Between class.

I have been busy writing in my paper journal lately. The experience is wholly different than livejournaling. The writing seems to be more callow and undressed.

I did many things this break. When I have more time I will recap for the sake of reflection. That is something I did much of this break: reflect. It proved to be powerful.

Reflection can take on two separate modes for me. One is passive, slow, almost regressive. The other is active, aggressive, and fastidious. I use the word regressive in the former because I find that, after much sauntering, I sometimes wake, so to speak, in unfamiliar places. This requires a slight regress in order to retrace my steps, or thoughts, back to more familiar ground. The passive reflection I speak of, with its regressive tendencies, is equally effective at discovering new ground. We go through life with our attention turned towards the seemingly pertinent details of the journey. We have a good idea of where we are going, a vague road map of the path ahead and the frontier beyond, but we seldom, if ever, consider the circumspection of our surroundings as they are. We are too busy caught up in the pace. So passive reflection can be good.

I’ll ruminate on the active reflection later.

Enough rambling for now.

Moleskine. ramble.

I bought my first Moleskine today.

I am almost embarrassed to admit it. I have been keeping a paper journal for the past decade. It started out as a way to expunge my deepest thoughts, then evolved into a monotonous log of my days, and eventually became an outlet for my creative energies- a mix of art, writing, and collections of photos and keepsakes. I have always been extremely particular about my journal, which is why I am almost embarrassed to admit that I’ve just now found out about the Moleskine. My first journal was black and leather bound. While it was ruled, I was quick to switch to a plain notebook journal where I could sketch, draw doodles in the margins, and play with fonts. I found that ruled paper for journaling is too stifling. It puts these constraints on your writing and your creativity. So I’ve had these black leather bound plain notebooks for the past ten years or so, filling up around eight journals. (Moleskine are black oilcloth bound journals with superb paper than just grabs the inspiration right out of your pen.) They’re pretty much uniform and identical. Something I like. I also am particular about using a black fountain ink pen. I like the rawness it portrays on the paper. It also doesn’t require as much energy to write as a ball point pen does. You just lightly grasp and gently drag it over the surface and it captures all the tension and hidden feelings behind every word. anyway. I leave for Florida tomorrow. It’ll be good to see the fam.

Brio. Doc.

I should be updating more often.

This Monday I visited Dr. White. Turns out my drug test results were clean. I will admit, I was concerned, but not worried. Had my results returned positive, I would have accepted it as fate. Not sure how the Doc would have received it, especially after hearing about my drug history. I wouldn’t have blamed him either. It would be ironic as hell.

The day of my appointment I was apprehensive and nervous. I had been so straightforward with him throughout our discussions, making no attempt to avoid complete transparency. It came to mind that having a drug test come up positive would instantly jeopardize my integrity and dismiss my entire credibility. Though, I knew my intentions were pure and I should have nothing to worry about.

I arrived at his office a bit later than usual and sat in the waiting room. I peeked my head around the corner and noticed his office door open. It was 4:36pm. My appointment was a 4:30pm. I sat a few minutes longer till 4:41pm, checking around the corner every so often to catch the noises coming from his office. I explored my nervous thoughts: “Do I wait here, or do I go to his open door to alert him of my presence? Had my results come back positive? Was he upset I was a few minutes late? I wonder what he thinks of me, test results positive and I’m showing up late? What does this say about me”. Silly thoughts.

So, dismissing my thoughts, I coolly decided that I should take some sort of action. I cautiously approached the door and saw him sitting at his desk, tapping on the keys of the computer. I knocked on the frame. “Hey Doc”, I said impishly, and he swung around on his chair, “I apologize, but I arrived a few minutes late and wasn’t sure if I missed you and should let you know I’m here, or if I should have continued waiting in the hall for you…” Before I had finished talking, he was at the door to greet me, motioning for me to enter. “Well you’re right,” he asserted, “you were late and you should have waited, but now you’re here so that’s not important. Come, sit down.” His remarks felt chastising, yet harmlessly casual. It left me feeling like I had committed a foul act, but that since the deed was done, life will continue best if we forget it. Weird.

I sat down and asked him how he was today, handing him the student-appointment form. Candidly, he relied “Good. Sorry we won’t be talking about your existential god crisis today. I know you don’t wanna talk about that anymore. That was fun for a bit, and I hope you figured that out, but we’re gonna talk about some more pertinent business today.”

