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Posts by Malice
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2015-11-27 at 3:02 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition
Oh BTW Malice, did you get my PM? If you decided not to reply thats fine, but I know the PMs have been not working right is why I am asking.
Checked to make sure, I never received anything.What the fuck, malice. How did that faggot dose me get my reddit username? I will skullfuck you, you fucking shitbird parasitic, pathetic autistic, neckbeard piece of shit.
Fuck you. Fuck all of you.
I didn't do it, I've never talked to Dose Me and don't really remember him. I don't even know what your reddit username is, the one time you PM'd me asking for the new site we had migrated to you told me you had made a throwaway account.Id so much rather stay home and play Fallout than deal with my jedi aunt and her obnoxious side of the family.
jedis, you say? Are they well off? IIRC the median income for jedis in the US is around 100K. Sounds crazy, but it's similar for Hindus due to selection biases (Immigration restrictions, immigrants from India being disproportionately the cream of the crop who have high income jobs lined up or are set for that path.) May have been household income, I'm not sure. Posted before about Ashkenazi IQ, achievement, and the evolutionary theory behind it.
Anyway, you should suck it up and mooch up to her, pull of some social engineering so you can get some of those sweet jedi connections.Ive been depressed for a long time now, Ive been trying to keep my chin up, but not just the shit today, but everything has gotten to me and I dont think I can take much more. I have 55 or so 80mg propranolol, 30+ kpins, and 80+ grams of T-PAIN. The lethal dose for propranolol is a gram or just over if I recall. Im not going to do it, not just yet, Id set my son up with a better life before I did, but its really tempting when your body and mind hurt so much and trying seems futile and only going to lead to more hurt and pain. I truely have nobody except my son and the animals. Loneliness is a terrible thing.
Nardil.
As for loneliness: https://www.reddit.com/r/Nootropics/..._neurological/ -
2015-11-25 at 1:09 AM UTC in How old are you and what are your plans for your life?
It's not that I have any social awkwardness disorder or I don't know how to handle/talk to people it's just that I'm "finished" with people for the most part. I'm beyond tired of hearing about their shitty problems, hearing their advice only given in their self interest, and generally having to hear about dumb ass things I could care less about. I don't feel this way about everyone of course there are some awesome and epic people in my life but it's such a small percentage it's easier to just build a cabin in the woods and call it a day. It's not a new thing with me either I've been kicking around this idea for the past 3 years or so. Maybe I'll do a prolonged isolation experiment this spring..we will see.
Find more awesome and epic people. This will not end well. Even if you enjoy it for a time, that may be even worse, because it will make it easier for it to become a self-perpetuating cycle until you realize how miserable you are, alone and empty you and your life feel, and because of the state you're now in it becomes so much harder to get back. You may not even remember, or be extremely reluctant to accept, that as flawed as your life with people was before, you felt and were functioning leagues better than you are now. You may waste years trying to find a way to make it work, to become happy alone, all in vain while you continually die inside and become worse. -
2015-11-24 at 7:20 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionThe HTC Consumer version may be available online in limited quantities soon. Both should definitely be available early next year, just a few more months. Are you sure you have a good idea of the shortcomings of the DK2, particularly compared to the consumer specs? You may end up disappointed.
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2015-11-24 at 4:38 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition
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2015-11-23 at 11:52 PM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition
I can see how thanksgiving is going to go
"oh wow congratulations on being sober for 6 months we are so proud of you"
"so why aren't you making 6 figures yet ?"
"why don't you have a girlfriend?"
At least there will be pie.
Are your parents/family wealthy or at least fairly well off? If possible, you should try to take advantage of that (Well, not in a negative sense, as in reaching out for support.) and tell them about your psychiatric problems, severe depression and anxiety, maybe show them some print outs about differences in the brain, genetic defects, that can lead to it, to make it seem more like a physical illness due to the stigma and lack of understanding there usually is. Basically, like, I think there's something physically wrong with my brain holding me back. People can have unhealthy brains just like any other part of the body. If genetics effects, leads to differences among people, in things in things like height and and weight, why wouldn't it effect the brain too?
Try to get one of the good psychiatrists, the ones that are really knowledgeable, hard working, care because they're being paid well and we're top of their class, and are more open to suggestions because of that. Go for the top of the line treatment. I swear, probably at least half the people here should be on phenelzine/Nardil.
