Do you know who you "truly" are?

The thing is, I've done everythig possible in the last fifteen years or so to be so healthy that I don't age . . . much. I shovel my own driveway and it's three hundred and thirty feet long; I do it non-stop. I also push-mow my lawn which takes two and a half hours. But the sad fact is that all that that's really going to do for me is cause me to hang on like a trooper--a suffering trooper--when I near the end of my life. I'm going to hear things like, "God, I can't believe he's still alive," and "I wish he'd just die and get it over with," and "This has to be world record for how long someone can survive such pain and agony."

Maybe giving up cigarettes and booze was a bad move . . . I'm thinking.

 

Not mine. Your body doesn't have enough fur to suit my needs. Plus, you're still breathing, so . . .

 

It's good to give up booze because otherwise, you'd just end up liquifying your inner organs. Then you'd turn into a putrid gangrene mess of fermented slime. People get paid the big bucks to handle that (with hi-tech super-gloves). Worth mentioning.

If I could drop dead tonight, I'd be totally okay with that. Fuck, so wouldn't the rest of the world. <--- that got me thumbs up from one of my devout followers.

 

Gingrene:

Whoa are you? Your spell hain't mine witchy-poo.

 

Are you regressed to the 5th grade, FOR ALL ETERNITY?

I'll prey for yew.

 

lol That's quite good! Witches, yew, I get it! Hang on... that's too good... WITCH!!! WITCH!!!

 

I already been through the witch hunt, you know. I was burned alive.

For real.

 

Ah, I see you're not familiar with the sub-dialect of the people who inhabit the North Atlantic island of Hasolotanh (just a few nautical miles southwest of Gilligan's Island). They've always spelled whoa with an H on the end, but the H is silent. My guess is that Dejavu's ancestors, somewhere down the line, lived on Hasolotanh. Don't bother trying to find out anything about the Hasolotanhians. They were attacked for no reason at all by the Assholians and the Jackassians and they were all drowned. They were gone before anything could be known about them. Except for some transcripts found in a hole below an old rundown hut which contained the last desperate words from their tribe as they saw the approaching boats of the Assholians and Jackassians; and included in that last record, believe it or not, was the word "whoah".

 

OK, I'm just going to ask you once. For real? Really?

EDIT: I'm sorry, technically, that was twice.

 

Just did a little more research and discovered that the problem that the Assholians and Jackassians had with the Hasolotanhians was their use of H's where they didn't belong. So, as usual, war and destruction for the silliest reasons.

 

Yeah, I had the time of my life. Great story to tell the grand kids.

 

Everything in its right place, sang Radiohead. I'm a devout worshiper, so whatever they say I believe.

Are the assholians and jackassians related to the crack heads, morons, retards and losers? Where I come from, people (especially the kids) were called Hellions. I later found out that Hellion is a number.

 

Once someone told me that my depression could stem from a chemical deficiency in the brain, like Serotonin. I said something like, "Well that just proves my point about how bad this life is because even God realized that he'd have to keep us all jazzed up on something to make everything seem and look OK." And God looked, and saw that it was good . . . after the serotonin.

 

I definitely don't know who I am yet, but I'm enjoying the ride and I gives no fucks.

 

I think depression is the result of being born into a world that ... isn't okay. I honestly do not know how somebody manages to NOT be depressed at this life, and the people it's made of.

He who learns must suffer
And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,
And in our own despair, against our will,
Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.
Agamemnon, Aeschylus

 

an awareness that observes is what each of us are. everything else has nothing to do with it. we have these other things, we see these other things, we feel and are affected by them and all that, but none of that makes them any part of our true selves.

our true selves are nothing more nor less then our awareness of existing and our individual choice of priorities.

just a uniquely individual sensory processing node, wearing organic flesh for however long that lasts, but the flesh isn't us, our surroundings isn't us, the people we interact with aren't us. even the kind of world we individually experience living in isn't individually us, though all of us together do create nearly all of the conditions we must then alone and individually experience.

and being a sensory node, and not a physical object, the possibility is real of our individual existence not being limited by or to, that of the physical substance that allows us to interact with a physical universe.

 

ginalee, if you really want to help me, help me stop picturing you as Nurse Ratched!


themnax, not you too! The 'non-physical' doesn't suit you! When did you get the bradshaw banter down pat? You're not getting a pat down, so I'll ask you straight up. Are you their patsy?!


Stallone... er... Storch, it generally turns out this way. Back to back. Keep your eyes open. We don't know how to go down
(die, that is ) without a fight. You're teaching me things I never knew about my ancestry, but it can wait!


:-D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HK1HxDqGCEk"]The Uppercut Crew- Stepping Through The Floor - YouTube

 

A few years ago, I spoke at length with someone who thought that depression was the result of being too separated from nature and/or our nature. I think there might be some validity to that. We aren't living in tune with our origins.

 

Depression besides having chemical roots is separation anxiety and is an effect of the evidence of the body. Whether we find our own far away from other bodies or that it's condition be far away from it's own spontaneous radiance.