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I am still not drinking any alcohol, which is great. My therapist thought that it was impressive that anyone could stay way from it for that long. However, there may still be aftereffects from not drinking for so long, since my brain was just flooded with that stuff for years and now it has to readjust. Someone today showed me an image of brain scans of an alcoholic who wasn't drinking as opposed to one who was intoxicated; the sober one had low brain activity, whereas the intoxicated one looked like the normal control. I've always figured that alcohol was a form of self-medication, and that I was likely hugely depressed before I started to drink alcohol, but now I think it has gotten worse than it used to be, although I will say that I'm still able to function as an independent adult and I still seem to be fairly intelligent.

This month was a little weird. I used DXM for a while but I decided to stop, because for some reason it was making me very irritable and emotionally enraged for a day or two after I used it. This never happened when I was drinking alcohol; I think that the two substances operate on some of the same receptors in the brain, and as such when you aren't doing one, the other might start to have more intense effects. Back when I still drank alcohol, I would be very calm and peaceful after I used DXM; now, I have to restrain myself from screaming. Outside of that possible cause, I really have no idea why it is like this now.

I didn't go to the university today. I'm getting a vague feeling that the last friend that I have there doesn't want me around so much anymore, although she is still pleasant. It was time to move on, in any case, but I really should just gradually taper off, instead of not ever going back, ever. I had an excuse because I had to go to Pullman today, so I can just tell her that tomorrow.

In general, I don't think that I'm going to bother with people anymore. I mean, I just don't connect with anyone, even if they don't have a problem with me. I sort of realized that I don't have any close friends, and the few friends that I have would turn their backs on me if I crossed a line or two. It has always been like that, this is just how people are. I'm not angry at anyone or anything, I just can't feel for others anymore. It used to be that I could have a lot of hatred for people, but now I don't think that I can even hate anyone anymore. Maybe I could, but it would be too much personal investment and it is a waste of time. I still like living in the world, but other people have been kind of a disappointment, I guess. I didn't used to be like this; I was once someone who idolized other people and looked for mentors. But now, I can only look towards myself, for not only am I an odd person with an odd set of cultivated skills and wisdom, but no one else gives a shit, either. I feel that I became this way due to the neglect that I have faced.

I was thinking for a while that I was becoming less intelligent and I was losing my memory, but that usually turns out to be false. But it is always best to be on your guard about that.

I renewed the lease for this year. I think that it would have been premature to have moved this year, but if trouble happens with my father (which it might), then it might pose a problem. He is currently gone on his sailing trip with his girlfriend; they reached the end of Baja and sent me an e-mail that wasn't very grammatical, although it was better than the others. He then called me last morning, and woke me up. We talked for only two and a half minutes; the tone was pleasant, but he just wanted to know if he got any odd mail and if I had been doing the chores. He said that it was a dollar a minute to call; that isn't going to set you back very much, and he could have at least asked me how I was doing. I at least would have been polite (not that I wasn't). I'm pretty sure that this is pretty revealing, and if they come back from the trip I might not want to have anything to do with them.

I've actually felt very calm as well; sometimes I feel that there are no problems whatsoever, which is a first since I moved back here seven years ago. I think that it is because I have the security of knowing that my father isn't around, and I can kind of forget about the whole thing. That actually has been very nice for me, and I've realized that I can have a relatively happy and productive life if I finally escape all of this bullshit. Most people have told me "No, don't move..." but honestly, I've been here for years and have given everyone so many chances, only to become more burdened and calloused. Would it be selfish of me to leave? No more than everyone else has been, I think. And besides, I've just been unhappy for so long. There have been moments where I look out to a view while drinking a beer or a coffee, or smoke or otherwise am on some drug, and I feel a sense of beauty and peace, but in general these past seven years have really, REALLY sucked, and I finally have the balls to get myself out of it. Maybe I'm hitting my mid-life crisis early, but I really have no where else to go but somewhere else. I mean, why stay here, with all the broken hopes, promises, and painful memories? I just want to live somewhere else, and have a new life.
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December was somewhat of an odd month. I was pretty emotionally upset for a while, and drank a bit more than I had in months. But I still didn't get drunk every day, and I've toned down on it again; in the past week, I've only had alcohol twice. I also smoke a lot less, which is good. I have a fairly strong resolve to stop those bad habits, because it is really hard to have them the older you get. Not to mention, that around my age it isn't seen as being cool anymore and you really just feel like a loser.

I figured out that the reason why I do these things, is really because I do nothing else. This is probably due to low self-esteem, and low energy levels. But the thing is, is that alcohol just makes those issues so much worse. And I have been doing that for years, and what has it done for me? Nothing, at all. Nothing good, at least. I don't completely blame myself, because if it wasn't for the toxic environment that I was in ever since moving back from MTSU, I wouldn't have done that, at least as horribly. Nonetheless, it has just sent my life to the sidetracks, and I'm going to have a hard time getting back on the right path. It is still not too late, especially since I have achieved things in life, but I honestly feel that the chances are low. Still, may as well keep on trying, because the only certain failure is to quit.

I feel that I will start painting. I have always wanted to do that, but hesitated, because again, fear of failure. As someone who has paid attention to surrealism and alternative art for about ten years, I feel that I have gleaned some inspiration, and I certainly have the drive. I will admit that I don't really know enough about technique, but I don't really fuss over the details; it is far more about the message, the greater picture. I feel that painting will keep me from drinking and will actually give me something that I can appreciate. I doubt that I will be absolutely wonderful at it, but I'm not trying to be famous; I have a genuine curiosity about it. The fear of failure is still there, but in reality, how can you really fail at it when you are only doing it for yourself?

