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Habari gani? (What's the news?)
Last updated: Monday, September 15, 2014 9:02 PM CST


HI. Hello? Who's there? Email is not obsolete
dumb my space page

September 15, 2014
I talked it out with Bruce (He said "I don't knoh" because he's from Wisconsin and he still has an accent. I said I think he did know because he's more technical than I am), reread my giant outline that I often forget how much I wrote. It's just missing something. It's a monster that I'm dealing with, it's huge. This is air traffic control and unlike airplanes, space ships can come in for a landing anywhere they feel like. The work stations do not have to be in the parameters of a desk but there is only so much that a human can see and in order to see something big a person cannot be right on top of a screen.

At any rate the international space station does have a force field--the magnetosphere of the earth (the thing that deflects solar flares creating the aurora). It's also far enough up that it mostly misses the space junk that we have over saturated the thermosphere with (though if you click on the wikipedia page they have a picture of a hole in one of the windows of the Challenger that was made by a fleck of paint).

So pretty much if your ship or whatever has artificial gravity, a force field would most likely be generated along with it.
Now about this design flaw. No, I can't just wing it and hope that nobody else notices, even if the populace doesn't understand space travel. If I don't work it out now, then there might be a bigger plot flaw later.

September 14, 2014
Check, check, brain check. Check one. Check two. Are we all here? Sure?

Fine, last entry was kind of hard to write, I got started strong then lost focus and teetered off. I need to take my time. I swear, it used to not be this bad. But I guess I shouldn't sit here and focus on the differences--it's obvious that as I go along and try to resolve my issues that I'm going to get different outcomes plus new and exciting symptoms (aren't I just so lucky? I get to experience all sorts of depressive symptoms instead of the same ones.) I kind of figure, that if I plan on changing things then my brain will give me the appropriate response it deems fit. It was a decent day today but the thought that something was trying to kill me or death was eminent was running around in my head. Can't say that I particularly enjoy that. There was also some fatigue going on. Also, I feel that I must explain my thought concerning the potential for the death of Bruce, that it's not that irrational. He's in his mid 50s, and while that isn't a death sentence he is also a curmudgeon. Curmudgeons don't care for doctors, although he is a lot more health conscious than most curmudgeons (that's what happened to some of the other curmudgeons that I used to know and work with--they died in their 50s). It's only because of me that he even went to doctors like Dinkelmann to get looked at lately and that he's eating less sugar and processed junk--which would probably contribute to his undoing in either driving up his bad blood pressure to eventually feeding some cancer. He just reached the milestone of outliving both his parents but then again, his parents both kind of destroyed themselves with the smoking and alcohol, so it kind of doesn't count or give him any indication as to how long he could live. It would be a great devastation to lose him--he's quite possibly the first person I've ever gotten truly close to, I don't even think I was this close to any of my school days friends (whom I've also lost track of). I try not to think of the day when that's actually going to happen.

Anyway, I'm questioning the set up of a floor of a space station and the location of it's equipment. It matters because major events happen there that involve the equipment and I came across the second time it was mentioned and it's kind of different than the first time I mentioned it. Windows are also a part of this problem. The International Space Station has a window bay but generally, windows aren't that good of an idea to have in space. This is because debris in space hits the space station at high velocities because there's no gravity to slow it down. So even the smallest projectile can cause punctuations. Now in sci-fi this is remedied by force fields but for this space station I don't really want to rely on that (I don't believe in technology! Kids today and their forcefields! Back in my day, we got hit by space debris, died, and were happy for it! Balderdash!). Today's question: What happens if something like an asteroid comes at something with a forcefield? The forcefield is only generated by the space station and I would presume it would only be so strong (As I'm sure this happened on Star Trek, sorry I've only watched most of the original series so I don't know. I once saw an episode of Next Generation where they were trying to save a planet from its sun going super nova in the not too distant future but the only guy who could stop it was 60 and in their culture that meant he had to go systematically die for population control or something. So everyone had a moral quandary but he went and died anyway. I don't recall what happened to the planet. I presume everyone died. Good times). Well, gravity would play a role in this and some form of magnetosphere because all sci-fi space stations and ships have gravity but with that as a defense like Earth, it would have to draw it into the orbit and burn it in an atmosphere that it doesn't have. Even then, that isn't enough to prevent destruction as we all know and on occasion, freak out about.

Then again, if I use video screens, I need to change the configuration of the floor and/or consider some sort of other alternate reality technology. Then that means I have to rewrite my opening, perhaps involve half floors and ramps which changes the parameters of the action. Then what happens if your screens go out or your cameras break? Then there you are drifting in space and you can't see anything or see what's pulling you into it's orbit and crushing you or ripping you into pieces. I am not going overboard focusing on the minutiae--it matters in the long run. It does too.

Writing a book is stupid hard when I'm fighting my own brain. I just hope this thing turns out okay and that it was all worth it. Of course if it wasn't for the writing I probably wouldn't have noticed that my brain is still having problems. If only I could be so ignorantly blissful (or stewing in my own anxiety/depression as a compulsive, rich, gnarled hermit...something like that?).

Good night, then.

September 11, 2014
Most of last Sunday's emotional landscape felt decimated bathed in the stark light of an early dawn. Something unheard of in my life happened after I wrote the last entry. I got someone I trusted to honestly listen to me and let me talk it out without judgmentóBruce (not someone who is paid to do so or only doing it to get into my pants, and in an environment where I had the time and could let it out and not care). Once I let it all out, I noticed that before he called I was downplaying it and preparing to put it in the ignore section of my brain in a bid to keep on moving or to convince myself that I had it under control.

Itís just that I usually hang out with people that put up with me (which is often people worse off than me) and I end up as the stabilizer, I field their issues. I have been taught not to expect anyone to have the ability or the desire to deal with my issuesóhence all this writing. I also have been lead to believe that my issues arenít important enough to warrant any type of attention (and I learned I had to be careful of what sort of attention it was getting and who was giving it) nor are they worth the emotion I waste on it. Nobody else is feeling it but me.

But he did it, he proved that I mattered at least to him by putting up with the full blown depression and that I could depend on him completely and that scares the crap out of me. The track record is that any time I do get attached, they leave within the next year (moving or they just get tired of me) and in these later years, it has resulted in death. Bruce isnít going anywhere anytime soon, he wonít get tired of me, saner minds would conclude that I shouldnít worry about things that might happen but I donít know if I could deal with it if he did die on me.

So Sunday morning felt like a void; emotions, particularly ones used as a means of expression seemed beneath me. I felt like I was at a lossómy main motivation for doing anything, let alone writing, was inherently dead even though I knew I would be better for it in the long run. But then I couldnít figure out the point of doing anything anymore and I was too tired with a pressure headache to try to do anything aside from the usual like do laundry and cook food. It wasnít a depressive thought, it was a harsh truth but a truth that had to be faced. I used to believe in the magic of dreams before I had it stomped out of me and once that happened I realized that the dreaming got in the way of making it a reality. It kept me in a perpetual state of editing. The hope that one day this could all happen for me was a powerful dopamine inducer that let me soar the skies but when something made me crash to earth it was absolutely devastating. Iím not sure what it was but there seemed to be an awful lot of people who crossed my path that wanted to shoot me down.

Sunday afternoon round about, I thought I was finally okay until I got to work and had another attack because I thought I had it all figured out for once and I was wasting time. Itís been like that off and on all weekóitís like my brain is trying to bounce back to stability but itís a slow process that I canít let it work itself properly out because I have to function in society like in my jobs that have triggers laced in them. Then again, I donít think I can avoid the triggers as the crash course illustrates

And hereís the anxiety episode if you missed it.

Basically, Iíve been slowly writing and editing and trying to work out a few more flaws and I find it easier now, but then my brain decides it doesnít want to for a while or something might trigger an attack (theyíre worse than Iíve had beforeóchocolate/sugar must have done a number keeping me propped up and exuberant) and I get tired or I just hurt and I have to stop. So hopefully Iíll get back to being copaceticóeventually, someday. I really need to sleep but I still need to do things like function. There isnít enough sick leave to cover sudden mental attacks.

But Iíll make do, I have to.

September 6, 2014
No amount of pills will change this/herein lies the root

I have been writing for 18 years. For 15 years, I have been owner of this site. I am not sure how many times I have come to some conclusion or another trying to figure out the world only for it to not balance me out or stop whatever mood I'm in for longer than a few days. I'm not even sure how many times I've reached this conclusion.

My point in life is trying to matter. I'm trying to be relevant, particularly to those around me.

I have done everything in trying to do so. I have tried to fit in, I've stuck out, I've gone on pills, I've been supportive, I've given people the support I've wanted (my job is based on supporting people and half the time most of them ignore me), I've ignored it, I've celebrated it. I've given up, mattered less to people, and found that nobody wanted to prove that I actually mattered. I voided my own brain in trying to make it less important in my life, after all, if you chase something that hard, you'll never truly own it. It will come to you when you go out and live your life or so I've been told.

