Convince Yourself in Current Events

I’ve filled my coffee mug with delusion this morning. Convince Yourself. I’m about to do that thing where I write down all of my plans for next week on my weekly planner. Below that I write a list of things that I want and need to accomplish. This will give me a hit of dopamine and I will feel like I actually did something. I’ll feel like I actually advanced my goals but deep down I know that I will not do anything.

Mind you, that list is significantly smaller. Come to think of it, it’s the things that my social anxiety is triggered by. Regardless, I’m getting tired of my own shit. As I said to my roommate when I initiated our big talk, that’s pretty shitty and I’m tired of getting shitty.

Tom you big bloated bitch on Prosebox, get your life right. You don’t love yourself.

I do plenty of things out of self-love. I’m just very stressed about some of my circumstances. The solutions to those problems are simple, but not easy. Just get a better job. Go to school. Get that doctorate. The stress is what is crushing my soul on those days when I can barely move. Sometimes when I am feeling my own dead weight I do wish that I had a better half. A partner who could lift me up. Somebody who understands what I am saying when I talk about the things I am passionate about. Somebody who actually knows what to say when I am feeling down. Somebody who is supportive and assertive. Basically, myself lol. A girl can dream.

I’m a big personality and what I present to the world takes a lot of energy. I don’t mind. However, it takes a lot to put Humpty Dumpty back together again when he falls apart. I’ve not fallen apart but I am silently slipping. Not so silently on Prosebox. In real life, I am a man and so I have to be stoic. In general, I don’t like to show pain and fear. Don’t have to be a man to understand that. I don’t like to appear vulnerable because I’ve learned that this world is full of parasitic people. I’ve been parasitic people. Once they smell weakness it is like a moth to a flame. I’ll be surrounded by cluster B’s again.

Existential crisis aside, I am driving out to Brandon for the night to visit my sister. I’m bringing my other sister. I’m looking forward to it. The drive can suck it, however. I’m not looking forward to that. On the way out, Leanne wants to grab breakfast at the Falafel place. Her childhood friend is in town and it is her last day in the province. I really like their Vegan Heaven breakfast so I’m looking forward to that as well. Then tomorrow Alex and Bruce invited me to a house party that their friend Vicki is hosting. Vicki wants me to come. It’s a pride party. They want me to go to the parade on Sunday, and so does my workplace, but I draw the line there. It’s 9 parts political indifferences and 1 part I’m just too old for every aspect of it. I can’t make it anyway because it is my Grandmothers birthday and we are having a family picnic at a park.

Today is payday and I once again just made enough. If only I was acting my wage. Though it is financial stress that unravels me, I am ok. I should say that 20x every morning. T={…I Am Ok. I Am Ok. I Am Ok…} Things need to be better though. Maybe that non-profit I interviewed for will call me Monday and everything will magically become better? Testicles crossed.

A few weeks ago I heard a voice. Last night I remembered the last time I heard a voice before that. It was one that woke me right up as well. PLEASE! It was a few years ago. I just hit rock bottom and moved into my sister’s basement. We laughed about it when I told them. Then when I told her aunt-in-law, she started crying. Did it sound like PLEASE! and she mimicked the voice perfectly. Turns out that is all her mother said the last two weeks of her life. She died from cancer and the pain was too much, she was begging for it all to end. The voice I heard a few weeks ago sounded like my grandmother. Serve your community. It said. It crossed my mind last night because I caught myself asking the universe for a sign again. That one is pretty crystal clear. Along came the synchronicities, 888, after I heard that voice.

There is a new development to my potential schizophrenia. I am seeing things. Photopsias is the phenomenon of seeing lights and patterns when one closes their eyes or when one is in a dark room. I used to play with that when I was a kid. Last night while I was focusing on it for no good reason I started to see things. These lights started to form faces which would fade in and out quickly enough. It was creepy. I kept hoping that they would not see me. Can’t say that I enjoyed it. I almost slept with the light on.

Anyway, whatever happened with creating content for your socials? I ask myself. Is that another project I started that I will never finish? I woke up and had an idea bout the ebook I wanted to write, regarding the rabbit hole. I don’t want it to be loaded with information because that won’t have any effect. I can tell a person the truth but I can’t make them believe it. They have to actually use their own discernment which is a skill that is deeply underdeveloped. We have old and out-of-touch people who will filter everything through Snopes for crying out loud. That is not a legitimate form of discernment. Worse than that, we have people who will not believe anything until it is on the news. Anyway, my big idea is to make it a children’s book. It won’t be for children but it will be dumbed down enough for the normies. These creeple think that the burden of truth is on us but it isn’t. They’re not entitled to it, for starters, but it will not add any value. They’re too demoralized to process information. I can only breadcrumb and hope that it will lead people to where they need to go to discover it for themselves. They have to push through their cognitive dissonance and social conditioning on their own. We shall see if I can make something actually happen with that idea. With my track record, I wouldn’t bet on me.

Anyway, the day is young. I have a few hours to kill before I have to leave. I shall get on with it then. It’s going to be a busy weekend. I wonder how many days next week I will end up crushed in bed by my own dead weight. Where I’m dead inside. Not a good feeling anymore. I joke about it but… it’s not what I want. On with it then.