| Goodness, I'm a wreck. |
[Feb. 13th, 2007|06:41 pm] |
Advanced Global Personality Test Results | Take Free Advanced Global Personality Testpersonality tests by similarminds.comtrait snapshot: messy, irritable, depressed, fragile, worrying, emotionally sensitive, does not like to lead, phobic, weird, suspicious, low self control, paranoid, frequently second guesses self, dependent, unproductive, introverted, weak, strange, unassertive, submissive, familiar with the dark side of life, feels invisible, rash, vain, anti-authority, heart over mind, low self concept, disorganized, not good at saving money, avoidant, daydreamer, unadventurous |
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| Self-Abusement : on Sex and Virginity. |
[Jan. 27th, 2007|04:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | VERY near my bed. | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sick | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The intertwined sound of the rain and my computer humming. | ] |
I've been communicating with a local girl recently. She's 17, and despite a personality dark enough to rival mine, she's hellbent on retaining her virginity until such time as she truly believes it necessary. Those chaste females I speak to online, don't be offended: it's just that I've never actually MET someone who claims these morals. Anyway, I'm finding the whole experience heartwarming and have done a little reflection and introspection. Yes... it's one of THOSE posts.
I very vaguely remember that was the same way until I was almost 20, then I thought I was in capital-L Love, and well... you know how girls are. The story would be tiresome to introduce here. Anyway, fallen though I am, I still don't believe in doing anything sexual (particularly intercourse) with people you don't know, love, trust.... it's absolutely pointless to spend the night with someone who you wouldn't spend at least the next day with enjoying life. I've had it both ways, and I can say without hesitation that it's MUCH better when there's more to it than just getting off. If you've been able to put up with me ranting for this long, you should probably instictively know about the PROFOUND depth of magic involved in sex with someone you actually love, as opposed to clandestinely fucking around in a ditch to avoid parents and all that nonsense.
And since people in general are shallow little fuckhearts who use sex as a twisted little form of escapism from their utterly meaningless existences, I'm basically holding out for that love thing again.
No, seriously. Ask people who think that they're liberated sexually--that is, they sleep around a LOT under the aegis of being 'free' of various 'constraints' they might cite--ask them if they are truly happy. And make sure that you have your psychological/spiritual feelers out when you do. You'll find almost invariably that what they SAY and how they really FEEL don't jive at all, assuming their own spiritual awareness is high enough to realize it. Usually, unfortunately, it isn't.
But that's another post, entirely, for when I'm less sick. Also, I'm disabling comments just because I don't feel like being bitched at for various nefarious reasons. If you want to discuss it further, you know how to reach me. |
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| Reading wish list. |
[Nov. 22nd, 2006|06:45 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | my apartment. | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | artistic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Blackmore's Night, "Ghost of a Rose" | ] |
Now that Mercury's out of retrograde, I'd like to dip my nose in the following books. If you have any suggestions or additions, feel free to let me know.
1. Anam Cara, translated by John O'Donohue
2. The Secret of the Golden Flower, translated by Cary F. Baynes
3. Psychoanalytic Diagnosis: Understanding Personality Structure in the Clinical Process, by Nancy McWilliams
4. Teaching as a Subversive Activity, by Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner
5. The Courage to Create, by Rollo May
6. The Art of Loving, by Eric Fröme
7. In and Out the Garbage Pail, by Fritz Perls
8. Creative Process in Gestalt Therapy, by Joseph Zinker.
Also, any suggestions for books on intermediate to advanced beadworking or any other concrete art would be most appreciated, as well as any GOOD books about spiritual pursuits. |
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| It's been doing some thinking. |
[Nov. 9th, 2006|05:42 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  numb | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Crüxshadows, "ForeverLast" | ] |
I've been having nightmares, recently. Not so much the fantastical diabolical dragon's fire in your face and demons clawing at your back paralyzed left to die nightmares. . . .No, these are even scarier. You probably know the kind (and if you don't, you're extremely fortunate)--the ones where your unconscious calls forth the image of someone you have a strong emotional bond with... and then they hurt you in unspeakable ways. Granted, it seems to be completely ungrounded in reality. It makes NO sense. Nevertheless, they manage to crush your little heart without a second thought, and they almost take pleasure in reducing you to the weeping pile of flesh you are. It's a very shocking and traumatic experience, to say the least.
