Toast: to make something fly into the air, when you most expect it to.
2003-05-16 - 11:51 a.m.
a toast: to chaos, praise be! Goblin has come back to his filthy hole. and i am he!
haven�t been able to stop twitching since i got back from college. on that note, i think it important to note that there is a definite difference in the skin convulsions of animals and humans. humans shake their large muscle groups, while animals, in a more efficient sort of way, shake just their skin. either it is a conscious decision to shiver (and thus involves skeletal muscle groups rather than subdermal involuntary muscles) or humans are just, weird.
�people spend their whole lives trying to reach nirvana�but what would happen if a child were born in nirvana, and had to spend his whole life working toward your reality?� �Nemo
i swear, people slowed down in the bank parking lot today, just to look at my face and wonder what i was, what i am. the voices fade in and out, telling me that i am a retard. i had been looking through old school papers from elementary school, which mentioned PET meetings and how �special� i was. for some reason, they made it a point to form the �special� programs the same year i was recommended to it; it hadn�t existed prior. most of you have no idea what that�s like, having something inserted into your already-convoluted childhood, something about you, something that says something about what you are. and your family never told you. no one can tell you where you got it from, no one knows how to stop it, and you yourself wouldn�t want to stop it if you could�*sucking lemon concentrate out of a lemon-shaped container*�artificial fluids, trying to taste like lemon, inside a plastic container, trying to be a real lemon skin. i�m not really sure if this is irony, or just common sense. this is the fundamental difference then: a Goblin sees irony, where a Luther sees logic. �jason is�very creative, according to some teachers� but retard is not quite the right word. my brain is biologically different. this difference i call Goblin. and he is the reason why this diary exists, more than any other. i have a mental disfigurement, so to speak, and sometimes it makes me do things. bite people. talk in tongues. space out. sometimes it shows me things, that you will never see. so i guess we�re not all that different after all, you and me. and myself and i. �he has an inability to separate real from imaginary things� i didn�t work this hard at life to be followed by my family when i switched schools�i never asked them to be concerned for me�never asked them to hold secret meetings to discuss my radical behaviour��i am worried about this reality/fantasy complex��never asked to be the only abused child in my graduating class�it wasn�t my idea of heaven, when my abnormal psychology teacher looked at me like *that*�you walking specimen��we are hopeful that this will not progress into adolescence� i never wanted for everyone to notice my habit of shedding skin�this has something to do with my childhood behaviour used to claw off the top layer of my skin every time i took a shower. write that on your little yellow scum pads�your happy little wall between us that makes me the one that�s different and wrong.
DSMIV, APA: Schizotypical Personality Disorder 301.22
�a pervasive pattern of social and interpersonal deficits marked by acute discomfort with, and reduced capacity for, close relationships as well as by cognitive or perceptual distortions and eccentricities of behavior, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:
- ideas of reference (excluding delusions of reference)
- odd beliefs or magical thinking that influences behavior and is
- inconsistent with subcultural norms (e.g., superstitiousness, belief in clairvoyance, telepathy, or "sixth sense"; in children and adolescents, bizarre fantasies or preoccupations)
- unusual perceptual experiences, including bodily illusions
- odd thinking and speech (e.g., vague, circumstantial, metaphorical, overelaborate, or stereotyped)
- suspiciousness or paranoid ideation
- inappropriate or constricted affect
- behavior or appearance that is odd, eccentric, or peculiar
- lack of close friends or confidants other than first-degree relatives
- excessive social anxiety that does not diminish with familiarity and tends to be associated with paranoid fears rather than negative judgments about self�
other sources to follow�rarely accepting enduring responsibilities�-absorbed and lost in daydreams�eccentric and susceptible to psychotic episodes, ego boundary confusion, discontinuity of identity�almost always chooses solitary activities, and has little, if any, interest in having sexual experiences with another person�from a symptomatic approach, StPD can be considered a mild form of schizophrenia; treatment employs similar medications in lower dosages�circuitous, belabored, odd, and meaningless discourses on subjects�[the use of LSD may create] weird perceptual distortions that can actually alleviate anxiety about personal strangeness that is not drug induced�
i see no point in speed dial. not that it annoys me or anything, just that i see it as useless. 911 is three numbers for a reason, folks. and based on behavioral conditioning, you should naturally dial more quickly the numbers you use most, because of repetitive learning. and is the other second or so really that important to ya? if it is, great, happy for ya. but then again, it does take a little while to set up, and a rather hefty amount of hardware, so.