Look at how many members have ended up when older, even as early as their 30s, how many have overdosed and died for other reasons. Realistically, without something like this, we don't stand a chance. -
2015-11-23 at 12:53 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionIt is very good for introspection and emotional cleansing. I feel better today, my mind clearer and calmer, more at ease, although there's a feeling of significantly lower cognitive ability, like a muscle that feels weaker due to exhaustion. Even the crying feels good in a way, due to the emotional cleansing. I was already hit full force by everything, accepted and constantly ruminated over these issues, so I don't run away from them anymore, being confronted by them isn't anything new or frightening.
During the peak of the trip I was beginning to feel ego/identity dissolution, but felt unable to fully let go due to a penile fixation. I had experienced the effect of interference with defecation, being unable to relax my sphincter, control it like normal, possibly an effect on the smooth muscle contractions as well, stemming from the serotonergic effects. I had a feeling of clenching of the PC muscle, the one that you use to stop the stream of urine, that you clench to hold back urine. I tried to urinate, but was unable to, the uncomfortable feeling still holding me back due to the innate fear of urinating on yourself, even though I knew it was unlikely to happen. I thought about the act of sex, how the consummation of a relationship, exposing yourself, giving yourself, so fully to another person, both in body and mind, the emotions and strong feeling of connection, that rite of passage, had never occurred in me. Stemming from that, my lifelong inability and resistance to feeling connection to anybody. Very Freudian, in a way, I thought it was somewhat amusing that this was what was holding me back. If I had never experienced that, never been shaped by these basic and fundamental human experiences, how could I experience the feeling of universal/total unity, the connection and encompassing of all?
It's like the kingdom of heaven is closed off to those like me. Very tragic, in a way. -
2015-11-23 at 12 AM UTC in "I'm an alcoholic"
Alcoholism is really kind of a joke as a medical term and as an "incurable disease" well that's a fucking joke and a bad one at that. If anyone wants to know what happens when you stop drinking after an entire decade? Nothing….at all. Nothing changes…at all. It's just you no longer drink…there is alcohol lacking from your diet and that's it.
Not everyone's the same, a lot of people do have incredibly severe lifelong problems with alcohol and destroy their lives, themselves, because of it. Some innate deficit, something wrong/broken within them, the result of very sad lives, often a combination of the two.
From the Grant Study:The single most important factor in all the study participants’ divorces was alcoholism – either the men’s or their wives. 57% of the divorces could be traced to it. While the wives were usually open about their husbands’ drinking problems, the husbands were often reluctant to talk about their wives’ alcoholism, and it thus took almost 70 years for this finding to emerge.
Pretty sad how it takes the love of their life, their family, from so many people, leaving them alone, an empty shell in a much worse position without people to support them. -
2015-11-22 at 10:36 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionI wrote that genuinely sobbing at parts. It's the kind of thing that makes you finally want to break down to someone and admit, "No, I'm not alright." Because beneath everything I have never been alright. That makes you want to call a crisis center so you can't bear to wait for the first step toward not feeling so alone. It reminded me of the times I genuinely thought of calling 9/11, asking to be hospitalized, just so something would change.
If I ever decide to finally take the first steps towards real recovery/rehabilitation, the core component of which is accepting the need for other people and asking for help due to how broken I've become, I'm going to document it. I really have considered going to the chans with my bleak tale, asking for advice, the good which I would genuinely plan to act out on, and documenting the process. "I've become a literal hikikomori and have decided to document my attempt at reintegration into society." Hopefully the tale would spread, I could cross post it on multiple sites, and it would help others like me to get out this abyss, the hell we've created for ourselves, or at least to relate and understand someone else is going through, has gone, through something similar. It will likely be after or shortly before I acquire, or attempt to acquire, phenelzine/Nardil and NSI-189, eventually ALKS-5461 and TMS (I need all the help I can get). Realistically, without additional help, in part to correct endogenous deficits I was born with, this would at least take years, decades, longer, if it even occurred, I stood a chance in hell, at all. If patients had an assessment for likelihood of success with a percentage given, I would be at the bottom, highest for risk of eventually dying by suicide.
What it does to you, no one should ever have to know. As much as I've hated the world and others at times, I repeatedly felt I wouldn't wish this on anyone, because it's just something wrong, something that shouldn't exist. No one would end up this way, choose to live like this, without having something profoundly wrong with them. There is no joy in it. If you could measure the cumulative amount of pleasure people experience throughout their day, I would be in the bottom fraction of a percentage. For so long I haven't even laughed, barely smiled, had much feeling evoked. I've mentioned before that I don't even have memories of having experienced certain emotions to their fullest, even to a significant extent, in my entire life. It kills everything human about you, eats away at you inside, until you're a hollow shell, a shadow of a human being wandering the streets, never spoken to.