In my head I was like… um… wait… uh… I do like talking about that. I thought that was a constructive conversation. jerk. wait.. pertinent business? my drug test…eek. what does that mean?

He asked how I had been feeling since then. I explained I started a disciplined workout regimen with a friend, and that I felt great. I told him how easy it was to be swallowed by the vacuum of stressful workloads and forget that the very cure was making time to work out. He agreed like it was a poor excuse to an obvious truth.

“So you’re drug test results came back today…,” he paused, leaving a suspension of silence hanging in the air as he rummaged through papers on his desk, then continued “clean, so we will get you a prescription written today.” Gosh. I gave a reluctant sigh of relief, simply because I had been telling myself I was clean all along and that it didn’t matter anyway.

The remainder of the appointment involved taking my blood pressure, explaining possible drug side effects, and ways to contact him in the event of an emergency such as a manic attack (wtf? I guess this is s.o.p.) or any other crisis. He printed out the prescription, explained how to fill it, and handed it to me folded. I felt like I was doing a drug deal. I just acquired a class 1 drug. Speed. Amphetamines.

I suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Guilt I quickly dodged. Psychiatrists and their drugs. He is not interested my in my well-being, per se. Psycho-pharmacology. I guess it’s not his job to care about the person, since he doesn’t fix people. His drugs do that work. Psychiatrists save the job of caring about a persons mental well-being to psychologists and therapists. Why the hell do I feel like this is a faulty way of approaching patients? This is a false dichotomy. The mind and body? The mind and brain? They are one in the same and should be treated as such. He’s probably a shitty doctor. I know there are great ones out there. Just irks me.

That doctor was too highfalutin, too self absorbed to notice the humbled and searching state of a person’s spirit when they seek the help of a doctor to guide them through their distress. Instead they are viewed as potentially damaged creatures where, upon his divinely authorized discretion, he provides the devices to cure them. Aye.

So he prescribed me Vyvanse, on the account that Vyvanse can not be abused since it metabolizes into dextroamphetamine only after it is processed by the liver. Initially he wanted to put me on 40 mg, which seemed like a high dose considering 20 mg of Adderall makes me feel like I’m on crack, but I explained that stimulants plague me with anxiety, so he reduced it to 30 mg. We’ll see how this works out.

My first day was pretty great. I mean, I’m still not fond of feeling like I’m on drugs, but its incredible how on-task I become. It is not a cure all by any means, and my environment and local distractions still play a major role in whether I continue to stay on task. However, when I place myself in a distraction free zone, with a check list of priorities, things get done without the hassle of battling random thoughts in my head.

At the moment I feel out of sorts. My thoughts aren’t too linear. Thanksgiving break started yesterday, but I’m at a debate tournament at Appalachian State University. I’m not debating, though. No partner since the majority of people decided to go home for break. I figured I could gain some additional experience.

blah. done.


We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action. ~Frank Tibolt

You must actively mine for inspiration. It does not fall out of the sky and into our lap. If life is dull and pallid and limp, decide on an attractive and necessary undertaking, and dig. You will find treasure.

We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action. ~Frank Tibolt

You must actively mine for inspiration. It does not fall out of the sky and into our lap. If life is dull and pallid and limp, decide on an attractive and necessary undertaking, and dig. You will find treasure.


If only people were more concerned with learning the truth than being right. It is uncomfortable, dare I say painful, to navigate into unfamiliar waters. You bump and skid and fumble in the murky unknown, moving ever so slowly and grasping ever so gently for something to guide you. This is where understanding begins to blossom.

I detest using language with sweeping generalities like ‘the majority of people’, but I’ll say it. The majority of people are more concerned with being right than being correct (correct in the sense that the focus of the intellect should be to reveal and expound upon truth, not defend pride). No ones senses are any better equipped at feeling out the world than another. Every human experience is valuable. Each person’s input contributes to the larger picture, the ethereal essence we swim through called life.

It is terribly difficult to live along side people who are uncompromising, and incorrect. They would rather form gross prejudices and have the world cater to narrow belief systems them venture into uncomfortable compromise. Learning from someone, especially someone who’s background is quite contrary to yours, is not only disorienting, it is threatening. You open yourself up to vulnerabilities. You arsenal of knowledge is useless in this foreign land. You are at the mercy of time and humiliation (humility should be practiced anyway).

