Fairfield is colder than the fucking ICE AGE

I think people critique the present too much and discount a lot of our generation's achievements, especially in the arts. Our generation is innovative, its just that most people are looking in the wrong directions. 100 years from now, when my generation goes extinct from heartbreak, war, cancer, and poverty, people are going to be amazed at our works of art.

Aristotle was transcribed on tablets. Van Gogh was paint on a canvas. Shakespeare was on the stage of The Globe on the south bank of the Thames. 

You can find our greatest poets/philosophers/theorists' works on any public bathroom stall. Go ahead and test it out for yourself. Somewhere in the back of a Scotts Valley diner, "Time is a pancake" is scribbled right above a urinal. How much more deep and profound can you get?

My life is a wreck right now, but I am amazing at working under pressure and under stress. It feels like I've set sail across the Atlantic, but I don't have Poseidon's approval or blessings.

I have a lot to be thankful for, though. My parents and ex double teamed me and made me go help serve thanksgiving dinner to the less fortunate in Fairfield, and it definitely made me realize a few things. There are 6,602,224,175 people in the world right now, and I am definitely better off than a lot of them. In generally, 6,602,224,174 of us have something to be thankful for: there is someone in the world who is more miserable than you.

Something I am not thankful for: Black Friday. Consumerism at its worst. If you want to get me something for the holidays, come over and watch a movie with me. I have everything I could want right now, except a job and someone I can give myself to.

"I died for you one time, but never again"

This is me with a healthy (fake)  smile. I'm perfecting it to use on you.

In a matter of 4 weeks, my life has become streamlined into a process, and the predictability of my days are killing me. Every morning is the same story.

The same, lonely fucking bed. I love you so much, but I hate you more than ever.

The same, lonely fucking shower. I love you so much, and I hate you a little less than my bed.

The process is this:

AWAKE:SHOWER:DRESS:WALK:CLASS:EAT:WORKOUT:MEETINGS:EAT:MEETINGS:

STUDY:READ:SLEEP

Every little thing is automated. My cup of coffee is the same cup of coffee I had 24 hours ago, or 24 weeks ago: 3/4 cup of coffee, 1 packet of sugar, 3 tbsps of french vanilla cream. If its 2 tbsps of cream or 2 packets of sugar, its a big issue. 

I choreograph my sex like binary codes. Its just a stream of 0's and 1's. Up and down. Left and right.

A few months ago, Brian and I went downtown and had our cards read by someone on the street. I was skeptical at first, but the first card the person withdrew for Brian was "the sloth". After this, I knew that they were accurate.

The man told me to start letting go of things so I could live a little better. There are definitely things I am going to start letting go of, but I want to take things in as well. I want someone/something to break my automations and show we what the 4th dimension really looks like, or help me discover a new color, or maybe even a new continent or two. 

Am I just really demanding?