Yes.
I’m a nihilist.
I believe in nothing.
I believe there is no overarching plan.
I believe there is no objective source of meaning.
I believe that when we die, we cease to exist.
I believe that our lives will make no impact on the universe.
I believe that nothing matters….
although, getting out of Singleville would be nice….
Picture taken from here
Thirty Three.
Ha.
That’d be almost impressive.
Almost.
Except for one small thing.
If we take those 33.
Shine them up real nice.
Subtract all those whose names I didn’t know, and only vaguely recognised from their profile picture.
Subtract those who I don’t remember talking to in a capacity outside of “work”
NB: work may include any scheduled activities of my former employer, even if I wasn’t yet employed at the time.
Subtract those who I haven’t heard from in over 2 years.
Subtract those who I haven’t heard from in 1 year.
Subtract those who I only talked to because I thought they were cute….
I believe the number left…. is probably equal to the number of people who generally comment on my blog (Hi steve).
Yeah, we love and care, we just haven’t communicated in a long time…. or in anyway done anything to prove our “love”.
Congratulations…. you are now just like God – your lack of positive action is uncannily similar. Except of course you people can’t fall back on divine hiddenness to “explain” your inaction.
Not that you need works of course, you are saved by grace, thru faith and this is not of yourselves it is a gift of Mithra…. or was that Horus?
And the less said about the goats who didn’t even join the group, the better.
I hope next year is great for all of you, and not in anyway connected to me.
Picture integrated (or maybe derived) from here
Abomination….
1. anything abominable; anything greatly disliked or abhorred.
2. intense aversion or loathing; detestation: He regarded lying with abomination.
3. a vile, shameful, or detestable action, condition, habit, etc.: Spitting in public is an abomination.
It is an interesting word….
One that I chose for a reason, and not just to get hits from google.
I chose it for my song suite (listen for free here) because it is how I think people see me at various times.
Whether it was the reactions of women to me as a person, or the reactions of people to my actions and choices over the past year (or more).
Abomination says it all.
The reason I wrote Bdelugma was partly as a purging.
My songs were starting to get a little one-track, and I’m not talking about the music.
I needed to to express all the pent up emotions that I had about the whole deconversion.
And there were alot of emotions. And I hadn’t expressed them.
Sure I had made some angry blog posts.
And some depressed blog posts.
But there is a great difference between writing a blog post, and having someone hold you while you cry all the pain out.
Now I haven’t done that yet, but the music was close. It did allow me to work through alot of the anger and frustration and despair.
It was definitely better than earlier in the year, where I spent my time revelling in the emotions. I was drinking, alot, I’d go and drink during breaks from classes, I’d spend all night at home drinking and doing my best to make sure the feelings didn’t get worked through.
In fact, I may have been doing things to try and make the feelings worse.
Not that I’m sorry about what I said during that time. The things that I said (and posted here) had to be said. They were truth, and the truth will set you free.
If I could go back in time, sure, I’d have done (almost all) things differently…. like not being brainwashed in the first place, like not being a shy asshole at various times, like not studying computer science at macquarie, like not stealing that stupid bear….
Many, many things I have done in the past were wrong, and the consequences of such actions are still being felt, and will still be felt for millenia to come.
But what is done is done. I’m not going to say things happened for a reason (or even a raisin) but if they hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have started chaotimusic.com
As we know from history, it is not the sane and happy ones that create the best art, it is the tortured and insane ones. The ones like me.
The me that is only now not being treated by all women with intense aversion or loathing.
Yay….
Picture bootlegged from here
This week has been weird.
Not just the normal weird, but a whole extra level of weird. The kind of weird that makes me think I’ve stepped thru the scary door.
Maybe someone spilled coffee into the surreal generator and caused it to overload.
Or maybe it is just an interesting sequence in the pseudo-random number generator that is our universe.
Whatever the cause, the effect has been interesting.
I haven’t felt sad all week.
At least not sad about me…. I did feel sad while watching a video the other day, but the sadness (and tears, because I regularly tear up watching stuff) was purely due to the content.
Which is weird.
In fact, mostly I’ve been feeling not sad.
Usually my emotional state bounces up and down, but the peaks only reach the middle.
Which is to say that the best I feel is usually neutral, not happy or joyful or any of a thousand positive emotional adjectives.