Over time, after you’ve felt your way around the new sanctuary of perspicacity, you begin to make yourself at home. You begin to trust your senses and use the footings and tools previously overlooked. This is when understanding is garnered. Let others hurl insults from their fortified and familiar bunkers, filled with the stench of stale familiarity. They take no risks so they never breath the fresh zephyrs trailing after pursuit. Instead they become entrenched in their defenses, fastening themselves to the most hackneyed ground.

Sad, sad, world. If we would only unhinge from our precious securities, cast off the trammels holding us down, we would see a world beyond our narrow apertures as we explore the vast wilderness of imagination.

You must be willing to endure the humiliating pains of blindness before true insight is gained. anyway.

Prose Writer.

So… today I had a surge of inspiration. Recently I’ve been having a ton of conversations with friends, usually about life and my experiences. At the end of the conversations they tell me my stories are inspiring and I should write a book. I’ve been planning on writing one simply for my own gratification, if not for publication, for a long time now. The reason I haven’t started one was because I was convinced my story wasn’t compelling enough, or I wasn’t finished evolving as a person, or I didn’t have a pinnacle experience to top it off. And I actually still believe I need to finish my evolution and have a mega achievement. However, I have plenty of my past that I can still write about and work on. I realized that I have a plethora of stories that I typically tell people- therapist, psychiatrists, friends, family- when I explain my past. These stories mark monumental turning points or make up major components of my past that shaped who I am today. I decided to outline each of these components and turning points. As I did this, a chronological outline of my life began to emerge. It was sort of exciting to see each of the words that marked these influential experiences.

On the outline- each word marks a vital experience that has made me who I am today. I have carried these stories with me- in my head, journals- in an effort to help me explain my origin, my development- who I am. The next step is to simply begin writing these stories out. These are stories I’ve told dozens of times- whether it was to myself or to others.

I’ve contemplated this book/ writing process for a long time now. Initially I thought a self help book would be the best book I could write. Overcoming depression etc etc. Or maybe a manual for parents. Then I thought an autobiography would be easiest where I simply dictate different events in my life in the first person. I still don’t know. All I know is that I want to to touch on every experience, dilemma, emotion, struggle, triumph, passion, love, achievement, defeat that a person goes through when they grow up. I just want to explain my experiences in an effort to convey to the world, or just the ones searching, that someone else shares the intimate sufferings and joys of life, on some level or another.

Anyway… I have a ton of work to get done tonight. I’m sorta burned out. (at a policy dabate meeting right now- listening to my peers practice their 1&2AR/NR’s.

Here’s the outline… its too large to keep it in its nice format so yea.

