Post your random thoughts/feelings etc

I'm having mood swings because I'm moving soon and I hate it.

I just watched the peanuts movie. I'm pretty sure that Charlie Brown in my soulmate.

S_Spartan said:

This guy makes some excellent points. I especially like the one about how everyone is being primed to be a victim. And when you really take a long hard look at things that is exactly what is happening.

What better way to weaken the masses right out of the womb!

And media is especially guilty of this. For example, look a normal day of television. You get Dr. Oz telling you that gluten and cholesterol is going to kill you, then Dr. Phil comes on and tells you that your spouse is gonna cheat on you, then the local news comes on and tells you that someone is going to break in your house and steal your shit, then the world news comes on and tells you that Isis is going to get you.

Now imagine a lifetime of these daily messages and this is only TV! This doesn't even take into account all the noise the average person encounters out in public. The bitching and moaning, the road rage, the crazy co-workers, bill collectors, sales people...

Now among all of this where is anyone being taught how to be happy? And we wonder why people are unhappy. Could it be that nobody has ever taught them what happiness is?

Which is what I was getting at in my previous post. It wasn't so much about my own happiness per se but just looking back there was nobody who taught me how to be happy. Not a one. Nor were there any good examples of people to emulate. Everyone was a low grade miserableness.

And I think if you really asked people you'd find that most people were raised by people exactly like I have been and even worse!

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Glad you listened! He's really fascinating. I would like to have dinner with him. I feel like he would blow my mind, which is who I like to hang with ideally. People who are super interesting and full of knowledge. He looses me on the subject of the moon civilizations a bit though...
The programming stuff is so important for people to learn about. I never liked Micheal Jackson, so it was pretty amazing what he said about him.
Oh yeah the fear based culture we all have to live in. I think for people who are sensitive like people on SPW that must be 1000 times worse for us. The average human is not so available in that capacity to be effected. I think about that a lot since I have learned about mind control. How people who are sensitive are really being bombard so much harder.
Today I spent some time explaining to my dear mom why I rejected religious programming and schools. I think I made some progress with her but I do feel like she victimized me a lot with her belief systems which she never questioned. She forced me to do things all of the time that really hurt me being a sensitive child. She threw me to the wolves so to speak. But she doesn't know any better. She was easily programmed so I forgive her but I am angry as hell anymore at the con we are all forced to live in now. I am not however depressed. I was thinking for so long I was depressed but basically I am angry. I fell like if you're awake at all you should be angry not drugged up on antidepressants and numb. That is how they control us.
Fear is a control system. I want to annihilate my fears now because I realize like you pointed out most of them are BS made by complex marketing systems based on psychology to sell s h it and keep us loving our prisons and not questioning our servitude.
There's a war on for your mind while we all watch American Idol and play video games.
I am angry that more people don't care. It makes me sad too. I wish humans had more sense. It's all about me me me and instant gratification and they know it and use it against us.
Rant over unless you want to keep talking lol

Lurking_Kitten said:

Street harassment makes me want to attack someone sometimes.

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Wouldn't that also be harassment?

Its another one of those tough days. I wish i knew when they were going to arrive.
I'm trying to handle this one better that i did the previous one.
I'm in the library holding it down. I don't think anybody knows.

Looked at the ol' bank account today. Yep, glad to see it's still practically empty.

I'm trying to upgrade to living pay cheque to pay cheque.
Right now I'm living pay cheque to five days before pay cheque.

Well, I just spent an hour and change digging through two boxes of old flea market junk, and when I say junk, boy do I mean junk! I found a few keepers and a handful of fixers, but most of it is headed straight (and in some cases straight back) to the thrift shops . . . someday.

I'm pretty good at sorting through stuff and picking out things to donate, not so good at moving them out the door. The rough-looking gang of boxes and bags loitering aimlessly in my front room gets bigger and more menacing every month. Box upon box, mounting ever higher. There's a real danger here, not only of spontaneous avalanches (they'd never find my body), but also the even greater risk that I'll get a mind to dive in and pull half the stuff back out to keep after all. Chronic indecision is one of my many faults, and fairly high up on the list. Waffles are for breakfast, but I can do 'em all day long.

Even worse, if the "management"—I put it in quotes because these clowns couldn't manage a good fart—decides to favor me with a surprise inspection, I could be in some serious dutch when they find my apartment in such a state of disarray. Tiny minds see only what's before them, never the method behind it or the progress implied. Much as I loathe this grubby place, the thought of being summarily booted out, useless junk in tow, with little warning and nowhere to go fills me with unspeakable horror. It's one of my greatest fears, and a major cause of stress in my life. I want to leave, no question about it, but it has to be on my terms, and fit to my schedule.