My brother came over here a week and a half ago; we went to a restaurant that had all these fancy televisions in it, and then we saw Rogue One. That was actually a good movie; I was surprised, because I generally despise science fiction. It was great having him around again, and we both laughed a lot. I also had Christmas with my father and his girlfriend; that was nice enough, but I detected a mildly sad vibe from him. I asked them questions about the sailing trip (they are going to leave for it in a week or so), and his girlfriend didn't really have an idea about the whole thing, but I could tell that my father knew that they could realistically both die. It is a little disturbing, to be honest. My brother acts like nothing bad is going to happen, but I don't know.

Overall I've just been a little stressed and emotionally snappy and tense. I wish that I wasn't, although since the holidays are almost over, I feel that I will be back to a better condition soon enough.
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It has been a while. I don't post too much, because a lot of things go on in my head, but little to nothing goes on in my life. I would bore most people, because they care about what others do, not what they think.

In any case, the withdrawal is practically over. All that is left is the nausea and the inability to go to sleep early, but that is minor. I don't feel sick at all, and I'm starting to feel more healthy, because I barely use drugs anymore and I am quitting smoking and toning down on my drinking. I only use two drugs now, and I only use them about once a month. I don't like how I feel after I've done them; due to not being on Olanzapine anymore, I feel like an emotional mess, and I'm sometimes in mental pain. Well, I'm growing out of it, I guess.

I am still drinking, but not as much as I used to. It did pick back up for a little bit, but I toned down again because again, I don't like the way it feels when I overdo it. And I'm quitting smoking because I had no idea that a Black and Mild had about 10 to 15 cigarettes in them. That made me feel like an idiot. Fortunately, I'm having good luck with quitting, and I don't them at all most of the time, so as such I'm better off without them. I've noticed that I'm in a much better place emotionally when I don't smoke, which is usually the opposite for most people.

As for everything else, I'm starting to be interested in law school, because I've been thinking about family matters, as well as what I went through when younger, and that has motivated me to make sure that this stuff doesn't happen to others. A lot of people say that if you want to make changes, you become a lawyer, and I think that I can. I've talked to people about this, and they seem to think that I have the proper motivation, and that I could do it. But I have to wait a while before the monitoring period ends (about three more years), and I have to make sure that I know what I'm getting myself into. It isn't too late for me; I'm not that old, and the fact that I have a Master's degree already would put me in a favorable position. There is only one friend who told me that she was worried about it, and that was only because she was afraid that I didn't have the focus to do it. She even admitted that I would have a better chance getting a job from law school than I would from pursuing a PhD. I know that there is a surplus of lawyers these days, but that only mildly applies to Idaho, and not as many people seem to go to law school anymore, anyway.

I've lived in this apartment for a little over a year now. It is like I never lived at the other place, or almost anywhere else, although I still have dreams of living in Pendleton. I can still remember living there, but I don't really feel like I did. I'd rather forget most of it, to be honest. The last year there was very unpleasant.

Well, on with it...
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I'm doing alright. Most of the withdrawal has calmed down or gone away; I still have problems going to sleep, eating enough, and having nausea, though. I can suck in my stomach very well, and my nausea is so bad that I sometimes gag for no reason at all, but for the most part I am not suffering. About a week ago, I gagged in front of a young lady who is a clerk where I like to get my smokes and beer, and both her and another girl laughed. She actually did an impersonation, but when I told her why I was doing that, she felt bad for me.

I can't really drink alcohol too much anymore, and I sure as hell don't want to do any drugs. Partially because I no longer feel the need to, but mostly because it just seems so degenerate and unhealthy. I really need to grow out of doing that stuff. I've said in the past that I have felt like an immature douche for doing that for so long, but this time it has really hit me hard. I have only done drugs twice since I went off of Olanzapine, and they were light doses. I did not really like how they made me feel; it was more like an mediocre distraction than anything else. I can still see why I did that, since drugs used to be the only way for me to feel anything, but now there is just no point to it anymore. I still drink beer, but only two or three of them now. I can't even handle a 40 oz anymore, because it will make me vomit; only weeks ago, I could handle six pints, and now that just seems insane to me. I still can't believe that I used to drink that much every day.

Outside of that, my mind is a bit more scatterbrained, but on the side of the same token, I feel just as intelligent as I used to, if not more so. I'm just less pointed and focused in my thoughts, I suppose, which is sort of bad but at the same time, it can lead to greater creativity. I also have a lot more energy now, which is odd, but welcome. I've been able to actually clean my apartment and rearrange stuff; I vacuumed the floors (that was a first), sorted through my possessions, cleaned my dishes, swiped the floors, cleaned the bathroom, and moved my bed. All in all, I'm very proud of myself for finally taking care of things, although it was never too dirty around here. I might get a desk to put in my bedroom so I can actually use that room; that would be nice.

My memory doesn't seem to be as good as it used to be, but I could be wrong about that. It could very well be because I'm readjusting to my more natural way of thinking.

That is about it, for now. Not really anything else going on.
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My friend is back, and her mother is doing better than expected. She's still really worried for her, though. I have prayed for both of them multiple times, and I almost never do that. Hopefully they will both be okay.

My father is back, too. He got back roughly three weeks ago but didn't meet up with me until almost two weeks later. He said that he and his girlfriend were "busy" for a while. That is slightly suspicious, and even my brother mentioned that, saying that when he calls them they are always busy for some reason and unable to talk. My brother made a valid point that they are both retired, so as such they should have plenty of time, but that is obviously not quite the case. I wonder what they are doing, but I honestly just want all of that to be water under the bridge. At this stage, I really should just have little to do with it.

I've been good with not drinking so much. Only about once a week, which is fine. I also haven't done weed or DXM in a while, and I plan on delaying their usage for a bit. I kind of want to sober up and not rely on that stuff, although outside of alcohol I had no addiction problem. I still smoke lightly, but that is really just to give myself something to look forward to for the evening. I don't smoke enough to cause any lasting damage, at least for now. Although I plan on quitting that, too.

