Category Archives: All about me

The Second Day of April

Only 28 more days until emancipation.

My thoughts are still positive, I’m hanging in there.  Doing good.

I swear my good vibes have everything to do with my stupid fantasies while I massage clients.  I fantasized about Oprah today.  She was interviewing me about my number one best selling book and I told her that I’m voting for her in the next election.

This abnormal good mood has got me thinking…..

I’ve heard from several sources that the brain can’t tell the difference between fantasy and fiction.  Or rather, I should say the body can’t tell the difference.

i.e, If you fantasize about running, your legs get stronger.  Dream about hitting a home run, it becomes easier to do in real life.

What if….now just hear me out for a moment……what if nothing is real unless the body thinks it’s real.

If you tell your body “this is really happening”, your brain get’s flooded with hormones associated with the vision you’re having.  It’s basically like taking a happy pill, or in some cases, viagra.

I’m not sure if this works with depressed people who actually need pills though…..Some people are depressed because nothing makes them happy, they have no happy fantasies other than that of bringing people down, making them feel as shitty as they do.

But if a person is depressed because they have no down time to ponder and dream, well, I seriously think this will work for them.  It’s like a free therapy session.

And lately I’ve been averaging 3-4 therapy sessions a day.

People like to call this process “Creative Visualization” but all it really is, is delving into your fantasies, day dreaming.  The worst thing anyone can do is to complicate this with fancy words, write a book about it and tell you how to do it.

Bull.  Shit.

I don’t care who you are, everyone know’s how to fantasize.  Being able to anticipate what will happen next is probably the greatest asset to the human race.  Anticipate and plan, how else would we have made it this far?

We literally created this world, this society, with vision.  With fantasies.

Just think if the world were void of fantasies.  Nothing would be planned out, no considerations taken – we would live like animals, like beasts.  No imagining what it’s like to be in another mans shoes.  No dream homes or dream vacations.  No dreams.

No children playing house, or playing with toys, no pretend or make-believe, no books, no plays, no shows, no movies, no inspiration, no want’s – just needs.

Since when did wanting something become bad?  As opposed to need?  You can want money, tons of it, but when money becomes a need….need becomes greed.  I’ll write about that later, possibly a different post.  Too long to fit it here tonight.

I believe you should always want and never need.  “Need” breeds thoughts of lack, thoughts of fear.  It’s all perspective.

There’s got to be some kind of kinetic symbiosis, a synergy between mind and body, action and heart.  Believe and do.

Friggin’ fantasies man….

In other news…..

You remember my crazy aunt and OCD cousin?  Yeah well, they both moved to Tennessee to be closer to my aunt’s other son, the normal one, hoping he can share the burden of OCD cousin.  Perhaps finally getting the help he needs.  That was the plan at least.

Just as I suspected, her other son wasn’t much help.  Not only was he no help, but my aunt’s mind started slipping.

I knew this would happen.  Her “normal” son being too busy with his own life.  And I knew that OCD cousin would cling to my aunt like a wet nappy, eventually collapsing her wall of lies, driving her mad.

The apartment superintendent took on the role of orderly, my mom would call him to have him check in on her sister.

I’m talking about the woman who destroyed my life for nearly 10 years.  A woman whom I couldn’t even look at, let alone talk to.  Who called me names, lied about me, drained my fathers retirement fund, almost ruined his house…..ruined our happy home.

That woman is sitting upstairs as we speak.

With her mind gone, she remembers nothing of the past.  She bought me a Hershey’s candy bar and became so excited when it came time to hand it to me.

Mom – “She’s been holding onto it all day, bringing it everywhere.”

Aunt – “Here, I knew you’d like it.”  It looked like it had melted and solidified a few times over.  She handed it to me with the proud enthusiasm of a child.

I used to pity my aunt.  I felt sorry for her.  I felt sorry for her before she moved away and lost her mind.

There’s a difference between pity and compassion.  There’s a distasteful disconnect there – like a judgment, when you pity someone.

How am I supposed to judge my aunt now?  With her four missing front teeth and her feeble child-like mind?

When you’re unable to judge someone, you can’t pity them.

Where does judgement come from?

Rational Brain – “It’s a comparison between yourself and another person.  If you take pity on someone, you’re essentially placing yourself higher than the person you are judging.  Feeling better about yourself because you are not them.”

Notice how we don’t judge the mentally disabled?  The crippled?  The poor starving child?

We don’t judge them because we don’t blame them.

Why do we blame others?  Because they should know better?  They should help themselves?  God helps those who help themselves, after all.

Where does this blame, this anger and disgust come from?

I wrote in a past post that it comes from our own feelings of helplessness (I wrote a long post about it, I won’t get into tonight).  It means we have no power to change things.

We want to control, to manipulate.  But hopelessness stops that from happening.  It’s why we war.

As far as my aunt goes…..the past doesn’t matter anymore.

Impermanence is what’s real.  Nothing lasts forever.  People destroy themselves.  They either learn from their mistakes or are destroyed by them.

Opinions change, perspectives change.  But there remains one constant Truth.  The white and black wolves.  Blame and responsibility.  Cowardly versus bravery, wrong versus right.

Fantasies edge you closer to knowing the differences between these things.

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It’s now April 7th.  My good mood has left the building.  It’s so far gone that I’m back at pitying my aunt, going as far to think that she’s faking her mental disability.

At least I never have to see her.

OCD cousin is still living in Tennessee, living alone with no car, no money or job.  He lives on disability checks.  I’m almost positive he’ll be kicked out of his apartment due to causing water damage of some sort.  My family unanimously agreed he’s no longer welcomed in this house.  His brother that lives in Tennessee with him has practically disowned him.

My good mood is gone in part due to exhaustion.  By massaging too much.  I tried to slip into my fantasy world while massaging, but my body didn’t agree to it.

Like I wrote before, nothing is real unless the body thinks it’s real.  And as of late, it screams exhaustion.  I couldn’t fantasize even if I tried.

Even worse, my exhaustion perpetuates itself with more exhaustion.  My fantasy world turned dark, resenting massage, resenting the lawsuit, feeling hopeless – and my body, being as tired as it is, agreed with it.  It screamed,  “Yes I’m fucking tired of it!”

This is the first day in a long while where I got to sleep in.  I only have two evening appointments.

I fully remember now why I don’t want to massage anymore.  I always seem to forget.

I think the worst will be over and done with by April 16th.  Most of the groupons will be either expired or redeemed by then.  Then I can retire myself and continue my initial plan of paying off my debt and saving for a house – not giving a second thought on the lawsuit since it’s out of my hands at this point.

I just have to make it until the 16th.

I’m so completely miserable.  So angry.  So annoyed.  How can this happen?  April 2nd, I felt fine.  I was peaceful and content with myself.  And now I’m evil incarnate.  And I can’t fight it, I can’t break it down to understand it.  I can’t beat it.

It’s like, will I always have to live with this feeling of unease?  I should know the answer to that is no.  Nothing is permanent.  Change is inevitable.

How can the answer be this simple…..that I’ve been massaging more, under a lot of stress from clients trying to book appointments last minute – how can it be that simple?  I’m having trouble believing that this feeling will be over in approximately 10 days.  It’s never been over, so why should I believe it now?

My demons will end up destroying me.  Just like they destroyed everyone who came before me.  My doubt, my fear.  I really hope I’m not lying to myself because I at least have that going for me.  If I am lying to myself, I’m a damn good liar.

I tell you what though, if Mollie and Melissa were here to take my clients, I would’ve run out of money weeks ago.  It’s weird how stuff like that keeps happening.  Horrible things that turn into good things.

When I was standing on the roof of that Hotel in Bangkok, I decided to just go for it.  To hire an aesthetician and add facials.  But I couldn’t buy facial products without having business insurance first.  The only reason why I had business insurance at that time was because of those damn facials and I’m thanking the stars and heavens now for having got it.

And I wouldn’t have moved my business as quickly as I did if it weren’t for the vandalous acts of one employee.  My business was failing at that old place and I was losing my head with having to wash sheets.

It’s like, my business would’ve failed ages ago if these horrible things/choices never transpired.  It’s nuts but it’s true!  Everything keeps righting itself.  And it rights itself by disasters.

I don’t believe in miracles, but I believe in disasters.  What if disasters are the miracles?  Ayahuasca said we only grow through suffering, so disasters make sense.  They especially make sense if they get you to your desired goal.

***********************

I just took a shower and I’m starting to feel better already.  Not as miserable as before.  I only have 2 clients today, not enough of them to exhaust me, and I have strength for some good old fashioned daydreaming.  But it all unravels tomorrow.  I’m fully booked and my receptionist doesn’t work on the weekend.  It’ll be misery through and through.

It’s weird though, how exhaustion can impact you like that.  It completely warps your thoughts.  Any little thing sets you off.  It’s no wonder why I want to be left alone, to get away.  I don’t want to be exhausted anymore.

According to the numbers yesterday, we have 108 signature couples massages that are not yet expired and 143 single person massages.  All will be expired by the end of this month, most of them before April 25th.

I guess I should publish this shit.

Either exhaustion warps my thoughts, or I really am bi-polar.  Either way, I think I have a handle on it.  As long as I have days like this, where I can sleep in and blog a little.

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Filed under All about me, journal

About Me

It’s a rainy Friday afternoon.  I’m still laying in bed.  I slept until my receptionist woke me up with a text message at 11:30.  “I broke my thumb and need to leave early today.”

I decided not to worry about the impending lawsuit and just focus on my original plan of paying off my debt and retiring from massage.

I’m not in denial or anything, it’s just that, what else can I do?  It’s entirely out of my hands.  I feel I made the best decision by going to a lawyer and not my insurance companies, the rest is not up to me.