It took so long to realize the mistake I had made, and then it felt too late. I was only left with overwhelming pain and regret. Dear god, why did I do this to myself?
In a way, the numbness, detachment. the emotional deadening, blunted affect, the restricted range and depth of emotion; is a blessing. If I were able to feel the full impact of everything, not just acknowledge everything here, but fully feel it, it could break me, send me into a catatonic state where I would need to be institutionalized/put under state care; literally kill me.
Over 10 years without anyone to speak to IRL about the things that really matter. No emotional support, no one to ask for help, to confide in. The internet, text on a screen, could never replace that. And now, after all this, I have to return to a cold bed in an empty apartment devoid of life, a biological storage/maintenance facility rather than a home, with no one, and know that when I wake up, there will still be no one in sight. -
2015-11-22 at 10:18 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition400ug lsd trip. The worst schizo-mimetic imaginable. Catatonic schizophrenia.
Made me wonder at the time, even now, whether I could be diagnosable as having some type of schizophrenia. Sorry Lanny, any potential debate will have to be set aside, but hopefully this may provide some interest.
I can really identify with your father in a way. And I say this not to belittle his condition and suffering, I still have a chance to live, but to understand what it's like to have parts of your being, who you were, eaten up inside while the people around you watched. I was rotting on the inside.
The lack of direction, even of your own mind. I'd describe it like being part of a hypergalactic engine, except all that potential energy, it's just sitting inside a hangar going nowhere. A boat with the engine revving in a storm that's still nothing but empty water for all sight.
The lack of attachment, the reality of how empty I am inside, and that regardless of how mundane and fleeting, interchangeable, it ultimately is, how incredibly important it is to have the basic ability to feel connection to others.
So high functioning in some ways, so incredibly dysfunctional in others. The shell of what composes a man, just enough to remain an imitation of one, still clearly having something severely wrong/off, at least upon further inspection, and on the inside so many parts are missing, damaged, never developed.
Lanny, for all I've whined, imagine if every connection you had with other people, every memory, every shared moment, every relationship, person you knew, was just gone one day and had never existed. This is the ugly truth of what I've done to myself and how I feel, more than you will ever know. It's something no one should know.
I remembered part of what drove me into that cycle of depression over two years ago, even though the shroom/psilocybin/psilocin trip was relatively mild, just being touched by part of the the vast ocean, the abyss, of emptiness, isolation, and alienation, how unhappy I really had become. For those who remember how much I wrote about depression at the time, constantly, my only subject, culminating in the desire for cessation.
But as in the classic allegory of the cave, once you've been in the abyss, this abyss (there are few experiences that reach quite the ugliness and depth), could you ever come to see things the same way again? Even if you achieved some semblance of happiness, of interpersonal relationships, could you ever really come to see the world the same way again? Would it allow you to forget? "Unable to run away from your own mind." There's just so much in normal people's lives that allows them to forget, not think about these things, and that's a good thing. It's lead to nothing but my own self-destruction. Particularly with your natural predispositions leading you to be unable to see things other than the way they are.
All the aspects I dislike about myself, how poorly defined I really am in most regards, the lack of drive, of desire to really take hold of an commandeer my own life, feeling like a passive, uninvolved/non-interfering observer. That, particularly after everything that's occurred, I'm afraid of taking the basic step of opening up, allowing others inside, of wanting to present something of myself to the world with the possibility of dejection, having become more sensitive, more deeply wounded and fragile, than you would ever imagine from my demeanor. The lack of attachment, to really define some aspect of myself I consider intrinsic to who I am compared to others, to stake it out and state my desires, dreams and hopes. How, in part due to the worst cowardice of all, I never even took that chance, and learned to move within a shell of myself, detached, unconnected, unfeeling, but with all the pain you avoid you miss out on everything there is in life.
How we come to define, develop, ourselves, in part through the interactions with others. The skills we develop, assertiveness, confidence, resilience after all the emotional turmoil/warfare and defeat. Everything we normally learn about life, others, by going through the process, the rites of passage. The feeling of connection to others, so many points anchoring you throughout time, in other people's lives, so many perspectives and reaffirmations of your existence, the similarities, shared experiences, memories, knowledge of and concern for each others lives, your progression in it and challenges along the way, working toward a shared/common goal; a social/societal web, beneath the surface, keeping you grounded to the world, reality, molding the basis of what allows a human being's psychological well being. Just learning to develop and function as a human being, with others, the emotions you're supposed to feel and develop.