My dreams have been weird recently. I have been astral and mental projecting, as well as having vivid dreams, over a period of several days and I have no idea why, outside of not drinking alcohol anymore. Perhaps due to my cessation, I am becoming more spiritually adept? It is definitely possible. I have discovered many things about how to enter into the astral and mental realms. As it turns out, the Astral Realm is hard to enter, whereas the Mental Realm is relatively easy. I don't know why, except for the fact that the Astral Realm tends to drain my energy, whereas the Mental Realm rejuvenates me. Both realms produce vivid landscapes, however the Astral Realm is far more sharp and clear, whereas the Mental Realm is covered by a translucent fog. I don't know much about the Astral Realm, since I can only be in there for at most a minute, but I know quite a bit about the Mental Realm. You can have dreams within dreams in there, and you can see with your eyelids closed. In fact, you can enter into the Mental Realm (or the Astral Realm) through normal dreams, although I do not know how to command that at will. Entities do exist in there, but I don't encounter them too much. It is not like a lucid dream, since I have little control over either realm. I vastly prefer the Mental Realm over the Astral Realm, since it is more personal to me and I can be in there for a long while. I have the theory that the Mental Realm is the mindscape within one's subconscious, and thus is not shared, whereas the Astral Realm is shared with others.

I told this to my friend yesterday, and she asked me if I told my therapist about this. I asked her if she thought that I had a mental illness due to this, and she said "No." Odd, though, since my brother sort of accused me of manifesting psychosis due to this a while back. I don't blame either one of them, though, since having purely subjective experiences tends to be associated with having a mental illness.

I'm probably going to start writing today. I've put it off long enough. Besides, my psychiatrist wants to see what I can write, so I will share it with her when I'm done. I will almost certainly finish my writing by the time I see her again, so it shouldn't be a problem. Oh, and I'm also looking to get this one officially published this time, so in case I'm doing this for real. I've already done some research as to how it would happen, and I think that I might finally have a chance. My only worry is that if I do, I might make enough money to disqualify me from SSI, and then I won't get another book published, leaving me with nothing. But hopefully such a bad thing won't happen.
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Wow, it has been almost a month since I last updated this journal. I guess that I sort of hit a lull.

In any case, not a whole lot is going on, although I get the feeling that shit might hit the fan soon. I mean, it will anyway, but I sort of get an odd premonition. My dad is still gone and I have not heard from him; he is rarely gone for over a month (although it is barely over that line), so I should be sort of concerned. What he is doing isn't really all that safe (hell, the drive to the place itself isn't safe), so it just be a matter of time. Who knows, though? I don't actually know the future; no one does.

My friend and former boss was gone all of last week, during the spring break for the students. I thought that it was odd, and no one knew where she was. Turns out, her mother fell ill and now she's still with her; it might be something serious. I feel really bad for her; she has kind of had a hard few months so far.

I hung out with someone a week ago, and smoked weed with him. I also drank one of his homebrewed beers. The beer was awesome, but the weed hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't go crazy, but it was odd to be like that around others. He wasn't freaked out by me (thank God), but if I'm going to do that again, I'm probably going to smoke less of it. Drugs are more of a solitary thing for me, now.

Speaking of drugs, I've decided that weed and DXM are pretty much going to be the only ones that I do from now on. Everything else is basically "been there, done that". Hell, I'm trying to quit tobacco and alcohol, too, because those two drugs are worthless, at least as a loner. But there is no trying, there is only a doing, that I have found out. I mean, if you really want to, you just stop. End of story. To say "trying" means that you will allow failure, which I can't anymore. Why should I? It is destroying me, physically, mentally and financially. Time to find some other outlet.

I just recently realized that while I'm still slightly young, I'm well into my thirties and I need to act like it. Fortunately, I generally do. I'm not immature, per se, I'm just lost because I didn't have many mentors growing up, my parents didn't raise me right, and I'm socially isolated, meaning that I'd had to figure things out on my own. I eventually do, but it has taken me a bit longer than anyone else. What was important to realize was that most people see me as either being normal or only slightly odd, and I was raised with others thinking that I was this huge problem, so as such I just don't know what to think of myself. But I'll move on, and I'll figure it out. Some things are already working themselves out, like a lowered sex drive, no longer playing eroge, and a general lack of interest in things that are a bit younger than I should be interested in. I never was really juvenile or anything, especially since I have a lot of sophisticated interests too, such as philosophy, spirituality, and academic writing, but I definite had a nerdy interest or three. Nothing hugely wrong with it, and I shouldn't get rid of it entirely, but still, don't want them to get worse, you know? And besides, growth is good, for the most part.

I think that what helped me with growing up is that just a few weeks ago I realized that being really angry or enraged doesn't do me any good; it just sets me back and distracts me. I can't believe that it took me so long to realize that, but better late than never. I try not to get angry anymore, and instead to just move on and avoid the things that I can avoid.

I've been wondering about living nocturnally. I lived a daily swing-shift life for over a year, so I know I can do it. Why do I want to do this? I get the feeling that my friends are going to gradually disappear soon, and I just don't really want to deal with others anymore. That might sound unhealthy, but I just want to be more productive with less distractions. During the day I have trouble staying awake, and during the night I have a hard time going to sleep virtually all the time. I'm wondering if I should live during the night, and if that would be better for me. Part of it is to have little to do with others, and the other part is to discipline myself. I wouldn't be able to drink beer as much, since drinking during you've just awoken is stupid and getting beer during the early morning is absurd. Not to mention that I can focus my energy on studying shit and finally getting more shit done. Perhaps I'm always drained by the people and the constant noise? I don't know, but it is worth trying out. I can always switch back, if I have to.