I’ll be able to pay off the $5000 I spent on my lawyer by April 20th.  That’s the plan at least.  And I’ll be back to my original debt amount like nothing happened.

I have about 160 signature couples massages left to be redeemed by the end of April.  The business is fully booked for the next 2 weeks.

But things are strange for me, more so than usual in my current situation.  I’m actually in a good, happy mood.

And here’s the kicker – having to massage people is the reason why I’m in a good mood.  I’ll get to the details in a moment.  For those of you who read my blog, you know how much I hate massaging people.

I’ve had tons of jobs in the past, the worst of them being Bloomingdales by Mail and having to take phone orders all day.  To me, it was the seventh circle of hell while to others, it was easy money.

Why is this?  Finding out why I hated that particular job so much was key into understanding my uniqueness, my quirks – what I want out of life and who I am.

I’m a thinker.  That’s all it comes down to.  I want my brain space, my true freedom.

It’s like when Andy came out of solitary confinement and he had that quiet smile on his face.  He told Red that he was listening to classical music the entire time.  “They can’t take my true freedom away, and that’s all up here.”  As he points to his head.

It’s exactly like that, the analogy can’t get any better.

Working at Bloomingdales, each phone call acted like a drip of Chinese water torture.  I was never able to “catch” myself before the next call came in.  My freedom, gone from me entirely.

I am a thinker.  Beyond normal measure if you compare me with those hundreds of thousands of people who answer phones all day and enjoy it (or at least, accept it).

I’m as big a thinker as you can get.  I think that’s why I hated doing homework so much – It taken up all of my head space.

Wait wait wait, hear me out.  I know I sound like a narcissistic prick, okay?  All high and mighty and shit.  But just listen.

Being a thinker is the reason behind everything that I am, and all that I do.  I understand all too well what Andy meant.  All too well.

I didn’t go to college mainly because I didn’t want to end up in a 9-5 career that I hated.  I don’t want a boyfriend or to have kids because it eats away at my head space, having close friends wanting to hang out all the time has always been a challenge too.

Every decision that I made, apparently sub-consciously I made these decisions, were all for the purpose of saving my head space, saving my one true liberty from being taken away from me.

How did I figure this out?  Yesterday, while I was massaging.

It made perfect sense, like a zing to my chest.  I LOVE thinking.

I’ve been massaging a lot more lately since I fired Melissa, my one employee who annoyed me to no end, and Mollie is still out sick with pityriasis rubra pilaris.  And during my massage sessions, I fantasize.  My fantasies are endless.  I hate waiting in-between clients, I count the seconds until my next client arrives so I can go there again, into my head.

But my thoughts are more powerful lately.  They have a hold on me.  With all that’s going on, it’s as if I’m “burying my head” with my own head – just to escape, to get away.

I’m letting go of worry, but what’s replacing it is a dazzling spectrum of color and possibilities.  I want to keep going back to it, back to my dreams where they become real.

My business is undoubtedly successful aside from this last remaining obstacle.  I believe the reason for my good mood is knowing that I did it.  I made a business that would sustain me without having to work.  I actually did it.  I’m one month away from it, but still….I’m so close.

I’ve been working my entire life waiting for this.  To reclaim my full brain space – to have all the freedoms my mind has to offer without the disruptions of worry, of debt, of being owned by someone or some thing.

What do I want to do with my life?  My free time?  I want to think.  I want to spend it on thinking, on solving problems and puzzles of my choosing.

Massage allows me the freedom to enjoy my head space like no other menial labor job can do.  The downside?  I hate massaging because that’s all that it allows for, unrealized dreams.  I resent massage for keeping me away from my real dreams.  And the act of massaging someone is boring.  If I didn’t have my thoughts, the boredom of massage will literally kill me one day.

But now that I’m this close to not having to give massages anymore, I don’t mind doing them.  My thoughts while giving massages are so encouraging and uplifting, that they are saving me from myself.

When I’m home, I have many distractions.  Whether it be my blog, audiobooks, naps, researching articles online, playing a video game (Yakuza 0), or binge-watching a new show I discovered (Homeland), I don’t have the mind space like I do when I massage people.

I resent the act of giving massages so much so, that I give myself no option but to think of the time beyond massage and what awaits me there.

This is deeply complicated to think about, but it’s without flaw.  Doing a job I hate is saving my life.  What do I mean by “life”?  Life is nothing to me if I can’t have my thoughts.  Massaging forces me into that space between my ears.  It forces me to remember what all this is for.  And why fighting for this business is important, not an ego thing, or a stubborn thing – it’s fighting for a freedom that I long for.

For the longest time I thought everyone was like me.  We all want passive income and to travel, to have fun.  But I swear I must take it on a whole new level.  The level that I take it on, to me, feels dangerously close to mental breakdown.  As it is with flying too close to anything.  But at the same time, I’m not hiding or limiting myself to anything.

It’s like, these aren’t just fanciful thoughts of whimsy, but more like an embodiment.  I AM everything that I want.  Who I am is congruent with my desires.  There’s no discord, no hypocrisies.

Outwardly I portray an innocent person, someone who I thought I’d grow out of with age.  But that innocence isn’t about being trusting, naive or stupid – the innocence that people see is in fact, truth.  I am nothing but.  I exemplify simplicity.  I am what I am.

And the truth is, who I am and what I want, I want to get the fuck away.  I want to sink into my head for months at a time.  I fantasize about living in an underground bunker.  My parents basement will do for now.

When I’m in work massaging people, I feel like I’m stepping closer to my goals.  When I’m home, like I am now, I don’t feel in control.  Like I’m missing something.  I’m not doing all that I should be doing.  I’m going to miss important calls or what if disaster strikes?  Whether it be the internet’s not working, employee’s late, clients not able to book, lagging behind schedule – mostly stupid shit but still.

In May, once the schedule clears, there will be less disasters.

Anyway, I should shower, eat, and head to work.  Tomorrow is April fools.  The beginning of my last month of massage.  It will be the busiest we faced in history, the hardest of them all.  My second to last obstacle, aside from the lawsuit which is sure to surpass all others.  My two remaining pitfalls.

I want to write once again about what ayahuasca told me all those years ago….that all of this isn’t real.  It’s all meaningless.  I need to let it all go and enjoy the ride, to have fun with it.  And to always do the courageous thing and not the cowardly thing.  That’s the only way to let things go.

When you take that advice to heart, it gives you perspective outside the box.  A perspective you’ll never obtain if you never connect with the emotions associated with it.

When none of it matters, only then you are free.

You become everything you wish to be.

If you can understand this, to be able to connect emotionally with it – you’ll see that it’s the key to everything.  When all else falls away, all you’re left with are desires.  Everything is based on desire.   But you have to let them go in order to gain everything.

Ayahuasca showed this to me.  The imagery was so precise, so complete.

You have to do things as if it doesn’t matter if you win or lose – it ultimately doesn’t matter either way.  But even if it doesn’t matter, wouldn’t you rather win?  That’s desire.  The desire you’re left with after all else falls away, but it’s a different kind of desire, more like choice.

To go further with that, deeper down the rabbit hole, ayahuasca told me that there is no such thing as hope or faith.  Either believe or don’t believe, do or die.  Every choice we make is steeped in karma, in fear.  We make these choices subconsciously and have no control over the outcome until we learn not to fear.  We learn not to fear when we learn to let go.

I really have to go, I’m gonna be late for work.

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I’m in Seattle Washington!

The last flight was hell!  HELL!  I had a baby in one ear screaming and this other guy behind me trying to pick up the chick sitting next to him.  I wanted to turn into a velociraptor and bite into his thick juicy skull.  And eventually remove his head entirely.

He was dropping celebrity names, saying he goes to all the Hollywood parties and can take her next time she visits.  I swear to god, I’m not an evil person.  I’m not, I’m almost sure of it.  But I want to see this mans spleen.  Why his spleen?  I don’t know, I’m a dinosaur.

I’m sitting at the N gates in SEA.  Unlike LAX, this place is cake to navigate.  There’s signage everywhere, maps and even real-life people to direct you (even though you don’t need them because it’s a well laid out airport).  I actually needed direction since I forgot to print out my last and final boarding pass.

I want a coffee so bad.  There’s a fancy coffee shop straight ahead from where I’m siting and the dude working the register looks exactly like Josh from My Crazy Ex Girlfriend.

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I chose to plop my fat ass at this location specifically because it was out of everyone’s way (I’m sitting on the floor again), and there was an outlet!  An outlet!  But the god damned thing doesn’t work!  I’m on 45%, I need a fuel up.  My flight doesn’t board until 8:05 and it’s only 6:34.  I’m hungry again but I already spent $17 on a bottle of water, a bottle of vitamin H2O, and a roast beef wrap. No, no, I spent $18 dollars!

Have I mentioned that I’m broke?  I pee dust.  I poop dust bunnies.

Speaking of pee, I wasn’t moist this time around.  A two hour flight doesn’t have the same magic as a 6-hour flight.  I still don’t know what happened down there.

I gained like 40 or 50 pounds over these last few years and maybe big people just sweat more down there?  But why is it so HOT?!

Some lady just tried to fuel up her cell with this jokester outlet next to me.  It’s a cruel cruel joke.

Fuck I can’t do this.  I can’t spend $6 on an iced vanilla latte, I’m broke!  Fuuuuuuck.  If I do spend money, it needs to be on food.

44% is left on my mac.

Do I have to poop?  I keep thinking like I have to go but then I don’t.  I’d like to get it over with before I’m on a plane again.  And besides, the bathroom is the only place where I can vape.

