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It has been over a month since I've last wrote here. I would say that I was lazy, but in truth I just had to wait a while in order to see what was really up with my life.

My brother came down here in the first portion of this month in order to see my mother's grave, but had to leave a day before the actual death anniversary because he had to work at his new job in Everett and didn't have enough tenure there to have days off yet. It was nice to have him around; he seemed to have his shit together and to be finally making the right decisions. He was really concerned about my mental health, though, since not being on Olanzapine has made me less focused in real life; apparently, I do fine on the phone, so he wasn't prepared for that. It wasn't my fault, and I'm used to my brother hyping up my so-called "problems", but I do have to admit that there are times when I have more difficulty finishing my thoughts, or not saying them.

We visited our mother's grave on the last full day he was here, and I was little made at first because he was taking his sweet time doing outdoor stuff with my father and his girlfriend. Looking back, I can still say that it was a little inappropriate. But we were fine together, for the most part, and being at the grave was a bit odd. It just felt like a long time since it all happened, and I didn't have much to say, although that isn't implying that I wasn't strongly affected. My brother laid some tulips at the grave, and then placed a picture of him and his current girlfriend (who vaguely looks like our sister despite being half Hispanic); I asked him if he was going to be with her for a while, and he said "I don't know." I honestly hope that he didn't inherit any of the fickle sentimentality that our father has, but at least I can say that my brother was honest about it.

There were two horses right next to the graveyard (the graveyard is in the middle of nowhere in rural Idaho). I looked at them from a distance for a few minutes, and they then took notice of me, and came up to the fence. I walked up to them, and I was pretty sure that both were mares. The one I approached was a tall, brown horse with gentle, brown eyes; I did not detect any negative vibes from her at all, which I sort of did with the other. I then petted her nose, and she made noises that she loved the attention, and moved her face closer to me. It honestly felt that someone genuinely accepted and returned my affection, which I basically never experience. My brother was there, and he got a picture. There were times where he was laughing about it. I asked him about two weeks later why he laughed, and he said that it was because I looked so serious while I was petting her. I probably was because I just don't know what to do in such a situation. I like to think that my mother set that up, to show me that I can be loved.

My father was in the picture, of course, but he never went where we went and he didn't say a word about my mother, except for one time where I asked him permission to have something off a table that had my mother's handwriting on it. That was really odd, but expected. He could have said at least something. I really wonder if most men can truly love anyone. I know that I have problems with that, but at least I don't use women as objects or resources.

Me and my brother went to a bar on the last night, right after we went to the grave. I think that we only went to two bars. It was pretty fun, but I meant to spend a bit more on my brother and buy him more drinks than he actually drank. I felt like I owed him, which I generally don't feel at all. My brother is maybe one out of perhaps three people in my life who I'd give the shirt off of my back for. After we left, it just felt really magical, like I was in my mid/late 20s again and the year was 2011. Several years ago there was a period in my life where I'd go to bars a lot, and it was halfway fun at the time but I would never do it now. That night did bring back fond memories, though, and reminded me that I still have a little bit of youth left in me.

The rest of the month was relatively uneventful. I'm reading again now, having finished The Magic Mountain and one other book this month. The former took me two months to read, partially because it was fiction and mostly due to the bullshit that I had to put with (mostly in my head, of course). I don't regret reading it at all, and if I find a cheap used copy of it, I likely will get one for myself, but I do have to admit that a lot of the lessons that you learn from that book are not the ones that most people seem to think exist in there.

I tried to go to the bars again, for social observation reasons, but I found out that almost everyone at the bars are the same. The first time at one bar, I ran into my old neighbor who I partied with months ago, and he was nice, but he and his friend were talking about how they beat each other up for fun and they were also talking about another friend coming who liked to beat up people who he thought were gay. The next day, I was walking up the road to my father's house and there was this overweight asshole in his mid-20s yelling at me to "get the fuck off the road". I wasn't threatened by it and it didn't shock me, but I wondered just how people are turning out these days. Is it possible that people are really that violent and I've just been oblivious up until this time? I am more aware of my surroundings and of other people, after all. Then again, nothing like that happened in my neighborhood until just then, so I don't know.

I also noticed a few days ago that there are people walking around who look like they would beat the crap out of you in an instant, and I'd say that I was paranoid about that, but then I went into another bar not even a week ago and I could see the bartender and the ID checker coldly staring at me like a bunch of smug simians. I got out of there, because I know better than to give any sort of place that employs assholes like that any of my money. It was also about personal safety, but I could have at least easily have harmed the ID checker, if it came to that. I don't think I should go to bars anymore, and not just because I don't have the money; you are far more likely to run into bad people if you do. I'm not a coward, I just don't want to bother with that shit.