Overall, that is it. I want to write again, but I have to do a little bit more research, as always.
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I actually feel great today (because I didn't have any alcohol or weed yesterday), but for the past two weeks or so, I had felt pretty down. Not depressed, per se, but I definitely had a sense of avolition. I just could not bring myself to do anything, including reading books. All I really did was drink beer and play video games, although not to a horrible extreme. I don't really know why that happened, except for maybe the fact that it was a natural consequence of using weed too much. I also had a really hard time getting out of bed in the morning, sometimes waking up as late as one in the afternoon. I don't think it was the alcohol in and of itself, although it does play a factor in my emotional lability. Truth be told, I never really experienced anything like this. But I was eventually able to do the things necessary to keep myself in order, such as clean my dishes, take care of bills, and give myself a haircut (I really needed to do that). And now, I feel pretty good about myself, although I used weed three days ago and that really set me on edge for a while.

Frankly, I think that this tells me that I should not use weed very often. Knowing that I don't like to become non-productive, this really does seem like a good idea.

I met with my father three days ago, and I was able to bring some things up that bothered me about what he was doing. He was a bit defensive, but it ended well and some things got clarified. It took me a lot of courage to do that, and I think that it was good for me to have done so. I think that it took me months to prepare for that, though.

I've been having odd, vivid dreams for a few days. One was the typical recurring dream where me and my family are driving on a highway by a large body of water, and we go off the road and into the body of water, except in this case we didn't go back on the road, but stayed in the car underwater. There was another where I was swimming in a lake similar to the one I used to go to when much younger, and it was almost all in a translucent purple/blue hue. And then just two nights ago I had a dream where this older man stabbed me in my left testicle and I felt real pain; as it turns out, I do have intermittent pain there in my waking life. Just this morning, I had two different dreams of me going into these weird, brown towers on a rocky plain, and then meeting someone I knew from high school in a community college library and getting into an argument with him (it started with me saying "I do not understand your analogy...", which is something I would say in real life). Just very weird, vivid dreams. I've talked before about how I think that there is a separate world that you go into in your dreams, or perhaps that it is the afterlife that you have when you cease to exist in the physical world, but no one can say for certain. Either way, I should study on how to increase my lucidity in my dreams.

I might write a document on dimensional thought. It sounds daunting and pretentious, but it is somewhat more simple than it sounds. I should at least try to do it.

Well, I should pick my life back up and start reading again. The weather has been unusually warm for a few days, which worried me at first but today I found it quite nice.
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2016 has been...somewhat odd, to say the least. I don't think that it is going to be a bad year (at all, actually), but when I consulted the I Ching about what the year was going to be like, it said that I was about to be blindsided by something. So I should be careful about that.

But yeah, 2015 really sucked, looking back on it. I didn't even like most of the Vaporwave music that came out.

In any case, I have only read one book this month so far. I really should read more, but I just don't have the drive anymore. You can only do the same thing for so long; to be honest, it has gotten to the point where everything I read is something that seems like I've already read it before. It is a little nuts. I still want to write, though, but even so I'm a bit cautious about what to write and how to write it. I know that I can write, and that is the hardest obstacle to overcome I believe, but to be honest, I'm starting to think that I'm sort of full of shit. Not completely, but perhaps I'm not as smart or as original as I thought that I was. But whatever; if I'm not now, I might be later, for those two traits are ones that have to be gained and not given. But knowing that I'm not reading any more for now, I can't help but to feel that my mind is rather stagnant.

I was using weed edibles for about a week, and ate the last one last night. I thought that Sativa was making me crazy, and to be fair I did go a little nuts. I calmed down, though, and last night was perfectly fine, so as such I think that it is okay now to use them sparingly. They are fun, but probably aren't good for me in the long run. Nonetheless, I was given many insights into the human mind while being high. The odd thing is that normally I talk to myself a lot, but when I was high, I barely said a word for hours. When I told this to my brother, he couldn't help but to laugh.

Not much else is going on, unfortunately, except for the fact that I finally got internet at my apartment and I've been playing Shining Force for the Genesis. I'm not spending a lot of money, which is good, and I'm also trying to get my bearings for this year. I should be fine for a while, though.
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I'm a little bit better now. I feel a little sick, probably from the stress and perhaps the smokes and the alcohol. I haven't drank or smoked all that much (I've seldom betrayed the "once-every-other-day" schedule), but I need to stop doing that because it isn't helping and they are probably making me sick, or at least making it more likely for me to get sick.

I was stressed out for about three weeks. Still sort of am; it was making my hair fall out. When I was on the phone with my sister, she told me that when I told her of the bad news, that she could tell that I was under so much distress. I just hate how something can totally not be your fault, and yet only you suffer the consequences. I've had to experience that a lot.

I don't feel like I'm dying, but I do think that I have to stop doing this shit. I'm sick of it.

I likely won't move. I can't afford to move anywhere and I like it here, anyways. I shouldn't make a sacrifice just because someone else is being dishonest and childish. It turns out that my brother didn't know, and he fully supports our father. Big surprise there. I probably will be more distant towards both of them; I can really only enjoy my life when I'm not reminded of this shit. Fortunately, there have been times where I don't think about it, and act like it never happened.

I'm reading and writing again. After I read a book by Simone De Beauvoir, I'm probably going to write something about existentialism, which is my favorite school of philosophy (so far).

When I talked to my therapist about what happened yesterday, she told me that my father can replace his wife, but that he can't replace my mother. Only I have the power to make that choice. She is right, but it doesn't make it any less hard.

Oh well, at least my life isn't entirely boring right now.

I just have to become more distant with them. Disowning my father wouldn't do any good, at least right now. But I'm sick and tired of pretending and being manipulated. Even if my mother was still alive and our family was normal, you don't try to be a "big, happy family" when your oldest son is nearly 32. It just doesn't work.

I guess that I am still sort of angry, but if I shut it out of my life, it won't be a major problem.

Well, here is hoping that I end up not damaged or anything.
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It has been a while again.