Book Outline

1. Childhood
a. Family
i. Mother
1. Influence
ii. Father
1. Influence
iii. Sisters
a. Origin
b. Moving/Transitions
i. CA
ii. VA
iii. IA
iv. NJ
v. Home Renovations
c. School
i. Academics
ii. Medication
1. 1st grade
d. Adventures
e. Christianity
i. Influence
2. Middle School
a. 6th grade
b. 7th grade
i. School life
1. Academics
a. Stop Medication
a. Trouble
i. Detentions Suspension
1. Friends
a. Joe
b. Mike W
c. Steve
ii. Home Life
1. Family
2. Friends
a. Nolan
ii. Depression
1. Self Mutilation
2. Suicide Pact
iii. Joe Suicide
1. private school-public school transition
2. Therapy/counseling
ii. Summer
1. Hospitalization
a. medication
b. 8th grade
i. School
ii. Friends
iii. Depression
1. self mutilation
iv. Best friend Jamie
v. Experimentation
1. NYE alcohol
vi. Music
3. High School
a. 9th grade
i. school
1. academics
2. extracurriculars
3. Sports
4. Friends
ii. experimentation
1. alcohol
2. weed
a. trouble/ fires
iii. Parties
iv. Decision to transfer to vfma
b. 10th grade
1. Boarding school life
a. Crazy experiences
2. Academics
a. 1st semester
b. 2nd semester
3. Sports
4. Lifting
5. yearn for music
ii. Experimentation
1. drugs
a. pills
iii. Honor Council
iv. Party
1. 300 ppl
2. lost virginity
3. rape
4. epic
5. police
v. Depression
vi. Decision to transfer back
c. 11th grade
i. School
1. Academics
2. Friends
a. close circle of friends
ii. Arielle
iii. Mallory
iv. Todd Suicide
v. Depression Coping
1. Self Medication
a. Drugs- gp’s
i. benzodyazopines
ii. pain killers
2. Parents hands off
vi. OD
1. hospitalization
a. Bridgeton Adolescent Mental Health Unit
b. Arthur Brisbane State Mental Hospital
i. Experiences
c. Outpatient
vii. Summer School
viii. Move to florida
d. 12th grade
i. School
1. Academics
ii. Culture change
iii. Love affair
1. Jenn
1. Jon
iv. Jobs
v. Friends
1. development of groups
a. jupiter
b. dwyer
c. school of the arts- marrissa etc
vi. Partying/ Experimentation
1. Drugs
a. alcohol
a. weed
b. pills
c. shrooms
d. lsd
e. ecsatsy
f. cocaine
g. cb-i
h. CCC
i. absinthe
2. Girls
3. Fights
a. Moniques/ Phil
b. etc
4. Offroading
c. Random occ.
5. Tattoos/ piercings
6. Addiction
a. Drop out
b. kicked out of house
i. marrissas house
ii. Jesses
7. Partial intervention
a. sobriety/ partial recovery
8. Marines
d. Jon
e. Bailout
9. Job: Oakwood grill
a. Jacob
10. Rachel
4. Young Adult: 19-20
a. Rise of Recovery
i. Job: Cheesecake factory
ii. Partying
1. Halloween fights
iii. Selling to erin
iv. Kicked out/ Homelessness
1. Jons house
2. drug binge
3. hit bottom
b. Revelation
i. Reflection
1. Thoughts
2. Books
ii. Personal responsibility
a. rent
b. car
c. phone
d. job
i. admirals cove
iii. Night School
1. HS Dipolma
iv. Tommy Copeland
v. Apply to college
vi. Ariel
1. Beginning
2. Middle
3. End
a. Breakup
b. Chad
vii. Routine
viii. Balance
5. Landmark College
a. Year 1
i. First Impressions
ii. Academics
1. study ethics 4.0
iii. Extracurriculars
iv. Search for truth
v. Friends
1. scott
2. influences
vi. Life-> balances
b. SW Company
i. Houston
c. Year 2
i. Beginning of loss of faith
1. transitions
2. influences
d. SW Company
i. Wisconsin
ii. coming home
e. Summer Vegetation
6. Vanderbilt University
a. Fall 09
i. School
1. first impressions
2. academics
3. extracurriculars
ii. Existential Crisis

Time is our pilot.

Time is our pilot.

We hear the incessant beeping of the alarm in the morning, open our eyes and look at the time. 7am. Out of bed. Hygiene, dressing, and preparing for classes and packing bags. 7:45am. I have 25 min for breakfast. My decisions are dictated by time. Time is piloting us…

I would much rather have an excess of suffering or joy than an absence of either.

just hung out with dirt nasty and andre legacy. um… smoked a blunt with them.

dirt nasty, aka simon, is pretty much a drug addict. andre is chill as hell, i’m so drunk i cannot even tell you whats goinb on. tomorror w. ildd clarify


The gym beckoned my presence, and I responded. Never too late to get your butt in gear.

When my hall mate found out that I use to lift pretty hardcore he set out on a mission make me his workout partner. He’s been trying to goad me for the past month, and today he was victorious. And so was I, because it felt amazing. I’ll be honest though, being slightly out of shape (grossly understated) makes working out a little more difficult than usual. I am committed though. There are no legitimate excuses that could prevent me from getting back in shape.

My goal is this: stay disciplined (work out 4-5 times weekly), be intense while in the gym (this means no lollygagging around, and lift heavy and hard and fast), and eat healthy (no more simple carbohydrates, eat smaller portioned & more frequent meals, and more greens). Lastly is sleep, but that won’t be possible so I didn’t include it on the list.

Regarding sleep, my sleep schedule is horrendous. A typical sleep cycle: Go to bed round 2-3am, work/school at 8am-3pm, sleep 4-7pm, study/clubs/workout/dinner 7-10, study 10pm-4am, REPEAT. wow. Thats 7-8 hours a day, broken up into 3-4 hour sleep sessions. Since when was it decided that this would be healthy?

So, this paper needs to be written, and its killing me. Like, internally, anxiety and stress are killing me. I look at the six pages I have written and ask myself ‘who the hell wrote that?’ and ‘what the hell are you talking about?’ and the answers I keep coming up with are: I-don’t-know.

Another thing: ‘I’ need to stop using the first person when writing and completely annul the noun ‘I’.

Deus ex machina.

