Compromising with The Beast

A strong element o0f my constant search for balance is and has always been the struggle to keep away from apathy and numbness, but at the same time avoid excessive emotions to overcome my brain.

The worst symptoms of my brain's dysfunktion are fundamentally two:

1) A mixture of panic and despair thet hits me at random points, making me run for cover at random points, and making me basically unable to relax and feel "well" or even slightly at ease unless i take time to actually do it as i'm doing work. Most of my days are a Russian Roulette round where at any given moment a blast of despair and fear could hit me. So when i actually have time for myslef, more often than not i have to keep myself constantly busy, to avoid that from happening. Or i simply give in to staying still ans staring at the void, unable to actually do anything. That causes a lot of misunderstanding, between the people who have to deal with. They seem to mistake my attitude as a lack of interest towards them or their company, where actually i would enjoy it but if i want to stay balanced i need to either be constantly working or simply keep to myself or be surrounded by people i dont really know.

2) A seemingly unstoppable anger that, if let loose, is quite dangerous, especially to myself. Details pile up. Everyday a bunch of big things will follow, one after the other. Lately, ive been struggling with money and a desperate need for a new job and facing the hard, cold truth of the total failure of my country. I've been facing the ignorance and argumentative stupidity of people on many arguments: the lack of intertest towards changing things used as a valid argument, the vast lack of empathy of people who seem to ignore anyone else's feelings or trouble to focus only on their own needs. An inevitable consequence of that piling up, i have days where i am litterally imploding and feel the need to attack, whether it's anyone or myslef. Everyone is an enemy in those days. EVERYONE.

In both cases, the natural reaction would be medicated numbing, comnplete indifference and slefishness (which i still think could be justified and will be eventually a place i go soon) or a total fast relapse into self destruction. The only reason that holds me out of a relapse into alcohol binging is that my body cant deal with it anymore, so getting drunk means a whole day of hangover pain that pushes the pain toa whole different level. And the only reason i'm not stuffing myself with sleeping pills (more than i already do) until i go in a comna, is that i still have things i have to do.

So, i wont say i'm a person who found peac e, i'm far from that. Each day is a struggle for balance. I wake up each morning with suicidal thoughts as my first waking image. I'm not complaining, its how this head works. I have hope cause i know i'm strong and i have met a few people whoa re giving me exactly what i need: not resolutions or attempts to change what i am forcefully but accepting and love. Where the majority of people seem to be focused on telling me WHAT I SHOULD DO TO FIX MYUSELF or worse FELLING SORRY FOR ME, these few people just give me warmth and a soul hug. That helps. So if you hyave someone clos to you who is having these problems, just give them a kiss.

Levels of Learning....

I have very strong belief in one point, and it's one of my most unpopular opinions (and i hae a lot of those, not out of choice). I will say this and you should feel free to debate it, if you want (although i kinda know you wont):

For the most part, if not it's absolute totality Education (as in school and in particular the more specialized levels of it, including college) is completely useless. I'm honestly convinced that investing money in obtaining Masters, Degrees and even Diplomas is equivalent to throwing said money in a paper shredder. If i ever have a kid, i will have him sent to basic school to learn the fundamentals (reading, writing, counting, socializing and facing authority) but for the rest he will be free AND if he wants to do it he will have to pay for part of it with a part-time job.

See, i think most people who go to school, especially people who try to obtain Masters and High Level Specializations are fundamentally doing it to procrastinate the tough choices that actual life forces you to face. i know thats what i did for my part. Families always tend to believe that, by invesdting money in their children's education they will help them "shaping" their personality or worse "their future". At an even sadder level, there's an increasing number of parentsa who feel the duty of having their sons and daughter learning how to play some musical instrument, art for or (more logically) a sport.

Honestly, that is strongly delusional: a child develops his personality in a series of ways, and one of those is also school, but besides, as i said, the basics, all the rest is superflous and can be done with no excessive money investment and in more productive way: in the real world.

Part of an individual's personality comes from his family and upbringing. And that doesnt necessarily means, in my opinion, that you have to shere to specific rules in order to raise a child well. I think they will absorb something good and something bad from your peronality in any case. Also, they will absorb the way they face life according to the type of vibes they had around them while bringin up. My family gave me honesty, conscience and dignity but also fear, insecurity and loneliness.

Also, interaction with others help. An only child is a lonely person. Part of its ability to socialize will be made with other kids, but if he doesnt have a brother, it will be harder. Only kids arent necessarily spoiled. there's people with brothers or sisters that are way more spoiled than others. And theres a large number of parents who openly love one of their children and completely ignore the others. Which is also a lesson in how life works.

But only kids have to deal with loneliness for their whole life. And theres no education to overcome that flaw.