But I've never gotten anywhere so I accepted it because I can't do anything else if nothing works. But here it is again, because I'm trying to be a part of the world and my social status is currently limbo--neither here nor there (at least when I'm ignored I absolutely know where I stand with people and the solitude can be serene). Since I could never figure it out, it is stressing me out because again, I can't stand the thought of having the only thing that matters to me not matter to everyone else. I can't stand the thought that all this effort and time being wasted because my life's theme is being irrelevant. And the reason I am having a hard time writing this portion is because I have made my character the polar opposite of myself and I do not know what it is like to matter. I think I've been agitated lately because I guess I got tired with being sad about it all the time.

I'm not really depressed right now, just kind of tired. I guess I am not eating enough, because I went to a Chinese buffet and this is what happened.

My big question though is why I thought I had to matter so badly anyway. And why did I believe anyone who told me that everyone matters?

I'll also be taking my favorite course of action. Doing nothing.

September 5, 2014
I need to make an edit. Ancient goats should always have only one eye--it's the rule. I'm also wondering if I should have included a description of pants. I didn't mention him wearing any pants. I presume it's assumed that he is and I imagine it's assumed by anyone else who reads this just because the text needs to flow. Sometimes I never know how much or how little I should describe or how much is given, I assume a lot.

This whole Russian lit exercise pointed out a lot of things to me. I suppose it was acting as my placebo as I told you about before during one of my other depressive streaks, and I felt that I could actually share it. It was easy because I had a few rules to play by, I could go to extremes because I do that easily, and I didn't have to be likable because generally nothing about the Russian existence is likable (look at that, the population is in a decline, so I wasn't that far off). I'm balancing between expression and trying to make it relatable because if I make it relatable to many people then this means I've succeeded at least in making a career. I guess I don't trust people to relate to my personal expression of something because they haven't related to me before so I don't see how anything else I do would be relatable (it is noted that essentially on this site I am aware that I am talking to myself). I'm also reeling myself in because I don't want to beat people over the head with the book, then throw it down and scream out suck it. I guess that would be rude. The Russians might like it but obviously, they'd all be dead by the time I finish this book so that would do me no good.

I don't want to pigeonhole myself, I don't consider it a sci-fi book. I would like to make it so that anyone can read it, even those who claim that they don't read. So a certain amount of gloss, polish, and quick pacing is needed. But if I gloss over too much I might end up with THIS. I, at least, do not have an apocalypse but still, I could run with the clichťs. It can be easily accomplished.

I need to get going and possibly leave for a while, even though I write that a lot (well, I try to talk it out with the humans around me but people just don't seem interested and yes, it is kind of dumb to be bothered this much by a book that I don't have to write but I have to get it off me and put it somewhere), but before I go, I have found more actual journalism. I think the Washington Post actually found the monster and it's a lot more complicated than anything I even imagined. That's the understatement of the year for you. It's almost too messed up to even try to fight. I'm not sure how anyone could possibly even fix it or where anyone would even begin.

I honestly didn't even realize that North County wasn't made of real towns (they started out as subdivisions? Seriously?). I'm sure I heard the term municipalities on the news but I thought they were just being weird and insisted on calling it something else like all the counties in Louisiana are called parishes. It did strike me as odd growing up that all those towns were squashed together when driving on the highway, that there were way more towns than in Illinois and they all had dumb names. Then occasionally, on the local news I would hear about issues with board members in one of these towns or a dissolution of a fire department or police department but it really didn't register to me.

Shoot, gotta get gone, it's storming again with scary lightning for my computer. And fine, mix one part honey, one part lemon juice, add in some ginger (I guess ground is better?) and boil on the stove--drink. This might help your head cold (if it moves in your body it might be an infection). I would tell you to buy congaplex but it's like $55 and you're most likely going to get over whatever it is before it gets to your house). Put a heat pat on your head to kill it as well--viruses don't like heat. Lastly, sleep. I need to.

September 3, 2014
Dmitri sat alone at a rickety and warped table with only the company of a dying fire in the hearth and an ancient goat that only had one eye who chewed incessantly on the remnants of a head of cabbage. He was a man of 30 years but his years were long and arduous leaving him with the visage of a man twice his age. The frigid wind of an endless blizzard blew down the chimney and through the cracks of the shabby cabin that were stuffed haphazardly with what little straw he could spare; sounding like the murmurs of voices he knew from his past.

He shifted his weight on the decrepit chair, adjusting his coarse rubakha and worn wool coat even though he was already too numb to feel the cold and crossed his labor strained arms. He stared at the old goat and cleared the soot out of his throat when there came a loud bang on the door. He breathed out a cloud of exasperation, slowly rising to cross the rough and uneven floor, taking labored steps in his heavy boots.

He opened the door a crack, the wind and the ice blasted into his raw skin as he squinted into the darkness to see who was there. The weight of the other side caved into the cabin with a few inches of snow. Dmitri struggled to shut the door cursing the wretched weather, kicking the snow, and hitting something solid.

He bent over to clear the delicate snow with his haggard hands. The round face of a man younger than him frozen with ice encrusted in his blonde beard, his eyes empty and pale, clouded over in death stared up at him.

Dmitri exhaled another breath of contempt and glanced over at the old goat. He kept clearing the snow and checked the young man's coat pockets discovering a flask. Standing up, he walked back to his chair, sat, and popped open the flask.

"To your health and long life," he said to the corpse and raised the flask, "May death come quickly to your enemies," he toasted the goat then took a deep drink of the contents.

Not long after, Dmitri collapsed on the table and the life drained slowly out of his body. The flask drained on to the floor where a thirsty goat greeted it warmly.

Конец (Konets)

I guess I am sullen enough to write Russian Literature. That came out of me this afternoon.
Here's my plan. I will package it in a 1,000 page book because all Russian Literature is long. The story will be in the first half. In the middle will be a hollowed out compartment with a spring loaded weighted boxing glove that will punch people in the face. Then every time the book closes it will lock with a wireless credit card thing. That way I can be sure it completely invokes misery.

Now if only this part that I'm working on will cooperate. I think have curmudgeon's emo daughter lined up to read this, even though there is a good part of me that doesn't want to trust her with it (I'm not sure if she'll have time, she's busy with high school and all). She's a reader but she's depressive so there's a good chance she'll come to the same conclusion that I would. I understand this part. I get it, I get why it's there and to tell you the truth it's not that complicated or messy. But it's so boring. They might as well be discussing the weather and other pointless talk ("It's really nice today" "It's always nice, we're on a space station.")

Here's some light reading for you, featuring actual journalism

And look at this--someone's doing something constructive. What? Wow.

Hello? Is there anybody out there?

September 1, 2014
Tonight's scheduled depressive activities have now been canceled. I swear, I eat one subway sandwich yesterday and I'm reeling. I thought I could handle it, I'm doing better with sugar but I'm still not overloading which I think is probably for the best. I should also probably go against the orders of doctor and eat at least one adrenal gland pill (he told me to not eat any adrenal pills on the weekend--but I usually start feeling it around Sunday afternoon, this weekend was worse because my brain and my body were having a conflict of opinion).

I'm also questioning my writing yet again, I don't think I can answer this, and I don't know who I can go to get this answered (all the people I know are either bozos or don't read). I'm not sure if it's just the remnants of the depression talking. I really wasn't having it this afternoon (as I have been working on it all weekend when I wasn't being thrown for a loop). In this major part that I'm working on, I couldn't stand that the characters were exceptionally clueless even though I kind of need them to be. What I have turned myself into isn't normal (given, it never was) and I'm finding it hard to relate to anyone who doesn't think this way (soooo everyone?). There isn't much of a story if all the characters think like me unless I'm writing a moody Salinger like book and I don't think I've gotten to that point yet.

I almost feel that I'm not balanced in this section, as in that I might be overdoing it in being clueless (This is how us normal people behave, correct, fellow normal person?). That it may even be to clichťd and tripe for the public even. I think I know what's going on here, and the usual paradigm for any story just might not be working for me anymore. That it may be a disservice to even try to carry it on, because I think it has manipulated the thoughts and perceptions of people in the internet age. Ultimately, I don't believe the character's journey is magic anymore because that's not how life works. My exceptional talent in failure kept reminding me of this. But in all honesty, the magic (delusions!) is what draws people into the book and I'm not Russian enough to write a book so depressing that people keep reading it for centuries after I've died for no good reason (spoiler alert: EVERYONE DIES and your life is a lie because you suck!). I'm also wondering if I am being too blunt and cold in the other parts of the book and not really being artistically dramatic/tragic. That I'm just going to end up clocking people over the head with the plot instead of finding the beauty in it.

Perhaps I need to write it without having the outline of the series in the back of my mind. As if I do not know what is going to happen, like how we experience life, right, fellow normal person?

I'm also looking to put a filter behind the text and in front of the picture here but I can't figure out the html code. Balderdash.

Time to crawl off the ceiling and unwind. Please, no sudden movements, life, not for a while, thanks. I need to recover.

August 28, 2014
Yes, cracked,this is exactly what I'm looking for, fart jokes and all. Part of the anger was that I didn't know who to trust with information since the 24 hour news feed was reporting whatever it felt like and everyone was screaming about something different.

Today, I had an errant thought:
What taxes pay for police?
Police pay scale

I'm starting to see the entirety.
Basically policing can pay as little as $30 grand a year depending on where you live and how much experience. They run the risk of getting maimed and killed everyday on the job. They deal with people on their worst days. Basically, you have to want to do this job and either you are naive about what goes down on any given day before signing up and/or genuinely want to help people. Or you get a few people who go out for this because they have a hero complex and often go on power trips but may not be charming or cunning enough to do it properly in the world of business. I don't imagine those who get college degrees would risk their own lives to go for a job like this.