I think my blog makes me want to shit.  I know this for sure because it also happens when I think really hard, not just when I blog but when I think about stuff.  I guess that’s why I have to shut off my brain when I’m around others.

I literally have nothing to write about besides having to poop, wanting an iced latte, and my battery slowly dying on my laptop.

I hope I have fun in Alaska.  It’s just that I love my bedroom so freaking much, plus with my new video game that is waiting for me when I come back, and my dog, I never want to be anywhere else.

Problems, we all know I have problems.

It’s not that I won’t have fun in Alaska, it’s that I’d have more fun staying home playing my game.

I think I really have to go to the bathroom, not a false alarm.  I’m going to brown streak it off to the poo palace and walk around some more, maybe eat.

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You can’t tell from this pic, but I’m vaping behind that newspaper.

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I didn’t make it to the bathroom.  I saw a sign for a bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese and made my way over.  I swear I’m Jewish.

Anyway, it sucks.  It’s a sucky shitty bagel.  $15 for an ice tea from the tap and a shitty bagel.  I’m getting a damn refill.

This is a dead airport.  It’s dead because it has no working outlets.  LAX was loaded head to toe with free outlets.  They promoted them like penicillin.

But not here, not this place.  This place is dead.

*******************

It’s 7:20PM, my flight is soon, thank god.  8:05 I leave.

Let me just tell you that I’m miserable without my blog!  I’m freaking dull eyed, hateful, misery in a handbag without writing.

How can I keep forgetting that?

I’m down to 34%

I feel lonely without my blog, that’s what it is.  It’s like if I stop writing now, I’ll feel like I serve no purpose.  I forget who I am when I don’t write exactly what I’m experiencing at every fateful moment.  Like right now, I just got the hiccups and I finished my bagel.  I didn’t grab napkins so I probably have gobs of cream cheese around my mouth and I’m hunched over my laptop tap tap tapping away – literally not stopping.  Shoulders are starting to ache.

I gained weight, but I like the way it looks on me.  Is that weird?  I’m not saying that out of denial, or that other thing people do, you know, when they say:  “I don’t care what people think!”

People who don’t care what people think NEVER say they DON’T CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK!

I like the way my boobs look in t-shirts.  Is that weird?  Be honest.

I’m wearing my white ably t-shirt, hiking pants, and a blue hoodie.  My hair looks like a rats nest, I haven’t slept in 33 hours but I got to say damn, I still look good.  But do I look good because I don’t care what I look like?

Like when my mom makes me dinner when I’m famished and I always say that her food is delicious.  What if I’m only saying that because I don’t care if it’s delicious or not?  My mom made it and I’m hungry and that’s all that really matters.

I mean, it’s a scary thought, no?

I do care about how I look but I put it away so quick that I barely glance at myself.  I rarely take selfie’s, never go clothes shopping, I wear the same jeans and sweatshirt over and over again.

But I like how soft my boobs look in t-shirts these days.  They make me feel feminine and fragile and it’s such a contrast to my actual mannerisms and attire.  I’m both yin and yang.

I’m getting the shakes.  Is that a symptom of sleep deprivation?  I never had the coffee.

It’s 7:50.  I’m going to try my luck at the bathroom and swing by my gate to see if my flight is still there.  I got about 15 minutes.

I’m publishing this crap.

 

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Incredible

After watching an awesome movie or reading a captivating book, how can you not love life?

For me, it’s not about the story, it’s not about the actors or how well its written – don’t get me wrong, those are huge parts of it – but what really gets me is that feeling of shared emotion.

How creative types can hit the nail on the head, run with it, and bring everyone along for the ride.

How do they know we’re going to like it so much?  How do they do that?

It’s not magic, there’s nothing mystical about what’s happening.  It’s simply a good story told by lovable characters.  But my question is, what makes it good?  How do they know the audience will love it?

Since I’ve been massaging less, I’ve been reading more.  And since I got a jail broken firestick, I’ve been watching a lot of movies.  Going down the list of the best 250.

I’ve seen most of the movies on the top 250, watched them several times over in fact.  But how is it possible that I love the same exact movies as everyone else?  We ALL love the same stuff!

Granted, I never got into Twilight, but then again I never tried – I’m not knocking it, just hadn’t had the time.  But everything else mainstream?  Oh yeah, I love it.  From Harry Potter to Star Wars, I fall in line with the majority of people.

It’s the united feeling that gets me loving life.  The twists and turns, the villains turning hero’s and vice-versa, the moments of poetry, of glory, of defeat.

I love that we love the same stuff.  I’m in love with life because all of us love the same stuff.  The next big idea’s, the next great inventions – will be something I would want to see and be in awe of.  How do I know this?  Because we like the same stuff!

I don’t know…..I probably sound crazy.  But I can’t be the only person who wants a robot butler, right?  Or a self-driven car, a jet pack, a watch that displays holograms or better yet, a life-size hologram of myself to see how I look in certain clothes before I buy them on, or even better than that, a hologram of myself that I can talk to and learn things about myself that I never knew.

Because, well, I’m interesting.  At least to myself I am.

It’s just that I’m constantly being amazed by our creations.  We are absolutely incredible.

I told myself I’d go to sleep early tonight…..

My video game comes out tomorrow.  Horizon Zero Dawn.  It looks to be an epic masterpiece of shared emotion between its creators and its players.  I may or may not be writing again for a while.

On Thursday I go to Alaska to see the Iditarod.

I have so much love for life today.  Not just because I’m delving into books and movies, but with the hope that some day I may become a contributor and not just a member of the audience.

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The business won’t make it to April

We have 353 signature couples massages left to redeem by April and I’m running out of money fast.

I can’t sell anymore groupons because we’re still slammed with clients even though we redeem about 200 a month.

The whole existence of my business, everything I’ve worked so hard for rests upon these next two months.  I do NOT want to dip into my personal line of credit.  That defeats the purpose of selling the groupons in the first place – to pay off my mammoth debt.

I knew this would happen.  I knew I would experience this anxiety before I put my plan into action.  And I told myself not to get depressed if I have to use my personal line of credit because it’ll only be temporary and will be paid off again.

“No worries Mel, you got this.” Is what I told myself.  “Things might get hairy in the middle, but it’ll work out.”

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But I can’t bring myself to do it.  I just can’t.  I can’t put myself back in debt. I’m like a polarized magnet.  Bugs Bunny’s decaying tooth dancing side to side evading a drill.

I still owe $13,255.

My new plan is to take things one day at a time.  Today I’m okay, I’ll be okay tomorrow too.  Perhaps it’ll all work out.

I’m supposed to be doing my taxes but I’m evading them.  I had one client today, then went to the hardware store to make 3 copies of the business key, went to Stop & Shop to pick up a soup and salad lunch, was home by 1:00 and started watching documentaries about the Universe.  I can’t stop watching them.  They’re mesmerizing.  I finished eating my soup and salad and started listening to my audiobook, We the Legion.  I fell asleep and my dog kicked me awake two hours later.

Now I’m blogging.

I’m supposed to be doing my taxes.

My life never used to be this boring but owning a business, there’s always these stupid little chores you have to do.  Just when you complete one of these chores, another one crops up.  And instead of doing them, you busy yourself with naps, video games, books and documentaries and tell yourself you’ll hop to it right after this steaming cup of Ramen noodles and a snuggle cuddle with your dog.

I don’t want to do anything big, like exercise.  If I exercise, I’ll lose focus and forget about my taxes altogether.  I can’t go out and enjoy myself, not while taxes need taxing.  I’ll lose focus.

It’s like I have one foot standing on a pile of tax papers and the other foot is doing the Charleston.

I’m laying in bed doing nothing.  My parents went to the casino.  It’s so quiet here, my brain is getting squishy and dreamy again.  Like all I want to do is sleep and when I wake up, I’ll do my taxes.  But I’ll probably eat dinner instead while listening to my audiobook and pushing my dogs big fat head away from my dinner plate.

I hired another therapist to replace the one who’s leaving.  That’s one less worry.  And the girl who fractured her hand is taking clients again on the weekend, so that’s good.

The only two bothers I have now are my taxes and getting through these next two months.

I spent over $34,000 in December.  Can you believe it?  On what?  I don’t know.  I’m sure it’s all tax deductible at least.  I won’t be paying any taxes this year, so I’m not worried about that.  That’s not why I’m stalling.

It’s so quiet I can hear the icicles melting outside.

I feel so melancholy.

Oh god I love solitude.  How can normal people hate it so much?

You want to hear something horrible?

I love alcohol, but I’m not an alcoholic.  Wait, that’s not the horrible part.

The horrible part is that since I never drink at home, the only reason I visit a friends house is an excuse to drink bud lights (not even good beer).  Don’t get me wrong, it’s great seeing them, I like them, really I do.  But if alcohol isn’t in the mix, I’d rather stay home.  Either I drink or we do something fun like skydive, or I stay home.

If someone invites me over and I say “no thanks”.  Mostly all of them counter with, “I have bud lights” in a sing-song voice.  I’m over their house (sometimes still in my pajama’s) before they hang up the phone.

It’s that little extra nudge, you know what I mean?

I understand this makes me a horrible person, maybe even a fake person.  A narcissist who only cares about herself.  I know this, okay?  But what can I do about it?  I feel like if I lie and pretend I want to see these people for the sake of seeing them and nothing more, that’s the worst kind of fake-ness there is.  And I’ll be hated more for that than when I’m being honest.

I’m so freaking weird.  I can be content for weeks at a time completely and utterly alone with no alcohol, with nobody.  Anyone else would want to commit seppuku after the third day.

