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Still not drinking. Everyone is a bit surprised by that. I'm not surprised myself anymore; I've had odd thoughts about alcohol on rare occasion, but no need to drink. I'm no longer so disgusted by the thought of it, but it just like a childish waste. In the past six or so years, I drank enough for me to know what that is like, and I shouldn't drink like that again. Of course I will have beer sometime in the future, but I would like to wait until the year passes until I do so, unless if I'm with friends, in which I might have one or two.

I now take Vitamin B supplements and Magnesium in order to recover from the drinking. It is working very well; my memory is relatively sharp and I have more energy now. I still have problems with focus, but I feel that I will have better focus soon. Honestly, I thought that I would never recover, but it seems that I might have had a vitamin deficiency all along. Maybe there is something intrinsically wrong with the way I convert food into energy, because I've always been sluggish in my life, although it was worse when I was doped up in my late teens/early 20s.

I now cook. I use the oven in my apartment, and it is pretty nice. I didn't use it until almost two years after I moved in, because I was paranoid about causing a fire. But I know better now; I like cooking because it makes me feel like I can make my own food and take care of myself.

I've been reading a lot more now; it is almost to the pace that I had before I went off of Olanzapine. I feel more productive and I'm also a lot more focused and motivated to write again. I've started to write a draft on mental imagery and it seems promising, but of course I might stop writing again. I think that I might follow through with it, though, because I'm very passionate about the subject and my mental imagery abilities have improved quite a bit in the past few weeks, so I'll try my best.

I'm smoking again, although not by much. I know I should quit, but I don't smoke anything with artificial chemicals in it, so I should be fine for now. It seems to help with mental imagery somewhat. I'm not too bothered by it because I tend not to be addicted to it unless if I smoke for months, and I usually quit it pretty easily. It doesn't make me want to drink alcohol anymore, either, so that is nice.

My father called me a little less than a week ago, and he's going to turn around and come back home, although he doesn't know when he'll get back. I'm no longer so angry about it, although I don't know what to do if he does come back home. Anything could happen, either way. But I've really enjoyed the quiet of my mind at this point; odd things are going on around here, sure, but I don't have any real personal drama right now. I haven't felt at peace for many years; I'm just not angry anymore right now, no reason to be. I'll save my anger and my mental illness for when something disturbs me directly. Right now, I don't want to disturb the quiet.

My friend is coming back for a day or two, and she's going to give me her TV with a built-in VHS player. That is really cool because I've wanted to obtain a VHS player for a while and now I can. I'll have two TVs by the time I have it, and it will nice to hook up some of my older consoles to it. I don't have a lot of space for it, but I'll make space. It will also be nice to see my friend again; she seems to be happier now.
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2017 has been good so far, but I feel that I might need to keep a low profile.

There is one very good thing: I have stopped drinking alcohol and smoking tobacco. I have been clean from those things since the 30th of last month, and I don't want to abuse those substances again. Oddly, I do not have any sleep deprivation anymore; I tend to get tired earlier and I often wake up in the early morning automatically, although I usually go back to bed since I'm still very tired.

I have gotten kind of depressed, though. The type where you are afraid of sitting down, because if you do, you are afraid that you might not get back up. While I am psychologically sad half the time, most of the time it is just a lack of energy. But I'd rather feel like that than to feel nothing at all, so as such it isn't too bad.

I'm actually very surprised about how easy it is to not drink and smoke. I decided not to do those things anymore because they were making me poor, and I also realized that I had been getting drunk almost every night for over six years and it didn't solve any problems. In a way, I feel like I'm back to square one (before I drank constantly, in my mid-20s), but I also am starting to think that I am older than I actually am. I just recently turned 33 and I'm already saying that I am 34; it is strange.

I met a guy at the co-op a few weeks ago and we started talking; he asked if he could see my writing and I said sure. I sent "Threads of The Mind" to him, and he really liked it. We then decided to talk about it at the University, which took place two days ago. It was a little awkward, but I still liked talking to him and I was flattered that he wrote a bunch of notes about my document. We talked for over an hour and a half; it was actually pretty cool. We'll likely talk again sometime; he has actually motivated me to write again. He isn't as articulate as me, but he's very open-minded and seems to understand when you explain the material.

My brother seems to be more busy with his life; we don't talk on the phone as much anymore. He does a lot of stuff with his girlfriend, which is okay, but I guess brothers move on after a certain age. My father had me read the bills to him on the phone; he is leaving on his sailing trip in a few days. His girlfriend also had me open stuff, and I found out that on her life insurance, my father is the primary beneficiary. She has two daughters, so that seems a little off. I don't know what to make of it right now; I haven't told anyone about it.