So here I am, and here's all this stuff, and this place ain't big enough for all of us. Somehow, someday, this shit's gotta git.

Why is it that dog washing day always falls on the day I put on nice, clean and fresh jammies xD

Sial Axetder said:

Looked at the ol' bank account today. Yep, glad to see it's still practically empty.

I'm trying to upgrade to living pay cheque to pay cheque.
Right now I'm living pay cheque to five days before pay cheque.

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My life story.

GraybeardGhost said:

Well, I just spent an hour and change digging through two boxes of old flea market junk, and when I say junk, boy do I mean junk! I found a few keepers and a handful of fixers, but most of it is headed straight (and in some cases straight back) to the thrift shops . . . someday.

I'm pretty good at sorting through stuff and picking out things to donate, not so good at moving them out the door. The rough-looking gang of boxes and bags loitering aimlessly in my front room gets bigger and more menacing every month. Box upon box, mounting ever higher. There's a real danger here, not only of spontaneous avalanches (they'd never find my body), but also the even greater risk that I'll get a mind to dive in and pull half the stuff back out to keep after all. Chronic indecision is one of my many faults, and fairly high up on the list. Waffles are for breakfast, but I can do 'em all day long.

Even worse, if the "management"—I put it in quotes because these clowns couldn't manage a good fart—decides to favor me with a surprise inspection, I could be in some serious dutch when they find my apartment in such a state of disarray. Tiny minds see only what's before them, never the method behind it or the progress implied. Much as I loathe this grubby place, the thought of being summarily booted out, useless junk in tow, with little warning and nowhere to go fills me with unspeakable horror. It's one of my greatest fears, and a major cause of stress in my life. I want to leave, no question about it, but it has to be on my terms, and fit to my schedule.

So here I am, and here's all this stuff, and this place ain't big enough for all of us. Somehow, someday, this shit's gotta git.

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Ugh, I'm sorry GB. I know what that's like. My heart has broken countless times over boxes of books and stuff that I've accumulated over the years.

I try not to keep much around now, because of break ins... They've stolen everything I've had, twice in the last six years. So now... I live with few valued possessions.

Living on a lease is difficult. Especially if management consists of douches.

I am sure that you have some pretty awesome treasures. I'd help you look through it all if I could.

Watching Zootopia footage makes me realize I can still feel.

IT'S SO GOD DAMN CUTE, I CAN'T TAKE IT. x:<

GraybeardGhost said:

Well, I just spent an hour and change digging through two boxes of old flea market junk, and when I say junk, boy do I mean junk! I found a few keepers and a handful of fixers, but most of it is headed straight (and in some cases straight back) to the thrift shops . . . someday.

I'm pretty good at sorting through stuff and picking out things to donate, not so good at moving them out the door. The rough-looking gang of boxes and bags loitering aimlessly in my front room gets bigger and more menacing every month. Box upon box, mounting ever higher. There's a real danger here, not only of spontaneous avalanches (they'd never find my body), but also the even greater risk that I'll get a mind to dive in and pull half the stuff back out to keep after all. Chronic indecision is one of my many faults, and fairly high up on the list. Waffles are for breakfast, but I can do 'em all day long.

Even worse, if the "management"—I put it in quotes because these clowns couldn't manage a good fart—decides to favor me with a surprise inspection, I could be in some serious dutch when they find my apartment in such a state of disarray. Tiny minds see only what's before them, never the method behind it or the progress implied. Much as I loathe this grubby place, the thought of being summarily booted out, useless junk in tow, with little warning and nowhere to go fills me with unspeakable horror. It's one of my greatest fears, and a major cause of stress in my life. I want to leave, no question about it, but it has to be on my terms, and fit to my schedule.

So here I am, and here's all this stuff, and this place ain't big enough for all of us. Somehow, someday, this shit's gotta git.

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I quite good a keeping reasonably tidy these days. The prospect of a supprise visit by the landlord actually helps me.

Great, we're going to have a lefty government (left wing here is much further to the left than the USA's "left-wing"). I expect a year where everyone with low income gets a lot more money and those with medium/high income get a lot taken from them. After that I expect at least 10 years of poverty for those with medium income or below.

nodejesque said:

Ugh, I'm sorry GB. I know what that's like. My heart has broken countless times over boxes of books and stuff that I've accumulated over the years.

I try not to keep much around now, because of break ins... They've stolen everything I've had, twice in the last six years. So now... I live with few valued possessions.

Living on a lease is difficult. Especially if management consists of douches.