So I visited my psychiatrist yesterday. The drug test wasn’t in. This means one of two things. Either a) The drug testing is taking a little longer than expected, or b)I tested positive for something, probably mj. I don’t know whether to be too worried. As much as I could care less if I was medicated, I notice myself constantly looking forward to getting that prescription and getting things done more efficiently.

More importantly. I told my doctor about my existential crisis. I explained my transition from a godly upbringing and accepting a life where god was at the center of everything, to a life of skepticism and existentialism where I am at the center of everything.

My doctor was unusually matter of fact about it. What stuck out in my mind was his initial response: ‘Well we know god does exist.’ Whoa. This was coming from an… atheist? I was trying to wrap my head around this one. He followed it up by saying “God exists as much as music exist.”
whoa again. what the hell does that mean.

He made it sound like it was something obvious. Apparently, according to him, we create god, just like we create music. It follows from some sort of logic, however fallacious, and is communicated with people universally. What I couldn’t reconcile with the parallel was the diversity of music.Does he mean the essence of music is comparable to god? I mean, music may be different to different people, but at the core there is a universally held notion that music exists, despite how it is manifested and the utility behind its creation. (also I was thinking the other day… music is the only art that happens. You cannot experience music in a moment. It is a sequence of moments that culminate into art. More on that later)

So music. The thing is, while there is a universal understanding (accept it as real or not, everyone has a conception of what (a) god is) of a higher power, like the universal understanding of music (vibrations that form some sort of rhythm), music manifests in a multitude of ways. does this mean there is a multitude of gods? Doesn’t that taint the conception of a perfect truth. Being raised in a monotheistic society, I suppose my mind cannot fully appreciate this sort of pantheism.

Anyway… my doctor even recommended pastoral counseling. I was a little shocked. I mean… I would never reject help, but I’ve definitely been through those routines time and time again and it hasn’t shed any light on the dilemmas impeding personal growth.

A revelation, or the beginning of one, began to emerge throughout our conversation.

God was necessary. Existentialism is not good. Faith is important. Blind faith, even ignorance, can be vitally important for ones happiness.

He told me to stop looking for answers and begin asking questions. I was like… wtf dude. Thats how I got to where I am today. I began to challenge and undermine my antiquated beliefs. Now I have no up or down, the earth has unhinged from the sun, and I’m falling upwards towards oblivion.

But God seems to be a construction of the mind that exists in everyone, and is necessary. God is real. He exists in people. Doesn’t that make him just as real as other idea?
But I want to know where this idea of God stems from. I understand a large part of my erudition, logic, and rational is derived from the world around me. The natural world is ordered, and observing these ordered actions and reactions has sharpened my intellect and established understanding. Emotional experiences are not governed by rational principles. They are carnal and instinctual impulses.

Where does this conception of god arise? From our lack of understanding? When we fail to comprehend the order in this world, or pathos that arise from trauma, do we manifest an ideal that assuages our confusion and provides solace? Do we name this collection of ideals, usually perfect, God?

Still confused.

I’m reading Kant though and, while he doesn’t offer up a solution to these problems, I appreciate his methodology for arriving at right action. He formulates and proposes the categorical imperative procedure where we develop maxims based on the contingencies we encounter through life. These maxims serve as principles for righteous living and a platform for action.
There’s more to it than that, but basically it’s a way for us to be our own god, yet not infringe upon the dignity of others.

I used to think it was a terrible thing that life was so unfair. Then I thought, ‘what if life were fair, and all of the terrible things that happen to us came because we really deserved them?’ Now I take great comfort in the general unfairness and hostility of the universe.
J. Michael Straczynski:

Existential maturation, education. and crisis.

While education is the process of arriving at knowledge, it is more of a skill than a single process. We’re born into this world as a blank slate, completely void of knowledge and good sense. As we mature, we learn to differentiate the sensations around us. Nature provides each person with a set of genes that aid this pursuit.

The word ‘educate’ brings a surge of feelings, liberating and stifling. The world of education is one filled with struggle and pains that yield great joys. It is little different than being a farmer that has to manually toil his plot of land into something fruitful. Our minds are gifts, and through imagination we learn to create worlds that we can manipulate and use as we see fit.

For the majority of people, education and maturation are two worlds that go hand and hand. You cannot have one without the other. Education can be a conscious or unconscious endeavor. Whether we are conscious of these thoughts or not, every moment we are programming ourselves to certain thoughts and behaviors. Maturity is gained when these thoughts are diversified or thoroughly explored. More valuable than the ideas gleaned is the process in which ideas are acquired. Acquiring ideas involves a focused imagination coupled with an emotional investment akin to a passion that provides the thrust necessary to move forward to form connections.