Not much else is to be said. I'm just more aware of stuff, I guess. I was worried for myself, for a while, but I seem better now. And I'm writing again now, which is always nice.
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Earlier this week, I felt that there was no point to living. I mean, I knew that there wasn't, but humans nonetheless have a need to have a point. We demand structure and systems, even if we know that reality does not perfectly conform to whatever we either perceive or construct, if it does at all. This need is still around even if we are smart enough to know this, which few people are (I'm not even saying that out of haughtiness). So as such, I was having an existential crisis in which I was smart enough to predict, but not smart enough to think myself out of.

I escaped, though. How? I just did things with my life, like cooking and reading more books. It doesn't matter what you do with your life, so long as you are not bored. I suppose that is the point to life, unofficially; to keep yourself entertained so that you don't kill yourself or otherwise commit harm. I suppose it would depend on what kind of entertainment you enjoy, for some very fun things are crimes and you'll end up in prison, wearing a bow on your head and be called a new name, "Cinnamon". I don't want to talk about what else could happen. Just stay active, and you won't stagnate; I need to stay active mentally because my mind is both the source of my strengths and vulnerabilities. That could probably be said for anyone, but it is especially true for me, because when I started reading books voraciously a little less than two years ago, most of my problems went away.

I can actually cook somewhat decently now. Hamburgers, Rice with Chinese Sausage, Potato Pancakes, Shepard's Pie...this makes me feel like I can survive on my own. Just a few weeks ago I only knew how to eat out of cans and boil water; now I can actually cook meals. I'm an adult, now.

When I read a book concerning dangerous patients in the psychiatric field, I learned a hell of a lot. One thing I learned was that the most humiliating thing that ever happened to me was not in the slightest bit my fault, and I feel so relieved now. I forgive myself, and now know that almost anyone in my position would have made the same mistake, especially knowing how my father treated me like a drooling retard for several days prior to the incident. I still don't forgive either my father or the other bastard, but that is irrelevant. All that matters is that I take the blame away from myself. If it wasn't for my father, I would have just wrote off the other person has having their own problem, and would have brushed it off, but the abuse of the two combined broke me. Fortunately, that won't ever happen again, or at least I won't let it.

In other news, I'm not going to abuse any drugs for a while, at least nowhere near the extent that I did recently. I need to recover, and drugs get boring after a while in any case, even without tolerance. So far, I'm doing okay, although I'm having some VERY fucked up dreams.
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Today is my legal birthday. Technically, it was yesterday, for I was born overseas and it was the 20th in Japan yesterday. I generally celebrate both days out of confusion.

I'm 31 years old now. I was ready for it, and I feel that old (more or less), but I honestly can't believe that I've been on this Earth for over three decades, and basically have had self-awareness for 17 years (I consider the age of 14 as the start of psychological maturity, where you start to be aware of yourself and your life).

I wonder how I'm going to be later on, and how my life is going to play out. I sometimes feel like a loser, for I have no solid career or family of my own, and likely never will. At 31, if you haven't developed those yet, chances are you won't ever. I'm still youngish, but in a few years I won't be. Is my life going to be a dead-end? Then again, I do have motivation as well as a very thoughtful and introspective nature to my mind, and I've already written a lot. I also don't make mistakes nearly as much as I used to, meaning that I have gotten wiser. I still plan on writing more, so I think that there is still a chance that I can make something out of myself; that I still have potential, if you will.

I've improved dramatically over the past year or so; most of this comes from the realization that I can be wrong, and that just because I have a thought or an emotion, does not mean that it is justified. Self-doubt, surprisingly, can take you a long way.

I've been really interested in my dreams, recently. It hasn't gotten to the point where I am lucid in my dreams, however I remember them more clearly and all of my actions within them are in character. I even remember things from my waking life in them, and it has gotten to the point where I am able to learn many things from them. I honestly think that dreams are portal to another world, and I have had both out-of-body experiences as well as astral and mental projection over the course of several months. They seem to be getting more common, although I have yet to know how to do it willingly; they come to me on their own. I'd very much like to master those abilities, for I feel that they are very important to possess.

I have a theory that the afterlife is very similar to the dream world, and that it is important to enhance one's abilities through their dreams as well as obtain the aforesaid abilities in order to have a better afterlife, or at least to understand it better. But who knows for sure?

Other than that, I've just been reading a bit. I was originally somewhat fatigued from it; I still had the motivation, but not really the interest in the things around me. But if you start looking hard enough, you'll find something else.
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I finished Liber Vagus today. It is around 22,000 words. I really like the fact that I have written four books this year, at over 110,000 words in total. It just goes to show that I'm not being a parasite; I'm actually contributing things to the world.