Then we have the tax situation. I've heard when there is a large grouping of apartment buildings the tenants do not pay property tax. So that's a lot of people in a small space with not a whole lot of money to support them.

If it's a subsidized apartment then there's a lot of poor people living in it. Now, given that they are under skilled, there wouldn't be many jobs available for them anyway even if more businesses invested in the area. So the residents find other things to fill their time. As well as if they are previously convicted, finding a job is a lot harder.

Being convicted can also lead to loosing voting rights

I reread the post article in the entry below and it helped me remember that the population of these apartments were filled by an exodus of the city of St. Louis--mostly trying to get away from the criminal element. Considering that the population was more white in Ferguson up until 5-10 years ago, I wouldn't expect they would know what to do with a sudden massive influx of poor black people. The cops would have a hard time understanding them at all. Then on top of it, we have the nomadic nature of poverty, so then the police will really have a hard time establishing a positive influence (fine, if they wanted to).

Top that with the degradation of the poor black community, and add a helping of distrust of the police.

And all of those tiny parts finally met at the nexus of Mike Brown.

So to say that it's a war against one thing over another, that this situation is simply one thing out of control is a disservice and very dangerous thinking that perpetuates the problem for future generations. Don't ask me how to stop it. If I knew how to convince people of anything I wouldn't be living my life as it is. People are like galaxies spinning around each other in a universe unaware, until they finally collide.

August 24, 2014
Rough fortnight.

As the situation in Ferguson went on, I slowly found that I wasnít having it. It was hard to be an impartial observer like I prefer to be. I would feel this pressure build in my head, and the only emotion I had was anger but then there would be an occasional brief moment of calm (which is new and weird). I came very close to busting out the sertraline (I still have a few left, thereís a part of me that doesnít want to get rid of them ever). I couldnít block the world out like I used to and writing more trouble in a book world seemed pedantic and pointless (but I still do work on it, bit by bit).

Yet every night I would turn on the local news once I got off work and then check like 2 hours later before I went to bed at 11, to see if the rioting began. Then every morning at work I would check to see the results.

I was pretty sure that this was the first time that the 24 hour news feed helped destroy a town due to the manic reporting partially fueled by twitter. Given, I do realize that had things not gone insane, the immediate action may not have happened (and truth be told, it was probably best that the Feds stepped in). But with all these people riled up, whatís going to happen when the verdict isnít the outcome they want (Perhaps we should have gotten all Hispanics and Asians to be on the grand jury, CNN? For some people the color of their skin does not factor into their judgments and thatís usually why they are chosen)?

I questioned motives of some the people out there. I heard someone on the news (I know, itís just one person) saying it was fascism. But if it was a fascist police state, there would be no media coverage, the person would be in the street but they would be dead for saying it is a fascist police state. There was a certain simplicity to their justifications with so many conclusions being jumped. Like they couldnít see that the situation at hand was way more complicated than good versus bad or even beyond the confines of conservative versus liberal (wait for it). Bruce and I used to have this conversation, he liked to simplify that the ills of society came down to Satanic influence and divine influence or punishment; I told him that he didnít give humans enough credit. I would ask him why God would have to punish us for being jerks when weíre so good at doing it ourselves. It finally sunk in last week and then I had to tell him that I told him this and that nobody listens to me (I must somehow speak gibberish when I talk, this always happens). Yes, heís a devout Christian and I admire him for it. He often credits the path his life took to the grace of God and given what he told me what heís been through, raging alcoholic parents and poverty to how he even got here and his job from Wisconsin, I believe him.

Anyway, I wondered just how much pressure to be involved twitter was influencing over people just so that they wouldnít look like uncaring jerks to all their followers because they were mouthing off about some other injustice (Hey, I hear Iraq is pretty messed up and people are being so persecuted, you wanna go check it out? Flights are sooo cheap. Donít forget to update the twittertwattter. Selfie!). After all, the protesting and rioting started to lessen around Wednesday, when it rained.

Luckily, Monday was my annual all appointments day and I was going to Dinkelmann. He finally gave me a pill for my adrenal glands. Then it all stopped (I was so out of sorts and I was still not used to discussing it with actual people that I ended up just babbling about whether or not any of my problem areas were working while he poked my hand with some electronic acupuncture point checker). I think I need to give up on trying to understand this, the main ingredient in this pill is calories. I do not understand how this works or why this makes any differenceóunless I am just not eating enough but then it turns into what I can and cannot eat, so on and so forth, forever.

But for all the protesting and pontificating, this situation always goes around in a circle.

Cops show up to a certain area of town all the time, Cops are mean and unjust. Why do cops show up? Crime. But I need to turn to crime because I need a living wage. Canít get out of the hood--no jobs, no education. Itís justified. Why no jobs? Crime, people get robbed/looted. Cops show up again, they disagree with the notion that the crime is justified (this might get old to some people who deal with it every day, biases form).

Thereís something missing here, and the copís presence in this situation is really irrelevant. The civil rights movement has improved the lives of millions of blacks in America yet it always misses a portion of the population. And despite some of these people rising out of the hood, the blight still exists (and to be fair, there isnít a difference between the hood and poor white trash). I realize, due to my own predicament, that we all canít be astronauts, that there has to be someone at the bottom supporting the top and that has to be okay. Yet, the general consensus is that they are denied and need someone to present them with the opportunity to make something of themselves or to leave the hood because thatís the American dream. But on the other hand I have seen immigrants come into this country with less and somehow turn it into something and make something of themselves (donít ask me how).

They can get support from the government in food stamps, they go to public school and many scholarships have been set up just to help them, they have the community, the advantage of being born in America, they have Godóso why does the blight still exist?

Depression, some of which I think is also induced by a poor diet as well, as I figured out.

Not everyone is affected but if they arenít immediately, they can by affected by proxy.

I think Iíve noticed one thing itís that mental illness isnít really recognized in the Black community. Yet, here they have invented a whole musical genre about how everything sucks and how they feel bad about it (that white people just clamber to and thatís kind of weirdóďYour life sucks? Wow, thatís so awesome, you just feel so muchĒ). In the poor communities, their lives are often inundated with dopamine inducers like drug use, alcoholism, and sex. Some of the many symptoms of depression are anger, aggression and a short temper that can barely be controlled. Laziness is also another one but itís commonly known as fatigue as well as poor concentrationóall things that they say people in the hood are commonly known for. And for some strange reason, they donít acknowledge this or think that maybe it isnít normal, perhaps this is because to feel and to acknowledge that it hurts is seen as a weakness, particularly in men. That in order to cope, itís just better to shut down and when itís too much, itís easier to explode in rage (all from youíre not from here so donít tell me what to do or Iím already hurt, Iím not going to let you hurt me).

This is just the way things are but the question is why they hang onto this. Why they pass it down through generations. I suppose they own it because itís truly the only thing that they have, that their personalities are so rooted in misery that if they tried to change they wouldnít know who they were anymore (I seriously had that thought while taking on my own issues)óeven though we all change every day but to make a conscious effort is hard to those who are not ready to try. But who were they in the first place when so much of what they think they are, is controlled by the environment and people around them?

Unfortunately with depression, not everyone understands or can find the sympathy for your plight. The cops are unfortunately, human, and donít see whatís going on in their heads or know whatís happening in their lives to justify these emotions and actions. All they see is the violence and the rage over and over again (I have come across people who got mad at me or turned on me because of the fact that I am depressed/anxious and I wasnít even angry. So I could only imagine what it would be like if I let everyone feel the anger that I felt--I would have been carted off years ago). Itís a human trait to judge with a broad sweeping stroke mainly because itís easy. It takes a lot of work and self realization to become unbiased and unfortunately itís hard to keep an unbiased point of view when you feel threatened.

I hope Ferguson recovers from this, that they donít have a flight of people with money (I think before this, they werenít that bad off, blue collaróIím sorry I donít think Iíve been there, maybe just drove through it while going to Jamestown Malló this is a more complete picture from the post). I think Captain Ron Johnson did a great job.

I also hope that the people protesting with them actually do something to help their condition instead of just scream and leave (if they were that concerned, why didnít they do something like become social workers?). But ultimately how can you give rights to people who donít know what to do with the ones that they already have?

This was a hard entry to get through.

August 14, 2014
Perhaps I should explain Ferguson, despite whatever I have to say about it ultimately doesn't matter (And I'm doing good, thanks, I remembered Tibetan Throat Chanting . You know I should be thankful, a lot of people only get to feel things one at a time, but I like to multitask and save time by feeling it all at once. It had been at least five years since I had to contend with that, I wasn't used to it).

Anyway, while I do feel bad for Michael Brown, I prefer to stay out of it. The details are not known and I doubt it may ever be fully known or accepted as the truth. Both sides were most likely biased, both sides jumped to conclusions, both felt they were being targeted, disaster resulted.