But I never been alone that long.  Not even for a day.  I think that’s why I long for it.  Maybe it’s why loneliness hasn’t effected me like the rest of the world.  I’m not lonely, I’m alone.  There’s a distinct difference.  I know what both feels like and learned that if I’m always alone, I’ll never get lonely.  If you’ve experienced both and know the difference and think hard on this, you’ll know what I mean.

When I go on vacation with more than one person, I need alone time.  If I don’t have alone time, I get really quiet and then really confused.  Like my mind is off in a million different places and can’t concentrate.  If I’m with just one person, it’s not as bad.  I can keep up with them.  I spent every day in Thailand with Brianna and never got quiet and confused around her.

The only way to combat the confusion is by purposely acting stupid.  By acting stupid, I’m less likely to go against the flow and tire myself out.  Usually when I’m around more than one person, I’m always fighting the current.  That is unless, I’m being a complete dumb ass cracking jokes.

That’s the best way I can describe it.  What is “it”? I don’t know.

I can’t believe I’m still blogging.  It’s 5:30PM, I got home today at 1:00.  I had so much time to do taxes!

What am I doing?!

I was trying to have an out of body experience today while napping.  I became lucid when I felt the rush of velocity.  I tried opening my “spirit” eyes but kept opening my regular eyes instead.   When I keep my eyes closed, I see nothing but darkness.  This is a common problem with astral travelers.  You may be traveling outside your body, but you can’t see shit.

The only time I’m able to open my spirit eyes happens when I’m not consciously thinking about it.  Like when I become terrified and snap “awake” I open my spirit eyes instead of my real eyes.

There’s got to be a trick to it…..

Hold on, let me google it.

It doesn’t say anything, just that beginners have a hard time not opening their regular eyes.

Anyway, I decided to keep my eyes closed and enjoy the rushing sensation followed by the floating sensation.  I felt my legs rise up and up and up until I was hanging upside-down.  My head was still connected to my body.

It’s weird hanging upside-down in your dream.  You think you’d feel sick or uncomfortable, but since you’re not physically hanging upside-down, it’s actually quite nice.  I hung like that until my dog kicked me.

I’m being absolutely ridiculous right now and I sound crazy.  Really really crazy.

My friend just asked me to go to lunch tomorrow.  I was going to finish doing my taxes tomorrow, but I haven’t seen her in a while.

I’m supposed to be going to Alaska to see the Iditarod March 2nd.  No no, not “supposed to be going”, but I’m definitely going.  That’s two weeks from now.  I wanted to get my taxes done before then so I can enjoy myself.

There’s a new video game that came out on my birthday (oh shit I forgot to mention that I’m 37 now) but I’m refusing to buy it until I do my taxes.  That’s the major reason they’re not done yet.  I just got done playing Nathan Drake so now I have no game stopping me from getting my taxes done.

Oh god what am I going to do about these next two months?  Fuck shit piss.  I want to break the numbers down for you, but I’m terrified to look at them.  It’s too terrifying.

My dog is laying in bed with me.  He’s the reason I’m not getting anything done!  He takes up so much room.  I can’t splay out all my tax papers with him laying in bed with me and I can’t do it at my desk because I have a freaking moped standing in front of it.  Yes I have a moped in my bedroom, don’t ask.

He’s so comfortable though, and sleepy.  I can’t move him.  He’ll whimper outside my door if I force him out.

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I’m not sure if you’re experiencing the same thing as me, but I’m sincerely pissed off at myself.  I’m aggravated.  So absolutely livid I want to kick my own ass.  Just by typing these few sentences, these next few words, I grow more and more infuriated.  So perplexing is this.  I want to take it out on my dog and kick him.  If my parents were home, I’d yell at them.

Dad – “When are you going to fix my printer?”

Me – “Go fuck yourself Dad!!”

No no no, I’d NEVER!  I would never say or do those things, but I can feel it in my bones why others are like that.  They hate themselves is what it is.

Lazy procrastinators are short-tempered with no patience or forgiveness for their shortcomings.  And they’re too stubborn and too lazy to admit they even have shortcomings.  Damn idiots is what they are.  Angry ignoramuses.

And yes I’m still typing, the more I type, the more I hate myself and the more I want to kick my dog off my bed and scream at him.  But the thing I love about myself is my ability to mindfully know where my emotions are coming from.  Did I mention I’m wicked humble?  I love that about myself too.

Does this explain all anger?  Does anger ultimately stem from feelings of helplessness?

 

You know, I think I’m right.

An old perverted man got a massage by one of my therapists the other day, Austin, a sweet Chinese guy massaged him.

When I caught wind of this, I felt the only way to overcome my helplessness was to dial that old fat bastard and rip him a new asshole.  Which I did, and I felt better.

And that is all well and good, when you take your anger out on someone who actually deserves it, but when you’re feeling hopeless for internal reasons, wires get crossed.  You want to beat the hopelessness out of you and you think it’s others that are causing it, not you.  Perhaps it’s human nature?

Hopelessness hits you and you instinctually feel that a predator must be near, or someone who wants to harm you.  We haven’t evolved out of this yet.  It’s rare to see a person looking inward for answers.  And when you do see someone looking inward and blaming themselves, they often take it too far and become neurotics.

The person who perpetually blames others is a narcissist.  Neurotics and narcissists make up the whole of society and they are equally pathetic and annoying.  Both of them need equal amounts of validation, they both “take” equally and perpetually.  And I want to slap them in their faces.

Why is this?  Because everyone’s broken and suffering.  More so than ever now that people are spoiled and entitled.

It’s like people aren’t able to judge correctly.  They have no balance.  They rely heavily on what others think.  The one’s who have more “power” and influence than they do in the game.

Fuck the game.  Stupid fucking people game.

Solitude.  I just want to be left alone.  I don’t care if I end up alone.

I don’t get it when people say they’re scared they might end up alone.  What does that even mean?  When is “end”?  I’m alone right now, so technically “ended up” alone and I feel absolutely fine about it.

I don’t think I’m going to do my taxes tonight.  I’m so effing pissed.  I’m pissed at my friend who wants to meet me for lunch tomorrow, like it’s her fault, not mine.  I’m texting her and telling her I can’t make it.

This is incredible.  Absolutely freaking incredible.

I hated homework.  I hated it so much.  I literally NEVER studied for anything.  I’m no different in my adult life.

It’s like I’m choosing to hate myself rather than do my taxes.  Enough is enough.  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  Help me please won’t someone help me.

What are the 5 stages of acceptance?

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

I’ve been back and forth with anger and bargaining for weeks.  I’m finally getting depressed, thank god.  I’m almost there.

As soon as I stop blogging, that’s when I know depression will hit.  As soon as I turn on my Amazon fire stick to watch a movie.  And the depression will grow so great that I’ll be pushed into acceptance and start doing my taxes.

I can’t wait for depression!

This is what I do every year and every year is the same thing.  Once I start doing them, it’s actually not that bad.  The reality is that it’s an easy process and not as time-consuming as I thought.  I usually finish them in two days time.

And when they are done…..oh man, when they’re done I feel like I just climbed Mount Washington.  It’s the best feeling ever.  And while I’m doing them, I feel like an energized super-hero.  I stay up all night.  Not out of frustration or anxiety, but because I’m on a roll and don’t want to stop.  It’s sort of exhilarating.  Like that feeling you get when you clean your house after snorting coke.

That’s how I get when I do things.  Minus the coke.

It’s like, I’m waiting for that exhilaration to happen, but it’s not coming to me.  It only happens after I’ve come out of depression and learned acceptance.

This is why

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Okay, okay, I’m doing them.  I’m doing them.  I will do them.

Right.

Now.

Right after I pee and snuggle my dog a little.

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Commonalities

If you take away technology, take away clothes shopping, makeup, doing your hair nice….

If you take away all entertainment and hobbies from us…

What’s left that we have in common?

In the beginning, we had everything in common.  All we cared about was food, protection and shelter.  People found it easier to group together to attain these commonalities.

But now, what makes us group together?  When our basic needs are met?

It all comes down to similar interests.  When our basic needs are met, we can branch off into specialized nodes of activity.

But what if a persons basic needs go beyond food, protection and shelter?  What if they don’t feel settled and they can’t “branch off” until they also have freedom?

The price of food, protection, and shelter will always be freedom.

I feel feral.  Like I can’t be domesticated.

In the meantime, when everyone’s busy making babies and have bosses that feed them – grouping together with like-minds, going to church, throwing Mary Kay parties…getting lost in the grind, coping with sickness, crying over spilt milk….

I feel like I’m the only person in my vicinity who feels that freedom is a basic need.  And people hand over their health willfully in exchange for stressful circumstances that slowly eats away their vitality.  They choose these stressful circumstances in exchange for food, protection, and shelter.

And as a way to cope, they find addiction, money and/or power to quantify their existence.   To keep them in denial from their one basic unobtainable need, freedom.

Today is Monday, my day off.  I can’t remember the last time I had a day like today.  A day where I can sleep for as late as I want and continue doing nothing for the remainder.

I slept until 1:30 in the afternoon.  I slept to the point where I was half awake and half asleep.  Enjoying that in-between place where images are vivid yet you know they’re not real.  I stayed there until I absolutely had to pee.

But I work so hard, and I only have one life to live, it’s insane – I mean literally insane to not have any restful days and to not spend your one life exactly how you want to live it.

And it’s not even a true free day.  Not with a business to run…

I think I was a horrible person in a past life.  A dictator, or a medieval landlord.  Having people work for me so I don’t have to lift a finger.  Before that, I was a beaten housewife with a ton of kids.

At least, that’s what I hypothesize.  And if I’m right, than who am I in this life?  I’m on the run from any and all responsibility and I hate narcissists.  That’s who I am.

I told my landlord to add the new room to my rent.