I think this is my psyche trying to tell me to throw up some fucking walls, and to do it right now. But why? And against whom? I've got my intuitions and I've got my suspicions, but let's say I decide to actually do something instead of pissing and moaning about it. Then I've got three options that lie before me. I could:
1. Continue to try to be supportive, no matter what. Result: I get stepped on and left for dead when other person's fixed or outgrows me. Hurts like hell, but I'm used to it.
2. Throw all my walls up like a good little pussy. Result: I hurt from having to cut deep emotional bonds, and they do too. Nobody wins.
3. Be direct. Problem is, other person is typically too fragile to take a direct hit, so they'd get hurt, and that would activate my own empathy. Result: we both get hurt, again, or I wuss out and end up pleading just to be cared about. If this happens, I'm summarily dismissed and laughed at.
I'm starting to wonder if there's a hidden fourth option--there has to be--unless I can somehow let my horrible side out and dispatch those who would harm me before I get hurt. But that's how I spent pretty much my entire teenage period--never let anyone get in, never let anything out... at least, until it FORCES its way out violently. I'm extremely scared of what potential for destruction I have... and I can't find a way--not in this world, not with it seeming like everyone around trying to actively disarm me. I don't want to hurt anyone else... but if this keeps up, I sense another nervous breakdown in my near future.
I think sometimes that it would be wise to go out and try to meet new people. I'm pretty much 100% disappointed. I can't engage anyone at the depth that I crave. I don't even know if I can find that depth in another person--this is NOT me trying to be conceited or pretentious, it fucking KILLS me to feel like there's this huge, incomplete part of me that may well NEVER find its companion.
I lack marketable social skills. I'm not attractive or sexually radiant...I'm more caustic than witty, if I even open my mouth...I'm not the life of the party... I don't fit the extroverted bullshit mold everyone seems to want these days. But fuck's sake, I need SOMETHING to do with my energy besides sleep, sit online, and be petrified of the outside world.
Nobody wants a needy friend...yet I seem to have a penchant for attracting shattered princ(ess)es and trying to fix them. Blah blah blah, transference, counter-transference, walls go down, blah blah blah PAIN CONTACT BACKWARDS PAIN.
But who heals the healer?
You don't. You're too busy with your own life. If you need help, I'll be more than happy to try to help...
...but flip the situation over, and you're too busy... too plagued by your own shit. End result: Matt is used until there's nothing left, then thrown away like an empty juice box. "Happens all the time; don't feel guilty," I'll say, but goddamn do I really want you to fucking grow an empathic sense and realize the hell you put me through. I won't hold my breath... I'm a dying breed.
I just wish the dying process wouldn't involve so much suffering. Or better yet that I'd stop being a little twat about it and actually blow myself away. I don't care what I'm here for anymore... I just want it to stop.
So, all appearances that I'm a whiny little emo pussy boy aside, a little help? |
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| For those who wish to know... |
[Oct. 20th, 2006|07:14 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | melancholy | ] |
One would imagine that now that I've got my degree, I'm happy. That life has suddenly become peachy. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I am panicked, I am alone, and I am completely miserable and feel mildly forsaken.
I'm in a frenzy because I have to take the GRE very soon in order to apply for grad school down here. There's math on it, and I haven't done anything math-related since age 16. There are also two analytical writing sections, which will probably eat my soul. If I do pass get in to grad school, I'm going to have to get an assistantship, where I'll be teaching a couple of sections of low-level classes.
I feel as though I'm completely alone because of what two friends I considered I have down in Louisiana, one is in Prague right now. The other I barely talk to, and he's usually got better things to do. He's finally approaching happiness, even though he never really had to work for it. Lucky bastard, I'm tired of straining my psyche trying to figure things out. I can't medicate the demons out of me. I can't chemically chase them out. Drugs only make me more introspective. I should just accept that I just don't fucking belong here and do something about it. Like I've been pussying out on doing for YEARS.