This is the kind of thing that has caused armchair psychologists to “diagnose” me with some kind of mental illness.
This week is different, because I’ve been hovering above the middle line.
Not that I’m super mega ultra happy or anything….
If the scale ran from -10 to 10, usually I stay below 0, and this week I’ve been averaging 2.
There have been some spikes above that….
Which of course leads me to say “I told you so”.
I’ve always responded to the armchair psychologists by saying that my emotions are purely a function of my circumstances.
That if parts of those circumstances were to change, then my emotional state would change. Those circumstances aren’t directly related to any “group” that may have formed, but that group has added greatly to the surrealism.
Someone said:
“It’s not so simple a matter as moving from “No girls think I’m attractive” to “Okay at least (x) girls have found me so attractive as to give me a chance”.”
This week would seem to show that it is that simple, and that currently x>=4
in good health; sound in body and mind
Today I was asked whether I was well.
Not in person of course, but via one of those social networks that are all the rage with the young whipper-snappers these days.
It is an interesting question.
Mainly because of the word.
Well.
It has a good twenty different definitions in the Dictionary.com
I picked the one that is most relevant to the context….
….But even that definition is ambiguous.
Even the first point – “in good health”
One may appear and even feel completely healthy, but actually have some undiagnosed condition.
On the surface though, since I haven’t graced the offices of a medical professional for a decade, I am quite healthy. I eat right (but “not enough” according to the standards), I work out (too much) and sleep until I naturally awaken (also “not enough” by the standards)
The second part of the definition is where we get into problems.
I don’t know that I have ever been of sound mind.
I’ve always been at the eccentric end of the bell curve when it comes to sanity…. hell, I’m always at the end of the bell curve no matter what we are graphing.
To me, sanity is a purely pragmatic concept. By that I mean that sanity is related to how functional one is in society. An example would be a functional alcoholic. To me they don’t have a problem, because it is not effecting their life, or the lives of those around them in any majorly adverse way.
I on the other hand, do not function well in society.
I’ve failed when it comes to getting a job, and my experience and education has painted me into a corner where most jobs are unavailable to me.
I’ve failed when it comes to relationships. I think a sane person has to have at least one romantic relationship (assuming they are “of age”).
To me this would mean I do not function in society;
therefore I am not sane;
therefore I am not of sound mind;
therefore I am not well.
It is said that a burden shared is a burden halved.
Of course they key to sharing a burden is having someone to share it with.
Something I am lacking.
So instead, I’ll write another post on this blog.
Firstly, I spent hours yesterday reading every profile on one of the major dating websites.
Or at least every profile of a woman between 18-40 who lived “near” me – which managed to include some women from Northern Sydney and Newcastle.
There was around 400 of these profiles, and out of those 400 there was around 10 who didn’t explicitly exclude me on basic characteristics like height and age.
Out of those 10 there was only 2 who were interesting.
2 out of 400…. that’d be 0.5%.
Not at all a surprise, but still depressing. Especially since most of these women were rejecting me based on a quality that I didn’t decide, and can’t change.
My height is as much a part of me as my skin colour, and the feelings such discrimination brings up are similar to what I assume someone who is discriminated based on their skin colour feels.
Of course, my burden isn’t all about my height, as this quote from a different paradigm of dating sites will show: “Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched”
Even the computers think women don’t like me.
Now, to another burden, one that is similarly depressing – but is not just me ranting about being eternally single.
A bit over a month ago one of the cats had a baby, not surprisingly it was the female one that did so.
This baby kitten did the usual baby kitten things: eating, sleeping and being cute.
On occasion it would go for a wander, and its mother would carry it back to “safety”.
Now being a complete loser, having no job or friends or romantic relationships, means that I was somewhat tasked with making sure it was okay – since I never leave the house.
A week or so ago, on a Saturday, I was the only one at home as my brother was at work, and my parents were out being good consumers.
I was mostly sitting on the couch watching TV of some kind.
At one point I wandered into the kitchen to get a beverage took a glance at the kitten. It wasn’t moving and my first thought was “I hope its not dead”, but I dismissed it since the mother cat seemed content.
I went back to watching TV.
Then my parents got home.
And my first thought was correct. It was dead.
I would of loved to have called someone, or gone and met with someone and talked (and cried, and been hugged and comforted). Especially since this felt like it was my fault.
But there wasn’t anyone to share the burden with.