I’m adding a new couple’s room to my massage business so I can sell more upgraded couples massages on Groupon.  I’ll have it by November 1st, the room.

I also hired 3 new people.  It sounds like a lot of people, but it’s really not.  One works on Fridays, another on Sundays, and the last works every other weekend.  All older ladies, a client favorite.

Once I start cranking out those couples massages on groupon, I’ll need to hire one more therapist to work Saturdays and weekday nights and once that happens, I’m done.  I’ll literally never have to massage another body for as long as I live.  I’d love to recite that as a marriage vow.

I feel like this is it, the beginning of the end of my battle.  I’ll try to hold off hiring that last person until my debt is paid.  That last person I hire might tip the scales into debt again, I have to be careful.  I’m now roughly $34,702 in the hole as opposed to $50,000 back on April 1st.

I hate the sound of text messages.  I hate the sound of phone calls.  I hate the sound of emails.  I shouldn’t hate these things.  I deep down love people and never in my right mind would I hate the sound of someone wanting to talk to me.

And since I’m so obsessed about finding my freedom, I can’t branch off into specialized nodes of interest.  I can’t learn the piano, I can’t even find time to exercise properly.  I can’t find time to write these days and writing means everything to me.

Anyway, I started writing this post because two of my friends decided that I should be Katniss Everdeen for Halloween.  They said I’m a natural Katniss.  I started writing this post with Katniss in mind, trying to figure out what it is I have in common with her.

I think it’s mostly me being a Tom boy and I won Massachusetts state champion youth division for archery when I was 12.  But it’s more than that, I just can’t put my finger on it.  And other people see it too, but they probably can’t put their finger on it either.

I’m writing this post to put my finger on it, but it’s not working.

I’d like to think it’s because she’s strong, stubborn, and fights for what she believes in, but it’s not that.

I hate to say it, but I can see myself in people – a lot of people.  People who have absolutely nothing in common with each other, have something in common with me.  I relate and empathize with mostly everyone, including made-up characters from movies and TV.  And because I empathize, I take on their traits.

That’s what it is.  That’s got to be it.  I try to think as clearly and as rationally as I can at all times, removing emotion and focusing on fact.  I learned this by writing.

Looking back and re-reading old stuff, I learned how crazy and transfixed I can be.  Writing taught me control and that control extends to all facets of my day to day life.  Say only what needs to be said, convey emotions that are relevant to the present situation, I should never focus on myself, but on others…..These are built-in gut reactions.  They are pure reactions.  But they are learned reactions.  I am a succinct categorist.

Maybe I’m more domesticated than I think.

But anyway, when I like what I see, when I’m being influenced by an idol (we all have idols), I want to become them.  Children do this better than anyone and I never grew up.

I’m a product of everything I like in others.  Unfortunately, every single idol I ever had was a fictional character.  These perfect people don’t exist in real life.

And I’m always pretending that I’m the living protagonist of a story.  Perfecting my character, watching her grow.  Always doing the right thing no matter what.

I guess that’s why my friends think of me as Katniss.  I’m like a character from a story-book.  I’m literally made-up fiction.  I wouldn’t know who I am if I didn’t write about me.

 

 

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Dreams

I keep having dreams about prison almost every single night for the last two weeks.  Before two weeks ago, I never had a prison dream, let alone any dream that appears almost every night.

I’m dreaming again because my current bedtime audiobook is the Tao Te Ching.  It’s only an hour and 43 minutes so it doesn’t last all night and into morning like my last audiobook did.  When the book ends, the dreams begin.

Usually the prison dreams are harmless.  All the characters from Orange is The New Black are there.  Red acts as my Mother and cares for me while all the prisoners are happy and don’t want to leave.  Almost like they forgot they’re in prison.  They only care about hooking up with each other and little else.  I was the only one that wanted to escape, which I did by the end of each dream.

The prison was actually a happy place but only because every one was preoccupied with hooking up.  There were rumors about prisoners wanting to hook up with me, but I ignored them and focused instead on breaking out.

All the prison dreams are like this.  All except last night when things turned dark.

The prison started out at as being a school.  I was in class trying to pay attention to the teacher when this one boy kept inching his desk closer and closer to me until he was right next to me shoulder to shoulder.

He had a crush on me and instead of me being flattered, I despised it.  I told myself to be nice to him so I don’t accidentally hurt his feelings.  “Just be nice Mel, keep you’re cool.”

But when he got to be shoulder to shoulder with me, I flew into a rage.  I pushed him and said “get the fuck off me!”.  Even though I specifically told myself not to do that, I couldn’t help myself.

That’s when the school turned into a prison but instead of it being a regular prison, it was more like a school.  The cells were classrooms.  I left the classroom to get away from that boy and plotted my escape once again but this time I wasn’t alone.

I had two friends with me.  A comical big fat black woman and a regular dude about my age, maybe a little younger.

We were caught trying to escape and sent to the disciplinary department which doubled as a shoe department.  The sadistic shoe maker gave us new shoes and as punishment for trying to flee, he nailed the shoes to my friends feet.  I was next in line to get the nails, but the shoe maker over looked me, saying that I wasn’t as much of an idiot as the other two I was with.

My friends could no longer run, but I could.  And so I did.

I ran through the school/prison and had to pee really bad.  I found the bathroom where all the stalls were, and the custodians were there working on a new toilet system involving tubes everywhere and the toilet I was to sit on was too high of a reach.  I was trying to climb up on the toilet when the dude I was with previously, the one who got the nails in his feet, busted in and said “Melanie!  What are you doing?!”  He was upset I wanted to leave the place.

“I’m trying to pee but the seat is too high.  I keep falling off.  Why are you in the women’s room?”

“I wanted to know how you like your hamburger.”

“My hamburger?  What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ll just put ketchup on it.”

And he left to go fetch me a hamburger.  He was starting to like me and wanted to impress me with a hamburger, and because of that, he lost all coherence of being in a prison and instead focused on impressing me.

That’s when I woke up and really had to pee.

In real life, there’s a guy I hung out with about a month ago.  He’s an old friend who I haven’t hung out with in 18 years and he contacted me on Facebook.  I kept putting him off for maybe a month or two when finally I said screw it and met him for a drink at a bar/restaurant in walking distance from my house.

Since then, he’s called and texted me non-stop.  He called at 2:30AM last night when I had to wake up at 7AM.  I was pissed.  So pissed that I almost flew into a rage like in my dream.  But instead, I calmed myself and put him under the Do Not Disturb option on my phone.

I’m pretty sure the dreams started because of him.  I told him how I feel relationships are like a prison.  People focus on relationships instead of trying to break out of their bleak working lives.  And since then, the prison dreams are relentless.

But they make sense to me.  The perfect analogy.  But I’m not sitting around all day thinking about it, the only time I remember thinking about it was with that guy I hung out with.  So it’s perplexing that I’m dreaming of prison this often when I never think about it in waking life.

Maybe they’ll stop now.  Now that I’ve written about it.

I was also scared about getting sued because the window of opportunity of that happening was inching down.  The prison dreams may have also stemmed from that as well.

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On May 20th I wrote a detailed plan for my business.

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Okay, so not very detailed, but the plan is still a go.

July and August I found myself with having one or two clients a day.  I lounged around watching bad sci-fi movies on Netflix and worried about my productivity.

“What if I’m like this when I don’t have to work at all anymore?  Just laying around doing nothing?”

But then from the grace of god, I found myself with 5 days off in a row in late August.  Not a single client.  During these five days, I practiced the piano, went to Rhode Island and stayed over night (the first time this year), devised a new member client system, went hiking twice (the first time this year), hung out with valued friends.

I can’t remember the last time I had 5 days off in a row (besides taking trips).  And during these 5 days I realized that I’m not as lazy as I think.  Everything I wanted to do, everything that I put off, I did in those 5 days.  All the while, worrying about my business.  If the phone is being answered and if clients are happy – I was tethered to the business and couldn’t fully relax.  Same thing happened when I went to Alaska.  Impending doom circled my head like a halo.

But then my employee cut her hours and I’m back at it again.  Massaging 3 or 4 clients a day.  I feel relieved that I’m there overseeing everything, but miserable that I have to massage again.  I’m relieved too that I can squirrel away even more cash to pay off my debt, but miserable that this tirade of struggle seems to go on and on.

I feel really close this time though.  Just a few more months until freedom.  But I’m struggling with the first leg of my plan, paying off at least one of my bills to free up money needed to afford the extra massage room.  I can afford it now, but that’s going against the plan.  It’s jumping the gun.  Bad things happen when I do that.

I have no choice but to wait until one bill is paid off.  The suspense of how my plan will turn out is killing me.

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My newest fantasy while massaging people is that of my cross-country adventure.  I decided not to go with a motorcycle, but a moped instead.  You can ride a moped anywhere and if the engine breaks down or I run out of gas, I can peddle the damn thing.  I can freely ride the cross-country bicycle trails.  That’s the main reason for wanting a moped.  I even picked out the bike I want.

Going cross-country on a highway, in my opinion, would be a shit time and the point of this expedition will turn into a destination trip and not a site seeing journey taken through winding roads through quaint towns.  Sticking with the bicycle trail is imperative.  Plus I don’t need to rely on navigating while following the path, it’s like walking the Camino.

motoped

It’s called the Survival Motoped and it’s meant to withstand the zombie apocalypse.  I can order it and put it together myself, or buy it already put together.  A very big part of me wants to buy it right now and put it together so I’ll have it ready by the time of my trip.  But that goes way against my plan.

If I put it together myself, learn how to put the engine together, the frame, the spokes, it reminds me of the book Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance.  I can repair it myself if it starts acting up and I learn appreciation and self-efficiency.