All the rest, can be learned by working and dealing with people.

Recently, a worker from a job placement agency, told me in a burst of honesty how in modern times "a degree or a specialization are a minus and not a plus, since they arent real experience and legally they require the firm to pay you more". So actual titles get you less possibility of work.

The only real currency is working a lot. Breaking your back and getting tough. I have regretted the time i wasted on books and in classes a million times, and i would never do it again. There's exceptions to that but they're rare and most of them have large financial backings from families that allow them to live in a pretend world where dreams and aspirations can be followed and eventually become true. Which isnt the case, unless you're a rich daddy girl or boy.

The only way to obtain something is by fighting and education isnt fighting. Its theory and theory is worthless.

The New Curse....

You never thought it could happen to you. You were so lively, sharp and edhy. You lived your life to the fullest, always on the cusp, keeping your body in shape and your mind awake and perky. And then....

It happens. Your friends like to joke about it. You all laugh, but you're hiding your fear. Cause you know that slowly, and inesorably, you will turn into your parents.

It's the new plague that is destroying the beautiful edginess of our youth. It's the result of an age of commodity, excesses and too many Jersey Shore episodes. It's unstoppable: it's the Old Fart Disease.

You're in your late twenties or early thrities and suddenly these symptoms start to present themselves with increasing frequency:

- You find yourself using the sentences "these kids today" and "back in my day"

- You get incresingly angry in traffic, in lines or in stores and instead of simply blasting off and moving on you loose a scary amount of time, ranting and wagging stuff at people (a rolled newspaper or a finger are basically metaphors for a walking cane)

- Your friends are using the joke "we're getting old" way too much or refuse to do fun stuff in an increasing way cause "they're not kids anymore"

- Everyone is having a baby and it starts to look appealing to you too (or you already have one and you think of how nice it would be to be a grandparent)

- You have an increasing amount of weird physical issues that have nothing to do with illness or actual health problems. That means you find yourself saying "Oh my back! "Oh my ears!" "Oh, Indigestion!"

- You actually find your bowel movements an interesting topic of discussion

- You find yourself discussing the same points over and over, and often they are about inane stuff that no one cares about. People start to look at you with an air of compassionate distress.

- You follow the lives of fictional people in soap operas/reality shows more closely than the lives of real people

- You start thinking that napping all day would actually be good life

- You watch stupid stuff on TV only cause it allows you to tune out and stop thinking. Not cause you're stressed but because your brain is actually enjoying tuning out.

- When you're talking about a movie you use "whatsisname", "that thing" and "that guy" way more than necessary

- You realize that most bands you grew up with are either dead or split up or called "old school" in reviews. Also the tv shows you used to love are now considered "classics"

- You have no idea what people are saying when you read twitter, and when you try to talk like them , they dont understand you.

- Where is that thing? You just put it there? Ah whatever. (Snore).

- You actually talk to your pets more than to humans, and buying them a dress aint that bad. You're turning into a cat lady.

- Your dad has a fiancé younger than you.

I could go on. Add your own so maybe we can all save ourselves, you whippersnappers.

Life Lesson: A Short Story

Sine i decided to keep writing here, no matter what the reaction from the (few) readers are, i'll keep using it my way. So here's another attempt at narration by Mine Truly (i aint yours. sorry)

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There was a way to feel when something wrong was about to happen, something seriously wrong, without evn knowing it. He had developed a series of ways to use his senses as one giant third eye that made him understand the coming of the storm before the first drops of rain. And he was usually right.

It was the smell of the house. All he needed was to get across the door and smell the air. Even after he left, that smell would be engrained in his mind, like a weirdly shaped scar. It was a density inb the air, something acrid and wet. Sticky. It could be the smell of smoke, of beer and wine, of sweat and vomit. But it was non of those specifically. There was something that the bodies of the inhabitants of the house started to sweat out that gave a red flag to his nostrils.

Made him think how close to a bunch of feral beasts they really were. Like a pack of wolves, without the respect or the survival instinct and a taste for abuse a mile long. But still giving out smells that could create panic in the heart of the weakest ones, cayse they knew that when that smell started spreading, pain would be served.

The air smelled that way on a day, when he was twelve. And the whole house was silent. No screming, no crying, nothing.

He had come home from a long refuge at his grandmother house, but she had not so politely told him to go away when the sun came down. She did not like him or any of his family members, including her son, his father. It wasnt that weird that his father was what he was, looking back at his familyt. They were a whole genration of hateful people, who reveled into hurting each others and humiliate the weak ones. They took a few protected ones that were worthy of respect and then tormented the rejects in the name of lovelesness. It made sense that a repulsive family would create a repulsiuve person and would just spit on him just cause he was his son. But that was the only place he could go.