I put it up on my account, and many people have looked at it already. Many more will, too. I'm actually rather high up there in how many visits I get, so I guess that is an accomplishment.

Liber Vagus was not meant to be a comprehensive text, at least outside of my own personal knowledge. It will help those who are on the path to achieve success with the occult sciences, but it likely will be of little value to those who already have, or think that they have. There aren't many of those, though. I'd say that those who are seriously into the occult sciences and have made original progress are only about one in 50,000 (if that).

But yeah. That was a real accomplishment. And it only took me 13 days to compose, too. It is funny how it all happened simply because I had a dream that stated that I was going to die right after my 31st birthday, which is only five or so weeks away. Well, hopefully that doesn't happen.
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I still am not back on SSI. I went to the lawyer today and he was just as surprised as I was. He did say that he will keep on reminding them, and if he has to, he'll get a member of congress to contact the department in order to speed things up. That was great; I think I will get back on it, it is just a matter of time.

I finished The Threads of The Mind about two weeks ago, and the books of it arrived today. I gave my roommate an autographed copy and he was very pleased. I have five more books to hand out, four to my friends and one to the university library, if they will take it. It would be really cool if they accepted it. In any case I feel great about writing a third book; it makes me feel like I am capable of doing something. At least I'm not just sitting on my ass and playing video games. Writing helps me do something constructive while taking my mind off of my problems.

I am currently writing my fourth book, a grimoire of sorts called Liber Vagus. I'm writing it because I want to get my occult knowledge recorded and distributed in case if I really do die shortly after I turn 31. I've been thinking about that a lot, to be honest. I mean, I probably won't die, but if I do, what will happen next? I know that there probably is an afterlife, but it is a huge mystery to me. Perhaps I won't die, but will be changed in some profound way. I just don't know. I don't want to think about how my possible death would affect my friends and family; I mean, my family just lost my mother a little over two years ago. But if I do die, at least I had done stuff with my life, and lived a full one. I've practically lived three lifetimes in the past ten years.

In any case, nothing else is really happening. Just waiting to have money come in again.
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Still not on SSI again, but I'm less uneasy about it now. Everyone thinks that I'll get back on it.

I just recently read a book called The Divided Self by a man name R.D. Laing. He was only 28 when he wrote that book. Reading that book really taught me many things about myself. The book is essentially a study on the intrapersonal dynamics of Schizoid and Schizophrenic people, and gives many case studies. Apparently, such people feel that their self is robbed of them, and they feel vacuous inside. They start to merge with their surroundings and the people around them, which is frightening to them. At the same time, they want love, but love is also hate to them, for to be loved by someone, is to be that someone, and thus they are no longer themselves.

I run counter to this in many ways. For one thing, I am not vacuous in my sense of self; I have a very strong sense of self, although this sense has changed throughout time, just as I have. To me, I am filled with dark water, full of depth, and at times, profound mystery. Having parents force me to be something I wasn't did not rob me of my psychological autonomy, or at least not for long. Eventually, I developed the strength to stand on my own and dictate who and what I wanted to be. True, I have no real place in society, but someone like me doesn't need one. I do not depend on others in order to define who I am. I am cool and detached; like the Schizoids and Schizophrenics, I am an outsider who simply observes in a detached fashion, but unlike them, I am perfectly content on my own. To be a man who observes all around him, and without him, to take notice on the flaws of humanity and to reflect on that, gives me a sense of grounding, as well as some form of intellectual immortality.

Then there is love. I once pined for love. I loved myself, but it seemed like no one else did, and that drove me insane for a time. But Schizoids and Schizophrenics tend to hate themselves, and see love as hate. I do not see love as hate. Hate really is the opposite of love, at least practically. I simply see love as temporal, and largely selfish. It cannot last, and as such it cannot be depended on. The only love that is deathless is the love for yourself. The same can't even be said for the type of love parents have for their children.

A few days ago I looked at the casual encounters section of the local craigslist. Some of the girls and women there were not bad looking, but I realized by this point that sex would be meaningless, especially without emotion. THAT would make me feel vacuous. I have evolved to the point where I do not have to get involved with others in order to feel whole; others would just drag me down. For all relationships end with at least some disappointment, and I would be one who would both disappoint and be disappointed. To stand on your own means that you don't have to have such connections with others, nor should you want to have them. I truly feel strong in that regard.

But let me not kid myself. There are still moments (a few, actually) where I still feel that pain, the pain that I've never been appreciated in the only way that mattered. But sex, and a relationship, or even sincere love wouldn't be the balm for that wound. Many people are in happy relationships and are still very unhappy with themselves; I have learned a lot from the faults of others.