But I can't seem to--for the life of me--find anyone else to hang around where I don't feel awkward or useless. All of my friends inhabit this fucking death box, and I'm sick of it. I want real friends for once in my life, and I want people in the real world who actually can know me entirely to acknowledge my presence as more than the long-haired freak over there. There's nothing meaningful to do down here, and I am extremely bored with my life.
And to further shit on my cake, what friends I have back up in Boston are pestering me about visiting them for Halloween. This puts me in a dreadful position, because I'd love nothing more than to get the fuck out of this void. But plane tickets cost money. And I had enough of people pleading against reason and half-demanding that I go meet them that I said "why the hell don't you come down HERE?" I was immediately blasted for that, because you know, they don't have enough money for that and are getting ready for college or something.
Because I'm not trying to get into grad school or anything. Disingenuous fucks.
...guess I'm alone. Why won't you fucking death-box inhabitants just let me leave, already? |
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| Bite me. |
[Oct. 10th, 2006|12:42 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  quixotic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Chris Isaak, "Wicked Game" | ] |
 | You scored as Biting. When it comes to being kinky, your biggest turn on is biting. You love the ecstasy of teeth sinking into your flesh, and are probably willing to return the favor. Sex just isn't sex without using your teeth.
Biting | | 100% | Bondage | | 92% | Whips | | 75% | Blood | | 75% | Chains/Handcuffs | | 75% | Blind Folds | | 33% | </td>
What's Your Kinky Turn On?
created with QuizFarm.com |
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| Moving company must die. |
[Sep. 13th, 2006|01:43 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | my mother's house, ugh. | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | Mildly infuriated. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | silence (my stereo's at my apartment) | ] |
it's now been two weeks (9-10 business days) since my things have been picked up in Boston.
I just today talked to someone from the company--actually, she called me--and they said that my stuff is presently in New fucking York, but leaving on a truck headed vaguely this way and due here in "less than seven days." Her estimate is based on the fact that it takes seven days to get to California from New York.
How the fuck does it take a WEEK to drive across the country (a week and two days if they use the "business days" cop-out)? What, are they visiting every major museum on the way down? Are they going to spend a day in Destin, FL, scoping out beach bunnies?
I didn't (well, my mother did) pay exorbitant moving fees to have to wait three fucking weeks to get my stuff back. Nonsense! I should have just gone UPS or something.
Every day they fail to deliver my belongings is another day I have to live with the loons here at my mother's house. It gets extremely tiresome, but unless I want to sit on my ass and play Sega Genesis all day at my apartment, I've really got no better choice. My computer is being shipped, obviously, and it won't get here until my other shit does. And everyone knows that if I disappear from internet land for a week, I'll be completely forgotten about.
What bothers me most is that I simply lack in cooking supplies so unless I want to borrow from here or buy kitchen set (which I'm having shipped too!), I'm limited to four plates, four bowls, four glasses, and no utensils as yet. Can't use my range or my oven or prepare much of anything. It blows. :(
Someone needs to come over and make the time pass. |
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| The world is not right. |
[Aug. 24th, 2006|01:56 pm] |
If the world were right, insightful people with brains and personalities would be allowed more than the sloppy-second trickledown from the 'alpha' males.
It's time to fix myself and spend more time outside in the world. Or at least away from this death box. Expect me to be less available for a few weeks, especially while my possessions are in transit to Louisiana.
Also...
"Great truth seems contradictory;
Great cleverness seems stupid;
Great eloquence seems awkward."
from the Tao te Ching. Consider those words, and consider them carefully.
...but maybe I really am stupid, awkward, and full of shit. That won't be decided until I'm worm food, though. |
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| Synchronicity. |
[Jul. 31st, 2006|03:50 pm] |
First off, we should be clear on what synchronicity is.
I stayed up rather late last night, and my alarm refused to go off.
I had psych class at 11:10. I woke up at 11:10 and nearly didn't go to class because I'm useless when I just wake up.
But I go anyway.