He had to go home, though. And when he opened the door that mixture of smell, humidity and silent tension hit him in the face.

She was crying, in silence. She was on the floor, wrapped up in torn clothes. Her face was swollen. Beaten. A grimace of pain and misery that was almost laughable. He had to hold on the revulsion and snark at how pathetic this all was.

He left, apparently. He was in an insane mood. Barely able to stand, full of sleeping pills and antidepressants, the same he would force him to take some time after. He loved to drug himsle fon those when things werent going his way, while his wife chose to fuel her own demons with beer and cartons of cheap wine.

She didnt know what happened or couldnt really explain. They had a fight about nothing, about how they were not supposed to even exist in the same universe, they spewed disgust at each other, clumsily hit each other and then he just ran to the medicines cupboard and wenjt to town. Then ran away.

The floor under the cupboard was full of empty blisters of stuff he dint even recognize.

He ran after him, fearing an accident, fearing the worse.

He was still in the yard. Inside the car. He approached the vehicle, frightened. Knowing that he shouldnt but somehow had to.

The man looked like you would picture your worse bully to be. He never looked like a pleasant person, but at those times, when the chemicals flooded his head, he just turnede into something else. He lost any form of posture or control of his face or limbs. His flaccid facve became yellow and his liver stains more pronounced. He had greying and balding hair, which wehre greasy and scraggy. Even his goatee looked dirty, with specs of food and drool in it. He didnt stink but it felt like he did. He was like a big fat hateful rat, staring at him with unfocused, angry and hateful eyes. Blodshot.

He entered the car. The man was smirking. Something in his body smelled like rotten flesh and came out through his breath which stabbed the air with every single slurred word

"Is the whore still alive?"

"She's Crying. She's worried"

He laughed. Then he snapped and started the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Since you dont let me die here, we'll die on the road. And youre coming too"

He wanted to throw himnsle fout of the car. He knew that was all talk, he wouldnt have done that. He always talked about killing him and himself but never did it. But what if he crashed? whatr if he ended up on a wheelchair?

The car kept driving, his father laughing and swerving, other cars honking.

"Please"

"Fuck you"

He pushed the pedal. They were entering a dirt road, in the middle of the country. It was dark by then. Nothing outside but the remains of junkies and whores. Semen and misery.

"Where are you going"

"I'm going in a dark place and im going to kill you"

"It's not true. You dont have the balls"

"Wanna test me, fag? You came here to cry and beg me to come back, and you wanna be a man, boy? I will DIE and you will die with me! You shoulòdve let me be! If i'm at this point it's just because of you and because i made you with that fiulthy slut!"

How did slepping pills unleash that in himk. It would happen again. Morphine and three cancer opperation and he would be swearing against nurses and doctors, promising to kille them all. How did the man's brain work. What could he do?

He felt tears running down his face. Big mistake. The man Suddenly halted the car. He wouldnt hit him, he never did but....

He started screaming, in a high, weird, raspy pitch. A shriek, made even more sickening by its feminine quality.

"DO NOT CRY! EVER! EVER! MEN NEVER CRY! I WILL CARVE YOUR EYES OUT IF YOU DONT STOP! ARE YOU A FAGGOT!? YOU'RE A MAN! STOP!"

He slapped him. The tears went away, hardly. Silence.

Suddenly he became lucid. Drove back home. For now, it was over. It would get worse.

Gender- Bender

Whatever happened to experiencing sexuality as a playground?

When i was in my age of discoveries, which to be clear, isnt the early teens, that age is more like "the age of the awkward mistakes", i tried to fulifll my ravenous sexual appetite in all the ways my mind could think of. Honestly, i still remember that time, as the greatest and most satisfying period of my life.

In the midst of doing stuff in some sort of excessive way and doing lots of experimantations in the land of drugs and booze, the heart was often dry but sex was funb. There was hardly anything better than pleasing the senses without worryin about actual love., testing stuff for the sake of it, and learning i was or wasnt into something, cause i TRIED.

These days, i keep meeting people who talk abot themselves as "open minded" but then have turn off lists longer than their turn ons, and havent tried most of those. Lots and lots of emotions and feelings, and wanting to save themselves for the right person. Lots of virgins.

Lets clear it up: you have no excuse to be a viurgin. Every justification you come up with is botched and ridiculous. If you're a man, and you say "you can't talk to women", chances are you are a messed up person, you're not even trying and you're making up excuses in order to avoid rejection. Dont try to make it special, it wont be. If talking to the opposite sex is so painful, try a prostitute.

And even more: dont get stuck on your gender or the stereotypes about being STRAIGHT or GAY and dont make them get in the way of you felling good.

