Taco flavoured kisses.

Im just going to list a few things i saw at the gym today.

1. Some guy singing “never going to give you up” in the showers. He had a really good voice. Too bad he transitioned to trolololol the song.

2. Some random Asian girl has started to frequent the weight areas. she talks to everyone, even when they want to be left alone. I just found out she’s a new worker there. I guess it doest hurt to be friendly to the workers, but gawd does she talk like a parrot.

3. When i was doing my deadlift, i was positioned behind some girl doing her squats. Why. I could not avert my eyes without killing my posture. So i just stood around and huffed and puffed til she finished her set. Not that i dont like bums, but i dont want to be staring at someone’s butt while im holding 110kg.

4. Ive gotten fatter from all the weightlifting. Ewwww.

Essay work: Obesity and governmentality.

http://rebels-library.org/files/foucault_society_must_be_defended.pdf

“Where discipline is the technology deployed to make individuals behave, to be efficient and productive workers, biopolitics is deployed to manage population; for example, to ensure a healthy workforce”.

^ Kerr, Derek (1999) Beheading the king and enthroning the market: A critique of Foucauldian governmentality. Science & Society 63 (2): 173-203

Short steps, small steps.

Hi again, syco here.

Mood is sour, unwarranted. I feel a lot of regret and angst. I am a little angry at myself.

It feels like a discomfort, some sort of gut infection.

I want to cry and feel some sort of release but i cant. Im sitting here forcing myself. Which is kinda funny. Like trying to poop.

Its like im looking for a rationale to cry. Like its because i didnt do homework i should be angry at myself and cry about it. But i cant even find a reason like that. Simply put, i just feel super super worried. Just concern.

Suicide isnt the answer. I know this, im not stupid. But fucking. God. Dammit. It is so tempting. I am so tempted to throw myself off a cliff just to stop living. I am so tempted to just chicken out. I am so embarrassed to even admit that i am sad, that i feel like i can actually just die. I dont want anyone to know how i am, for one point then it defines me. I will be that guy on medication, seeking help for his feelings. People have to tread carefully about talking certain topics around me.

I dont want that. I dont want to be treated as a basket case. Or something weak.

Cause thats how i feel. I feel like its such a fucking weak thing for me to admit.

Ok. Stop. Enough.

If i can just compartmentalize every mood swing after ive  explored it enough, i feel much more happier.

Im going to go to sleep and feel better in the morning.

Dark.

I feel dark, and sad.

I thought about suicide again.

And im just trying to polarise it. Im sitting here stifling this pit that sits in my stomach.

For the friends that know and try to keep in contact with me. Thank-you. Seriously. As much as i want to be alone and just completely immerse introspectively, you wont let me sit in my thoughts for a single second. No matter how i somehow disgustingly enjoy the melancholy and romanticize contemplating death, you still persist on getting me out to do something.

Even my gaming friends wont stop talking to me.

When im here and sitting with my own thoughts, i think of you.

For a while she seemed normal, right before she jumped.

Depressive states is a horrible sensation. And only once you climb out of the pitch black darkness in your mind, looking at the remnants, then you start to think about the aftermath.

Looking at earlier thoughts i decided to write down, it seems really embarassing. I just read the anguish and think. “No no no, it wasnt that bad. I was upset but its not like i was going to do anything about it”. Looking at these personal thoughts and just reading it from a perspective that is emotionally neutral, feels akin to watching someone fall over and just staring for a moment.

At the moment im i a daze. Its just a cacophony of sound and visual brilliance i want to puke. I’m neither extremely happy or sad. And i may be honest to goodness maniac depressive. Soon i’ll be the happiest person in the planet.

I feel if it were true it would be truly hard to treat. For whether or not it was true, id find it hard to rationalise going to anyone to talk about it. Even if i was to tell someone over the phone i was deeply saddened. If they were to walk up to my face and ask me about it, id make some sort of excuse or pretend or rationalise it.

I rationalise everything so much. And it seems the only way i can be honest with myself is to write and write through it. My thoughts can change at a whim, and the very least i can do is just write what i think.

And heres what i think….