So the burden joins all the rest, never shared, just buried, repressed, slowly poisoning my soul.
And no one was asked in a long time: “Are you gonna be okay?”
Which is good, because the truthful answer is:
No.
Probably not.
“Confidence in or reliance on some person or quality.”
So says the wiktionary
The key aspect not being the idea of confidence or reliance, but the person or quality being trusted.
Now, I probably do have issues when it comes to reliance on others, but as far as I can tell that is just because of my past experiences.
Past experiences…. where the road hits the rubber, in a Pavolvian sense.
For it is the past where the events occurred that have conditioned our present, and future responses.
Some will hear the bell and expect food.
I hear the bell and expect that it is tolling for me.
To take an obvious example, lets look at my relationship history.
In the past, every time I have been interested in a girl, and made moves in that direction…. I have failed. I have come to expect the old “friend” line. Which is usually followed by them trying their best to avoid all contact, showing that liking me as a friend was a lie. In the present case I am still waiting….
In the past, every time I have been interested in a girl, and haven’t yet made moves in that direction…. I have failed. This is what I call the pre-emptive strike, because me asking them out is so humiliating they must stop it from occurring.
Hell, I have received pre-emptive rejections even when I haven’t been interested…. and you only once need to get roundhouse kicked across a room, sending boxes flying, to be conditioned to think that women find you repulsive.
So, in romantic relationships (or my lack thereof) I don’t have trust.
Or maybe I do have trust.
It is just that the quality I trust is failure in myself, and rejection, repulsion and revulsion from any and all women.
When it comes to friendship things don’t get much better.
I am used to being ignored, abandoned, forgotten.
Even now, I look around on say my facebook “friends”, and I don’t see anyone I can trust.
Maybe because they have proven in the past that they can’t be trusted.
Maybe because I know they have ulterior motives, that their fingers are crossed behind their backs, that they are just waiting for the right time to sink their fangs back in.
They may say otherwise, but I’ve read their instruction book – hell I even taught it to some of them.
I want to trust, but there is no one to trust.
So, once again the so called “holiday season” is upon us.
Now for most people this is one of the times of the year that they look forward to.
I do not.
Obviously…. since that is the topic of this blog post. And if I was to write a happy blog post you’d suspect I’d been replaced by a pod-person or something.
There are 2 components to the holiday season, and I’ll take each in its own turn, because they depress and anger me in different ways.
Firstly, Xmas.
To me xmas has historically been disappointing gift day.
I didn’t grow up in any kind of religious tradition, thank science, so I completely ignored the vaguely religious messages that the various TV shows tried to push. By this I mean those silly carols about Jesus, and all that peace and goodwill to all men bollocks.
And it is bollocks, since the baby jesus didn’t bring peace, he bought a sword. If the “Bible” is to be taken at face value.
I also didn’t grow up with any kind of tradition of visiting the relatives, since our relatives lived somewhat far and away, and my mums side has more wars and feuds than the holy land.
So the only happy thing about Xmas was the gifts. Which have been growing progressively more disappointing over the years, and I wasn’t that excited by them back in the day.
I’m sure this year will just bring some clothes that were on sale the week before.
Secondly, we have the New Year Shenanigans.
Back when I was younger, I just found the whole thing silly.
I mean, the day itself is just like any other day. It is just a big deal because of historical accident. The year starts/ends where it does because it does, not for any logical or astronomic reason.
In fact, shouldn’t the year start at one of the equinoxes? That’d make more sense.
Anyway, in recent times I have used the whole new year thing to sort of take stock of my life. Look back over the past year and see what I have achieved.
Or more accurately, I look back over what I have failed to achieve, since I am a complete loser when it comes to the important things….
Once again it looks like I’ll have no job and no girl at new year.
Once again I’ll probably be sitting at home, alone…. since having no friends means no parties. Although parties usually get me more depressed, since I’m surrounded by people who have all done at least a little better at the things I’ve completely failed at. I submit as evidence the party at the auburn place and the last party I attended at the hoonbernator place.
For me NYE = getting depressed for good reason, and don’t try and argue that I don’t have good reasons…. unless of course you are wanting to give me a job or a girlfriend. Because then you’ll have an excellent point.
Finally I’m not writing this to gain your pity, or as a not so subtle attempt at emotional manipulation. I’m just writing this so it’ll all be on record.