To be clear: people have prefrences, and your sexual gender or orientation is something you're born with. Yet, there's a different amount of experimentation and discoveries that some people have to do before they get to be sure of what they desire. And when it comes to simple pleasure, with no feelings involved, to learning how your senses and erogenous zones work, best thing is testing shit out.

I think i am straight. I like women, all of them. I think every single woman on this planet has something about her which is special and wonderful, engagin and arousing. Yet i tried going with guys a couple of times. Ignorant people then would've said (and still say) that was enough to label me as a "freak" or a "queer". I dont feel able to have attraction or anything seriously involving towards a mnan, but i tried sexual play with them, on a few occasion and it felt good. I would do it again, maybe, maybe in three way, maybe not, if it was just for the pleasure.

Still, i like women and i dont feel like being labeled. And i have quirks to my sexuality, like some fetish or S/M, some spice to my stuff. I like vanilla and love too. Does that make me a "freak" and if it does, and i feel good when i do it, is that an obstacle for me?

I think all this thinking, this "is it right if...", this putting rules and barriers, definitons and numbers to sexuality is killing the drive. Fuck whoever and wahtever. Dont feel ashamed. Try stuff out even if its something that you'd never do.

Going in the opposite direction is just going to turn us all into potential serial killers and rapists. Boo.

Energy Level Minus Ten

I dont want to bring this back for a bit more but, since this blog is my onw therapy place, i'll try to sort out my thoughts on here.

Lately, while keeping myself up with the most insane methods, ive been plagued with the constant feeling of being out of fuel. That does not mean i'm "stressed" or "depressed". Both those terms include a possibility of reaction that i dont think i have in my ammo.

The fuel that seemed to dry out from me is participation and passion or interest in anything or anyone. Suddenly i have no interest whatsoever in sharing my thoughts, creating or caring for anything or anyone. I feel like any thought, or action i could make could have little to no bearing on my surroundings and people i love.

There was a point where i realized that something has gone wrong in my life and it got stuck in an icy spot. Whilw i treied to matter, i just never did and still dont. People went by me and improved their life, even being assholes or with disgusting choices. I stood in this spot and lost the few things i had and became an empty spot.

I am not complaining, i am not in pain. I just really do not care anymore, for now. I have bad days and better days but i realized i stopped having any impulse to write or create. I lost interest in pretty much everything that surrounds me, and im surviving through imppulse. I have almost no emotions in me. I dried up and i doubt ill go back to what i was soon, mostly cause i dont see a reason to.

People who want to be there for me are good but the problem is that i am the one who's not there anymore. I stopped caring. It's the same spot i was a long time ago, with no big reason, maybe a bunch of tiny ones. I'm dead inside. Might take a while before i work this one out

Maybe It's That Time Of The Year....

I noticed an alarming fact, while looking up the picture for this post. Seems like every single blogger on the web's scaly and smelly surface has gone through or is going through right now a phase where they feel the need to "reset". Which usually means that they need fresh air in their lives, they got a new job which fills all their time, they got a wave of hate mail which convinced them to quit writing or they simply realized the utter truth about blogging or about expressing personal thoughts/views on any topic, anywhere. That truth is: no one cares. You might have a fan or two and be relatively popular, they might be good friends that admire you and like your writings, but that wont last, simply for the reason tyht people arent build to care for other people's thoughts, at least not permanently.

That said, i write this ONLY for myself, as i do most of what i do. So i doubt i will quit it any sooner, even if i have to admit that i've been desiring to lately, also for myself and not for anyone else.

There's something goin on. After years of utter mediocrity, my country seems to have decided to go and vote against the current government. That was as close as a sign of hope for the future, while still being remote, as ive seen in a long time.

And right after that, the negatives started popping up. Comments on how "nothing would ever change", how "all politicians are the same", and other forms of buzzkill.

And i have to say that these people are seducing. To give up everything is a powerful option, since letting go and surreendering either to whatever happens or even death, is defnitely less frustrating than fighting. And yet it doesnt work for me. Personally, i think that the best way to actually start moving towards a better time, is acting and getting rid of the hopeless and negative people. You have no hope? Go. You think having it is silly? Go.

And i'm feeling like that in daily life too. I have the feeling i have a lot of baggage which is slowing me down. I have people that dont help me moving on and only bring negativity to me. A lot of pointless connections that dont bring anything good, besides dxrama and arguing on things i dont care about. I might need to clean the slate and start over soon.

Ive been waking up wanting to die one time too many and its exhausting. I need to revalue things and try to understand what i want and need.

The blog will be on hiatus for a bit, probably. In the meantime, do whatever.