He may have been the best person in the world too, but it only takes one fluke moment of a raw emotion to end in catastrophe.
Even if everything goes the way it should that the cop is brought to justice like they all want, doesn't mean that things will magically be racially healed. That area will still most likely stay poor, if not end up worse off after all this (I believe that's what lead to the downfall of East St. Louis in the 1910s which is now just coming slowly out of it). Everyone who started to care only for this will go back to their own lives, the everyday life of the residents of Ferguson will be no concern to them--so the situation and the attitudes of the populace of the area will not get better or any more peaceful. It's not just race we're dealing with, it is also poverty and because of the poverty, a decline in mental health as I have experienced with the processed food industry (violent anger doesn't just erupt out of sound individuals seeking justice). It doesn't appear that the vast majority of the people involved are really out for justice, they're out for their own agendas, to be a part of a history of standing up to something, I'm not really sure what (the system and the environment feed off each other, only reacting to what either perceives as a threat). And I feel sorry for Michael Brown for that--that his life only resulted in selfish people corrupting his justice for their own gains.

If I let myself be outraged by every unjust death I think I would be reeling every single day. There's still Iraq, Ukraine, Israel/Palestine, Nigeria (have they rescued those girls yet?), I want to say there was something going on in the Congo, and every other day anyone gets murdered. The true tragedy of the human existence is the fact that we cannot possibly live up to all of our own lofty ideas or save each other as much as we like. I can barely do that for myself.

This will not end well.

August 13, 2014
You're right, my brain wasn't done. Today, someone told me that I looked melancholy--it's surprising, I never expect anyone to notice. It's just hard to explain it all to people when it does come out (What did you do this weekend? I had a massive existential quandary then I mowed my lawn. You?) But, I think we're done, aren't we brain? At least until next time, I know. My brain got to feel all the feels and went through every conclusion and probability known to man (one thing that was bugging me was that the world wasn't making sense in the parameters that it usually sets for itself). And here I was worried about you, brain. I thought I lost you or I broke your imagination abilities (either that or you're just particularly lazy particularly when I want you to do something specific). Now if you'd only stop getting distracted by shiny objects, we might be able to get somewhere.

A thought drifts across my mind occasionally, that maybe vibrational or tonal frequencies would work to focus my brain because music tends to make it feel better. The same tone exists in most of my favorite music like Musical Ride or even No Light, No Light. That might go back to meditation but I'm thinking some sort of ray gun or helmet or a tuning fork. Don't ask me how to make it.

The perception of time at least slowed down. Come on, brain, we're going this way, we're not jumping to conclusions. I'll stay away for a while.

August 12, 2014
I'm seeing strange tweets. Not sure if they apply to me, I don't believe that they are, it goes against past behaviors. Don't worry if you're confused here, so am I.

Depressive behaviors for today: fell asleep curled up in a ball under all my blankets (very surprised that I could fall asleep), woke up and got to work on time but felt distant, ate baker's chocolate that I still have in my desk. Brain experienced a massive pressure build up. Avoided most coworkers, except through email which was fine. They didn't need me to do much today. Drowned brain in music. I felt restless, but forgot I needed to decide something on the book even though I still question that path (What else am I supposed to do with myself? There's only so many things compulsive weirdos are good for). Took walk with aforementioned curmudgeon, aired grievances, had many existential quandaries but not really full of loathing and self doubt. Nodded off again. Went to second job, went to my old floor took many frustrations out on vacuuming most of it and mopping the entire hallway of the wing. Half the original curmudgeons aren't there anymore yet it still brings me solace to be up there.
Conclusion: moderate, better than what it used to be because I didn't cry uncontrollably and it used to take up weeks or months to get functional.

Also forgot: Good timing, Crash Course Psychology

Another day then. Let's go.

August 11, 2014
Really? Seriously? No. No. No. It is usually my policy here not to discuss celebrities or even news much (hey there, Ferguson) but I can't help this one. No matter how bad it gets, you don't get to quit life. Even if you don't feel anything towards the people around you, you honestly do not know the devastation you would leave behind if you abruptly ended it. Apparently nobody really knows what's going on in the brain but I refuse to let it get the upper hand. My purpose here is to find a way to make it better, or to see if I can somehow find something that researchers missed since I deal with it everyday or that they might be holding back for whatever reason. It does suck but in order for it to suck less you have to accept it as it is and possibly write emo haikus about it.

I found Robin Williams' brain to be a marvel the way it sharply thought of so many things so quickly, although he probably begged to differ. He had a gift. I know there are research facilities out there for brains, I just don't know where or how to access them. He could have done so much in research alone had his brain not convinced him otherwise.

I actually was going to come in here tonight and leave the extra material that I didn't need for the last entry. I think I still will.

Serotonin is thought of as the ďhappyĒ chemical. Many antidepressants work on this neurotransmitter. When serotonin levels are low, people tend to be worried, rigid, and argumentative. They suffer with anxiety, depression, and obsessive or compulsive behaviors. Serotonin levels are raised in the brain by its amino acid precursor, L-tryptophan. Unfortunately, L-tryptophan does not compete well against other proteins to get into the brain. Simple carbohydrates increase L-tryptophan in the brain, which is why some people get hooked on cookies, bread, or sugar. Low serotonin levels make it hard to feel pleasure from anything other than what you are addicted to; you then feel compelled to chase that ďhighĒ feeling. For example, because of low serotonin levels, a gamblerís life may seem boring any time he isnít gambling. How can you boost serotonin? Exercise increases L-tryptophan in the brain because other proteins go into the muscles, thereby decreasing the competition in the brain. The natural supplements 5-HTP, inositol, and saffron also boost serotonin.

GABA is an inhibitory neurotransmitter that calms the brain. If you have suffered an emotional trauma or are under a lot of stress, GABA may be depleted and the emotional center of your brain (the limbic brain) may become excessively active, making you feel anxious, uptight, or sad. This can drive you to eat or drink excessively in an attempt to calm your limbic brain. How can you boost GABA? Amino acid supplements of GABA can help, as can B6, magnesium, lemon balm, kava kava, and valerian.

Endorphins are the brainís natural pleasure producers and pain-killers. They are the bodyís natural morphine-like substances, and are heavily involved in addiction. How can you boost endorphins? Exercise can activate the same pathways in the brain as morphine, and increase the release of endorphins. Cocoa and dl-phenylalanine also have been shown to increase endorphin production in the brain.

Other Causes of Depression
An underlying physical condition can lead to depression. For instance, congestive heart failure, bronchitis, upper respiratory infections, anemia, and other illnesses can cause symptoms.
Many primary care physicians have experience in treating major symptoms of depression but when symptoms are atypical or unresponsive, they refer patients to a psychiatrist. There are long list of medications that can also cause mood changes, including:
Heart and blood pressure drugs
Insomnia aids
Pain medications

Do not hide it, do not deny it, face it or if you don't have the energy, lay low. It's the only way. Death is not an option. Here's to you, Robin.

10:39 PM edit: And now I've broken out in a sudden heat rash on my right cheek and nose, right knee, both elbows on both sides, up my front side of my arms and around the bony knob (yes, that is the technical term for it) on the wrist. You're always surprising me in new and exciting ways, aren't you, depression? It's slowly ebbing. I just need to calm down.

August 8, 2014
Your emo haiku for this entry:
You tried but failed
This test laughs in your face

Letís appreciate the irony (I am pretty certain that this is the proper use of the concept of irony): I am trying to understand dopamineóitís getting confusing which is causing my dopamine to drop making me agitated which compounds my attempts in trying to further understand it. And I need to understand it, otherwise, I wouldnít know what to get to finally fix it. Iím so close to finally being completely healed yet here is this one last thing that neither I nor anyone else can barely control and might (probably will) be with me for the rest of my life. It interferes with how I live my life, might have a say in how long I even get to live, and limits what I can do (I donít like being told what to do, Dopamine). I canít even get it to work in my favor to make me this brooding artistic writer type who actually gets paid to do be a brooding artistic writer type (I can be a broody journal writer type but this doesnít pay money). Then again, I canít get it to work for me doing anything else for that matter as I get restless and bored with everything if I insist on thinking--then again I canít handle being constantly on the move to remedy this.

I donít even have the right insanity and compulsion to be able to build a fantasy-land empire based around myself only to end up destroying it due to my lack of self-awareness coupled with an underestimation of those around me. This just might be a blessing, I know of some people who would agree with that notion.

But Iíve dealt with you long enough, Dopamine, it's time for the showdown. I will end you.

Where do I begin?
Dopamine and I go way back, it was just after high school that the STL Post ran some articles on depression and I think anxiety. It was a brief overview that even I could understand, despite the fact that I didnít really think that it could be more complicated than an overview. Nevertheless, it offered me ways to deal with this without medication or going to a psychiatrist. I believed the general consensus was that I thought I wasnít that bad off to warrant extreme actions as psychiatrists or medication (aside from Prozac and Lithium I'm not sure if they had other things--I was pretty certain that either of them were not right for me), I just felt way too much. I did what the paper told me to do not really for myself but more for my writingówhatever it took to finally succeed.