On the whole, I have learned by this point to live and love myself, by myself. Oh, sure, I might go to a fine escort some time in my life, for if I want to learn the mystery of sexual relationships, I want it to be worth something, if only physical. But that is for a time long in the future.
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Not a whole lot has been happening. Still not on SSI as far as I know, but that might change in a week or so. If it doesn't, then I'm really going to have to get on them. I don't like how they put me through this, at all. The lawyer has been great but I feel that I may have irritated him a little bit; I plan on sending the office a Thank You card once I get back on it.

I began writing my third book two days ago, titled Threads of The Mind. It talks about how there are actually three different minds within the gestalt mind, and it will investigate the nature and dynamics of them. It is a lot more philosophical and metaphysical than it is scientific, but science still doesn't quite know why our brain works the way it does by this point. I really like writing it so far and I think that it will be better than A Perception of Existence and Reality because I know what to write about and I haven't quite rambled on yet.

I haven't drank any beer in almost a week. Last night was really hard; I felt the urge to drink alcohol very strongly. I had to distract myself with other things, including cigarettes (cloves, this time). Out of all the substances I have ever done, alcohol is by far the most addictive; even tobacco is nowhere near as bad. I'm too old to be partying like a college student (haven't in a long time, anyway), so as such I really need to be sober most if not all of the time. Cigarettes make me feel odd but if they keep me from drinking again, then so much the better.

Overall I'm okay; more calm than usual. I did have a minor episode in the beginning of the week but I quickly got over that. My friend told me that I seem to be handling it better.
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They are both back, as are the students.

Summer ended pretty quickly. It is sort of odd how my days are slow, and yet the weeks and months just glide by. I learned a lot of things over the past week. How I really do need close friends, but that I only need a handful and that friends would be hard to get without school or work. And the kids that came back. Just wow, they look so fucking young. Most guys my age would find the girls extremely alluring; not in my case, though. I mean, their attractiveness does register but I really prefer women who are in their mid-20s to mid-30s, or thereabouts. If they are still pretty then, they likely will be for the rest of their lives and they tend to be more refined mentally.

But still, just how fucking young they are. Some of them were born in 1996! That is insane. I totally feel out of my element in both Moscow and at the university. I used to feel right in my element in the libraries and the other areas of the campus, but these days I feel too old for it. I feel the need to move on, but where? I have no friends, and perhaps no opportunities, anywhere else.

I look somewhat older, and feel a lot older. That is a sign of maturity, I guess. Since I have no job, no promising career outside of what I can make for myself, there is a blank in my future. That is both scary, and kind of cool. Scary in that nothing is certain, but cool in that I have nothing binding me; no mortgage, no marriage, no kids, nothing. I can do just about whatever the hell I want.

And I highly doubt that will ever change.

In any case, the meditation is going great. I'm not drinking too much anymore, although I did start smoking cigarettes again. I don't mind them if they are mild, but I know better than to be a regular smoker, even lightly. It seems that the meditation affects my sleep, and I'm able to have hypnagogic dreams and visions. It is really, really cool. My visions have also become more clear, seeing more definite shapes, greater applied imagery, and some of them seem to be of a revelatory nature. I feel that I'm sharpening my mind towards greater things, if this is indeed the case.

Outside of that, nothing significant is happening. I'm not bored, but I'm wondering how the next few months will be, given that I will not be auditing a class this semester.
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I got a new laptop. It is actually a notebook model, much smaller than my former laptop, but it seems to be a bit more powerful, although it cannot multitask very well. The visuals are a lot crisper and the sounds are a little more vivid, however the operating system is Windows 8, which has proven to be sort of hard to use. I try not to get the latest technology because they are a lot more complicated than they used to be. In general, I like it, although I wonder how long it will be used for (new technology isn't really built to last these days).

I finished A Perception of Existence and Reality sometime last week, and yesterday I put it on my account. A little over thirty people have looked at it, and one person has followed me, however no one has commented on it yet; it may be too early to tell, though. I also put it on reddit; hopefully some people will talk about it. To be honest, the manuscript fell somewhat short of my expectations, but I don't place the blame on myself, for the topic was too broad and nebulous to seriously define. But I am glad that I finished a second book this year; it makes me feel that I am using my time well and that I have accomplished something. I will try to write another, and I'm already brainstorming on it, however I won't start on it for a couple more weeks.