We were talking about Jung today, and we broached the idea of synchronicity. And I stayed after class for about 10 minutes (waiting for other people to finish talking to him) to ask my teacher about more reading on Jung. So I leave the building, and I run into my favorite teacher up here and a huge influence on my art in general, who had been on sabbatical all spring and I haven't seen since December. He and I shoot the shit for a minute or two.
THEN--not 30 seconds later--I run into my friend Rob, who I never get to hang out with and haven't really been able to talk to since April. And he bumped into a friend of his that he hasn't seen in months. And then the three of us go back to his place to smoke before a student concert. I know I generally never smoke pot, but this was the rare exception.
And we went to the concert, and it was spiritually pleasing. I am very happy. And I have Subway for lunch, which makes me even happier.
See... as far as smoking goes... I don't have many friends who smoke and get intelligent.
I like exploring the psychospiritual stuff when I'm inebriated... most pepole only want the escapism, the "getting fucked up" feeling. I like how it pulls me deeper into my own awareness. Maybe I'm wired funny, though.
And when I smoke with asshats, it just stresses me out. Especially if it happens at my place, because they tend to break my stuff. So I imagine that the environment helped greatly. And we got into interesting topics before the show. I am pleased.
I hope my whole month goes like this before I have to move away. |
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| The curse of being a healer. |
[Jul. 6th, 2006|08:21 pm] |
It's only night, if a day is sure to follow.
Space feels like it's closing in on me, that I'm being crushed by the weight of the air around me... it hurts, it disfigures. I don't know how much longer I can do it.
I'm starting to scare myself.
I'm thinking things... things which are true, despite many of your protestations. That happiness is too good for me. I only get temporary mania. I only KNOW the ephemeral manic feeling; I've never experienced pure, sublime bliss. Not once in my life, that I can ever remember.
I've kind of accepted it as part of being a healer--that I take others' pain away from them, never mind that it becomes my own.
I just wish it wouldn't hurt so much sometimes.
Nobody has ever made me happy for much longer than I've been in their immediate presence. When I was in Louisiana, most of the time, I had to struggle not to cry on the drive home. The effects are that quick.
Usually, I'd end up in tears. Tonight is no exception, and tonight is going to be a long night.... |
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| The cycle of life, or something. |
[Jun. 30th, 2006|01:21 pm] |
People are so silly, sometimes. You remember when you were an infant, and you had one of those little activity centers? You had a little thing that went sproing, and a spinny thing, and one that made a whistle sound... And you thought you were in fucking heaven.
That's how I feel about most people, these days. Their awareness seems to be limited to sproing, whistle, and spinny stuff. But as soon as you hit twelve months, you were walking around and playing in the cleaning supplies. It was all your family could do to keep you from downing Windex.
You outgrew the little toy. You wanted to play with big-boy stuff. Power tools and shit. Stuff that could create... or destroy, but children never intend to destroy unless they can create again.
Anyway, my overarching point is that many people are happy to play with their meaningless sproing/whistle/spinny toy... gotta get money, meaningless sex, gotta get out of high school, whatever else we think matters but really means NOTHING to the greater realms of existence... and those who outgrow it are often hazards to their own health. The disillusioned are suicidal--emotionally poisioned, to say the least--but they don't understand the effects of commonplace things in higher realms. After all, go to the store, and you not only have Windex, but his cousin 409 Glass and Surface, and myriad other tools that can be misused as poison.
THIS IS MAGIC.
And because there're very few protective figures left these days, most people who search for something better than the little activity center, end up metaphorically drinking Windex and poisoning themselves. On all levels.
People like me are left engaging others on these terms:
"Don't drink Windex! It's poisonous!"
"But it tastes so gooooood! And it makes me see shit! Besides, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!"
Then I DDT them through a pane-glass window to wake them up. :) |
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| Incoherent musings. |
[Jun. 23rd, 2006|07:39 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cynical | ] |
| [ | music |
| | silence.... rather, the hum of the air conditioner. | ] |
Sad as it might be, it's beginning to appear (to me) that we humans are pretty dishonest creatures. Actually, it has seemed that way for quite some time now. But I used to think it was out of malice--and not out of our own innate nature. Or nurture. That we just don't fucking know any better... or at least, we can't handle the truth and all its ramifications and extra effort and all the things that make the high road the one less travelled.