The over views pretty much looked like this:
Increase your Dopamine
This is an article from slate that discusses overviews about dopamine

Or even this (taken from a health newsletter that Bruce gave me):
Brain changes that occur during depression are similar to those observed in cases of chronic stress. Alterations in the amount and activity of chemical messengers such as serotonin occur in different brain regions, and levels of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline are elevated.
Levels of other chemicals such as dopamine and acetylcholine also change. The altered balance of these chemicals may explain depression symptoms reflected in appetite, sleep, thinking, and mood.
Previous research has shown that chronic stress can lower brain levels of serotonin, which is associated with greater risk of suicide. Some individuals have a genetic predisposition for lower serotonin levels, which could explain the tendency for depression to run in some families.
Brain scans of patients with severe depression indicate reduced metabolism and blood flow to the frontal areas that control cognition (thinking).
Conversely, the scans show high blood flow and metabolism in the deep brain structures that control emotion and behavior.
We know that neural activity in the amygdalaóan emotional control center in the brainís temporal lobeóincreases when a person becomes depressed.
The hippocampus, which is located next to and works closely with the amygdala, is the area that processes memory. In some depressed people, the hippocampus is smaller than normal. This may explain why depressed people focus on sad or disturbing memories.
The thalamus, a structure deep inside the brain receives sensory information and relays it to the brainís outer rim (cortex), which controls behavior, movement, thinking, and concentration. In depressions, abnormalities are seen in the thalamus.
Ö..Men tend to express depression through anger, aggression, unnecessary risk taking, and abuse of substances.

...Dopamine is a feel-good chemical. Whenever we do something enjoyable, itís like pressing a button in the brain that releases a little bit of dopamine to make us feel pleasure. However, if we push this pleasure button too often or too strongly, we reduce dopamineís effectiveness. Eventually, it takes more and more stimulation to feel anything at all.
Cocaine, alcohol, and nicotine all cause dopamine surges two to 10 times greater than your brain produces for natural rewards. Playing video games and gambling can produce the same effect, as can eating foods such as pizza, chocolate chip cookies, and milkshakes.
How can you boost dopamine naturally? Aerobic exercise and green tea have been shown to increase dopamine levels in the brain. I recommend 30 to 45 minutes of aerobic exercise at least four times a week, and drinking two to three cups of green tea a day, or taking a green tea leaf extract.

And I guess it worked to a point. But then again, at that time I had quit college and began work in retail, so it wasnít like I put myself in a high stress area (I worked at stores barely anyone shopped at)óthatís why I quit in the first place. To tell you the truth, it was a miracle and a half that I was even able to talk anyone into hiring me for a retail job because at the time it too, was even overwhelming (I ended up voiding all thought to get through it). Thatís pretty much how itís been my entire life, I will go through with things that overwhelm me but I can never enjoy it or calm down until after the fact when something new crops up that I have to deal with (I guess you can see why I never consider myself that bad off).

I want to say that during that time, I briefly learned of Serotonin as well. Dopamine and Serotonin are often linked in a battle to the death. But it wasnít until the deux ex curmudgeon when I went to the natural doctor that I learned of the other brain chemicals and I suspect it was because I was finally healing that my brain could now start to think about researching things and thinking beyond overviews, or stop thinking that overviews and what other doctors tell me is the be all end all.

Iím not sure how I got to the point where I expect people with a modicum of authority to always know what theyíre talking about or that their abilities should always trump their own human flaws (all I know is that I donít have the ability to write a brooding song about it and that's a shame).

Itís just a lot more complicated than that(from the Wikipedia article):
In the brain, dopamine functions as a neurotransmitteróa chemical released by nerve cells to send signals to other nerve cells. The brain includes several distinct dopamine systems, one of which plays a major role in reward-motivated behavior. Most types of reward increase the level of dopamine in the brain, and a variety of addictive drugs increase dopamine neuronal activity. Other brain dopamine systems are involved in motor control and in controlling the release of several other important hormones.

Several important diseases of the nervous system are associated with dysfunctions of the dopamine system. Parkinson's disease, a degenerative condition causing tremor and motor impairment, has been related to the loss of dopamine-secreting neurons in the midbrain area called the substantia nigra. There is evidence that schizophrenia involves altered levels of dopamine activity, and the antipsychotic drugs that are frequently used to treat it have a primary effect of weakening dopamine activity. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and restless legs syndrome (RLS) are also believed to be associated with decreased dopamine activity.

Outside the nervous system, dopamine functions in several parts of the body as a local chemical messenger. In the blood vessels, it inhibits norepinephrine release and acts as a vasodilator; in the kidneys, it increases sodium excretion and urine output; in the pancreas, it reduces insulin production; in the digestive system, it reduces gastrointestinal motility and protects intestinal mucosa; and in the immune system, it reduces the activity of lymphocytes. With the exception of the blood vessels, dopamine in each of these peripheral systems has a "paracrine" function: it is synthesized locally and exerts its effects on cells that are located near the cells that release it.

A variety of important drugs work by altering the way the body makes or uses dopamine. Dopamine itself is available for intravenous injection: although it cannot reach the brain from the bloodstream, its peripheral effects make it useful in the treatment of heart failure or shock, especially in newborn babies. L-DOPA, the metabolic precursor of dopamine, does reach the brain and is the most widely used treatment for Parkinson's disease. Dopaminergic stimulants can be addictive in high doses, but some are used at lower doses to treat ADHD. Conversely, many antipsychotic drugs act by suppressing the effects of dopamine. Drugs that act against dopamine by a different mechanism are also some of the most effective anti-nausea agents.

Ö.The ventral tegmental area (VTA), another midbrain area. This cell group (A10) is the largest group of dopaminergic cells in the human brain, though still quite small in absolute terms. Projections from these dopaminergic neurons go to the nucleus accumbens and the prefrontal cortex as well as several other areas. These neurons play a central role in reward and other aspects of motivation. The nucleus accumbens is often considered to be the "limbic" part of the striatum. As such, it is the part of the striatum involved in the highest level aspects of motor control, which include motivation and decision-making. Thus, the role of the VTA in motivation and decision-making is structurally analogous to the role of the substantia nigra in low-level motor control. In primates (i.e. monkeys and humans), the dopamine neurons from the regions of the substantia nigra and VTA project throughout most of the cortical mantle, with particularly dense innervation of the motor and premotor cortices. Thus, there are major species differences in cortical dopamine projections.

Beyond its role in modulating blood flow, there are several peripheral systems in which dopamine circulates within a limited area and performs an exocrine or paracrine function. The peripheral systems in which dopamine plays an important role include:
The immune system. Dopamine acts upon receptors present on immune cells, especially lymphocytes. Dopamine can also affect immune cells in the spleen, bone marrow, and circulatory system. In addition, dopamine can be synthesized and released by immune cells themselves. The main effect of dopamine on lymphocytes is to reduce their activation level. The functional significance of this system is unclear, but it afford a possible route for interactions between the nervous system and immune system, and may be relevant to some autoimmune disorders.
The pancreas. The role of dopamine here is somewhat complex. The pancreas consists of two parts, known as exocrine and endocrine. The exocrine part synthesizes enzymes and other substances, and secretes them into the small intestine, where food is digested. One of the substances synthesized and secreted by the exocrine pancreas is dopamine. The function of this secreted dopamine after it enters the small intestine is not clearly established ó the possibilities include protecting the intestinal mucosa from damage and reducing gastrointestinal motility (the rate at which food moves through the intestines).
The endocrine part of the pancreas, also known as the islets of Langerhans, synthesizes a number of hormones, including insulin, and secretes them into the bloodstream. There is evidence that the beta cells that synthesize insulin contain dopamine receptors, and that dopamine acts to reduce the amount of insulin they release. The source of their dopamine input is not clearly established ó it may come from dopamine that circulates in the bloodstream and derives from the sympathetic nervous system, or it may be synthesized locally by other types of pancreatic cells.

You get all that? I do find it interesting that it is tied to the pancreas, immune system, and autoimmune disorders because Diabetes 1 is often classified as an autoimmune disease but usually when you look into why the pancreas quits working, the general consensus is "we don't know."

Anyway, Dopamine is a specialized chemical wherever it operates and it operates in many places aside from the brain (I see you, pancreas, you jerk). It might be fine in other places but if itís off in one itís incredibly hard to treat. It will not cross the blood-brain barrier so there can never be a pill that will up your dopamine levels (so I am really confused when they say food like green tea can do it all the time but I guess it does happen with like drugs and stuff), but there are the pills that stimulate it somehow like Ritalin and Adderall (I was wrong, Prozac is an SSRI as well and apparently is worse than Sertraline).

However, I think that depression is way beyond just a misfiring of one brain chemical or neuron while everything else stays unaffected. If there is anything that I have learned from all this itís that the body is a delicate play of chemical reactions between cells, vitamins, and minerals. If one area goes down, there is a good chance that other systems will go down with it depending on our distinct genetic codes. Despite what we like to believe, I donít think there is a catch all to cure disorders or diseases with one specific pill or treatment and the medical and insurance community are too corrupt to change how they diagnose things to precisely know that what they prescribe is right the first time around.

It also seems to me that itís not only an imbalance between the big 4 of GABA, Dopamine, Serotonin, and Acetylcholine but there are other brain chemicals in play that have equal say like glutamate, oxytocin, cortisol, adrenaline, and norepinephrine. Then thereís the vitamins that might play a role as to whether or not your brain wants to respond normally (nooormal) like B12 (I want to say my conclusion to the B12 thing is that even though I was eating seemingly healthy food growing up, I probably wasnít getting enough per day and itís impossible to know how many vitamins you need, if youíre getting enough, or if your body is even utilizing it).

