i feel like saying that i'm not into camping is equivalent to admitting that i'm a satanist or something. camping has become so mainstream that it feels frowned upon to say you don't like going camping, as if that means you cannot appreciate nature. i like cabins. i do not like having to voluntarily live as if i were homeless. my parents are obsessed with camping. i used to be into it but it's way too much effort and physical labor for the payoff.
i have a strong urge to re-read story of the eye.
i have never seen a crumbl cookie that looks appetizing. those things look ai-generated.
endless yearning for an elegant and beautiful winter coat. my search to find the perfect winter trenchcoat led me to a rabbit hole of warm fabrics. i discovered the beauty of camel hair and angora rabbit fur. my dream is to own a 100% qiviut handknitted scarf.
there is a part of all of us that no one will ever know, not even ourselves. there is a deep, underlying, hidden well of information and pure imminence within each one of us that is completely unknown to us. call it what you will: the collective unconscious, collective memory, anima mundi, etc. it's there. it has always been there. no matter how much everyone is alienated and divided from each other. . . and this unconscious is much greater and profound than anything in our working memory and what we know of as our "personality." no... there's something within you that you never knew. if you could channel it what would happen? i am going to look for the answers ...
i truly think i am one of those people who are incapable of reaching ego death. why? it would be so painful and tortorous: i genuinely believe it would lead to an acute psychotic episode, or at the very least i would be unable to live my life normally again. i have come extremely close to reaching ego death, and never again. it was the most terrifying experience of my life. it left me in a dissociative state for a few months, where i did not recognize myself in the mirror and life constantly felt like a dream. nothing felt real, it was like i had died and ended up in limbo. imagine looking at your hands and body and not recognizing them, not feeling like that your body is "you". what had happened was i had almost reached ego death and transcended. but an inkling of myself did not let go, refused to let go, refused to surrender. i stayed. my ego stayed. i knew i was not ready to let go, i was too young and stupid. letting go would have meant forgetting everything i had ever known and being reborn again. and the unknown territory that leads to horrifies me. would i end up in a mental hospital, confused for the rest of my days? how does one go on living, go on partaking in a society of customs, rules, social norms, and culture, when you have completely transcended? it feels impossible. i would have to live in a cave, head shaved, wearing a robe, meditating for the rest of my days. a little buddhist nun of some sort. i am weak and would rather hold onto my ego and live a normal life like the rest of the general population. once you lose yourself, you can never go back. it's like taking the red pill in the matrix.
i have never tried psychedelics, except microdosing on shrooms (does that even count?). never have i have ever tried lsd, dmt, datura, salvia, mescaline, peyote, etc. i vow to never, ever, under any circumstance, take psychedelic drugs. it will take me an entire lifetime to be ready for such a thing. i am 100% sure i am guaranteed to have a horrifying hellish trip that would leave me in psychosis. i read a book call the doors of perception by aldous huxley. in it he elaborates on his psychedelic experience under the influence of mescaline including his mystical insights. a part of me desperately wants to get in touch with the mystical in this way, but i'm terrified. . . i feel like i am currently too immersed in living like a "normal functioning" human being with a career to be prepared for such a thing.
i'm going to work on my dream journal again. i wish i kept track of my dreams more often. i have some truly vivid and symbolic dreams that i promise i'd write about and then never did. forever lost somewhere deep in my neurotransmitters. i used to be into dream analysis but i felt like my dreams became too complex to even dissect anymore, especially after my dad died in 2022. after my dad died i had nonstop dreams about him for 2 years, and they were always nightmares. everything is a symbol.
really excited to incorporate a "habits" and "calendar" section into my website
trying to figure out how to write a love poem without sounding cliche or overly-sentimental. i am a sentimental person. i write poems for myself but there is always a subconscious, invisible audience of voyers inside my head.
coding and web design is like art therapy for me
i didn't realize that spinelessness was also a sin. this helps me a lot.
no, you don't have autism. you have a social media addiction.
with the weather getting cold now, i'm craving fondue and hearty beefy soups like crazy.
coloured by the stars of the night sky the light of the moon gathers in the dreams of night.
proposing in public is social blackmail
sauté your mushrooms, kids. it truly does make all the difference!
gacha is basically socially permissible online gambling.