Am i depressed, am i not depressed? I dont know how to answer that. I might just be very sensitive to a lot of things. It might be in my nature to by shy at inopportune times. I have a lot of insecurities. Insecurities im not afraid to admit, but too afraid to confirm. Im ashamed of my body. My posture, the way my nose looks. The way my skin complexion looks waxy and dead. I hate my crooked tooth, my tired eyes, the way my forehead has that distinct gordon ramsay wrinkle. I hate that i feel obligated to be discretely vicious to people who make jokes at my expense. I hate going out cause i dont find hanging out with my old friends really that exciting. I’m scared of the fact that i’m unable to find any attraction to any girl. And its not like i find it hard to love. I just dont. Love does not exist in my vocabulary. It is as familar as the taste of air. I fancy, i admire, i also may be aroused. But i dont have that capacity to love another person outside of my family.

I feel constricted. Ive made my bed and i have to sleep in it. The decisions and the things ive said to people i cared or not cared about will stay with me forever. I am inherently petty and selfish.

But, im human. Im 22 years young. I have yet to broaden my worldview. And anxiety and social akwardness will always be a thing. Im not the only one who has to face these problems alone. Everyone my age, my generation, past and future generations will go through something in parallel. They will have their toils and troubles. And they arrived at the end of the path with what they have.

And that makes me feel a little better.

asking for it?

It seems like there are a number of facets to this particular issue. Let me order my thoughts here.

  1. Clothing that is knowingly and intentionally (K+I) designed to draw attention to sexual parts of your anatomy is sexual. Ok, I have established the existence of sexual clothing.
  2. There is nothing inherently wrong about sexual clothing.
  3. K+I wearing sexual clothing is sexual. Expressing yourself, being sexy for yourself, w/e. It is a sexual thing to do.
  4. There is nothing inherently wrong with wearing sexual clothing.
  5. Because sexual clothing draws attention to sexual parts of your anatomy, K+I wearing sexual clothing where large groups of people can and will see you is K+I drawing attention to sexual parts of your anatomy. If you K+I encounter someone while wearing sexual clothing, you are K+I drawing their attention to sexual parts of your anatomy. This is something you are doing.
  6. There is nothing inherently wrong with drawing attention to sexual parts of your anatomy.
  7. There is an extremely wide variety of clothing options available to people in developed worlds.
  8. Because of 7, it is assumed that the clothing items that you have selected were selected intentionally.
  9. Because of 8, assumptions are drawn based on one’s choice of clothing. A person in professional business attire probably works in an office. A person in boots, work pants, a tee shirt, and a hard hat probably works in some facet of construction. A person wearing sexual clothing is assumed to be involved in sex. Whether looking for it, offering it, professionally, or casually; sex is something that you are presumed to be involved in because of what you K+I chose to wear.
  10. Whether that assumption is fair, or right, or wrong is totally up for discussion, but the assumption is currently there.
  11. There exists a cultural norm that habitually being involved in sex is to be viewed negatively. Also, that people who are habitually involved in sex, women more so than men, are to be viewed negatively.
  12. Whether that norm is fair, or right, or wrong is totally up for discussion, but the norm is currently there.

Now, this is where I think a big disconnect is happening. There are people with different opinions on both 10 and 12. So you have an innavigable quagmire of differing opinions and everyone’s attacking everyone else.

Not everyone equates wearing sexual clothing with wanting sex. Plenty of girls dress provocatively because they like the way they look, the way they feel, the attention, w/e but not necessarily because they’re DTF. However, because that’s not the norm everywhere, especially in more conservative and/or christian circles, people see women seemingly advertising sex 24/7 and think she’s a slut. Furthermore, even among people who consider women wearing sexually clothing to be advertising sex, not everyone considers that to be a bad thing. That there is nothing whatsoever wrong with sleeping with whomever, whenever, or as often as one would like.

On top of all of this, there is, currently, no such thing as a thought crime. Someone having a negative opinion of you, whether earned or not, is not illegal. Conversely, having a negative opinion of someone who doesn’t know you probably means jack shit to that person. Whether your opinion perfectly matches someone else’s is almost entirely irrelevant to both parties. If you want to wear flagrantly sexual clothing in public, then go ahead. If you want to judge those people, then go ahead. If you want to hate the people judging the other people, then go ahead. If you want to ridicule the people hating the people judging the other people, then go ahead.

TL;DR This is entirely too complex an issue. I’m just going to yell and call names to everyone whose opinion doesn’t perfectly match my own.