Pair that with our innate desire/necessity to be social... or at least with one special person... and you have the makings of a rather catastrophic mix. Deceit and codependency. Plus the modern twin bastard ideas of instant gratification and disposability--we want stuff NOW, and when we're done with it, we throw it away. Oh, and we'll lie to anyone necessary to get our fix, whatever it may be.
If you're aware of this at all, chances are you're more affected by it than most. My suggestion to you: find yourself. Learn to perfect whatever it is you enjoy doing. Emphasis on ENJOY DOING IT. Don't worry too much about relationships, because you're not going to find someone pure and sincere every day. At the same time, though--and this is what most people my age have let slip away--do NOT fuck anyone you want to regardless of the consequences. It shows you either lack the foresight that someone you'd settle down with in the future might take prior skankitude as an insult to his honor, or that you simply don't give a shit. I have to assume the latter.
After all, sex with only the baser emotions involved is no fun at all.
Isn't being human fun?
Anyway... Discuss. :)
Edit: to placate someone who called me on it, I should add that I am human, and with mortal sins of my own. I figured that it was unnecessary to bring it up in this case, but I suppose I was wrong. |
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| *smiles evilly* Maybe what your mother said about me is true. |
[Apr. 15th, 2006|07:50 pm] |
the Provocateur
(66% dark, 30% spontaneous, 42% vulgar) | your humor style:
VULGAR | COMPLEX | DARK
You'll crack on anything, and you're often witty, even caustic, about it.
Therefore, your sense of humor is polarizing. You're transgressive, and you've got a seriously sharp 'edge'--maybe too much for some folks. If they get you, people think you're one of the funniest (and smartest) people in the world. If they don't, they think you're an ass. Whatever, right? While some might question your judgement, your comic intellect is unquestionably respected.
PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Chris Rock - Lenny Bruce - George Carlin
The 3-Variable Funny Test!
- it rules -
If you're interested, try my latest:
The Terrorism Test
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My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: | You scored higher than 86% on darkness | | You scored higher than 13% on spontaneity | | You scored higher than 58% on vulgarity |
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| Metamorphosis. (warning: long introspective post!) |
[Mar. 20th, 2006|12:04 am] |
Somewhere over the course of the last six months, I decided that I need to change myself, and radically at that. However, I've never worked up the courage to do it, be it because of not having time because of school, or because I acutely fear loneliness, or because of some other spurious pussylogic I might have held in resistance to the sweeping changes that I need and deserve in my life. The resulting tension has done nothing but hurt me.
So no longer will I shy away from the changes that I feel are necessary. No longer will I associate with people who seem only to keep me around for their own benefit. No longer will I willingly associate with those who have no honor. Examples are provided below.
Once, there was a rather pretty girl from halfway across the world who really liked me. I liked her too, despite huge cultural differences. She was supposed to eventually visit me. But naturally, she found someone else (they always do), and that's okay for her--she still wants to be my friend. Fuck that. I have enough friends who don't feel it necessary to hurt me and remind me that I mean nothing to them aside from a shoulder to cry on or someone who sees beauty in them (I see beauty in everyone, don't think you're special for a second). Why should I grant you any special rights when you took it upon yourself to emotionally defecate on me? I swear, you girls are delusional in thinking that just because you have girl parts that you should be above reproach.
A certain ex-girfriend of mine should realize that I don't call her or really talk to her at all because she's incapable of doing anything but making me feel like shit. Why should I subject myself to that in addition to the woe she inflicted on me because she felt it necessary to leap from cock to cock like some kind of dick Tarzan? She justified it by saying she "wasn't happy" with me. Well, I'm not happy when she annoys me these days with her trivial, schizophrenic bollocks. Fuck off, and I'm glad she broke up with me because I don't think I could ever see myself with her even only six months after. I don't deserve to settle for something THAT far below my level, and it's neither my fault nor my concern that her life is a miserable waste and she'll never find anyone else who won't constantly fight with her. Also, she should give me back the stuff I made her out of love. She is not worthy of having them there to remind her of what I'm capable of. I want them back so I can destroy them like she doesn't have the guts to. After she gives me my money and stuff back, she's free to go die in a ditch somewhere.