That is about it. I am thinking about moving to another apartment in town, but I have no idea how to do that. I might not be able to, but I'm starting to get a bad feeling about living here. I want to move away from the town, too, but this year isn't the right time for that.
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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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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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This month went by pretty quickly. It could have been faster, but it really seems like this summer has just been breezing by.

It has only been a little over five weeks since I've moved from the old place, but it feels like I have been at my apartment for about a year. I really like my apartment; I did like the old place, but my former roommate was starting to become very irritable and unpleasant and I realized that all the good memories that I could have made there had already been made, so as such it was best for me to leave.

I was there just a few days ago because the electricity bill for that place was accidentally sent to me. I went over there and left it at the door, and then went on the carport roof, one of my favorite things to do when I was there. It just didn't feel the same; it didn't even look the same, even though it basically was. All I had in my head was, "This just doesn't feel right." Well, at least that means that I moved on, for the most part.

I read one of Chuck Klosterman's books last week, and at first I was tempted to write one of my own in his style, but I eventually decided against it, because I felt that if it brought me fame, it would bring me the kind of fame that I wouldn't want. I wouldn't be writing it in a sincere manner, in any case. I don't want to be ultra-famous or some talking head that is known for being controversial (believe it or not); I just want to write scholarly stuff and be mildly known for that. I actually am writing a rough draft right now on a subject, but I still have doubts about whether or not any of these writings are going to amount to anything. But if I keep on writing and writing, I will have amassed a large amount of original documents, enough to make up a database or archive, and that alone is worth something, in my eyes. I mean, at least I could say that I did something with my life. I like writing, anyway, because it takes my mind off of how pathetic my life is.

I'm glad that I don't have internet at my apartment. I hate most of the internet; it is filled with garbage and boring people. It used to be that you could meet people who were really interesting, or at least fun. But now everyone is so wrapped up in themselves and people are even more caustic than they used to be. Almost no one talks about things that are interesting to me. Back in the day (roughly a decade ago) I could point out at least twenty interesting people online; now, I'm pretty sure that I could only do that with about four or five. I don't know why this is; part of it might be because I have higher standards now. But I think that most of it is because the internet is now a part of real life, and people are too afraid to be different. Of course, they would never admit that, but nonetheless there is always a "right" way of doing things, and many "wrong" ways of doing them, to most people. And that in itself is going to stop a lot of interesting things from happening. Just...I don't know. Most things are so boring these days. There are maybe two or three sites that especially interest me these days. People in general just spend hours dicking around on their smartphones; I have no idea why anyone would waste their time like that. Read a book or something. I've never owned a smartphone, and I doubt that I ever will.

Outside of that, nothing much is going on. I just want to stop drinking altogether; I only drink a 40 oz a night now, which is a significant reduction. I am also looking after my father's house while he is gone; he put down the dog that his girlfriend had. I feel sad about that; before I learned that, I thought that I was a borderline sociopath, but I guess that I am not quite.
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I moved last Wednesday, so about five days ago.

I had one of my friends help me with the furniture. He brought his old truck and we were able to do it in only one load. He liked my old place, and he actually used to live in the apartment complex that I moved to about ten years ago. Overall, he was a great help.

My father brought a desk the next morning. I showed him some of my apartment, and he talked about my mother a bit. That was good; I felt that he had just forgotten about her, but fortunately he didn't. I'm not terribly angry at him anymore.

There is no internet at my place. That is good, because the internet is more or less a giant distraction. I go to the university every day to use their wi-fi, and I spend about an hour or so on there. It helps me stay out of my apartment a bit more. A lot of the sites that I used to go to are blocked, but that is okay because they were garbage sites that just made me jaded and depressed. I feel a little bit more optimistic about the future now.

I spend about an hour a day, sometimes more, writing poems and revising them. I write about ten pages of poems a day. I get the feeling that they suck (or at least most of them do), and they are mostly prose poems, but at least I'm putting in a sincere effort to have a constructive hobby. I've also been drawing, and reading of course. It was really fucking hot yesterday, though (like, 110 degrees) and as such I could barely do anything.

Living in the apartment is different. It is better because I have complete control over what goes on, and I don't have to deal with anyone's crap, but at the same time I don't have anyone to even casually talk to and I get slightly lonely. But it isn't as bad as it used to be; I think that I am getting used to it. Instead of feeling that all-consuming anxiety that would eat at me and just fester, now I just have this antsy, angry feeling that I should do something with myself, but can't. I prefer that feeling more than the anxiety.