Apparently someone disappeared at my apartment complex. He was an older guy who had to use a cane, and I hardly saw him without some malt liquor. Most disappearances of that sort are usually suicides, but the odd thing was that he didn't kill himself inside his apartment. I saw the inside as they were cleaning it out, and it was filled with several (and I mean a FUCKLOAD) tallboys of malt liquor.

It made me reflect. I thought to myself, "Is this where I am headed? Do I want to end up like that? I don't think that I will, but I might." So as such, I have to be careful about how I treat myself and how I live my life, else I end up like him, or something similar.

I talked to the guy who lives right next to where that guy lived, and he turned out to be a nice guy; I thought that I wouldn't like him, but I'm usually wrong about that. He says that the cleaners asked him what happened, so as such no one has any idea what happened. Today the cleaning lady (who I think was my former neighbor at the place where I used to live) claimed that he stole her pink purse, and he called the cops on the matter to get it all resolved. Isn't that pleasant (and downright surreal, for that matter)?

Still am not drinking every day. I've been doing that for a while, so as such this is something significant. I don't think I've done anything like this, to be honest. Complete dry stretches, yes, but not moderated drinking. My bank account is doing better, as is my health. I still might drink today, though.

All in all, that is all. Just reading books and taking care of necessary stuff.
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It has been about a month since I last posted. Things have happened, but I couldn't really jot them down. I don't completely remember the early part of this month, in any case.

My father and his girlfriend are going on a sailing trip down the coast of Mexico. I think that it is really foolish, because neither one of them speaks Spanish (at least I don't think that they do), his girlfriend doesn't really know how to sail, there are tides, storms and pirates down there, and there is bacteria in the water. Not to mention that he has never gone on any kind of trip like this; the San Juan Islands are just a dot on the map in comparison to the coast of Mexico.

Some people think that they will be okay (although most don't), but my father told me a month ago that they don't care if they die on the trip. Why would his girlfriend think that? She just retired. Obviously, he has some sort of death wish. When I told my sister that part, she immediately freaked out and said that he said this kind of crap when he was going to kill himself. Before then, she was just neutral about it, which was weird because I thought that I told her, but I suppose that I left that part out. In any case, they could die, or something else could happen that is not good. I'm not hoping for it, but it is realistic.

There is also the whole thing about where is he getting all this money to go on these trips and buy a sailboat in San Diego, but I have no proof of anything, so I can't accuse him of anything bad, at least not yet.

I don't drink every day anymore. That is great, because I don't want to waste my money and I care about my health. I don't like beer anymore, anyway; I threw up last night on my old laptop and I thought that I ruined it, but I likely didn't. I just think that drinking alcohol is pretty silly and juvenile, and is a waste of time.

I also don't want to do DXM as much; I'm not going to do it today, so that is good.

I've been reading some Existentialism recently, mostly by Camus. I like him; I agree with most of what he says, even if he isn't always clear. Sartre, on the other hand, is almost pure nonsense. Reading that kind of stuff makes me feel like I'm not an idiot.

I messed around with Irfanview yesterday, and it was really cool. It inspired me to make my own GIFs and pixel art. I think that I'm going to do that with my time now, instead of drinking.

Overall, things are above-average.
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It has been about two weeks since I moved.

I love it. I don't feel antsy in there anymore; I've learned how to deal with boredom. I think that I initially felt that way because I didn't know how to spend my time without the internet, but now I just like to chill out. I'm actually a lot more happy and mentally healthy without constant access to the internet; it provides me a lot less opportunity to remind myself that I'm not like anyone else, and as such I'm a lot less jaded.

I could spend all day in my apartment, but I like going out sometimes. I still need to see my small amount of friends, anyway, just to keep myself somewhat in the loop. I don't need a social life but I don't want my ability to talk to others to completely atrophy.

It hasn't rained in over a month. It has just been fairly hot and sunny. I hate it.

I paid my former roommate all of the money that I owed him, and to celebrate I got drunk. It was fun at the time, but during the next day I just felt like a degenerate loser. It was the first time I felt extremely ashamed about it; usually I just made excuses in the past. I didn't have a drop of alcohol the day after, though, so that was good. I'm planning to stay away from alcohol. It is unhealthy, a waste of time and way too expensive, anyway. Even if I could afford it, I don't know if I would want to drink it anymore.

As it turns out, my former roommate still lives at the old place. I sort of knew that; he said that he wanted to move out, but the arrangement that he made didn't work out. I believe him, although if it was a few weeks ago I would have called him a liar. He seemed pretty unhappy. I'm not glad that he fucked himself over, but he did bring it all on himself.

I still slightly miss the old place, but it brought out a lot of bad habits and I needed to move on and start living on my own. I was getting too old to have roommates.

Basically, these days I just chill out in my apartment and carry out solitary activities. I like reading and writing, and I write about ten pages of poetry a day. One of my friends has been reading my poems and she likes them. The problem is, though, is that I don't know how to really get my poems out there, so it might be a while. I am not sure if anyone reads poetry anymore, anyway. I also want to make computer games and music again, as well as practice drawing (which I actually have been doing), but my poetry comes first.

Other than that, pretty much nothing. The death anniversary of my mother was uneventful, save for meeting my brother's girlfriend for the first time. She is nice. I'm watching my weight now and I have lost a few pounds, and it is odd because my brother now weighs more than me. It used to be the other way around for several years. I don't eat that much, even when I'm hungry, because I'm barely stressed out or anxious anymore. That, in combination with alcohol reduction, will likely make me skinny again, for the first time in about five years.
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I finished my second book of poetry today. It is titled, "Many Questions, Few Answers". I wrote over 130 poems in less than a month; that is pretty impressive, to me. On the whole, I am proud of the work, but I realize that I probably have at least a little bit left to go before I become something noteworthy. I am good, but I'm nowhere near the best.