To one of the underage girls I know: I am not your personal liquor cabinet. You are heretofore not welcome to come over and get crunk with me. You just get loud and more obnoxious and I get nothing out of it. You don't even repay me for what you use. Typical woman. If your queer friend Sherlock Faaaaabulous wouldn't die from a nasty glance, I'd kick his disrespectful ass. Where does he get off drunkenly falling around my apartment, breaking shit... and then talking about me behind my back? Neither of you are my friends.
To the other one of the underage girls I know: I'm glad you no longer have a crush on me and hate my guts and refuse to talk to me. But please give me back the stuff I let you borrow. After all, it's MY stuff--and it's beginning to annoy me GREATLY. Why do females think they're entitled to take my things?
I know that I've probably come off as a big he-man woman-hater. Don't you worry, I've got some issues with other males as well. But for some reason, I never form deep relationships of any kind with other males anymore. That said...
Tim. You are NEVER there when I need someone to talk to, so much so that I just don't bother trying to call you anymore. It's great that you're happy and that you've got a girlfriend and that you're back in school. It really is. But don't consider yourself too much of a friend if you're only talking to me when you're driving around and need "entertainment." I'm not your fucking jester; can't you at least show me SOME respect? It frustrates me that you're always too busy fucking the girl after school to talk to me about anything serious. Ever.
The great and overarching point I want to make with this:
Betray me, and I have nothing more to say to you. Usually breakups are not mutually amicable and one person feels betrayal while the other one is ready to move on. In my experience, "friendships" aren't much better--it's always someone recognizing that I have something desirable and then strip-mining it until there's nothing left.
If you are guilty of this, expect to see less and less of me. It's time I attach at least SOME semblance of self-worth to myself.
To reforge something beautiful out of metal, first, the dirt and rust must be scrubbed off, then the impurities smelted away. I don't care if you're hurt by this; I've had this done to me so many times without the slightest compassion that it's well within my rights to ask for it. Do not guilt trip me on this point. |
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| I paused for reflection, but the glare was impenetrable. |
[Jan. 30th, 2006|06:15 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Tool, "Parabol/a" | ] |
Somebody called me honest today... and it made me think.
Honestly, my honesty is one of my best and worst qualities. If you back me into a corner, I won't hold back--usually with catastrophic results. My words are my weapon of choice, and I use them like a rapier.... I tend to stab people when provoked, right in the little holes in their armor. I also get under walls fairly easily; this ability is significantly amplified in person. I can usually figure out someone's basic personality, and if the one they project is even what they're truly capable of, within a few seconds to a few minutes. And I don't say that to be egomaniacal. It's a curse, in my eyes... my friends--my few true friends--love and respect it about me, because they would never provoke me to use it to knock them down a few pegs. Humility is a severely undervalued trait, these days. Not the self-deprecating existentialist kind where everyone's just animals and shit and we're all gonna die anyway, but the ability to recognize one's inherent flaws and accept them, or work to negate them--not to put up some bullshit transparent (at least to me) front and then get all butthurt when I come bulldozing through.
Many people just kind of stop talking to me after a few minutes of talking to me, for reasons unknown. |
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| And to think I popped out two weeks late. |
[Jan. 26th, 2006|09:35 am] |
Your Birthdate: July 20
|
You are a virtual roller coaster of emotions, and most people enjoy the ride.
Your mood tends to set the tone of the room, and when you're happy, this is a good thing.
When you get in a dark mood, watch out - it's very hard to get you out of it.
It's sometimes hard for you to cheer up, and your gloom can be contagious.
Your strength: Your warm heart
Your weakness: Trouble controlling your emotions
Your power color: Black
Your power symbol: Musical note
Your power month: February
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radieuxgothique's journal