I actually went to a bar on Saturday because I felt lonely. I didn't get drunk, though. I was approachable enough that a young woman talked to me, which was great. I felt better about myself after that; I'm used to people thinking that I'm weird, but perhaps I'm really just not. I try to be normal, at least. It wasn't like I prayed to God to make me a special snowflake.

I'm not drinking as much. Just don't get as much satisfaction from beer as I used to. Although I will probably still drink for a while; just less of it.

Well, that is it for now.
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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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I found a place. It is pretty close to where I lived when I was an undergrad back in 2004-2006, and only about four or five blocks away from where I live right now. It is a little smaller due to it meaning to house two people, but I get my own bathroom and there is a dishwasher and everything. The place is way newer than this one; it was built perhaps around four or five years ago. I think that I will like living there, because it is cheaper than what I have to pay here and I would only have to worry about finding one roommate and not two. Although I will miss the carport roof and the view of the campus; not to mention that this place does sort of have an old charm to it, but that is perhaps only because I lived here for too long.

It was odd; just when I was getting scared of the fact that I could live here for the rest of my life, I get kicked out. Oh well, at least I found a place only three weeks later. Not to mention that there was no excuse for that other room to be empty for nearly a whole year; my roommate was just dragging his feet to find one, if he was even trying most of the time. I can't even remember anyone coming to check this place out over the past year, so it does seem suspicious. Paying such a high rent for so long was unacceptable.

In any case, I just have to sign the lease and be off around the end of May or the beginning of June. I don't quite know how that is going to work out, but it probably will.

I've gotten some feedback on what I just wrote and put on; I had a short e-mail conversation with someone about it, and it was interesting. That is a sign of progress, I guess. I will continue writing more, and I think more and more people will read about what I say.

Nothing much is going on. Trying to save money, trying not to drink beer as much (I think I am succeeding at that) and playing Elona. Just about anything about my life outside of my writing is relatively boring, I think.
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A lot of things are different now. One friend is back, and the other will be soon. I finished my poetry book and am going to order copies soon. I talked about what I overheard my roommate saying with him and he apologized, and we're on good terms again. I don't do DXM every other day anymore, and haven't for two weeks; I don't regret doing that, but I think I'm going to take a break from it for a while. I haven't even lost the magic; I just feel that I should give myself a break. It was hard to recover from it at first, but I'm a lot better now. Doing it that often can really fuck up your brain, although it seems to be temporary and I have pretty much recovered by now.

I obtained inspiration to write a fictional story from using DXM last night, and I'm going to begin today. I don't know what the title is going to be, though. I barely even know what the story is. The last time I tried writing fiction, it ended up being way different than I thought it would be. But that is okay, because in most ways letting your subconscious take over is for the best. You learn more about yourself that way, in any case.

I've begun reading again, albeit very lightly. I don't think that I'll read as many books this year as I did last year, but nothing is certain.

I might try out sleep deprivation soon, just to see what it is like. I'm very curious about it.

Outside of that, nothing much has happened. Kind of quiet.
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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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I tried writing an autobiography from the beginning of this month until about four days ago, but I couldn't do it. It was way too painful; I couldn't find any real substantial good memories or qualities about myself or my life when I was younger. They were almost all bad memories. I wrote it in a truthful, yet negative fashion and while it wasn't so hard to actually write it down, when I was focusing on other things I felt like crying and sometimes even vomiting from remembering all of the stuff in my younger life.

I did discover, though, that I still have a fairly good memory. I thought that my memory was crap, but apparently it is still good; I just focus on the present now.

I did learn one important thing from this, which is to not focus on the past and instead focus on the future. But what future do I have? I mean, I write stuff, but that doesn't mean that I am going to amount to anything. I'm afraid of failure, but the certain failure is to not even try. Still, trying doesn't guarantee a success, or the prevention of a worse failure.

I wasn't able to write very well when trying to write my autobiography. I told my therapist that, and she said that the autobiographical style just isn't what suits me. I would probably have to agree with that; my writing style is generally fairly formal and intellectual.

Outside of that, the university isn't back from vacation yet, but they will be soon. It is odd that they take such a long break; I don't always know how to adjust to that. When my friends were gone for two weeks, I had a hard time dealing with that. I've been reading books to help alleviate the anxiety, which seems to help me keep myself from stagnating.

I'm trying to get on a medication that will help me reduce my drinking, but the psychiatrist has to send information to my insurance, and I think she forgot to do that. I'm really making an effort to reduce that habit.
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Well, it is 2015 now. A brand new year, and I can't quite believe that this decade is half over. Actually, I can believe it, because a whole lot of stuff went down from 2010 to 2014. I like to think that I'm a completely different person than I was back in 2010, 2011, or even 2012 and 2013, but that is probably only half-true. I can see things in myself from as early as 2005 and I still find some core similarities, although I really am almost completely different from that time.