One night, not too long ago, while watching Netflix and eating some delicious take-out, I picked out the attire that will accompany me on my trip.

A pair of protective motorcycle blue jeans, a leather motorcycle jacket with zippered vents for the summer, protective motorcycle boots and a half helmet.  They say to wear a full helmet with this bike along with full motorcycle protective gear, but wearing full armor on a moped looks ridiculous.  Plus I’m scared a full helmet will obscure my peripherals.

jacket

boots

And for the undershirt, I’m going with Ably.  Supposedly I can wear it everyday without having to wash it.  I pre-ordered one and it’s supposed to come sometime this month.

shirt

The Survival Motoped costs more than a Honda Grom, the original bike I wanted to go with.  But you can literally drive it anywhere and it has the same amount of CC’s as the grom, goes just as fast.  Has more storage space.  And I love the idea that I can peddle it if anything were to happen to the motor.

And it’s a zombie apocalypse inspired bike!

I’m worried about two obstacles in my way of the trip.

ONE:  Not paying off my debt in time and TWO, not being able to afford a receptionist.

I NEED a receptionist.  Without a receptionist, I’ll carry with me an impeding halo of doom.

Without a receptionist, I’ll have to wait yet another year to take my trip.  Let the seasons circle around again.  We only have 80 or so cycles of these seasons and I’m already going on number 37!

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Today is Monday, my day off.  I don’t feel like doing shit.  In fact, I want to go back to sleep.  I started writing this post as soon as I woke up from my dream so not to forget it a few hours later.

And the thing with relationships being a prison, I’m not that bad when it comes to them.  Knowing that someone is out there waiting for me is comforting, but I know exactly what I want in life.  I know exactly who I am because I know what I want in life.  And I know for certain I’m prone to distraction and letting years slip by while toiling in the slog of life’s interruptions.

Not knowing or finding a paid profession that I’m in love with, makes it hard for people like me.  People who get bored after a while, who hate being told what to do.  I’m curious about everything, but not enough to spend thousands of dollars and years of my life going to school learning about something that I might get bored with and feel trapped in like a hen in Animal Farm.  The drama, the hierarchy, the scandals.

If I go back to school, it won’t be for the purpose of finding a job when I’m done.  It’ll be to continue where the professor left off.  For further research and discovery and not because I’m being paid for it.

****************************

Did you know there’s a rare disease (only 100 known cases) where your brain is unable to sleep?  It’s not regular insomnia, it’s an actual brain malfunction where it loses the ability entirely.  It’s called Fatal Famillial insomnia.  It’s mostly genetic, but the protein can also be passed on via body fluids or eating something tainted with it.  Like Mad Cow meat.  You can get it at any age even if you were born with it, you won’t know you have it until decades later.

Once it starts, you have 18 months to live.  You live with anxiety, paranoia, hallucinations and then finally dementia.  Basically it takes approximately 18 months of no sleep to kill you.

*****************************

It may be my day off, but it’s also my parents anniversary (45 years) so we’re going out to eat.  I bought them an Acer laptop for their gift.  They both love it.  My Dad cruises Amazon looking at crossbows and my Mom plays her free online slot games and forwards chain emails to all her cousins.  Last night I introduced her to YouTube, my personal favorite.

It’s almost payday so I have to go to work and pick up everyone’s pay sheets to send in.

 

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Filed under All about me, journal, Travel, work

Shanked with Sunshine

I have somewhat of an obsessive personality but I never thought of it as that.  I always thought it was a superhuman ability to focus really well.

I have the ability to sit and stare at my debt chart for hours at a time just looking at it.  And while I sit and look, I fantasize.  I fantasize of what it would feel like once I pay off my big bill, or what it would feel like once I pay off my big bill and that other smaller one next to it.  How would it feel?  Would I feel different?  Be a different person?

And once everything is paid off, what then?

There’s a million dollar commercial property that I want.  It consists of 3 historic buildings, one of which houses our towns favorite ice-cream parlor for the last 30 years.

It’s okay to say Ice-cream parlor but it’s not okay to say massage parlor.  Pfff….semantics.

I want to put my bar/coffee/tappa’s cafe in the middle building.  It’s the perfect place.  And collect rent on the other 3 shops on the property.  The locksmith, the frame shop and ice-cream parlor.

I sit and I stare at my debt chart while fantasizing about this.  I can do this for any length of time.  I do it until something else pulls me away.  Like the bathroom, or my stomach, or I can’t keep my eyes open.

I’m now $36,400 in debt.  This month I hope to pay off $3,000 of it.  But it’s killing me.  This is torture.  Even if I pay off $3000 (which is a ton of freaking money!), I’ll still be $33,000 in debt.  It’s like a drop in the bucket.  $3000 is a mere drop in the bucket while it feels like gallons in my pants.  Truth be told, I probably can’t pay $3000 this month.

In the meantime, the 300 couple’s massages I sold on Groupon are almost all redeemed.  So I’ve been laying around a lot lately with my brothers dog.  We watch bad science fiction movies on Netflix which some of them turn out to be really good.  When we’re done watching one of them, the credits roll and Netflix challenges us to watch 3 more bad sci-fi movies.  I accept your challenge Netflix.

Me and my brothers dog watched almost all of the sci-fi movie category.  All that remains are the sharknado movies and the one about the really big Spider, what’s it called?  Oh yeah, Big Ass Spider.

I have a client today at 6:30pm.  I have my period, blah.  It’s freaking hot out today.

My therapist just told me she doesn’t think her friend will be able to work for me in the fall because now she’s getting married and plans are changing.

She was an integral part of my plan, so that sucks.

A while ago the I-Ching foretold something shitty was going to happen to me in August.  I’m trying to lay low this month, not do much.  I don’t want to spend any money anyway.  It’s already the 11th, so just a few more weeks and I’ll be free of the bad juju.

The man who ruined my business last year, his trial is on the 26th.  I think it’s his ultimate trial.  If that date comes and goes with me coasting through it without being contacted, it’s all peaches and cream from here on out.  They definitely can’t sue me once September comes.  I love the statute of limitations clause.  Thank the glory of Gods for that one I tell ya.

I woke up today with a dark cloud over my head and I don’t know why.  Things are going near perfect lately.  I mean seriously, everything is going fantastic.  Even the Melanie Haters are not hating me anymore and inviting me places and talking to me.  It’s a real brain bender.  And the business is clean and well stocked, the client/therapist ratio is spot on so everyone is booked but not over booked.  Clients are happy.  I’m making money.  I’m also laying around a great deal…..but……

Shit man, I don’t know what it is.  Maybe it’s my period.  Maybe it’s Anthony’s trial, maybe it’s my debt or my semi-ruined plans for the fall.

It’s a culmination of everything.  It’s the promise I made to myself to not retire from massage until I pay off my debt.  It’s the unknown variables when owning a business, if employee’s quit, if clients leave horrible reviews.  It’s the unknown variables in life in general, that anything can happen.

When things are going good, I feel more scared than when they are bad.  I’m pre-disposed to deep down misery, but my deep down misery is being shanked with sunshine.  I say deep down because nobody can see it on the outside.  I’m a happy optimist-go-lucky on the outside.  My misery grounds me and keeps me stable.  It’s what spurs my dry humor. I’m equally miserable as I am happy and I like it that way.  I’d be miserable if not for misery.

Where does my misery come from?  Taxes, not being free, having to work hard only to die in the end, you know, the norm.

But I feel so grateful.  Insanely grateful.  I kiss the walls of my business every time I leave it at night.  I kiss the damn walls and say “I love you”!

You have no idea how much has changed since I moved the business.  The place is nearly perfect in every way.  My future has never looked brighter or more promising.

I wish I can tell you more so you’d understand.  The cement in my chest is gone.  But if I write about it, it just sounds like bullshit.

I wonder if by me being half miserable, I get my gratefulness from that?

Anyway, enough about me, let’s talk about you.  Oh yeah, I’m basically talking to myself here.

Rational Brain – “No you’re not, I’m here.”

And what do you have to say?

Rational Brain – “Go to sleep.  Do NOT watch Ip Man: The Final Fight.  GO TO SLEEP.  Its almost 12:30 in the morning!”

Just five minutes, please?  Then I’ll sleep. It helps me sleep.

Rational Brain – “You’re incorrigible.”

It’s so hard to want to sleep.  Nobody’s calling, emailing, texting.  No clients to massage.  If the only real currency is time, I feel I’m rich with it at night and it’s all mine to do as I please.  I’m horribly selfish with time.

I wonder if all night owls are selfish with their time?  People who don’t want to work, don’t want to have kids or a relationship, I wonder if they love night as much as I do.  This doesn’t pertain to insomniacs who can’t sleep, but to people who don’t want to sleep.  They’d rather solve puzzles, read books, write…etc.

I’m going to name my bar My Time since it’s really the only currency there is.

It’s supposed to be a phase in life, to go to bed late and wake up late.  It’s part of young adulthood.  I read an article about it.  It starts shifting back to normal once you’re in your 30’s, back to when you were a kid who got up early.

*********************

It’s a few days later.

I slept a lot.  A lot a lot.  I went to bed at 8PM, woke up at 12:30AM, went back to sleep at 1:30AM and woke up at 12PM and here I am laying in bed on my day off.  A beautiful wondrous day off.

I’m about to watch a documentary called Flat Earth on YouTube.  I have no idea what it is, but supposedly Bruce Lee knew about it’s secrets and that’s where he got his power from.

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Filed under All about me, journal

Another OBE

I just want to write real quick about the OBE I had a few days ago.