Descartes marked the beginning of modern philosophy and a shift from classical philosophy. Believing the world begins within oneself, he moved away from the Aristotelian philosophy that thoughts and ‘being’ arose from sensations. He did not subscribe the idea that sensations revealed the true nature of substances. To avoid these biases, he put little faith in his past experiences. He rejected the world as it had been fed to him and relied solely on his reason. “Whatever I have up till now accepted as most true I have acquired either from the senses or through the senses” (7:18)

Descartes’ reliance on a divine cogito was a refreshing starting point for philosophers. As a child, I was inquisitive. My father fueled this inquisitive nature by asking questions in return to questions and never allowed me to settle on the initial answer. My development, however, was dictated my parent’s belief in god. Although I was undoubtedly shaped by peer influences and the culture, my parents would ultimately verify my knowledge and test it through biblical references. I grew up with this mentality that truth must be constantly sought out, to take nothing at first glance, to test and refine, yet the bible and god were definitive. As I grew old, unavoidable inconsistencies arose that were crucial to developing additional understanding. I stood by the belief system I was raised with, out of immaturity and naivety, but ventured outside and tested the limits. I believed that for every action there was a reaction. I did my best, even from the youngest age, to assume the reaction those around me expected instead of standing by my inclinations or my parental influences. It turned out that this shaped my perspective quite a bit. I realized that truth, or the understanding of it anyway, was a matter of perspective that retained plasticity. This allowed me to be much more empathetic to those around me, despite the rifts in our conflicting belief systems.

Because I never shut myself off from this influential perspective, I was never truly convinced in their power, the power of god and the supernatural and that specific way of life. I want to note that the bible and god are easy to believe in, especially when people sharing these belief systems with you have your best interest in mind, and especially when the majority of the values are universal and plainly work in the world. The legitimacy of their utility is avoidably clear; so as to appear that there is something to their claims.

As I got older however, I carried an immense guilt. I was not totally sold, inside and out, on the powers of god, mostly because I couldn’t see his power in the world around me. I could see what others thought, and their beliefs, and saw that the lives of these two people, theist and non theist, differed very little. I eventually came to grips with the fact that I was not fit for god’s kingdom, or broke, and gave up on seeking gods will.

After high school I reached a state of complete apathy. God gave up on me and I had no choice but to give up on myself. This state of being eroded my self confidence and changed my priorities to ephemeral fancies and short lived day to day gratifications.

After a dark period, which seemed like days but past on for several months, I began to accept some responsibility for my life. Not that my faith didn’t work, not that god had other plans, but that the power that I relied so heavily on was no outside of me, but within me. I began to have an intense breakthrough of personal development. I began setting goals relative to my strengths and desires, my wants and needs. I realized the powers of thoughts, and actions and their role in contributing to a set of behaviors and habits that led to a healthy character and life. I took charge and utilized this potential.

All the while however, I recognized and attributed that potential was a gift from god and god alone, and that I must put some trust in after all. This was an effective mode of operation until I realized that the belief in god is totally baseless. I noticed that theist and atheist alike retained potential, and that there is no indication that a supernatural being bestowed more potential in one person or another. The conception of god slowly transformed into a machination of the mind. Now, there may be a power that governs the universe, but to say that he is alive and active and maintains a personal relationship of open communication is false on any quantifiable account. Learning a great deal about cognitive psychology in college, I discovered that our mind is an untrustworthy thing to trust blindly in. “Know thyself”, said Thales. Know weaknesses, fallacies, strengths, and use reason and consult wisdom.

As I recognized this I realized that my belief system was founded in the sky and lacked any grounded foundations. There was a connection missing. Truth and understanding were my greatest aspirations, and I could not afford to overlook fallacies throughout life, however effective the current methods appeared.

While my belief system yielded the results I desired, I was lacking a philosophy that was receptive to competing philosophies. I had to reject any philosophy that undermined my philosophy in any way. This meant disregarding their perceptions and experiences, claiming that they were false and mine were right. This was the only was to preserve my belief system. However, this close mindedness made me doubt my own philosophy. Are my experiences, my reason and rational, any more legitimate than the man next to me? Is my destination any more guaranteed or favorable than mine? It is a simple choice of destination. A choice I had no will over if I subscribed to an absolutist mentality.