In my case, it appears that Iím probably making enough brain chemistry itís just that I donít respond to it very well (make me!) because I can, through the force of will do things that make me feel uncomfortable, I can feel good when people arenít sucking or feel rewarded in like writing and I can make decisions and be motivated sometimes. I may have easily burned out a few dopamine receptors as well with sugar. Cocaine can short out dopamine receptorsóbut now that I think about it, I find it weird. I believe Schizophrenia is an over production of dopamine yet they donít burn out after a few years. Then again we may be dealing with a Parkinsonís deal. Parkinsonís is a low dopamine condition in another part of the brain than chronic depression which they say is in the limbic system.

Depression could even centered about this fantastic pellet of brain matter called the habenula (it is in the same neighborhood as the limbic system) that the daily mail brought to my attention (But do major media outlets pick up that story? Nooooo. They just want to run stories on who is or who is not wearing pants today) In short:
The habenula - which is about half the size of a pea - is thought to play an important role in learning from bad experiences. It is the warning system that something bad is about to happen, helping humans learn from mistakes. For some, an over-active habenula may be linked to depression, pessimism and a negative outlook on life.

But I know for certain that my brain chemistry is heavily influenced and manipulated by the outside world and the chaotic meatsacks that run around on it. And therein lies the problem. Iíve been burned one too many times, left behind, and trained to distrust by those around me, particularly when it comes to building relationships with people, specifically normals. Iíve become good at it. Yet, when it all comes down to it, to write a story is to build relationships--through that I will be forming one with my readers and the world at large or I possibly already am with all five people who read this.

Iím treating my characters as I treat everyone around meówhich essentially is as temporary. This doesnít give me a whole lot to work with and ultimately because of this they will end up being cardboard archetypes, I need to see these characters for what they are and not what I think they should be based on past biases.

In order to even get close to success I need to revise one of my axiomsóI have my faith in God, itís humans Iím not sure about. I need to trust the world enough to believe that it will not do what it has done to me in the past even though it pretty much will if I were to succeed as a known writer. I will be disregarded, I will be called dumb, I will lose peopleís interest, I will be regarded as only a pretty shell whose sole purpose is to make someone else feel good until their dopamine feed connected to me is severed. I will not be seen as human.

It's kind of like how my life is nowóonly it will be on a bigger scale, may involve more money, be where the majority of people I would interact with would want something to do with me, and I probably won't have any more freedom or anonymity than I have now. The difference is that I would be doing something that I like to do and I might finally feel that Iíve found more to life than this existence that Iím living in but then again, the fantasy may deceive. Too many have already died due to deceptive fantasies.

So the conclusion here is a crossroads: I could live my life as it is now and quit running, essentially accepting everything as it should be. Or should I try to change, to accept the challenge of trying to be apart of the rest of the world despite the fact that I could end up hating it?

I've always had the thought that I must be denied of my plans because there was something that I wasn't facing but I could never figure out what. In all actuality I believe I was being spared. I was given a chance to prepare, to make sure that what I do is for the right reason and is true beforehand instead of after burning up in the atmosphere of my career.

I need to go lie down now, I need to sleep. I feel a brain shift that's been a long time coming.

May I see everything as its absolute truth.

August 6, 2014
Hi. How are you? I'm okay, thanks for asking. Dopamine is kicking my butt. Oddly enough, not in reality, but in trying to understand it's nature (it do what it wants!). In all that I've read in the past and have been reading from the last entry on the subject of brain malfunction, all the information is not reaching the same conclusion at the same time if it is at all. Considering the means of diagnoses and treatments we have for such brain malfunction, I guess it figures. I know Cracked has discussed this multiple times, and the general consensus is that the brain is a jerk but I would just like to have a clue as to what's going on up in there. Just a tiny one. If that's okay with you. Oddly enough, I've been feeling rather calm lately, pleasant in a sense and it's not just due to the weather, I even want to sleep and not just pass out somewhere at odd times. I'm almost thinking that things might be changing all up in there.

Even the writing is doing well when I get into it (I would like to believe that). It's been strangely easy editing what I previously wrote, and I find myself feeling like another person wrote it. I'm back to wanting to do it at home because the edit is getting kind of messy--like I said, I'm still rather vague in my action sequences. Then again, I'm not sure how much of it I should be choreographing (This guy punched the other guy, the first guy ducked)--it's a matter of how much I should leave out for the reader to fill in. The other issue is my direction. I have an idea as to where I want to take this part but it's a calm part, it's relationship building between characters. But there isn't much drama to drive this. They aren't solving any mysteries or constantly talking about someone who is out to get them, which I think I'm good at (BUT THEY TOTALLY ARE!!!!--Some light reading for you, they're scamming us good, yaaaaaaaaaay!) I know I don't have to go in this direction but I kind of see it as vital. It's a bigger picture thing.


Character: OMG. I have nothing to wear except this bulky space suit. My butt looks huge!
Character: Your butt does not look huge, my butt is huge. Why didn't they pack us some Lean Cuisi.....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Huh? What? Oh I was writing again, sorry. I don't think I could even go the Seinfeld route on this--they just took mundane things and turned them into overwrought big deals. I suppose if you did that in space, everyone would die.

Character: I told him I didn't need that tool when patching the weak spot on the outside of the shuttle, but then it turns out that I did. I couldn't just ask again, I would look like an idiot.
Character: Is that the reason why we're now burning up in the atmosphere?

Who are these idiots and why should I care? I should ask myself this more often.

July 27, 2014
I am not even close to being near the end of completing this book. After wrestling with my printer into various settings (I can't even print out 20 pages of book to edit on the go without the ink running out on me, so I end up switching to green then red text to use it all) I was able to get the middle part all printed and I started to work on editing. Tonight I was typing all my changes in--but then I realized that while on the pill I was exceptionally vague and I had my character doing something that while in it's vagueness read well and flowed but quickly fell apart once I started to straighten it out and make more conducive. And here I thought I couldn't possibly elaborate on this plot line.

This is rather concerning and it's really apparent as to how wrong this medication was for me (I'm reading up on things of this matter, will report soon). I realize that if it was right for me then it shouldn't have made me so hungry or doped up, passed out on the floor when it took effect (okay but knowing I could always sleep at a certain time and that I would wake up refreshed because I made myself do it was nice). It should have just made me normal, whatever that is. Instead it was like I was only half way in existence like I was kept under glass in order to deal with the people around me. Propped up and nobody else was the wiser.

Perhaps during that time I should have gotten into a medium where it wouldn't matter if I was essentially incoherent. But I didn't notice, I didn't worry.

Erin Remembers (again?): Best Friend in High School once gave me a copy of Don't Sweat the Small Stuff. I think it was my ma who would tell me not to sweat the small stuff occasionally after I got that book. After he died at 45 because of a heart attack I finally replied "The author of that book didn't sweat the small stuff and do you want to know what happened? He died."

Good times.

Good news though, my placebo plan works. It works really well as evident!

Your logic is incredibly flawed
You don't know how wrong you actually are
Diet soda will bring about your demise
It's only a slight, short matter of time


July 23, 2014
Lie is one letter shy of being a Life.

I was cold today. I was fatigued even though I was awake. My back hurt, I just felt uncomfortable and I was dragging. What I was experiencing wasn't normal levels of dopamine, it was depression again. Things were bothering me: work and the tedium plus the coming layoffs, myself in general, all the health problems that no one can fix or save me from, the amount of money it takes to try and fix it, the money I am being shorted because second job changed my hours and then if I do end up losing job one then I'm going to have a bigger problem, and on top of that--my writing. My writing was becoming a chore--I couldn't just do it--I had to pay attention to it for the plot's sake. I knew I could be dazzled by it (flashing lights and colors, explosions, wooo!) but that wasn't going to save me, and I knew other people couldn't save me not even the ones who are paid to do so, so I had to make sure that I would do it. That it would all work out for once. Then I realized that yet again as I was getting nearer to the end of completing this, I would have to depend on other people to get my book out there and I didn't and still don't know who to trust. I've heard the stories--everyone is writing a book and everyone is suffering from delusions of grandeur.

Then I realized something tonight, I had no outlets anymore and no means of keeping me going in the form of sugar. Nothing to tell me that it was going to be okay or at least make me think that it wasn't so bad, and all the cheerleading in the world was going to change my mind. But the thing was, I did have an outlet. Writing. When this world sucked and there was nothing I could do about it, I could control a world, and I could always feel like I was doing and completing something even if I never got anywhere. But now it was going to start coming into this world instead of remaining hidden and safe where people couldn't tell me that what I wrote was stupid, clichť, or was full of plot flaws. I had to be right. They would take my creation and make it their own, corrupting it in terrible internet ways, I had to make it so that they couldn't corrupt it. If there was anything worth fighting for in this life, writing was it, and I wasn't about to let 18 years of my life fail spectacularly even if I am good at it.

