So I don’t know what to say. I have ideas. Do they work? There was a lot of talking on the car ride home. That means something. There’s a few connections.
I don’t know how to write right now. There’s a lot.
Conversation. Too risky, I suppose.
All these coworkers in my room.
First you hvae to peel the dead skin off your scalp with your fingernails. Then you have to separate the balding hair that come off with it, attached to it, from it. THen you have to eat the dead skin. It is pleasant. The balding hair detached from your scalp goes in the trash so the floor can stay clean. Eating the dead skin keeps the floor clean, too, but sometimes eating it in front of people does more psychological damage than dropping it on the floor would and it’s better off just to litter indoors. We vacuum in any case, and this is one utility why.
Part of my brain has been relegated to others at work. Part of it has been relegated to a family member at home.
I feel like a baby, with all this dead peeling skin on my scalp. Off my scalp?
Oh yeah! so today: my peripheral vision is safe, my focal vision is dangerous to look at people (it hurts and causes discomfort), my focal hearing is fine (I rely on it), and my peripheral hearing triggers panic in me and it hears vaguely English gibberish from people, of a threatening sort.
I bought a new album prerelease and it just came out I downloaded it and it is not very good. It’s like a girl/woman singing gently.
Girl: To denote a sexual attractive female. Woman: To denote a female to whom respect is deserved.
Note to self, I suppose.
Hi T_____a. Hi Amber. Hi R____l. Hi B__t.
Just naming some visitors of the evening. I donn’t feel like naming them all but I might have to.
Fifty percent of the population believes correlation implies causation, and the other half believes it does not. this means half the population doesn’t even see what the other half does, in a very fundamental worldview-tangible way, in concrete situations.
What’s Theresa still doing here?
SOmetimes the mental voices of people talking is just them just translating my style into their language. I can’t stop it too, I mean what I mean to say is I can’t stop translation, in my voice, of other’s thoughts, into my language, of their behavior, at will. It happens against my will.
We had big problems at work today. I was at the center of people’s attention for a large swath of my time.
I need to make a charm. I have to buy some jewelry and come up with a spell to enchant it.
I look forward to this plan.
Avoiding things to avoid conflict. That’s it.
Who is this?
I wonder who it is.
They have such good precision. Right in my thought space personal space.
We had to make a single document, with like, literally five lines on it, at work today, and the senior scientist and my group partner just royally freaked out. Wow. It was impressive. I don’t understand their reasoning for how they handle documentation, and they don’t explain it to me.
No one explains anything at work.
I have no hope of ever learning anything about pharmaceutical science whatsoever.
I guess it’s not a school. They’re not paying you to learn.
I’m going to start a five-step recovery plan for the mentally ill:
(its not finished)
- Remember your love / what you love [note to self: impossible]
- WRITE; it will strengthen your inner voice and self-control [it may take up to a year and be such slow progress as to cause fespondency]
- I haven’t gotten past 2
My dinner meal is ruined tonight.
B__t is a frequent visitor.
Can’t eat the delicious food. Barriers.
I guess I am obligated to talk about this thought-realization I had during my to-home commute: I have deduced that I will become LESS risk-averse as I grow older, as I learn how stifling aversion to risk is, how much it kills freedom.
I have a female thought-neighbro in my thought-neighborhood in a mask. I don’t know who she is! She’s been around a while.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.
That means something.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
I dont’ know what to do.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
But I don’t, really.
I still don’t know what t o do.
Come visit my sushi restaurant: Todo.
I don’t know how to describe the space it is in.
Maybe a mix of artistic space and thought space, for starters. Probably a very specific blend of distinct, unique spaces. That I don’t have the vocabulary to enumerate.
People do not allow how I groom myself.
Pain is the only thing that matters.
Corolary: do it yourself
Okay this is a first: A thought space neighbor was just having a conversation with a reality neighbor (in thought space). I wonder how they both reacted. To the novelty.
I don’t understand why everything is so inexplicable. I also don’t understand why I am punished for so much.
I don’t understand where the power of evil comes from. How are physical forces generated through channeling? Is what they’re using channeling?
I had another thought… it’s probably gone…
obligatory re-announcement: fish-hooks in my mouth
Okay it actually exists already: http://www.todosushisd.com/
Where does power come from? I think some people just have it. It’s not about status or any correlative whatsoever. It’s on its own, as an atrribute. Powerful people, weak-influence people. My group partner at work, N, is powerful.
I think we’re getting closer, though.