How could I have a philosophy that was open an accepting of others, yet focused on an origin of absolute truth that the majority of people faced? I could not reconcile the fact that one person’s belief system was any more founded than another’s. When I rejected the notion of god, and gave up pursuing an invisible will, I was faced with a reality that lacked order, rules and, most of all, meaning. When this world is created by a supreme divine being, it maintained intrinsic values and worth and purpose. A god not only offered a hope for order and answers amongst a world, it provided a context to frame my actions. When I rejected the notion of this god I was left alone. The principles that I accredited to this higher power now lost their footing and legitimacy. My goals were intimately tied to a foundation where decisions mattered. Ultimately your actions were weighed by this supreme God and there was favor for and against them that would become evident in your life through fortune or misfortune. Soon life became a giant game where your beliefs offer a confirmation bias for every action and thought. You create value before value is found by believing that value exists.

I was now alone, without direction, alienated from all past thoughts and directionless with no foundation. I was not passionately tied down to the ramifications of belief and disbelief. I was free. This freedom, where actions have no context other than the context you give them, became a paralyzing force. Principles no longer seemed to fit nicely into a schema or order. It wasn’t that my thoughts were upset, it was the values that I coined to each thought degraded. These values changed from a static to relative state. My ends, chief wants and desires, seemed to lose value. Virtues seemed to be useless because without ends, what matters of virtue? Ends, being relative, opened me up to a million different paths.

It is a terrifying thought to be blinded by biases. An act or subscription to a set of beliefs meant that attention must be diverted from another perspective. This is debilitating when one values contrasting experiences. Experience molds and shapes the shapeless. It creates ideas out of nothing, where no prior thoughts existed before. I still have values, however. I still retain a clear sense of right and wrong, however blurred the line. I have noticed that my ego have been prevailing much more than when I retained a selfless servant, or slave, mentality of Christendom. I believe this mentality can exist without the pretext of an absolute origin.

Education is a release of anxieties and jumping into an unknown. Fears keep
us from forming new ideas and opinions by countering our faith. I do not believe that religion is inherently bad, only that it refuses contrary perspectives. Fear stems from keeping a close guard on experiences, which force one to forfeit and limit understanding.

Existential crisis.

My crisis. Nothing ultimately matters. What I think is, is. This world is created and destroyed by my will. What matters of the best life, when all I simply have to do is deem it best. What is best, and for whom? And within what society? And why this society? And why subscribe to those values? Should I play the game?

The crisis sucked the reason and sense and zest out of life. I became a man on a road to no where all by myself. I saw that at the end of the day, my belief in reality was the only thing legitimizing it and validating it.

Maturation. Education. Can you be myopic and be educated? Can you be mislead and educated?


Poised, motionless at the desk. He has been sitting for hours, staring at the electronic screen. The occasional expression flickers across his face before disappearing with another thought. Thoughts blip across the mental horizon like an occasional lightning strike, powerful but momentary and fleeting. An ebbing crescendo of classical music penetrates silently in the background, interrupted by an occasional mouse click that echoes throughout the room. He draws in and lets out a restrained sigh. Hours pass. The eyes glaze over.

A single lamp is shining in the corner. The a/c gently wafts cool air into the room, swirling and circulating above him before it sinks and rests coolly on his body below.

The desk is cluttered. Red solo cups, keys, a cell phone, Oscar Wilde and William James, pens and pencils, and dozens of post-it notes that contain kind daily reminders and inspirational thoughts that read: “how you spend your time defines who you are” and “be a slave to good habits” and “do not settle”.

The boy leans back in his chair. He runs his hand through his hair and scratches his head, chasing the itch all over until he’s rubbing his face and hair with two hands.


Finished East of Eden today. Best book I’ve ever come across in my life.


I’ve never had a problem with feelings. It’s typically the lack of dealings that I struggle with. Its upsetting when you crave strong feelings and the only word you can come up with describing your state of being is ‘indifferent’. Thats not too polarizing. It doesn’t really offer much of a platform for thought and motivation.

The day is beautiful. The trees are mottled with varying shades of yellow and red and orange. I saw the doctor at 8am this morning. He wants to put me on vyvanse. I took a drug test last week…but the test results will be in later today. This was the only appointment I could schedule with him. Unless of course i test positive for something…which would be sorta shocking… although I did smoke a lil reefer like three weeks ago. I should be in the clear tho. No amphetamines or anything of that sort.