Looking back on last month, it seems that I learned a lot and changed a bit over the course of the month. I learned some esoteric stuff, such as how to divinate and summon an angel, and I've learn some basic stuff, such as how to cook rice, how to go to small claims, and how to deal with an awkward social situation. Quite a bit actually happened last month, and I grew a significant amount from it. I sort of realized sometime last month that I'm basically a full-grown man now, inside and out, but the funny thing is that you never really stop learning and changing, or at least it is still possible. Most older people don't because they either don't want to learn or change, or the idea to do so just doesn't come to them. I'm grateful for still learning things because it is helping me with actually becoming functional, and I feel that my life has really just started.

Outside of that, not much else. My life is fairly quiet right now, outside of the SSI thing. I will move sometime, but I don't feel the need to do it anytime soon.
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It has been a while.

I've been meaning to write in this journal, but there has been a combination of too much going on, and too little.

I've decided that I'm going to move to Portland, OR in a year. There is a significant occult scene there, and I'd like to at least become familiar with it. Not only that, but I will have been here for five years by that time, and that is long enough for me. I mean, I love Moscow, but this place has little to offer really even now, outside of my friends. And I will miss my friends, but I've got to expand my horizons, you know? I'll just stagnate if I stay here, it is time to move on and grow up again.

I lost the calmness from that one DXM trip, but the mental heuristics and lessons learned stayed with me, and I'm doing a bit better still. Not completely, but I don't experience horrible mood swings and I've stopped hating people as certain groups or races; I just look down on most people in general. I'm not completely a misanthrope; I just wonder how "good" most people really are.

I'm still doing DXM occasionally, and have been learning a lot from it. It seems that as time goes on, the more my experiences with it evolve. Even my weakest trips this year rival almost all that I experienced back in 2011, or even a few from last year. DXM seems to change on me a bit, even when I'm taking the same medication.

I've been reading parts of the Old Testament, and needless to say, it is a bit fucked up. I don't agree with almost anything in there and I'm wondering just how good Judaism is, how good Christianity is, and perhaps how good God is. I'm wondering how much of a farce it all is (for instance, there is no archeological evidence that the Jews were ever in ancient Egypt, and Babylon never fell to the Jews as the Jews predicted they would). Since the New Testament is at least partially based on the Old, I'm wondering if I should continue on with the whole thing. But I should probably read more into it.

I didn't go to church last Sunday; partially because of the Old Testament thing, but mostly because of the Elliot Rodger ordeal. I'm not like that guy, I know, but I am also an older virgin who has had bouts of anger towards women (but not men) and it kind of struck a nerve in my sensitive heart. I just don't want to be like that narcissistic prick.

In other news, I've been writing again. It is a non-fictional work titled A Perception of Existence and Reality, where I talk about what makes up the fabric of the universe, except in a simple, theoretical fashion. I've reached about 9,000 words in nine days, and the goal is around 20,000 - 25,000, so I'm getting close. I don't know if I will publish it, or just put it on

Well, that is it.
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I had a dream last night, where I was at the old house in Pendleton, the one on the farm. My mother was present, and she had married another man, a German who looked similar to a previous professor that I had years ago. He kept on bossing me around, but I was having none of it. During the midst of it, I suddenly said "You're not my real father." Then I left, and I was in the parking lot of the house; it was raining, and I could see three radio antennae on the hills glowing red (it was night). I thought about where I should go, and I decided that I could take my car and go to two shopping malls in some towns that I dreamed about roughly a month ago (that was kind of neat that I thought of locations from a previous dream; maybe there is a unified dream world). I then did something with an animal, but I don't remember what.

And then it cut to another dream, where for some reason I was a woman. I supposedly had to show up in court, and I was at the outside entrance to the lobby; there was a sign saying what to wear to court, and with what, in abbreviations. Apparently there was a rule that you couldn't bring guns to the court, which should have been obvious, but then a female police officer showed me pictures of a rifle on the floor, along with a squirrel that had been killed in court.

I was free to leave, which I did. I walked around the neighborhood, and I was behind an old apartment complex, where I saw a VHS rental store. No one seemed to be in there, so I went in, and they had some fairly strange, but interesting tapes and other objects. When I went out, I saw myself in third person as a woman who had revealing battle armor on, and the armor gradually changed to a demon that was molesting me. After a while, I looked at myself in third person again, and I was naked. I had a female body, but something about my lower half was...exaggerated. Then the dream ended.

All in all, I've been feeling slightly better. Just feel like giving love to a certain type of woman that I probably never could, and somewhat distressed over that. But it is still a step up; I now think about selflessly giving love, rather than selfishly receiving it.

Someone on OKCupid messaged me back. I may or may not pursue it; the woman is good looking, but she has a kid (she's older than me, slightly) and I sort of get some not-so-good vibes. Still, it might not hurt to do so.