It started out as a regular dream.  I was laying down on a wooden floor in front of a fireplace, incredibly tired and just wanted to sleep.  My “parents” were there sitting on the couch.  “Parents” is in quotes because they weren’t my actual parents in real life, but in my dream these strangers were most definitely my parents.  We just moved into a new house and I had my own bedroom, but I fell asleep on the floor in the living room because my bedroom felt lonely and didn’t feel like “home” to me.

Parents – “Why don’t you sleep in your room?”

Me – “I’m too tired…..I don’t want to……”

And I was incredibly tired and half asleep.  The wood floor felt hard, but warm in front of the fireplace and I was comfortable and felt safe.

My “dad” picked me up and placed me on the couch.

This feels like it actually happened, in a past life or something.

And then I woke up at a retreat center for video gamers.  People who wanted to get away and play video games all day, but the games they had were old and sucked.  Paperboy was one of them, a nintendo game from the 1980’s.

I sat on the floor with two of my friends, two boys and a girl with punkish pink hair.  One of the boys said that if I was a soda flavor, I wouldn’t taste good.  That’s when I became lucid and realized what he said didn’t make any sense.

Me – “I wouldn’t taste good if I was soda?”

Him – “No way.”  And he started laughing.

The 3 young people seemed extremely familiar to me, like I knew them personally from other dreams.  I was completely lucid but felt like I met these three over and over again, and also been to that same video game retreat center repeatedly.

Me – “I know you!  You were in other dreams I had.  Do you remember me?”

They all shook their heads.  “We don’t know you.”

They got up to leave, visibly miffed by my comment.

The girl – “We never dreamt of you dude.”

I was irritated and confused.  Confused that those people and that place seemed so familiar.  I stood up and said, “look!  This is a dream!”  And started flying around the room.  I learned how to fly from previous lucid dreams and it’s not as easy as it sounds.  It’s pure will power.

Then I flew out of the building and was surrounded by darkness.  Not evil, just cloudy and I was losing lucidity.

Me – “This dream sucks, I better wake myself up or I’ll never get any rest.”

I opened my “eyes” and was outside my house in my backyard.

I specifically remember opening my eyes, it’s such a strange experience when this happens.  It’s the second time this happened, when I think I’m opening my real eyes only to open my celestial eyes.  I was out of body.  I could feel the dampness in the air, the wind on my face.  I looked down and saw a holographic computer screen hovering in front of me.  It was long and rectangular.  So bright.  All around me was dark, because of night.  But the screen was so bright.  I blinked a few times just to be sure of what I was looking at.  A perfect rectangle of light surrounded by the dead of night.

“Well, this is new.”

Yep definitely a computer screen.  It had images on it, but I couldn’t comprehend any of it or see it clearly.  I was too much in awe, or in shock to understand it.

Then I realized that I was “holding” the screen in-between my hands.  Like it was such a natural and intuitive impulse, to put my hands out as if I were to clap really loud, but instead, conjure up an astral computer screen.  If I narrowed or widened the length in-between my hands, the screen would stretch or narrow.

“Whoa.”

This all happened moments after opening my celestial eyes and then I heard a voice.

Voice – “Michael.”

Then a pause.

Me thinking – “Well, that’s new too.  I never heard a voice before.  Maybe I’m being called on a mission?”

I looked down at the computer screen thinking it would give me instruction.  Is Michael in trouble and I have to save him?

Then the voice started talking again, clearly as plain as day.  That’s when I realized it wasn’t a voice from a spirit guide, but my audiobook!  I could hear it so vividly.  I can’t hear anything while I’m having a regular dream, or a lucid dream.  My auditory senses get cut-off completely but while out of body, I can hear everything clear as day.

Me – “Huh, interesting.”

Not that that little bit of info will ever apply to me in waking life, but yeah.  While having an out of body experience, you can hear everything going on around your sleeping body.

I was let down because I really thought I was being called out on my first mission to save somebody.  I was amped up for it and ready to go, but no.  The audiobook ended up bringing me back to my bedroom in my body and the experience was over.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking.  That I’m completely off my rocker.  Something is seriously wrong with my brain.  But I swear I’m as normal as they come other than fear of commitment.

The girl I fired the other day, she has serious mental problems.  She twitches, squints her eyes quickly, talks loud and is argumentative, defensive.  Can you get a visual of the type I’m talking about?  Or is she too rare of a breed to be like any other?

Anyway, she’s the only person I know who has legitimate mental issues and so I asked her a few weeks ago if she ever had a lucid dream.  I wanted to know if there’s a correlation between emotional imbalances and fucked up dream experiences.

Her – “I dream of my teeth falling out all the time, it’s sort of like a lucid dream.”

Me – “Have you ever had auditory hallucinations?  Do you hear things when you fall asleep that aren’t there?”

I forgot what she said (this happened weeks ago), but the answer was no.  At least, not comparable to what I’ve experienced.

Me – “Have you ever had an out of body experience?”

Her – “Not that I know of.”

She’s the craziest person I know, but she hasn’t experienced what I have.

My blog is getting full of this shit.  I’m almost to the point of being embarrassed by it.  No no, I AM at the point of being embarrassed by it.  I don’t talk about it to anyone outside my blog.  And I’m the type who NEVER gets embarrassed.  Or at least, I’m not easily.  That’s why I dance and sing the way I do.  But this…..this embarrasses me.

And I can’t stop this crazy new notion that I have.  This idea, becoming solidified into an actual belief, that my thoughts impact EVERYTHING.

I’ve written about it before – loads in fact.  That thoughts have a profound impact on reality.  But it was only thoughts and idea’s, nothing substantial.

I have no clients today.  It’s wonderful.  And I want to write about this so bad, all this garbage inside my head – where do I start?  But I also hate writing long rambling posts.  Posts where I transfix and lose my rationality.  Those posts embarrass me more than anything, more than my out of body experiences.

I’ve experienced, several times now, that we are the universe.  I hit that high point of moksha, the point where you understand everything – I hit it a few times while ingesting powerful psychedelics, and once from simple meditation before falling asleep.

When I was a high schooler, keeping a journal, I made it my mission to find out exactly who I am.  I peeled layer after layer, but it was like an onion.  I found no pit at the center.

Me thinking – “Maybe if I’m as honest as I possibly can be, than I can know myself?”

So I wrote as honestly and as candidly as I could muster and realized my true self can only be found in my intentions, and digging even deeper, intentions can be found in desires.  I came to the conclusion that there is no “me”, only what I desire.

I learned about buddhism soon after that.  I learned that buddhism teaches you how to let go of desire.

Me – “Than there wouldn’t be any “me” left!”

I understood this, and didn’t understand it at the same time.  I understood the impossibility of it.

Me – “If I desire not having desires, I hit a brick wall.”

It has to happen by accident, just like anything in life.  You have to let it go before it actually comes to you.  Ayahuasca kept repeating this over and over to me.

But why?  How?

Without desire, we learn that we are in fact, the universe.  Without the “me” that separates us from it (our one true veil), we’re able to see reality and not delusion.

I read an article about a man who thought he was going to die.  He was at war, his shelter was about to get bombed.  He accepted death and in doing so, experienced moksha.  He saw his life flash before his eyes and with complete clarity, seen how and why he ended up at there at that exact point.  All his doing, all his choice, subconsciously his making.  He experienced himself as the universe – he unknowingly directed his path.

Desiring life is the biggest desire we can not overcome, no matter how suicidal.  The only way out of it is through acceptance, just as that man did when he accepted death.

We desire because we fear and our only one fear is that of death, all other fears stem from it.  We stop desiring when we stop being afraid to die.

Suicidal people have always fascinated me.  Any of us are free to kill ourselves anytime we want, no big deal.  Just opt out of this life.  You’ll be forgotten just like 99.99% of everyone else who ever lived, so why should it matter?  So if it doesn’t matter, why not live?  I mean, since we’re all going to die at some point anyway, why not ride it out to see what happens?

When I look at it from this view, suicide seems irrational, illogical.  It seems silly like a child throwing a tantrum.  I’ve always viewed it like this and I think that’s why I don’t take anything seriously because, well, who the fuck cares, right?  What does it matter?  I mean really.

Suicidal people have trouble accepting things.  When they try to control, fix, or change something, they only get themselves in deeper.  It’s karma.  When doing things out of fear, you dig yourself deeper.  Just like what happened with my business.

If we believe we can fix something, there wouldn’t be any fear of it.  We just do it and that’s that.  It’s a test, like Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey.  How far can you push yourself?  How much do you believe in yourself?  How far are you willing to go?

Finding your story is incredibly cathartic, I’ll save that for another post.  We should all know our story.

Anyway, where was I?

When I was just learning about this, I may have still been in high school, I don’t remember, but I thought if I purified my desires, I can be a good person.  If I kept my intentions at a healthy level of care and respect for others, I’ll be okay in life.  But then I dug deeper.  Why do I want to be good?  To be better than everyone else?  To obtain admiration?

It’s like organized religion.  Finding a way to one-up the next guy as a show of being more “tolerant” or more “forgiving” than any other organized belief system.  And it’s not even a belief system, not really.  People of organized religion don’t believe in god, they have faith in him and imo, faith ain’t worth shit.  That’s why I love the Jews.  They’re instructed to actually believe.

My saintly decision to be “good” was a sterile systematic approach to place myself higher than everyone else.  Like my shit don’t stink.  I was playing to the tune of my own organized religion.

That’s when I decided I had enough.  I stopped digging.  It was fruitless.  I hit a brick wall because of the impossibility of always having sheisty ulterior motives.  I couldn’t get over myself and my need to be the best, my need to control everything simply because I am the best/better than my counterparts.

Because as long as I was the best, I could control my level of fear.  I was emotionally stable because I was able to control my fear level and I did it through thinking that I was the best around.