I think that what is going to kill my chances as a poet in particular, and a writer in general, is that I have no idea how to get my works out outside of self-publishing. And I don't like doing that. Self-publishing is like using a vanity press, except in the former case you generally don't pay any money, or at least you don't have to. But I'm still improving, and I might get a better idea about how to do it nice and proper; at least my poems no longer revolve around myself so much. If going to church taught me anything, it is that you should look for things outside of yourself, rather than be completely self-absorbed. I was like that for years and it did me no good, but at least I snapped out of it.

Other than that, I'm still not drinking so much (about once every third day). I don't like spending a lot of money on a fickle high. At least DXM gives you a sense of meaning. Plus, I don't like beer as much as I used to. So about five years of near-solid drinking; happened a bit later in my life than most, but that isn't a long period and I learned pretty well in the end. I could relapse, sure, but why? Drinking beer doesn't solve anything; it just gives you a sense of euphoria that lasts maybe three hours and increases your anxiety afterwards. I really only did it because I was bored so much, and have a lot of time on my hands. I did drink while I had a job, but nowhere near as much as without one.

I've been putting things into boxes and leaving them in the living room for the move in two weeks. I don't have a lot of stuff; perhaps only 20% of my stuff is still in my room, excluding furniture. It will probably be easy to move to the new place, outside of my bed and the cabinet.

Well, all is okay right now. I'm not going crazy, I'm not as stressed out anymore, and I feel a little bit healthier since toning down my substance use. Still feel slightly uneasy about the anticipation, though.
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Still feel like crap. Although when it rains, I feel a bit healthier, because it clears the air from that pollen shit. I can't believe that I've had allergies for at least two years and I just now have noticed it; I think that this is because I didn't have allergies at all during my youth and I believed that I would never get them. But no, it can happen to you, at any time.

My roommate actually has to move out as well; it didn't work out for his friend and his girlfriend. Just desserts, but since he has to deal with the fallout as well, I'm no longer angry at him. Things just change, eventually.

I need to stop drinking beer. It just depletes my savings, depletes my health, and just makes me feel like shit if I have too much. It used to be that I could handle nine to twelve beers with ease; now it obliterates me. I feel like total garbage whenever I drink that much the morning after. Plus, it is really making my anxiety and depression worse. I just feel like I can't do anything, and that my mind is just becoming retarded. Of course, it isn't, but I'm not performing well right now. I should drink something else instead, so that I don't make myself worse off in the long run; even having four beers sometimes feels like it is too much these days.

I've decided that even though I'm not reading right now, I'm going to write another book of poetry. I'm still writing poems, and I need a project so that I'm not a complete waste of space, so as such I may as well turn what I am doing into a book. It won't be centered around my psychotic disorder this time; I'm trying to distance myself from the poems. The poems that I write aren't very emotionally laden, but rather self-critical in a light-hearted manner. I'm having fun writing them, but I honestly think that I'm not doing enough with my time right now. Then again, there isn't much someone like me can do, unemployed or not; the fact that I have one talent is remarkable.

I'll try to weather through this. Hopefully I won't be subject to anyone's stupidity anytime soon, because I'm on the verge of snapping.
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It has been a while.

Some stuff has happened. For roughly three weeks, I've been taking DXM every other day as an experiment. This was prompted by Rite Aid having a "Two for One" deal on their syrups; I enjoyed this for a while until I learned that I could buy three bottles of gelcaps for only three dollars at the local Dollar Tree for an indefinite amount of time. I've been learning a lot about the nature of DXM, as well as the nature of myself and my mind. For instance, it seems that you don't receive messages and visions from entities and spirits from without, but rather they come from your own subconscious. Essentially, you have more than one mind and self, and perhaps your mind has a mind of its own that you are usually unaware of. When you take DXM, you remove a lot of the barriers between your consciousness and your subconsciousness, and as such you can learn many things that you otherwise wouldn't. It is possible that you do become more aware of spirits and entities from the outside as well, but for the most part it is all you.

There has only been one time where I had a bad experience. That was the last time I took it, three days ago. I decided to take DXM right after I took it the day before, and I noticed that even on low doses I was getting strong visuals. When I took the last bottle of gelcaps, the euphoria and dissociation went away and my body started to heat up, with my eyes feeling odd. I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, and I saw that my pupils were very dilated. I sort of panicked and thought that I got serotonin syndrome, as my legs were also twitching, but after a few minutes it became tolerable and I rolled with it. The visuals were awesome and among the most crisp I had ever seen, however I had a lot of anxiety and the trip wasn't very enjoyable.

I'd like to find other ways to explore the subconscious, but DXM is simply too fun. Outside of my last experience, I don't regret what I have done, although I should probably tone it down a bit.

About two weeks ago, I caught my roommate talking smack about me behind my back. It was stupid of him to have thought that I couldn't hear him talking on the phone, especially when his room is right across from mine. He was just going on about how he's sick and tired of hearing me talk to myself and laugh to myself, and that he has to clean up my mess. The first part is slightly understandable, however the second simply isn't true. He is the one who makes most the messes around the apartment, and there was one time where he didn't do the dishes for six months. Not to mention that he makes me wait around for well over an hour whenever I give him rides for his errands (I give him rides in exchange for him doing the dishes, which he rarely does) and just drags his feet in finding another roommate; I've been paying barely affordable rent for almost a year. He doesn't eat my food, which I am grateful for, but he has been very grouchy and unpleasant over the past few months and we don't get along as much as we used to. I feel like a fool because I have told him things that I now in retrospect should have never said, and I trusted him. He's always been weird, but I tolerated that, partially because I'm weird myself, partially because I'm a tolerant person, but perhaps mostly because I was simply too sheltered. I've only had three other roommates besides him. I don't regret living with other people, but I think that I have lived with him for too long, and now it is time to get a place of my own. I just need to figure out how.