I need some emotional anchors. What am i living for? hm… school is a tool. I should treat it as one. There shouldn’t me my time and their time… rest time and school time. It should be a singular experience.

I need to practice self control and belief. I should study longer and harder. I need a perspective or context in which to frame all the information I study though.

I remember a while back I had it all so figured out… i assessed my strengths… came up with reasonable goals based on those strengths… from there everything was easy. I work well with people, I’m fairly articulate. business consulting seemed to be right for me. choosing to study business and psychology seemed the natural choice. and everything i learned seemed to find a place within me. now I’ve gotten a little more existentialistic. i am removed from goals… i am preoccupied with self and being and i question the legitimacy of having a purpose. I was driven to fulfill this purpose when I had reasons and believed it was fate. now I see it as a construct of the mind… purely fabricated and illusory. I should recognize the utility of these illusions… they serve a purpose and are quite effective… more effective than my current state of skepticism. I suppose I should reexamine what I believe. I can’t go on accepting that nothing is really knowable, that all is a purely subjective perspective, and that nothing really, in the end, matters. I need to develop the idea that absolute truth does indeed exist. somehow i need to wrap my mind around the significance of seeking this absolute truth without throwing myself in absolute doubt when an initial premise or two is wrong.

ween n collage.

ram.ble. I really want the typical raptures of college to subside. There is necessity beyond the binge sleep deprived groggy weekends. I can seek true fulfillment in my studies. I have two options before me all the time. I can indulge with the mindless masses. I can be one of them, never questioning the utility of participating in the often envied mob behaviors. Or I can stow away in the quiet corners, with my nose in books and my mind in the clouds, and absorb understanding that will provide me with strength to endure future challenges. No, socializing is great. Good times. But I really believe I’m meant to be in college for another reason. College was a real disappointment when I arrived. No one shared the same interest in personal growth and intellectual refinement. The majority of people still viewed it as a chore. They putted along the path that was already laid out before them. They never questioned nor veered from its course. Like animals being driven to greener pastures, only to find that these paths lead to a cliff’s edge… nay, a slaughterhouse. Not really… just felt like throwing that in there. I came to college full of vigor and hope that intellectual pursuit was mutually shared… that students shared and exchanged deep intellectual meditations. Colleges were august sanctuaries for those seeking pleasure in a world beyond temporary material satisfactions. Perhaps materialism is a unifying element. Perhaps too much is lost in the translation of ideas that spread satisfying pleasure. Materialism, in whatever effects you wish, is more universal and relatable. It transcends ideas.

There is nothing I despise more in myself then acting without thinking. Much more than acting without thinking, it is accepting the status quo as a modus operandi. Culture. It’s like the Jones kool aid. People mindlessly drink it down. They ingest the commercials, the advertisements, the shows, the celebrities, the politicians, the figureheads. The more people gather in a group, the less individualism there is among those people. I want to shake people and ask them why they do what they do. WHY do you dress like that? Why do you drink so heavily? Why do you listen to this music? I mean… really really why? Culture tells us how we should feel about certain things. We willfully accept that we have no choice in the matter. Who has heard this rebellion? I suppose it’s impossible to be an individual nowadays.

Humans are pattern seekers. We yearn for consistency and uniformity in order to achieve familiarity with our world. Its only natural we take on the behaviors of the masses. You cannot have a society without a collection of individuals, yet how much does one person, however spectacular and gifted, really change society? Society is like a charging locomotive. Will one piece of coal, however hotter it may burn, really change the course of the whole?

I’m writing a paper on education and maturity. I need to synthesize the writings of two philosophers. Either Descartes, Rousseau, Freud, or Nietzsche.

This weekend was Halloween. I told myself I was to stay in on Friday and Saturday. That didn’t work. I wanted to pick up extra hours at work this weekend…I didn’t go in on Saturday but went on Sunday. Friday night I drank far too much for my own good. I did bring a girl back with me both nights. I typically avoid this type of behavior- a clear indicator that I’m not where I want to be. I know this girl and we’ve been talking for a good while. I convinced myself for the weekend that I wanted something more from her. Now I realize that may not be the case. Also- she’s not on birth control and, after this weekend, I’m concerned that I might have another ill mikey running around. The idea is scary… I haven’t mentioned my concern because I’m hoping it’s just me being paranoid. I’ll think more on this later. I have an exam on Tuesday, two exams on Wednesday, and a paper due tomorrow and Friday. I will have no life this week.