I had to face it and take it head on. If I didn't face it, I would always be running, chasing rainbows while everything passed me by then wondering why. In order to succeed I needed to stop being so delusional--no one got anywhere being delusional (and if they did, it would blow up in their faces). But that's counterintuitive--it's what I do, it's the writer nature, it's human nature. We all do it, some people just call it a dream because delusion is too harsh of a word and is reserved for the crazy. But their dreams are so innocuous and unassuming that they don't seem delusional as they chase after promotions, go into debt to afford what they think constitutes as an adequate life, amp up to keep up (even if alcohol isn't a stimulant, it's a depressant but it still counts). Going after the wrong people or the same type of people, taking people at face value. They believe the hype about themselves and call it self esteem. Compare and contrast themselves to others, changing their looks for all the wrong reasons. All in the name of feeling good--that it will somehow make their lives something better than before. You have to feel good about what you do because some marketing guy said so. Why else would you do it? You just can't be content (then again, it is a fine line between contentment and feeling good).

Then what can I do about it aside from the usual nothing? Well, if my brain insists on being delusional, then I need to let it. I will write myself a placebo and I won't care what it is or how it ends up because it will never see the light of day. I will own the fantasy, the fantasy will not own me.

Now, can I be fine?
I've also been reading the middle part of the book and it wasn't half bad for being on Sertraline (I think it was also half good). I guess I can only do the every day while on the pills. I'll get reacquainted with it and see where it takes me.

July 19, 2014
I need to focus, let's take a deep breath. I do get it now. I think I understand it completely. I think I have come to this conclusion many times before, perhaps I didn't fully believe it because it was one of those science articles that everyone picks up and runs with on the internet and has a tendency to be click bait. I know I use the internet as my primary source of information and research but it is getting to a point where sometimes the internet likes to play the telephone game with itself. I swear it seems like everyone is just using the Daily Mail and not the articles that could be useful that is hiding amongst the celebrity mentions. If I intend on reporting on what I find here, I best be close to being right. Not just for anyone who reads this but for at least myself because I really need it to be right for my own sake (and I do correct myself, I'll admit when I'm wrong). And as I have said before my memory is still crap, particularly when I want to hurry. I also have a tendency that when learn something or reach a conclusion, it vacates the brain.

Sugar is addictive and affects the same parts of your brain as cocaine. You see how that statement sounds like click bait. But you know something, I think I believe it and I should be so thankful that I never got into drugs. Sugar and Cocaine release dopamine into the brain (Youtube blocked the Drugged show from NGC on cocaine. But the episode is still out there if you type Drugged in the search box. Seriously youtube, leave it up! It's for the good of the public). Dopamine is a key component in creativity. I don't feel like myself because I haven't been overwhelming my brain with dopamine lately in the form of sugar. So I get even more stressed out which doesn't help my outlook on life. But I'm still not sure if it's the true definition of depression. My dopamine seems low but could it be because I have always overrun my body with sugar as far back as I can remember (which would be yesterday) that maybe this low dopamine is the normal level and I'm just not used to this. However, on the other hand, it's like a lot of things aren't that fantastic anymore and I can't remember the right words to use sometimes or I mix up words (throughout my life I did that while speaking but now it's infiltrating my writing. People would correct me and I would usually reply "that too"). Then there's the fact that I'm still not associating with people right but then again that could be due to my track record. How can I feel comfortable or trust them when they always cause issues or have problems? I honestly can't be hallucinating this.

The conclusion seems to be here, but I'm still unsure in general (well I guess now I should understand why my GP is guessing so much but it still seems wrong since she went through formal training). We totally need a better way of diagnosing things, DNA treatments, full body scans more readily available, medicines that are better tailored to the individual--something, anything. Or at least rephrase medical research, stop it from becoming click bait with generalized terminology.

It just seems weird that while on the sertraline that I wasn't more depressed (it's magic through modern medical miracles!). Well from what I understood of it, that when it decreases the serotonin, that this would give the dopamine room to function. But it wasn't like everything was overly thrilling to me. I didn't worry at all and I could watch chaos erupt around me. I felt little if anything but it was neither here nor there. It wasn't like I felt voided, I just didn't miss it or notice that it was gone. I was chatty too, pointless and stupid conversations didn't bother me as much. But then again, my writing suffered. I always say that I'm not as bad as it could be--that for a crazy person I'm fairly sane (like I said before, not suicidal or homicidal, I just think everything sucks) so maybe I don't need something that's so strong that it knocks me on my butt for a day like the sertraline did. I almost seem to think that I just need to up the dopamine but then again, I can never be too sure and as far as I know there is no way to measure the amount of brain chemicals running around in the brain on any given day or to even know the balanced normal levels. Then again that kind of technology could open up a can of worms. I hear prozac ups dopamine but do I want to play that game again? It won't correct my brain permanently. I suppose it's the same way with things that can spur dopamine like people, places, music, or eating favorite foods.

It's just that I barely feel any enjoyment from writing and I can barely get back into the universe, I do feel voided in creativity still. A lot is riding on it and I'm working against a bad memory (hard to remember plot details or to be consistent in phrasing), but I don't think I can give up on it or let it go. This is quite possibly the only thing to me that I feel comfortable with, I don't want to lose it. I seriously do not know what I would do with myself if I didn't have writing. The boredom alone would be devastating. I still do write this easily but I guess because I don't have to plot my own life out six months in advance and make up things that I use. Then again, I'm trying to write a world that has poignancy or meaning--I'm not sure if I've ever done that in fiction before even if it's my biggest complaint about everything everywhere (I am a mess of contradictions but seriously it's like people don't try to find meaning or purpose).

Great. Good. I'll leave it at this. I think I can focus on writing better now. Maybe the function is still in here somewhere, it's just going to be different now. I just don't want to waste anymore time, I've done enough.

July 16, 2014

My life is so hard
Don't tell me what to do, DAD.
I do what I want

Dying my hair black
Sulk with Crabby Cat
Listen to Black Veil Brides
Lines encircle my sullen eyes

A curmudgeon at work has a crabby cat he tries to push off on me and an emo daughter. So when he says something preposterous to me, which is often, I have to counter with my best sullen teenager impression--which includes writing poetry. But I never have cared much for poetry so I go the easy route and write haikus (it's more emo!!!). He challenged me with a rhyming one though, so I had to throw down, which took a while. I think I might lack rhythm and only try to rhyme the last word of the stanza. Sometimes my brain likes to fart out incomplete stanzas--they get to go to the word document of no return. One of these days I should clean it out and see if there is anything I can do with it. But I don't think I will because I think poetry books are mostly a waste of time.

Anyway, I got the last half of the book done. Huzzah! I'm back to the point I was before I got off the happy pills and realized I was brain farting out an anticlimactic waste of paper (it was a better waste than most but not good enough). It might still need some accentuating (dress it up, take it out, show it off) but overall, I'm good with it. So now I must rest.

Chill out. I now have until 31 Jan 2015. We have been extended once again! And it don't stop, it keeps going on for-ev-er!

I will have to attribute my success in part to cacao nubs (I was $18 worth of weak! But it has no sugar, no alkali. This might make a difference.) I ate a few handfuls and noted that while I started to feel more like myself, it didn't have the same effect as the mass produced "chocolate." So the conclusion here is that it was the sugar that kept me going, that effected my moods, and wrecked my body ('But I loved you sugar, how could you do this to me?' 'How could I? You are mistaken, you let me!' 'You liar! You told me you were harmless' 'Am I?' 'Yes, and I don't need you!' 'But you do need me, you will always need me, don't you want to be successful? Who will you lean on for support?' 'Noooooooooo!'). Now that I'm off of it, I'm more burned out and unable to get back to the level of function I thought I functioned at. In fact, I should most likely take it easy because I'm still not 100% and the new 100% might be completely different than what I was used to.

So perhaps I was right and am due to get the old pancreas looked at.

I'd also like to share again (I'm so giving), I'd like to bring to your attention this cracked article (I love you, Cracked, don't ever change). This article mentions something that I've heard about before, inflammation.

Dr Blaylock newsletter mentioned inflammation many times before but it escaped me(I have a mess of his newsletters on my desk with interesting things in them. I haven't felt like typing them or even rereading them to summarize). I like to listen to him, he's not an idiot and is an actual doctor, but I guess due to his fringe existence, I take it with a grain of salt (it's obviously working for me so I don't know why I continue to doubt it).

But these sentences stood out: When you're fighting an infection (I have many, mainly respiratory and that one that invaded my ears), stress (that which I cannot handle, never mind the fact I think most of my stress is due to the fact that my immune system is always fighting so I'm always tired), or anything else that the body thinks is bad for it (most everything), your immune system releases proteins called cytokines, some of which cause inflammation. The apathetic mood produced by these little cytokines is known as "sickness behavior," and it's no coincidence that it looks a lot like clinical depression -- among other things, pro-inflammatory cytokines lower serotonin levels, and low serotonin does not exactly equal kittens and rainbows.

The inflammation is crucial to fighting infection which it appears that my body is not doing so well because the congaplex killed the majority of the infection off. Allergies, if I remember right, are also an immune system overreaction. This response also causes low serotonin. So basically, if this is/was happening to me then taking Sertraline (correction: brain hiccuped and I had forgotten what I was on) was quite possibly the worst thing I could do for myself as it is a serotonin inhibitor (given to me by the GP, taken due to the environment at work that finally pushed me over the edge).

Can I go quit everything now and become an eccentric rich hermit (you know my health couldn't handle being a wildlife forager for food)? This world really isn't working for me. At least there in my self imposed exile I won't be unwittingly destroyed by others with neglect and ignorance. It's hard not to agree with my thoughts that I was born to be a commerce pusher only to be literally discarded in a dumpster when I could no longer keep up even if I have made peace with my status (If this is the best I can do then I will own it and stand tall on the highest peak of garbage bags. Besides, someone has to do it anyway).

