a fashion overhaul should be in effect

once i return from my travels (around aug 20th or so) i am planning to sift through my many clothes and salvage what i can and throw away at least 60% of the rest. holding onto all of this shit allows me to remain in the same relative state of fashion i was in during high school, makes it more difficult to move on.

these ramblings seem largely unimportant, even to me, or... to a part of me (of the many warring factions in my mind), but to the part that does find meaning in all of this i have been feeling for some time that i need to find my own individuality in the clothes i wear, and since i'm currently attempting to separate myself from the materialistic masses aching to throw away their last dollar on cheap, mass-produced shit, it would help if i didn't wear clothes that reflect a kind of opposite value than the one i find myself gravitating towards.

so, with that said, i'm no longer going to allow myself to enter malls. or high-priced consumer-driven retail stores. all thrift shops. yet another way to maintain my separatist attitude, which makes me feel overjoyed. granted i can't afford to enter malls anyway, and probably shouldn't enter thrift stores either, but i've got to give myself a little something to splurge on.

first things first. where the fuck is that perfect job? i'm currently attempting to pretend to be an amazing bartender so i can do just that and make the money and have the go-ahead to treat people like shit (at least the ones making lewd and/or obnoxious/ignorant comments).

but FIRST i must figure out a way to not be such a wretched trip-packer, but i did manage to stuff everything in my bags so that's good enough... though the moment you unzip and everything spills out in an array of unorganized shit you realize that i've packed for three weeks enough clothes to last me for three months (as though there are no washing machines where i'm headed).

you just NEVER KNOW.

i like options.

i also love the rain, not just for it's calming sound but because it gives me an excuse to not continue looking for jobs, and i can feel content and guilt-free spending my night indoors writing silly irrelevant blogs and stalking people on facebook. ahh, the naught years. i pretend not to be caught up in it but, well, i also seem incapable of telling lies and so there you have it. i am a study in dualities.

i am everything all at once fighting constantly for control over this person known as 'me', who will win? as always, a toss-up.

antidepressants

my zoloft is slowly removing all sense of feeling or real emotion from me. all my emotions seem to come from side effects of the drug rather than legitimate, honest emotion. i just feel generally peaceful all the time, but when i take the time to examine my peacefulness, i realize that i'm actually numb to everything, or i feel things from a very far distance. don't get me wrong, i often use distancing to ease a difficult situation, but i like to be able to consciously work towards that fully distanced self instead of having it just invade me, completely, at random.

the problem is, or rather the frightening thing is, the fact that it does leave me with a peacefulness, or what could easily be perceived as peacefulness, keeps me from investigating the true reasons of all this odd calmness. that was a really shitty sentence, but my mind woke me up ridiculously early today, and i couldn't resist the temptation to get a drink, smoke some weed, and have a cigarette (in that order, always). mornings are only a fuzzy blur to me. the point is that happy people don't question how they became happy like unhappy people dwell on their despair, and general calmness is at least in the same ball park as general happiness. something something.

i'm glad i realized it though. i think i may try no antidepressents for a bit. i'm tired of not having sex. ever. because i'm just not fucking interested.

the fourth dimension

how it evades me, though it is pervasive.
these things i think i must do, where does the time go when the deadline is tomorrow or the idea has been pushed off for so long i no longer remember what it even was.
being a loner, a calm, laidback, introspective, intelligent, creative and sweet loner, yet somehow also blessed/cursed with this curious trait that draws me to care for people, albeit in an easily distanced way (in that i mean, i am fully honest in my caring for others, but it's easy for me to turn it off at the end of the day and cease worrying about this or that person in this or that bullshit situation), and so i'm something of a little paradox, preferring to be alone with my small family about me, as well as feeling the urge to care for others. i put my all into the latter, so that when i arrive home, able to embrace the former, i'm exhausted with the desperate need to recharge.
i certainly don't want to update my budget or purchase paint or ferret supplies (because this requires getting up to fish my credit card out of my purse, which is all the way across the room) or clean up the ferret shit dotting the corners in the room or keep up correspondence with anyone (regardless of how special to me they are) or do anything that whoever it is 'they' are deem necessary.
i don't understand how some 'bloggers' have a million people 'subscribing' to their blogs... how do so many people become interested in what some random dude has to say about his 2 year old kid? i've tried to read some, there's nothing interesting there because it's not about me or anyone i know and therefore their everyday lives are pretty blah. no emotional impact on me. that's why i don't care much for the news either. it doesn't penetrate my personal-world bubble, therefore it doesn't register as important on my meter. there's no emotional connection to any of it, though i'll admit it can be interesting at times. mostly it's just drivel. i believe this makes me something of a sociopath, which just furthers the conundrum that is me. or perhaps it's an advancement? what's the purpose of emotional attachment to so many far-off people/things anyway?
etc

lonely days

there's nothing like sickness to pull me away from the world... dreams that consist of me surrounded by loneliness, searching in vain for someone to connect with, but there's nothing... and it weaves a reality beyond consciousness where nothing can satisfy and i'm completely alone and all that i do is purposeless, meaningless, searching for something that will never be there. it's hard to shake dreams like that, hard to shake those subconscious yearnings for friendships that seem so far away... easier to forget when i'm kept busy throughout the day, kept relatively fulfilled... scratch that.... largely fulfilled. but then one small bout of sickness erases everything, removes me from life, and places me in some kind of solitary confinement that's exacerbated by my own dreaming subconscious, fucking with me. it's as if once my mind finds its captive lonely, it feeds it with all possible avenues of despair, a fun game, let's see what happens. it just makes me want to sleep, continue the cycle, i give in so easily.

i'd like to paint, but i can't muster enough energy. i'll just bitch about it instead.