dream last night, of two men in a black BMW (the car i own that is at Mitch�s house in the mud). both have some sort of rags or furs all over their bodies, especially around their heads, so they look like they have very bulbous heads. they have no money for a toll, so they spin the car around and drive backwards through it (in this sort of logic, they reminded me of the sirs: the first suggesting that in going backwards through the toll they might get their money back, and the second calling the first idea preposterous [only because he hadn�t suggested it first] and suggesting the more realistic view that if there was only one camera to take a picture, it wouldn�t be able to get their license plate [evidently they were in Massachusetts, because you need license plates on the front and back of your car in Maine for this very reason]). anyway, on the way through the toll, they start screaming French children�s songs out of tune, which sounds like humming from the outside of their costumes. the car goes up onto the curb and pops, so they pull over to the side of the road, still backwards, but realize that they do not have a tire-iron. there was much slapstick-type comedy to be had as the bulbous-headed men bounced around, and fell down, and asked people for various things. a cop asked the second one for his id and he gave him his shoe, to which the men were promptly arrested, but the first one broke out of jail by taking off his furs and pretending to be someone altogether different. the second stayed, and slowly became me, in a classroom. English class, of some sort, and the teacher was not very pleased with a mark i had gotten. 78. and there were comments about �i never thought you were capable of a mark so low� and other such nonsense. if i�m not capable of getting a failing mark, than i�m only technically able to get a good mark, and not able to get a good mark in all the ways that really matter. this, i suppose, is my real reason for wanting to go to rpi. they will allow me to fail with grace onto a concrete slab if i so wish, and that makes a grade there all the more important. but back to the dream�i saw the mark i had gotten, and got angry, and killed myself in some torrible yet undisclosed manner. end dream.
may13. might�n i just establish, once again, how this place has a tendency to suck the life out of a person. Step-mother enters the room and flips the channel to some double-dusty episode of matlock, volume loud enough to vibrate in the walls. granted, she�s over fifty, but that�s not why she wants the volume up so high. she�s trying to get away, to forget, to immerse her bloated body into the television so far that she can no longer she the world she�s in now. the stupid little white dog tears across the living room, squeaking because it doesn�t know how to bark, and in response she says �shy, aren�t you feisty?� and turns the volume up a couple more notches. and i think �wow, she must�ve been a horrible mother� as i turn back to the computer. i felt her say it before i heard her say it.
Step-mother: �can�t you turn that down?!?�
Me: �it�s the modem�� couldn�t even fathom how she could hear it over the television.
Step-mother: �OH�� in a manner that�s meant to make me think that she thinks i made noise to purposely disturb her�her negative nirvana, if you will. in a way that says, �ghoddahmit, dumb kid! can�t you get onto the internet without using a modem? you just used the modem to try to annoy me! well, it�s not working! do you hear me, not working!�
i�ve got to get out of here.
may13, later. lunar eclipse tonight, really should call Becca, see how she�s doin�. an email, at least. maybe tomorrow.
anyways, it�s all just stuff they says. weather you mean what you said or say something mean, it�s all bullshyte. you can�t mean the things you say when you don�t have anything to mean. no real heartfelt feelings ever came from a non-metaphorical heart, that pumps blood back and forth to the lungs. there is no such thing as love. no god. is this what you mean, when you tell me to believe in reality? to believe in modern reality is to believe in nothing, and that�s slightly less than i can accept right now. what it amounts to, is that i have faith, if only an undirected, undying, and chaotic faith, but the little men in white coats have none.
Amendum: Dave has a little mark on dairyland now as well too. lycane.diaryland.com (maybe joe has one as well also?)