Two of my friends were gone; one has her husband in hospice and the other had jury duty. The one who had jury duty is back now, and I have talked to her a bit and have confided in her about my recent troubles. She really is someone who I can trust; before she left for jury duty, she accidentally told me that she loved me. Of course that was an error, but I was still touched by that. I hope that my other friend is okay; I know what it is like to have a loved one dying, because my mother died more that two and half years ago. Odd that I lost my mother when I was only 28, but if she wasn't dead I'd still be living at home, not as grown up as I am now. Just goes to show you, that most clouds have a silver lining.

I collected some selected poems that I wrote from March of 2013 to March of 2014, and I'm going to write some philosophical and psychological interpretations of them. I plan on self-publishing them under the title Psychotic Poetry and Their Philosophical Interpretations; it will be great because I haven't written any books in a while, and I feel like I should. I haven't read as much books recently, but that will likely change in a few weeks.

Outside of all those things, nothing else has really happened. But a lot did, when you think about it.
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Life is somewhat quiet again.

I've successfully stopped drinking so much; over the past week I went from drinking four beers a day to three, and now only two. I like beer but it is kind of expensive and I want to do other things with my time. Don't get me wrong, I still like getting drunk every once in a while, but I honestly think that I should move on from it.

I've been getting up really early for some reason, sometimes as early as 3:00 AM. This would be perfect for me to practice astral projection, but for some reason I can rarely force myself to go back to sleep; I am just too alert. Half the time I just stay in bed until around 7:00 AM, but the other half I get up a bit earlier and then leave for the university. I do get a little tired when the day is half over, but I seem to have a bit more energy these days. Just a few days ago I cleaned parts of my room and decided to get rid of some books that I'm never going to use. I should get rid of other stuff, because there is a possibility that I could end up homeless, and then where would all of my stuff go? It is better to prepare for the worst, even if it never happens.

When I usually wake up early in the morning, I get these odd thoughts that I'd usually never have. They have revealed a bit to me, and just recently I've kind of figured out just how wrong it was for my father to have done what he did. I mean, get rid of virtually all reminders of my mother from the house, have some woman I barely know move in with him after only being in a relationship with him for four months (she's trying to sell her house, too) and having the whole house rearranged, with him acting all fake and superficially happy, while trying to go back to his old tricks of controlling me? It is offensive, and it spits in the face of my dead mother. She loved him so much and made so many excuses for him, and now look what he does. My mother never wrote a will because she believed that my father would never be with another woman (I'm 90% sure that he promised that), and he practically betrayed her. She also wrote several letters for him on her deathbed for him to open after she died, and none for either me or my siblings. It all spits in my face, too. I'm just pretty angry, now.

My brain feels better now. I can write a bit better, and I don't have as much anxiety. I'm starting to write again, on how people think about the meaning of life. It probably won't be perfect, but I enjoy writing it so far, and I feel that it might be worthwhile. I'm also going to write another thing, sort of a fantasy/erotica novel with a tongue-in-cheek bent; don't know when yet, though.

I wanted to do DXM again so badly, but I stopped myself two days ago. I got a warning or two from my I Ching readings that it would have blindsided me and set me back, so as such I have decided to not do it until after I write the first book, if I do at all for a while. I mean, I know that I will do DXM again; it is just too much fun and highly intriguing. However, there is still a slight chance of it fucking with my brain, and I should keep the usage of it to a minimum, for I'm in my thirties now.

Hopefully things will be quiet for a little while longer, until I want things to get loud again.
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It has been a really odd month so far.

I recently found out that one of my friends from MTSU died in a car accident last May. I can't believe that I didn't know that one of my friends had been dead for over seven months. We were pretty good friends during my last year at MTSU, but after I left we barely talked to one another so as such it wasn't as painful as it could have been. I guess that it just goes to show how far removed I am from that phase of my life; I really have changed a fair amount. He is roughly the ninth or tenth person who has died on me in my life, which is actually a fairly large number for someone who is only 31 years old; most of the departed were young people like him, too (he was only 26 when he died). I am no stranger to death; I was introduced to it on a significant level when my best friend died from auto-erotic asphyxiation when we were both 17. That was really shocking because I didn't know that people did that to themselves, and my friend was very straight-laced.

An odd thing about my dead friend was that when I was talking to him through Facebook four years ago, I told him that I wanted to move and yet I didn't want to abandon my mother, who had cancer and was going to die a year and a half later (I had no idea that my mother was soon to be dead, though; I just thought that I shouldn't leave her just in case she was going to die). He said something around the lines of "Dude, just leave and have your own life." He was right, but I really couldn't have left my mother like that. I just find it sort of ironic that he is also now dead, and I had no idea that anything like that would happen to him. To be fair, though, he had a vibrant personality that while it made him a very pleasant person to be around, it didn't really fit his age. He basically acted like he was 20 or so by the time he was 26 (not that he did stupid things; he was just very jovial and didn't take many things seriously), and there was always a part of me that wondered just how he would be when he was about my age; looking back on it, I honestly couldn't have seen him seriously being my age, not that I thought that he was going to die, though. He was my brother's age, which makes it pretty odd, to say the least.

I was on that one medication for two days in order to decrease my drinking, and it was strange. The first day, I felt all calm and almost euphoric, and I was kind of mildly dissociated, having the strange thought that we are just put on this earth with no purpose or plan, and no roles to act out, and no restrictions to our behaviors, and yet all of us seem to instinctively feel that all of these things exist in our lives, and that we are here for a specific reason, when we are not. On the second day, however, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack right after I took the dose, so I had to go into the ER. They did a check-up on me and also did an EKG, and I turned out to be fine. As it turned out, the medication gave me an anxiety attack that triggered some psychosomatic symptoms, and I freaked out over it. I don't feel ashamed because it was the first time anything like that happened to me, and I hadn't been to the ER in well over a year in any case. The physician acted surprised that I was on the medication in the first place due to me telling him how much I was drinking, and he said that I seemed to be very motivated to stop drinking and that I should try doing it without any medication. According to him, I don't seem to have a significant alcohol problem.