Perhaps the older you get, the more you get to know yourself better. I'm sure that this doesn't apply to everyone, but it is kind of strange how I'm 31 and I'm still learning things about myself that I previously didn't know.

I really hope that 2015 will be a year without any trouble or drama. I have no reason to think that it would, but then again, you never quite know what the future will bring. I now know how to spend my time constructively, which is through writing, so my goal this year is to write at least just as much as I did last year. I already have three writing projects lined up; one will be a fictional story that I'll start writing this month, and after that I'm going to write a partial autobiography. I actually think that the last one is going be highly interesting and perhaps very fun to write, at least in places.

I'm hoping for the best, as I should.
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Christmas was somewhat uneventful. There were some minor awkward moments, but overall I had an okay time, and received more presents than I thought that I would. I didn't have presents then, but the day after I felt bad so I bought two boxes of Moon Pies for my brother and a box of chocolates each for my father and his girlfriend.

I talked to my sister the day after Christmas. She seemed well, but somewhat disturbed. We talked a lot about the past, and of family stuff. I might have drained her a little bit, but the conversation ended well.

My brother was here until yesterday. We hung out a bit and he got me new pillows; he wanted to replace the sheets on my bed, but I washed them and they ended up being salvageable. I did buy him lunch yesterday, and we also had some beer that I bought the day before yesterday.

All in all, not a particularly bad holiday season.

I finished The Dynamics of Light and Dark over two weeks ago. I'll probably start writing again in a few days, because I still have a lot to write about and I need to keep my brain active.

Overall, it has been kind of quiet. I came to a realization about a week ago, while I was trying to go to sleep but failing, that throughout my youth I was too familiar and trusting with people, and revealed too much about myself. With my high level of empathy, I was too open and I was foolish enough to at least partially believe that others were as good-natured as me. Of course, I had experience that some were not, but a lot of people were kind to me out of pity, it seems. I wonder how long that has been going on? I wasn't entirely clueless about the whole thing; my experiences with others did give me the notion that I was wrong, but I still had it in my nature to be so open with others, with that sense of aforesaid familiarity. While I have endeavored to become a lot more distant (and have somewhat succeeded), it does not come naturally, and I eventually lose my filter when I feel either anxious enough or comfortable enough. I now know what the problem is, but what is there to do about it? I can't become a total jerk, because then I'll lose my friends and whatnot, and I'll be a lot more of a miserable and unpleasant person.

I have only one more book to read til it hits the 75th mark of all the books that I have read this year. I can do it! That is an impressive number; I have all the time in the world, so I may as well use it to become more knowledgeable, rather than have my mind stagnate.

It is near the end of the year, and I've got to write the Monthly Synopsis soon. Hopefully I won't forget.
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I had Thanksgiving last week. I met my father's girlfriend, and she was okay. My brother was there as well, and we hung out a bit. He saw some empty boxes of nitrous oxide under my bed when he came over and was really pissed, but he eventually calmed down; he just said that I shouldn't do those things because it affects the rest of the family. I told him that those boxes were from weeks ago and that I'm not interested in drugs anymore (which is true, for the most part) but he didn't believe me in the beginning and had to leave for a while. He came back, though, and we drank beer and took a photo of ourselves; that was basically the first photo of me in about two years. The day after, he said that he did go a little overboard and he acknowledged that I was being pretty rational with him during the whole thing. But man, that was hard to deal with at the time.

Oddly, I was more nervous around my father than I was around his girlfriend. He just acts happy all the time; it is pretty weird. I wonder when it is going to come crashing down, if it ever does. It is just going to be strange either way.

Outside of that, my life right now is quiet, but strange. Strange in that there is no drama or anything stressing me out, and yet I seem to get huge pangs of anxiety, sometimes to the point where I am physically ill. I'm usually pretty good at figuring out why I feel a certain way, or why I'm in a bad mood, but right now I'm lost. I can't find any reason why I feel so off. Perhaps it is because I'm still processing, or rather trying to come to terms, with the events of last week? It is possible. What is also possible is that I see my future, or whatever is going to be the rest of my life, as some vast, murky void; I have no idea where I am going to be in even two years. I don't even know who I am going to be. Not a single clue can be found. I suppose that I do have a fear of the future, but it isn't so strong in that I still enjoy things and have hobbies as well as talents. As much as the future is unknown to me, I still look forward to what it may have to offer.