I did DXM again two days ago. I didn't get my ass handed to me, but I still didn't know what the hell I was doing. The visions seemed to increase in detail and color, and I got the vibes from the spirits that I was on the right track to becoming a wizard. I could actually see, faintly, the spirits around me with my eyes open. I didn't get a lot of insights during the trip, but the next day I learned a lot from it. That seems to be the trend, now; the greater the message, the longer it takes to figure it out.

I've been reading Jung again. The book is titled The Psychology of the Subconscious, and although I've only read about a sixth of it, it is really cool. I'm learning a lot about the subject, and it will help me with writing my book in a month or two.
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So, what has happened?

I stopped writing poetry, but I'm still reading voraciously. I make notes in my notebook, so that I will use them later for further writings.

I actually wrote a paper for the class that I am auditing, that is centered on defining the self. It is a surprisingly hard thing to do, and I really only barely did it. I told the professor that I didn't think that what makes a person unique defines what the self is, and he found that to be interesting. But we'll see how it goes.

I plan on writing more books, and I am going to start writing one on mysticism and philosophy (my own original take, of course) by the time the semester ends. I think that it is critical to do so, since I'm in my 30s now, and I get the feeling that this may be the only time I will be able to, since I might die soon. I doubt it, but it could very well be possible. I'm not going to take any classes in either the summer or the fall, so I'll have plenty of time to do it, and no excuses. I need to do something with my life, anyways. And writing is really the one talent that I truly have.

My mental illness is still around. Not quite as bad, but definitely still ebbing and flowing in the recesses of my mind. But I'm starting to get over it, and I feel that I'm letting go of my obsessive thoughts and feelings, finally. It wasn't that I was stuck on one or two things in the past so much as though a whole lot of small things (and not so small) gradually built up in my youth, providing fuel for the growing fires of apathy, rage, and grief. It isn't healthy for me to do that. I'm 30, and I still have most of my adult life ahead of me. Let my past go; it isn't relevant anymore.

Of course, to truly escape things, I would literally have to move (probably to somewhere I haven't lived before), but I'll take that when it has to happen (not for another year, at least).
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So, two nights ago I did DXM after a tolerance break of six months.

I thought that I was only going to mildly trip, but instead, I got my ass handed to me.

It was a very brutal experience, the most brutal I ever had from any drug. I even thought about not ever doing it again, when I was coming down from the trip. But it was necessary, in order to learn about the nature of the world, and to move on.

I did it, mainly because my chronomancy abilities told me that it was the right thing to do. Over the past week, I was very bothered by an issue that I have had for half of my life, and I finally told it to my friend, my former boss at the Chemistry Department. She was very worried about me, to the point where she told her husband that she was afraid that I was going crazy. I tried contacting my therapist, but she never called me back. I didn't see her this week, either, even though I was supposed to; the appointment was cancelled.

DXM has proven to be very therapeutic in the past, and I had no other option. So as such, I tripped my balls off, to the point where I didn't know who I was, or that I was tripping in the first place.

I had many visions, but one stood out. It was a crude mechanism of parts that differed from one another, rough in shape and covered in grime. A part would fall off due to not being either wanted or needed, and then the vision zoomed out, with the mechanism being a part of a rough matrix of other similar mechanisms, working separately and in approximate unison.

At first, I didn't know what the vision meant. But now I know; the grime resembled the fact that reality is neither clear nor consistent. Life is filled with various factors contributing to the chaos, and we can't perceive the factors and try to ignore the chaos. The parts resembled humanity; neither equal nor uniform, working as best as they can to function. And the part that was discarded resembled the fraction of humanity that I despised; that they would be recognized as unwanted and unworthy, and as such would be sloughed off and sent to the depths.

All in all, it taught me that life is filled with so many things that we either can't or won't perceive or understand, and that is what makes things interesting. We also try to find those that are compatible to us, in order to be functional with both life and ourselves. There is no global unity; we have to find our own group. Life is complete, but not consistent; we don't understand either existence or the world, but we are nonetheless apart of it, trying to construct our own artificial reality in order to deal with the world better. And the ones who I hate, who don't deserve to exist? Either nature or God will take care of them, and thus things will remain decent in the long run so long as we don't fuck it up with egalitarianism or other worthless ideals (or just plain cowardice). The design will still function, and God will always have his way in the end.

We can't all be equal, for if we were, we would all be the same parts, and as such there would be no working mechanism. And some parts just never fit.
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So some people like my songs, other people hate them.

I was expecting a mixed reaction and a lukewarm reception, so it is no big deal. It was my first album, after all, and as such I need to get better. And I likely will.

