After days of eating lunches in solitude at the newly discovered Fresh Choice in Capitola and (partly) working on my thesis, I took an opportunity to hang out with a couple of my dearest friends (while still working on my thesis). In this time I was able to see more fully my condition. “Plots, plots, plots, plots, what the fuck does it all mean? Nothing, really. What? The fuck I care! Shut up please (with a smile). Damn, I'm not violent, but I have the urge to smash your head against a window and watch the glass shatter. I don't want to hurt you, but I can still imagine it can't I?

The apocalypse, the great spiritual awakening, timewave zero, the winter solstice. Those are the various different events attributed to 21 December 2012.  They are so varied, that the only conclusion I can come is that none will happen (except the winter solstice which is a pretty established event that takes place every year). 

It takes great effort before it becomes effortless.

The trick is to do everything with great intent and focus.

THE BRAIN IS THE KEY TO ITSELF

One of the hardest actions of a strong person can be to let go. Weak people hold on to what is no longer necessary.

I’m in the city of lore 
where the ‘Great Beast’ once roamed.
There stood a blazing time 
where no water could be found but only overflowing foundations fountains of men’s blood.
Now a city of wankers,
too blended to be any good,
too busy to progress.
It’s cool and everyone looks for the truth in your eyes.
Shape-shifting spies in the land of conspiracy and deceit. 
They can stand everything but themselves 
for inside is a bomb waiting to explode into love, hate, and endless confusion.

An honest dialogue with the self is a beautiful thing. When there is pain it will seek to heal. One must embrace the pain or else it will remain terrifying.

“Dialogue with others is often empty and mind numbing, it’s sometimes intellectually stimulating (usually when I’m drunk) and rarely emotionally charged. I do admit that it’s hard for me to express my true emotions as I will either seem uneasy and nervous or falsely detached and cold. This is an indication that I have yet to face myself entirely.”

Of all writings I love only that which is written with blood. Write with blood: and you will discover that blood is spirit.

It is not an easy thing to understand unfamiliar blood: I hate the reading idler.

He who knows the reader, does nothing further for the reader. Another century of readers - and spirit itself will stink.

That everyone can learn to read will ruin in the long run not only writing, but thinking too.

Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it is even becoming mob.

To be aware of a very possible mass extinction of the human species brought on by the human species makes me sick to my stomach. Going down, down, killing ourselves because we are controlled by money and false power. False power destroys us. I stare into the world as though it were my last viewing. My only reason to live is for the beauty in all. Beauty in destruction? Perhaps so, but it should not be so unconscious as it is. Unconscious destruction for the sake of ego preservation is not beauty.

I hate everyone and everything. I just want to be alone. I’m not depressed, I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. If you saw me writing this in a coffee shop you’d think I might be a nice girl, and you would be right. I am a nice fucking girl, but with all the bullshit in the world sometimes you can’t help but think, “bloody hell.” I’m just as guilty as anyone to have created as much shit as you.

…Ah, to be decedent and uncontrolled. The forces overcome my Will to hold my cravings back. What is this craving but a craving for regress and stagnation? This is the worst kind of personal sin. A personal sin so permeated world-wide with sinners laughing the the face of those that cannot even feed their family. Progress is not defined in terms of technicalities, true progress must be gauged by the greater whole, how it benefits all, not solely by the stick of business and economy. So my quest for healing myself turns into healing the world.

Every day I uncover something new.
Every day I've been 'coming to terms' with things.
I'm going to start to loathe that phrase soon. 
I feel like I've been keeping myself from a part of my womanhood.
Whatever that means.
I've been opening up.
Through art, finding unsuspecting beauty through photography, constructing abstract images still foreign to the front lines of my waking consciousness.

"Only a handful of people define their talents prior to acquiring their driver's licenses; few still find themselves in an environment supportive of their aspirations; and even fewer enjoy liberal access to the tools and training necessary for the cultivation of their possible genius. Yet we often compare ourselves with this fortunate few when judging our own abilities.

Dear Readers,

He had the night of his life. She fucked him so hard that it was extremely hard for him not to cum right away, but she didn’t mind. That’s exactly what she wanted. She took pleasure in being able to invoke such godly sensations in someone she had just met, it raised her self-esteem and of course, she had self-image issues. She used every one-night stand as a therapy session that was usually short-lived. She never really gave herself the chance to recover from the break-up of her seven-year relationship, the only relationship she’d ever had.