt like I was talking to an empty chair as I explained why. That is annoying.

Similar to a clingy person, I felt, up until a couple of years ago, that I needed a someone else to complete me. Maybe in-coincidentally, the two times I felt I’d met my soul mate were at points in my life when I felt really bad about myself because I accepted popular societal views of my situation. I didn’t have a good job with benefits, made very little money, so I felt like a failure and like I’d never be “successful” (make money, have benefits, fit in–a real treasure, eh?). I never got to be with either of the two people I thought were my soul mates (one a woman and one a man, both white and married). I am glad.

Perhaps I will do the clingy person (people) in my life the same favor. The clingy person I spent time with today is actually somewhat of a cool person (very friendly to strangers, always saying nice things about others); I just feel so irrelevant and wasted on her, almost like I’m not really there when I’m around her, like I’m a painting that’s been hidden in an attic under a dusty blanket for 34 years and eight months (my age). Like a work of art, I fucking have something to say, you idiot. I hate you.

Sometimes there’s this zombie-like look in her eye when I’m leaving like she’s just changing the bag in the garbage can, or finishing some routine task. She’s very neat. I struggle with the dirt and moldy things that must constantly be cleaned away at home (yuck!). It feels like a nightmare and I am at a loss for the symbolism (or fucking purpose!) of it. Maybe really neat people have other nightmares, but are okay with being walking dead people and eating people’s brains instead of appreciating them.

I like to get to the most true illusion possible, since this is all an illusion anyway. If I am invisible and irrelevant to someone, I might as well just not be around the person. I don’t believe in ridding myself of “toxic” people, which is 1) pathetic, and 2) bull shit in my opinion–even though I’m pulling the victim’s card here. I’m not running away, I’m just keeping it fucking real. So much for unconditional love, eh? Or perhaps I have yet to see what it looks like. I have a feeling it’s nothing like anything I’ve seen as “love” here on Earth.



What’s Missing Is You (Argh!)
January 25, 2014, 1:49 pm
Filed under: Human Potential

If you think a pill makes the difference between you being fucked the totally fucked up and being okay, you might as well cut your head off and try walking around without it because that’s what you’re doing. You might say, “Well, then I’d be dead.” And you’d be right. Walking dead, it’s the same thing. If you reject yourself to be loved or accepted by someone else, you’re forgetting what love is. It’s unconditional or nothing at all. Even if you reject your old self, it’s the same. You’re dead. Everyone around you can pretend you’re alive but they’re just being dead, too. I’m being dead by not telling people what I think. I just yelled at myself because I feel like I want to tell someone they’re cutting their head off and expecting me to make up for their lost part. (Fuck that, yo.) It’s hard listening to people say insane things and not saying anything. Time for a new adventure. It’s called be yo fuckin’ self. I shall report back, self (and anyone else who visits!). I am being mean, I know. It’s okay though.



One Love
January 23, 2014, 1:31 am
Filed under: Human Potential

“…He in the midst of good company Who loves all and hates not one and one day you gon’ be wit your son.” — Scarface in “This Can’t Be Life”

I love the part, “Who loves all and hates not one.” I’m starting to see why. All the things we throw away as unlovable–our old selves, negative people, child molesters, mass shooters–are love. Unconditional love is the only love. I purposely don’t say “God loves us unconditionally” because I don’t think the traditional view of God is accurate. He is not separate from us; I think He may be in everything, even though A Course in Miracles (as far as I have read) negates this.



Ending and Beginning Again
January 20, 2014, 11:37 am
Filed under: Human Potential

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished… That will be the beginning.” Louis L’Amour (American Writer)

I was so afraid of the world ending in some of my psychotic episodes and even a couple of months ago I felt a feeling of fear and anxiety believing I could end the world simply by waking from it. Every morning I woke disappointed to still be in the bedroom I sleep in here at my sister’s house instead of in heaven. So many times I’ve been afraid of the end of the world, but my world has ended and begun again so many times, including after each psychotic episode and after my most recent “fight” to end the world. It’s never been a bad thing.



Who Looks Outside, Dreams…
January 17, 2014, 1:23 am
Filed under: Human Potential

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

Carl Jung

 



My World Has Still Not Ended, Apparently
January 17, 2014, 12:29 am
Filed under: Human Potential

I am feeling a bit fat lately, just haven’t been working out as much and not cooking like I used to and craving sweets a lot. I do feel a bit out of it at times, just like there are too many things to do and I just feel like I lose track of time doing other things and don’t get around to doing the things I need to, and it just happens day after day after day. Ugh. I almost feel like I want more control. It’s possible these feelings are due to me not taking my medicine as I’m prescribed. I will see how it goes a bit longer and if I still feel this way, I’ll get back to my usual dose. I just want to see what it is I really have to deal with in taking medicine (because I’d rather handle my situation without something that’s made up, even though I know whether or not to take my medicine is not the struggle that’s most worth taking on; it’s my belief in this world.).

I have a theory that it is something else that takes me over the edge, not the things I just described (losing my grip on time, etc.). My theory is that I go over the edge when I: 1) think the world is ending and; 2) feel really bad about it (this is what matters most), like I have to do something important and that none of the regular rules apply anymore (showering, eating, working out, speed limits, etc.). It seems on some level that my theory applies since I’m not doing the things I normally do like cook and work out, but in past “breaks from reality” doing those things were not even an option because I was so focused on having to save the world or do stuff to be with my soul mate.

I’m not interested in saving the world (just healing the separation I in many ways must still believe has occurred), or doing the right things to be with my soul mate. I don’t feel a strong need or desire to be with the person I once believed was my soul mate. I don’t even believe in soul mates anymore or any in any real meaning or purpose in any worldly thing (marriage, working for a living only, parenthood, etc.), unless it has strong personal meaning for an individual that I am unaware of as of yet. Writing has strong personal meaning for me because it lets me see what’s going on in my mind and it helps me work through things I’m feeling and intuiting, and helps me align my thoughts.

As I write and edit this I think I’ve made up my mind: I’ll go back to my regular dose of Seroquel (now 400 mg). I think I’ll know when to let go of the medicine when the time is right. I am hesitant though. It seems almost like I’m taking poison in one part of my mind. But I’ve heard of some people (true believers of some kind, certain “yogis” someone told me once) taking poison and not dying. I know I’m not a true believer yet. Back I go to the magic my mind still believes in, Seroquel, until I’m able to get a real grip on… heaven, our true reality we can all remember in our own minds (peace, oneness, eternity, ┬áthe only sanity/reality, limitless freedom and possibility).