My brother told me that the music I make isn't the stuff he would listen to, but he did say for me to get a better music editor. So I did just that, and hopefully that will solve most of the problems.

I honestly think I will become something. It will just take time, and brains.

I read a bit today, and I'm quite interested in what Theosophy has to offer. Of course there are a lot of things about it that are wrong, but some of the people in that movement really know what they are talking about. Leadbeater is a very knowledgeable and talented writer, and so far I've been reading his largest (or one of the largest) book of his with zeal.

I wonder what church will be like tomorrow. Hopefully I won't go in there with the wrong mindset.
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Today I went to church, and had an early dinner at the pastor's house. I've been there roughly three or four times before.

I was eating a nice dinner with some of my friends from church, one of whom was the pastor's youngest son. I got into a discussion about how I support universal healthcare, and they didn't agree with me. I didn't agree with them, either, but it was still interesting to hear their perspective. I was telling the other friend about how I wrote a book, and when I told him what it was about, he perked up and said that he wanted to read it. I promised him a free copy, I'm pretty sure; I've said that to around six or seven people about now. I do mean it, but I'm not sure if it will get published.

I actually made him laugh, but I don't remember from what.

In the spiritual discussion, I asked if being curious about the occult was bad. The pastor said yes, and while he did lend himself to the possibility that not every spirit is against God, he said that detracted against the devotion towards God. He said that he didn't think that magic itself was evil, but rather how people used it for their own ends. I told him that I was just curious, and simply wanted to gain visions.

From that, we talked about my previous drug use and my experiences with having visions. They frowned upon my previous habits, but I told them that if it wasn't for my experiences, I'd still be a functional agnostic and would likely be with the Unitarian church instead of a real one. Some reacted with a "BUT YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!", but most said that it was due to the fact that God reached my heart in spite of my destructive habits, and as such I reached out to him.

The pastor eventually did a poll where he took note of everyone in the room (about ten of us) who had visions. Outside of dreams, there was only the pastor and I with our hands up; there was one person who had one while sick, but the pastor didn't count that. I had told them about the "ADO" incident while at church a few minutes earlier (they were surprisingly accepting about that), which is what brought up the whole issue. I explained myself by saying that while I thought that a fair amount of people were connected on some level to the spiritual dimension (far from all, since physicalism and atheism have rendered most people dead inside, in that respect), some had a deeper connection for some odd reason, and I was one of them. I couldn't explain myself; that was just how it was. The pastor agreed with me.

Eventually, I left; the bottom line was that it was okay to be curious, so long as I checked my head. One person gave me an 8 out of 10 in how I presented my arguments, so I didn't look like a fool. I wasn't angry, either, so that was good.

I smoked a cigar a while later (I meant to smoke it with the group, but didn't end up doing so) and I felt horrible for about an hour or two later. I don't want to smoke again; dead honest.

Overall, I learned a lot today.
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The internet at my apartment didn't work this morning, so I went to the university slightly earlier and have spent most of my day there so far.

I have to say that it is a good thing that I'm not always able to access the internet. I went to the library like old times, and read more from the book that I got. There are some very interesting thoughts and ideas in it so far, but I can't say that I really agree with Tibetan Buddhism, let alone devote myself to it. But I'm still really curious about what meditation is like, and I want to do astral projection soon. I've done it once before; I can do it again.

So I've been using the university computers and I'm being pretty productive, with reading again and all that. I knew that I'd pick reading back up; I was just kind of exhausted for a while.

I drew some diagrams about the structure of truth in the notebook I got three months ago; it had been a while since I last used it. I think that it was really important to draw those diagrams because they would have been pushed back into my subconscious if I didn't take concrete action and jolt them down. There is something about action that teaches you (or at least leaves an impression) in more than one way about your thoughts and ideas. Thoughts alone are often good enough, but without action you're basically having cake without the icing.

As such, I've been feeling better about myself. And I've been more mentally active than I have otherwise been over the past week or two. Cheers to that.
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Due to having internet at my apartment again, I don't go to the university as early as I used to. I'd usually be there at around 9:00 am or 9:30 am in the past; now I arrive at around 11:00 am. I don't have to use the library computers anymore (although I currently am right now), so there is no other reason to go there besides visit friends and go to the one class that I audit.

I don't mind it, really. The mornings have been quiet and pleasant, with me being able to look at whatever I want. I am starting to notice that I am spending a lot more time on it, though.

I did manage to read a book last night. It was hard at first, but it eventually helped me think about things. I don't even know what the main point of the book is, outside of the whole science versus faith theme that was common in the early half of the 20th century, and still sort of is today. It is kind of sad that I'm not as attached to reading anymore.