I'm also seeing a connection to this article and the vaccine fighters for autism. This article mentions that Hepatitis C vaccine is a bringer of inflammation. Babies are not vaccinated with C but are for A and B nowadays. Babies in 1983 only had the big 4: Diphtheria, Tetanus, Polio, and the MMR (Measles, Mumps, Rubella). So it seems to me that it's a possibility (of course, anything is possible) that it could still be partly the excessive use of vaccines themselves and not the aluminum (but that probably isn't helping), that could be causing an overkill immune response that attacks their brains. I would also like to throw in that these kids probably have a genetic disposition to autism as well.

Yaaaaaaaaaay! It's everywhere and all over the place. I need to figure out what my body is doing. I don't know anymore. Weird Al, take us out

Goodnight, indeed.

July 9, 2014
I get results?

Folic acid: normal
B12: high.

I should have known this was going to happen. Sure, it tells me that my intestines are absorbing things (well, I was unsure--I was hoping that this would be the solution the the low oxidizing rate of my blood). But I am eating supplements, namely trace b-12 minerals and neurocalm (which is B vitamins and taurine) as well as occasionally taking a liquid multivitamin and liquid mineral supplement plus my revamped diet of green things, and I have things that are rebuilding my intestines in the form of zymex (supports the healthy pH, maintains the proper flora) and ortho biotic (many prebiotics) plus the occasional mass produced Kombucha drink (a magical mystery drink that has some probiotics in it). So maybe I am absorbing things because A) Iíve overrun my body and it canít help it or B) It is because of the presence of the prebiotics/probiotics which normally arenít there or were killed off earlier in my life. or C) My brain don't care how much I pander to it, it's been damaged and it's just going to do what it wants.

I could very well be on the road to reconstruction but it may take more time than I originally figured (like right now! immediately! I eat pills, things should happen!) which is why I still have my problems. Right now I got my annual summer head cold but I feel like itís less severe (Iím taking like a half dose of Nyquil and one pellet of dayquil because I donít have congaplex which supports my immune system and is better for meand I donít have to cart around a box of Kleenex with me). And I still have my anxieties, occasional sleep problems, memory lapses, general irritated-ness, and thereís still the fact that sugar is not my friend. But therein lies some questions: Is sugar anyoneís friend? Is this irritation that I experience normal because itís always like I can never get anything adequately done because of lack of money, support, or know how, the right people, or technology? As I have asked before and will continue to do so: What exactly is normal? I might very well be sounding paranoid at this point in time but a lot of people around me are oblivious to the function of their bodies until something goes wrong, accept their quirks as something that cannot change, and compensate with stimulants. So what is it?

This test probably should have been done years ago. I donít think getting off all the pills for a week then having someone throw a monkey wrench in the brain works so I could properly spaz out would have given me any other viable result either. I just wanted to know what happened to me, I really want to make it a bit easier to exist in this world and not just in a 40 mile radius around me. You donít get it, I want to eat processed garbage, swell up like a bloated toad, and think itís totally normal. Iím not rich enough to have an entourage of health minders (and if I did know what was exactly what was going on I may not need an entourage of health minders). I donít want to be good at being hypersensitive and I hate that my well being is at the whims and mercy of others (I can only control it so far).

I donít want to feel like I'm only functional by being propped up by pills.

Let me tell you a story. So I was talking to the GP and I said I wanted to get away from the pharmaceuticals for a while because they didnít really cure my major malfunctions. She replied ĎI donít blame you.í But all this time, for the past 23 some odd years that I have been going to her, she was the one giving me the pills. Was I expecting too much out of her or the general practitioner title? When I mentioned that I wanted to test my B vitamins, she said I should be taking Folic Acidóthat pretty much signifies that she was guessing as well as I am now. I realize that maybe I should go to a specialist but I thought I had to go through her to get a recommendation otherwise the specialist might not take me. However, if modern medicine is this inexact what chances do I have with a specialist? Would all I would be doing is wasting my life and money (how much of this will the insurance cover? I'm already paying a lot to be this functional the hard way. Can I even find the right people I need?)? Like I said, the body isnít just one area malfunctioning, I believe that illness is a chain reactionóso if the problem originates in a different system then how can the specialist cure it at all?

A part of me just wants to let the natural stuff take its course but it would be nice to have a name to whatever ails me or a heads up if my liver and pancreas are still kind of damaged. Like I said, Iím not out of the woods, and I would like to speed up the process. I would also like to feel less edgy more often (but then I wouldnít be dark and brooding in a way that makes me seem appealing) but that may be a bigger issue than I can fixóit has a lot to do with what's beyond me. It would depend on the perception people have of me and it rarely stretches beyond being wrong. Iíve been told to not care about what other people think of me and to be what I am but it gets annoying when I am offered no viable solution, no real answers, and no chance at redemption. Itís also tiring constantly being the defense so I guess when I reach that point, itís hard to control anger/frustration even though I do anyway. It's a real conundrum, I know outrage is a emotion for simpletons who don't know any better and anger doesn't get any positive results or change that it demands so I often feel that anything I could be angry about isn't worth it but I must still feel it no matter how much I try to divorce myself from these emotions. Then I often wonder why I try to control this at all when nobody else does (is that normal?)

I'll take a week off before delving into specialist research, I guess. I need to go put together food then lay down with the heatpad on my face--the cold is in my ears right now. And set up the humidifier and sleep when I actually should.

Good night.

July 7, 2014
Here's some light reading for you, while we wait for my b12 results.

Also, here are some emo kid haikus that someone prompted me to write at work, because I know you love emo kid haikus (this is quite possibly my best work):

Nobody understands
Emo kid eyeliner smears
Everything sucks, ugh.

Crabby Cat eats souls
Devour what is left here
It used to be yours

Good night!

July 5, 2014
Yesterday, I pretended I was normal (noooooooooormal). I went out to a new cafe in town that is making an attempt to make healthy food without things like processed meats. I had curry chicken salad on a seemingly normal bun, and they had a few pieces of fruit with it. They had hot chocolate so I ate that too (it was either that, coffee, sugared/locally produced sodas, and sweet tea--all things I shouldn't eat above this. Then the family and I went out with the masses to Fair St. Louis at Forrest Park (this is generally avoided) which after some minor adjustments (the crowd kind of did bother me but it was spread out so it wasn't that bad--there was also a no-goodnik that set off m80s at various intervals in the crowd) I was able to sit and do nothing for a few hours (there was like this big flaming ball in the sky!). I ate a giant turkey leg (which tasted funny but was probably the best option for me), drank some lemonade (not overkill in sweetness), drank some water, and ate like a 1/4 of a cup of my sister's dippin dots.

My old childhood anxiety about staring up at fireworks came out but it was less severe--it seemed to be a problem when huge ones went off and expanded at us.

I got home at midnight, drank some cranberry juice, and slept a grand total of 2 hours then got up for a while because I was overheating, slept 3 more hours only to get up at 5 am to eat a yogurt and a spoonful of wheatgrass powder all the while hacking up a lung.

There's my evidence that I can't process things well. I'm going to have to become one of those people who carry around food with them when they travel. I can't be convenient anymore. I probably never could but now it's noticeable and my body prefers to loudly protest. At least being this careful now (sigh) I possibly won't get fat? I need someone else to manage this nonsense for me.

It's probably that way for many people but they don't realize it. We took the metrolink--they had crowd control in place but in order to keep it under control they crammed as many people as they could in the trains and there were twice as many trains running. It was like I was traveling in Japan only from the comfort of my own home. But a of crowd of people just lost their minds in this situation --one minute they were screaming at each other, the next I thought they were doing some sort of cheer both at the top of their lungs. Then there must have been a fight (though I don't see how they got very far) because other people decided to stand up on their chairs to watch. The cops got on at the first stop in East St. Louis and it got quieter after the Washington Park stop. I strangely enough didn't have a problem with this, I wasn't that close to it for the most part and I ended up tuning it out.

Sure it was fun?

Water, water everywhere, not a drop to drink.

July 4, 2014
I need to stop pushing myself. But like I said, work is shaking up (congress did things alright, perhaps bad things, people are going to be losing their jobs in job one), and I am doing a lot better than I have in the past. There is a part of me that thinks my brain will do what it wants when it wants so this era of copacetic brain ability might stop eventually even though I know what causes it and how to stop it. Today is a good day, I got to sleep in and the veins on my arms are not popping out. Maybe it is just work agitating me then I feel I have to make it up and keep pushing so I can go or have an adequate safety net in the form of book if push came to shove. This will do me no good--kind of makes me wonder if I'm cut out for book writing deadlines. I will Anyway, I have one more bit in the last half of the book to put in. I'm mulling over how I can put it in without it being overwrought. I'm trying to do something here that may not be always done in writing. I want the questions in this book, I don't want it to be clear, let it be complicated. I want it to live, I want to break hearts. It has the potential to be easily accusatory, and perhaps that is a fatal flaw. It's just hard because the very nature of the narrative is simplicity in that it only is from one point of view.

Much to ponder then.

Return to the beginning of nothing!