I am sure that you have some pretty awesome treasures. I'd help you look through it all if I could.

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I suppose I'm fortunate to live in a place where break-ins aren't really much of a concern. I used to worry about things like that—kept a pickaxe handle by the bed and everything—but over the years I've gotten over that particular fear. It's just not that kind of neighborhood. I still tremble at an unexpected knock on the door, though.

You wanna dig through boxes? I'd take you up on that offer were it not for the obvious geographical inconveniences. (What joker put all that land there anyway?) I do have a collection of unique and remarkable things from yard sales and thrift shops, some from other vendors or straight out of the trash, most of which I would never have found had I not entered the trade. It certainly could use some thinning—especially the stuff that's been boxed up for years, so long that I barely remember what's there—but that's a job for another day.

The items currently in question are hardly treasures, though—quite the other end of the spectrum, in fact. These are for the most part the dregs of my wares, the mistakes, the goats and chaff. Buy out another vendor, and you have to take the bad stuff along with the good. Buy something just because you like it, and you may find that no one else shares your excellent taste. An old timer once told me that it takes about $5000 to get started in the flea market business, because that's how much you'll blow on the wrong stuff before you figure out what sells and what doesn't. (Handy hint: stay away from trivets and single candlesticks, though knives and rings do reasonably well.) Sometimes these turkeys will surprise you—I've sold things I thought were surely bound for the dumpster, and for a neat profit, too—but more often they squat on the shelves, gathering a fine layer of gritty dust and gobbling up valuable space. And sometimes, like now, they follow you home and take up residence like unwanted in-laws with their feet up on the furniture, determined never to leave.

SoScared said:

I quite good a keeping reasonably tidy these days. The prospect of a supprise visit by the landlord actually helps me.

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I like to think—fantasize, really—that I could maintain a tidy home (with professional help, perhaps) were it not for the enormous mass of debris I've allowed to accumulate. It's a lot more than just the flea market stuff. I honestly don't know how some of it got in here. I must have brought it in myself at some point or other, but in many cases I can't recall doing so. Seems like it snuck in when I wasn't looking, maybe through a door carelessly left ajar, then found a dark and dusty corner in which to hide, breed, and multiply.

The threat of landlord interference should motivate me to get rid of all this junk, but I'm hopelessly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of it. It's just too much for me to deal with, too much to purge. I'm externally constipated, and the doctors have yet to find a cure for that.


This morning:
Laundry day. Had to schlep down the stairs and back once more than I should've because the washer decided to flake out. Pulled the plug, waited a bit, plugged the plug back in. It worked the second time, and my clothes are clean, but it stole my buck-sixty-five, so I'm just a little steamed. Flashing lights and button beeps may help to sell these things, but the fancier they make them, and the more technology they stuff inside, the more things can go wrong. I'm not opposed to progress or anything, but high-tech has its place, and that place isn't everywhere. E- this and i- that, just about anywhere you look. I miss the days when things just worked.

Well, that's 4 hours 10 minutes and however many seconds of ma life that ah never get back... F***! F***! F***! F***! :kickingmyself:

I think I let myself go too far with daydreaming and now I might become too attached to the person I was daydreaming about. I tried to stop when I realised I was probably starting to go too far but I think I might have been too late. I have to find something else to daydream about.

By the way, I sort of use daydreaming as a way to reduce stress and take my mind off stressful things. I like having my mind wander around. I usually only do it before bed and when showering though.

Ithior said:

I think I let myself go too far with daydreaming and now I might become too attached to the person I was daydreaming about. I tried to stop when I realised I was probably starting to go too far but I think I might have been too late. I have to find something else to daydream about.

By the way, I sort of use daydreaming as a way to reduce stress and take my mind off stressful things. I like having my mind wander around. I usually only do it before bed and when showering though.

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I've always done this. I didn't think there others who did. :thumbup:

Flour-less pancakes. Fail. Not sure if because they're actually disgusting, or because I can't cook.

nodejesque said:

Flour-less pancakes. Fail. Not sure if because they're actually disgusting, or because I can't cook.

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I can guarantee it's because they're flour-less.

Gross!

Had a sort of funny moment in class. The teacher was showing us how to do an assignment in excel and the person next to me and I were typing every single word he said and everything he put in excel really fast. Apparently we were the only ones doing this because the only things you could hear in that room were the teacher speaking and the sound of the two of us typing furiously, and we sorta laughed when we realised this.

When he was done with his explanation the teacher jokingly said that it was a fast assignment and some of us probably had already used his demonstration to complete the assignment, most likely referring to us.

Probably not that funny, but I enjoyed that moment.