I found a group on reddit that is centered around the occult. At first, you are sort of put off by how silly it seems on the surface, but when you start looking more into it, it just becomes more fascinating to read about and study. The occult has had a tremendous impact on the development and evolution of humanity, and I think that it is sort of sad that people are turning away from not only God, but all other things spiritual.

The group is a lot more accepting of fringe subjects, and outside beliefs. They don't usually see you as being an idiot just for having an opinion or belief that others don't have. The philosophy group wasn't like that at all; just purely based on consensus and clarity, and while those two things can be important to have, they alone don't make anything true. Yet those fools think that things are so simple. In any case, there is hardly anything more offensive than a person who thinks that reality is nothing more than a limited set of abstractions; in other words, they think that things are more simple than they actually are.
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I tried reading yesterday. I just couldn't do it.

It isn't because I feel that I don't need to anymore. Just the opposite; there is still so many things that I need to learn, and books are perhaps the only way to learn those things. But I just can't bring myself to it. I'm not depressed; I just don't have any serious interest. I put all of the research articles that I had downloaded onto my laptop some time ago into folders, and then put those folders away last night.

Perhaps it is because I am over-whelmed. Or more accurately, it might be because I am done with consuming knowledge, and now want to produce it. It might be fair to say that my subconscious is telling me that enough research is enough. I have energy to do other things, so maybe I should try writing once more.

I sent the final draft of my book to my brother and my friend, and I will wait for them to respond before I send it to a publisher. Other than that, I do not plan to do anything else, in the meantime.
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I had a lack of energy yesterday, but I decided to start proofreading my book.

I was pleasantly surprised at how well written it was. I did have to make a few minor corrections, and some parts are slightly repetitive, but it flows together very well. I'm about four-fifths done with it, and I guesstimate that the book would take about two to six hours to read, depending on how fast you read, as well as your interest in reading it.

So yeah, I'm impressed with myself. I definitely want to write more books, and this was a great start. I haven't read very much so far this year (nor do I have as strong of an interest to do so, to be perfectly frank), but writing is better than reading, provided that you have the skill for it. And even if you don't, it is still a good way to exercise your brain.

I do realize one thing, though; the reason why me and the others have the same level of ideas and thought, is that I finally started reading. In just seven months, I read enough philosophy and the like to be on the same level as others. I was always a fairly bright person, but for some reason, I didn't read, because I by and large felt that I didn't have to. Well, a lot of knowledge is contained in books, and if you don't read anything at all, you won't become as educated or aware. Of course, there is such a thing as reading too much, or at least taking everything that has been published as the literal truth, but it is better to be aware of the thoughts of others than it is to live in your own self-absorbed bubble. I know realize that I don't know everything, and I need to at least be open and receptive to the ideas of others, even if I think they are wrong.
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The new roommate seems cool. We talked about our drug experiences and stuff, and that was enlightening.

One thing that I've noticed, though, was that while I am a smart guy with original ideas, I am far and away from being the brilliant man that I thought that I was. Just speaking to the new roommate and his friends, I realized that they all had a lot of the same ideas I did, and I just recently came to these ideas. So I suppose that my thoughts and ideas are not as rare as I previously believed, and most importantly, I'm not so special.

Now it could be a lot worse. I still know a lot, and I still have a fair amount of wisdom and intelligence. The guys who I talked to respected me and my thoughts, and didn't think that I was an idiot. But still, it is a huge slap in the face that I'm nowhere near as original as I thought myself to be. But no thought or idea is entirely exclusive to someone, so I should just take it in stride.

I wonder how I ended up realizing this relatively late in life. It is probably because I don't talk to a whole lot of people, and was sheltered growing up. My parents were basically like "THIS IS THE TRUTH, OR ELSE!!1" While I was a bright enough kid back then not to respect an attitude like that, I was nonetheless provided with no intellectual or emotional road map in life, and as such not only did I get weird ideas, but I was stunted in quite a few ways (still am, to an extent).

But perhaps that is the beauty of it. To go your own path away from the main one, and try to seek out another side of the truth. You'd likely get lost, and run into many falsehoods, but you'd experience life in ways that few other people get to, and perhaps discover your own relative, subjective truths (truth is subjective, to a limited extent). The problem though, is that few people would either understand or appreciate what you had to offer, but if you didn't do many things differently from others (or sadly for most, nothing differently), you wouldn't have anything to offer in the first place.

It is a conundrum of sorts. Stray too far, and no one will understand you, nor would want to. Stray too little, and you're just boring and unremarkable. Hopefully I will be able to write things that people will both want to understand, and care about.

August 2017

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