For days after I stopped taking the medication, my head hurt, I felt dehydrated and I was all-around miserable and prone to anxiety. My hair also seemed to fall out from it. I just felt like the medication had too many negative side effects, and that it was overkill. I didn't drink enough beer to seriously warrant a medication to curb the usage and the medication made me feel way worse than any hangover I ever had, with the exception of one during MTSU.

This is really the first time my psychiatrist has ever made a serious mistake. She must be really conservative with substance use, and probably believes that I have more problems with alcohol than I actually do. I ask people around me if I have problems with alcohol, and they say no and fully admit to drinking more alcohol than me. One of my friends privately felt that I should have never been on the medication, I later found out from him. It was just plain reckless that my psychiatrist would put me on such a serious medication for such a minor problem (if it is even a problem at all), although to be fair she didn't push it on me and it was my idea to try it out. She really can't be fully blamed.

There is one good thing that came from it, though: I quit smoking. It has been three days and I've only had the slightest cravings; it has been way easier than I thought it would be. I decided to quit because it was too expensive, it wasn't good for me, and it made my anxiety worse, so as such I did what I did. I don't regret it at all; if I control my drinking, I will now have a lot more money to save up for important shit or emergencies, for you never know what is going to happen in your life.

Not too much else is going on. Playing Final Fantasy XII for the first time in eight years, and that has proven to be pretty fun. Also trying to read a bit so that I will have enough knowledge and opinions to write one of my papers, although I wonder what the point of writing them exactly is nowadays.
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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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It has been kind of an odd week or so.

I did DXM with Damiana last Saturday, because it was a full moon. I was able to see abstract images telling me how my future was going to be like (a brick forming and then slid into a wall, and then a white string being woven into thousands of others, being sent forward towards the night sky). I think that this tells me that I will be a part of some movement or school of thought, which is the most likely thing that will happen. Odin and Satan came to see me; Odin wanted my help, and Satan told me that he could give me power. I then sat down and asked Odin, Satan, Samael and God what they thought about me wanting knowledge, but not power. None of them seemed pleased, although they had different takes on why they didn't approve.

There were many other things that happened, such as summoning an angel and feeling energy rushing into me from an outside source, but they are recorded elsewhere (reddit).

During the earlier portion of the week, I felt anxiety coming back. I wondered if my trip has caused such emotional disturbance, but that may not be it. Sometimes I feel like crying, but I never do. I'm very foggy in my mind right now, and for the past few days I've been making more mistakes while driving, as well as not talking quite properly and writing very well.

I get the feeling that something will happen soon. I just don't know when, or what. Fortunately, my judgment and intelligence are not very impaired; it is simply how I express myself, and interact in the world.

In any case, SSI called on Monday and told me to spend the extra money that I have by November. So I bought a used PS3 with two games and some t-shirts, as well as some other things. I may get a new laptop, but I'm still thinking about that.

I had a dream two nights ago where I was in the car with my mother, and she was making mistake after mistake, and we ended up in an accident. She went to the hospital and it turned out that she had early onset Alzheimer' was a rapid decline and she quickly died. I was thinking to myself in the dream, "It would have been better if she died of cancer two years ago."

But that isn't the end of it. Mother was given a prescription of Memantine, which can be used recreationally as a dissociative, and when she died I lifted it. Well, the staff caught me and they thought that I was being suicidal. I got sent to the psych ward in Lewiston, and my sister was with me in a lobby, going on about how Dad is in a relationship now so soon after Mother's death and how pathetic he is. I agreed with her. As it turned out, the Rosauer's in Lewiston said that I had to work there and was on call, so I got the permission of the psych ward staff to leave during the evenings to work there and then come back, like the psych ward was a hotel.

It was a long dream, and an odd one that revealed a lot.

I wonder why I'm having issues right now? Probably too many changes, and not knowing how to deal with them. But nonetheless, this is far from being the worst part of my life. I just hope that it doesn't get worse, though.
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My brother came over, and it was more or less pleasant. I made him laugh a lot, but he was disturbed to find out that I was smoking cigarettes and that I had done Nitrous in the past. He smokes as well so he knows first-hand how horrible it is. But truth be told, I don't like the way cigarettes make me feel and I'm not addicted to them, at least not to the point where the positives override the negatives. I just get too agitated and irritable from them; something about the dopamine kick (I don't do well when my dopamine is increased drastically). So I'll probably just stick to cigars; they last much longer and they are seldom unpleasant.

Visiting the grave was uneventful. Surprisingly, Dad did come, but without his girlfriend and he didn't do or say anything inappropriate, outside of wanting me to go on a hike with him and his girlfriend afterwards. I was actually put off that he didn't seem emotionally moved at all; granted, I wasn't, but I wasn't the one who married and started a family with my mother (obviously). Perhaps he is still grieving, but I honestly sort of doubt that. He has very shallow emotions outside of anger and rage.

So it was pretty tame. I didn't cry or feel depressed this time. I reckon that by next year, I'll barely feel anything. I'm already 99% better right now, just a few days later.

Just about done with my manuscript, A Perception of Existence and Reality, although it did go on a bit longer than I thought it would. It is 77 pages double-spaced, which is the second longest document I have ever written, by far (A Soul Turned is the longest).

I also wrote a beginning chapter of an erotica fantasy fiction, and the people who have read it so far love it. I might be able to create such works and sell them; it might not be a bad idea. After all, it would mean that I have accomplished something, and am successful in some way or another.

Nothing else, really. Drinking beer again, and not getting up so late anymore. I'm going to take DXM on Saturday, which is a full moon. Last time I did DXM on a full moon, it was magical. I'm hoping that the chance repeats itself.

August 2017

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