To be honest, though, I think that some things will get better, and other things worse. I see the young college kids today, and they are nothing like how college kids were when I was their age. I mean, we did our fair share of partying as well, but kids these days are so narcissistic, rude and entitled. I remember a year ago when some young harlot passed me by and arrogantly called me a douche, and I didn't even say a single word to her. Back when I was her age, only the nastiest whores would do that. And maybe that was what she was, but I think people like her are more common these days due to the widespread usage of social media, especially since most college kids got into it when they were barely in their teens. Not all young people are like this, though, and it is a relatively recent development; college kids weren't like that in 2010, and that was only four or five years ago. I'd say that the trend started around 2011 or so, and got progressively worse up until this point. I just wonder, when these kids are finally going to grow up and realize that they have to treat others with respect, if they ever do.

But then again, this could just be me, a somewhat older man berating a younger generation and thinking that back in his day, things were so much better. Seriously, though, if they really are this bad, I wonder how the generation after them will be? It won't be too much longer when they are going to be in their shoes.

Funny how up until I was 27 or so I honestly felt like I was in my element whenever I was at the university. Now I just feel like a fucking alien. Even if I had to go back to college (anything could happen with SSI), I wouldn't want to. But that would really be the only chance to get a decent job in order to support myself.

I honestly think that I'm becoming more disabled in that I don't always say the right words or omit words when I write, or forget things or get disorganized in my thoughts, or otherwise have an odd surge of negative emotion and have impulses to do stupid stuff, but that could all be in my head. I can still function, obviously.

In any case, I'm writing again now. The writer's block was lifted. I'm writing about the dynamics of "Light" versus "Dark" and how it pertains to human nature. It is interesting, but it will probably be very short.
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It has been a while.

I've had some ups and downs, with more downs than ups in the past week or so. But I know how to manage, and I realize that just because I have a thought or a feeling, doesn't mean that it is automatically justified.

I honestly think that I'm a little down because I still sort of fear a possible death right after I turn 31. Well, perhaps "fear" isn't the right word; I have no problem with death but I wonder what would come after it, if I have "prepared" myself for it, if you will.

I'm also down because I haven't written anything in a while, although I am reading again. Reading helps me take the focus off of myself and try to be constructive with my thoughts. I have vague ideas about what I want to write, but I can't be bothered to do it right now; I still need to acquire more knowledge. Writing gave me a purpose in life, and without that purpose, I'm lost. And you know what happens when you are lost...

I'm studying the concept of gnosis right now. The Gnostic religions are sort of bullshit, but I find the concept itself pretty interesting. I want to learn more about it before I simply shrug it off.

Outside of that, I'm not really doing anything else. I want to gain more insight and power, but I need to examine my own flaws and limitations first.
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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 smoking, although I feel that I should cut back soon, if not quit altogether. I got a pack of smokes early this morning and when I went up the hill to my apartment, I was nearly out of breath. But I did walk longer and up the same hill and more later that day when I went to the university and I was more or less fine then, so I don't know.

I saw my psychiatrist today. I told her that I stopped drinking, but that I was smoking now. She was a little alarmed, but she did admit that it was a sign of progress, in that I realized that I had a problem and that I was trying to find a substitute. She asked me what other substitute I could use (she couldn't think of any on her own). I told her that video games might work; she laughed and said that it was worth a try. I could sit down for a few hours a day and play my old systems while sipping an energy drink, I guess; I used to do that when I was younger. I have fond memories of that, but all in all it is only good to do that when you're just really bored (oddly, I don't get bored as often as one would think; I entertain myself through introspection and daydreaming).

I've been having these weird dreams over the past week or so where I go back to school (either high school, community college, or graduate school) and I fail miserably in the classes. In one dream I forgot that I had a biology test, and I was fretting over how to take it. I think that such dreams illustrate two things: that I am afraid of failure, and that my mindset has changed so much that I would no longer perform well academically, although I dare say that I'm more intelligent than I have ever been, outside of perhaps memory. Last night I had a dream that I went back to community college and that I had a really small, single apartment. I think this represents the introduction to independent adulthood that I was never granted in my late teens and early 20s; that kind of fucked me up. It wasn't until I was 28 when I had any semblance of an independent life, and I really only started acting like an adult when I was nearly 30.

My third book, The Threads of the Mind, is almost done. I basically have to wrap the sixth chapter up and then write a conclusion. After that, I'm going to revise the parts I haven't revised yet and then design a cover for it. It will be self-published on and I'm going to hand out autographed copies to my friends (I have roughly five of them). One of my friends is really impressed with me; I should be happy and proud, sure, but writing a book is something that almost anyone with enough time and effort can do. I'm going to write more soon afterward.

Other than that, not much is happening. This September has been nowhere near as fun as last year's, but the next months might get better.

August 2017

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