 

***********************

It’s now the next day.  I had to end that post because I got a call from work telling me I had a client scheduled at 1:00 and it was already 1:10.  I stripped off my sweaty PJ’s, flung on pants and shirt and literally, I was there at work in 6 minutes flat.

Me – “I didn’t know I had a client.”

Employee – “She booked it this morning and I forgot to tell you.”

Me -“I’m still wearing yesterday’s underwear.”

Employee starts laughing.

My client, when she was laying on the massage table – “Do you do reiki?”

Me – “I don’t, I’m not much of a follower in it but I know a woman who does it.  She comes here and takes clients.  It’s the same price as a massage.”

Client – “That’s strange because I sense you’re more than a massage therapist.  There’s something about you.”

I swear to god, I’m not making this shit up.  She actually said that.

Me – “I’m a believer in other things.  I kind of suffer from out of body experiences.”

Client – “Me too!  This sounds weird but once I thought I was flying down a worm tunnel.”

Me – “Oh yeah, I went down a few of those too.”

Before I went in to massage her, I was feeling nuts.  I needed to feel normal again by talking to someone with similar experiences and guess what happened?  6 minutes later, I was massaging a lady who didn’t think I was crazy.

This is just one small example of how my thoughts been effecting things lately.

A few weeks ago, the toilet at work exploded.  Well, it didn’t explode, but the tank cracked right down the center and it happened at night when nobody was there.  So the damn thing was running for probably 8 hours before my employee walked in and seen the mess.  There was about 2 inches of water on the bathroom floor and it leaked into one of the massage rooms completely soaking it thru and thru.

I was at the eye doctor when this happened, sitting in the waiting room waiting to get called in.

Employee – “It’s flooded in here!  It’s a complete flood!”

I asked her to take pictures and send them to me, I asked if it smelled, if she can turn off the valve…etc.  I kept my shit together and called my Dad.  He just so happens to have a wet-vac.     We got everything cleaned up and next thing I knew, I was staring down the bowl of a brand new toilet.  I was praying for a new toilet!  The old one was stained and gross.

Me thinking – “I kind of want this thing to break.  How the hell can a toilet break though?”

If it broke, it would come out of my landlords pocket.  Not mine.

And that’s just what happened.  The day before the explosion, I scrubbed it clean and dropped one of those blue 1000 flushes in the tank wishing the damn thing would bust because it still looked dirty.

My esthetician, I prayed she’d get another job and last month she did just that.  Now she’s only here one day a week, if that.  But that’s hardly considered anything special since it was bound to happen.

I wished one of my therapists to work more so I wouldn’t have to rely on crazy Cara, and lo’ and behold…..

I wished Cara gave me a good reason to fire her, and she did.  She bitched out two of my employee’s before I fired her, which I didn’t even know about until yesterday.

I feel like if I don’t “need” something, if I don’t have a sticky attachment to whatever it is I’m griping about and instead just ride it out and soldier on, shit unfurls on its own.  But it’s happening expeditiously as of late.

I wrote my master plan, remember?  The one I took a picture of and posted?  Yeah well, part of the plan was to hire another therapist by October to help with those upgraded couples massages I want to sell again.  But it’s hard finding decent therapists to work as independent contractors.  Anyway, one of my IC’s is friends with an outstanding therapist who’s looking to move here and find a new job, can you guess which month?  October.  She’s going to start working here in October.  Just as I planned!

I can go on and on with this stuff…..the more I think about it, the more coincidences I can write about.  But I’ll stop here.

I just binge watched Orange is the New Black.  I watched 7 episodes all in one sitting, but I started watching it at 9:30 at night.  You can imagine what time it is now.  But it doesn’t matter.  In a few days I’ll be suffering from jet-lag.  I’m going to the forest festival in Anchorage to celebrate the fourth of July.  I leave on Wednesday and today is Monday morning.  Well, more like I leave tomorrow night, really really late tomorrow night.

I’m bringing my laptop, screw it.

Damn, what else did I want to write?

In my video game, The Witcher 3, there’s an old man sitting on the side of a trodden path that says, “Where’s your road wend?”

 

Damn, I want to write more about attachment and desire.  If I don’t write about it now, I’ll forget.  But I’m so freaking tired!

I’ll just write real quick that no, you can’t let go of all desire.  Not unless you devote your life to meditation or do psychedelics until moksha pours itself in to cement.  According to ayahuasca, it’s impossible to maintain this state for long.

But……you can let go of the things you can.  Even just a little bit of it, let it go.  And keep letting more go bit by bit.

Desire is not attachment, they come and go like cravings.  Attachment is when things get sticky.  The stuff that defines you and can’t live without.

Bit by bit, I’ve stripped myself of all fear about losing my business.  It’s not going to happen, not ever.  And that’s that.  And if it does, I start anew.  A tiring long road?  Possibly yes.  But it’s more tiring living in fear than it is to keep getting back up.

This is a state of mind that I trained for, it doesn’t come naturally or easy.  Severe worry and anxiety can break you into it.

 

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Out of Fear Arises Love

I’m farting around on the internet trying to find others who’ve experienced the “oneness” I felt while tripping on pot taffy a few days ago, and I stumbled on Ram Dass’s article The Entrance to Oneness.

I skimmed it, but it doesn’t come close to what I experienced.  It explains none of it.  He talks about unconditional love, which I experienced while I had a semi-lucid nap at my old stink hole office laying on top of my massage table and yeah, he’s right on that.  But what about the shared soul?  What about all of us being God?

The thing about love is, we love because we fear.  We wouldn’t have any need for love if fear didn’t exist.

This is from one of my taffy insights (read last post).

It’s a cycle really, a loop.

When we fear something, like an infant, we cling to what will protect us.  And because we depend on and believe in the thing protecting us, we love it.  We need it.  The more we fear, the more we love.

I should say, the more we fear, the more we need love.  And if no one loves you, you love no one because it’s not reciprocated.  Because you get nothing from it.  But you still want to be loved, you just don’t know what it is.  Ram Dass talks about this, but I gleaned over the article so maybe I got it wrong, I don’t know.

But anyway, love is just as much an illusion as fear itself.  They are two opposing sides of the same coin.

BUT…..

When you experience “oneness”, it’s like there’s no need for love or fear.  Everything is exactly as it should be.  It all fits.  Evil is only unawareness, unbelieving. It’s the glass cup I wrote about in my last post.

The closest I ever came to god’s presence was when I was 18 years old and had an out of body experience where I ended up surrounded by white light.  The light didn’t originate from anywhere, it wasn’t brighter in one spot and dark in another, it was like I was standing inside a blank screen like what happened to Neo in the Matrix, only it wasn’t blank.  It was light.  So hard to explain this light!

And what I felt wasn’t love.  I felt an incredible power, so overwhelmingly intimidating that I had no choice but to capitulate to it.  Resistance was futile.

Aside from that….

For me personally, love is protection.  The more I love someone, the more I want to protect them.  I want to protect them so they don’t feel alone which means in some weird roundabout way, I too want to be protected.  As a defense against loneliness.  It’s a subconscious belief.  A belief engrained in me from having good parents.

If someone causes me harm, a close friend for instance, out of spite or jealousy or just to enjoy seeing me suffer, to gain power and control over me, I feel like that person doesn’t love me.  I can’t wrap my head around it.  Why would they do that?

 

So to me, love equates to protection.  But it’s not just me, I witnessed this in many of the guys I dated.  Many of them had this feeling also, that they had to protect me somehow.  I guess it’s instinct?  Of course it’s instinct.  Even the guys I don’t date feel the need to protect me.  And yes, I do enjoy it.

But some guys don’t have this instinct.  It’s more like the opposite, they want to protect themselves.

 

Is love the same as trust?  No, I don’t think so.  You can love a little kid, but not trust them.  But I wrote a while back that you can’t love anyone unless you trust yourself.  Which is totally true and I still stand by it, but I’m not getting into that again.

Love is needed to defeat fear, but once you become dependent on it, once you feel that you can’t live without it or face the world alone, that’s when fear swallows you back up.  More so than if you never knew love at all.  The bigger they are, the harder they fall sort of thing.

That’s why it’s important for me to write.  So I can always remember.  That’s why I did ayahuasca, smoked a little herb.  To loosen this attachment to love since all things are impermanent.  And to be able to stand alone.  It’s basically been my life’s mission to be strong enough to stand alone, without a life raft or the veils to shield me.

I’m definitely not there yet.  But once I am, I’ll settle down (maybe).

If I don’t need love, I can give it more freely.  Like the unconditional kind of love that Ram Dass talks about.  For me personally, it’ll always come in the form of protection.

Oh shit, I completely missed the point of why I wanted to write this post.  It’s about that Ram Dass article.  He told a story of how being in the presence of his teacher, Maharaj-ji, he felt nothing but pure love.  Not just him, but everyone surrounding him felt his love.

According to my psychedelic taffy insight, there is no truth.  To be more specific, “the only truth is that there is no truth”.  Maharaj-ji beliefs were so over-powering, that he psychically altered his students mind-states with his own.  He created his truth, which happens to obliterate all fear so others can see clearly.

It’s not about love, it’s about the absence of fear.  It reminds me of a post I written a while back, There Is No Snake.

Since we are all connected, all one, all gee-oh-dee, we are the creators of this world so who ever has the strongest belief, can influence change.  It’s not about faith, it’s about actual belief. Feeling, not thinking.  Definitely not thinking.

Oh god it’s late….Or should I say, “Oh me it’s late.”  Or, “Oh you it’s late?”

Instead of saying “Oh my god”, we should say, “Oh my us.”

Shit, I’m really losing my mind now.

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Filed under All about me, philosophy, random thoughts, Self help