I was born deficient to begin with, and I missed out on it all. "I cannot believe what I've done." "Oh dear god, what have I done." The crushing realization of the damage you've done to yourself, particularly when the various and minute aspects are analyzed in a way that only psychedelics can really achieve; how every piece fits into the current psychological trainwreck. It's what can send some people into episodes of depersonalization/derealization. Only, it's so much easier in a way, when it's simply due to an incidence of trauma that occurred in your life, rather than this *gestures to everything* All those milestones, all those moments of interpersonal development, as mundane and unremarkable, fleeting and insignificant, they may seem. You don't know how much they mattered until they never existed. Even your own family, detaching yourself from them until you were only strangers living under the same roof.
I'm an imitation human being. This is what occurs when you attempt to go against eons of evolution, attempt to live an inhuman life in a human body, still constrained by innate, biological, needs and limitations. Look at the vast variety of substances, intertwined, interactions juggled, so many interventions, just to prop myself up, reduce the degradation process, ease some of the symptoms and increase functionality; these are the drugs of a cancer patient with a dying soul. I've thought in the past, "What difference would the events everyone has have made now? The, unfortunately, shallow, relationships, the social interaction that feels it never would have given me what I wanted. What difference would it make if the world would still be the same one I was observing now, ultimately in the same position in life?
I saw it would have made all the difference in the world if something had managed to break through and allow me to stop feeling so alone. If I had just been able to experience it once, before I reached this depth.
I...can't believe I've done it. The reasons why it began, in part predisposition, in part because I was always so ideologically driven. Unfortunately a lifetime of human experience, from a unique point in time and space, with a past that shapes it all, can't adequately be conveyed in a reasonable length.
I completely refused to accept any need for others, I just deconstructed, abstracted, and overanalyzed, everything into oblivion and paid the price. I dismissed people and didn't even try to tell you many problems I felt because of my pessimistic viewpoint. Maybe I was right and most people didn't want to hear it, aspects of themselves could be largely innate, biologically/genetically driven, evolutionarily determined, and unlikely to change, that they wouldn't put any serious or effective effort into attempting to better themselves. I felt that because I had put so much effort and time into introspection and attempting inner self-improvement, self-improvement of the habits of the mind, of adhering to rationality, that if others hadn't shown the desire to do so by that point they were likely hopeless. And of course many of my own flaws were glaringly obvious and far worse than those of others! But because I wasn't saying anything I really never gave you, or anyone else, a chance, I never gave people a chance to try to find out if there was something more to them.
Particularly during the holidays the contrast between someone who has close, good, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, family, loved ones, and people who really don't have anyone in the world, is made clearest. Without other people the world, life, just feels empty, devoid of life, emotion, warmth, and meaning.
Later I thought about love, something most people value highly deep within, something I had always closed myself off to, and if two people see something in each other, find someone they identify with in a world with so many people, limited by their location, time, language, age, so many barriers that make our worlds so small, feel a moment of profound connection and understanding, and share in such deep happiness, want to make each other as happy as possible and protect, preserve, what they feel for each other, develop together, that may be the most beautiful thing in life there is.
All the things I constantly, repeatedly, ruminated on in the pit of depression, came to feel such profound guilt and regret over. I really hate how I did this, all the people I must have hurt, who wanted to get to know who I am, how I must have made them feel. My own family, seeing someone you used to know grow distant. Until you come home one day and...your father tells you he found your mother crying and she told him "I don't know who my son is anymore." The father who you later came to see so many negative, self-destructive, traits similar to your own. Picking you up from school, the day there was an event to try to keep the school open due to troubles with the college it was co-hosted with, how he joined in and I sat in the car and he told me "I know you don't care." The moment he went on a rant emerging from the time I had been waiting under a tree while it rained, instead of going under the shelter of a building nearby, how he asked whether I had problems with anyone, assumed, couldn't imagine, I wasn't being bullied due to how I was, how even the chickens knew to get out from under rain, the repeated mentions of how robotic I was, and that if my own parents were saying this, imagine what others said (I later realized my nickname among the newer generations at highschool, the freshmen/sophomores, many may have been "robot-kid"), finally breaking down and sobbing telling me I didn't know how "ugly" it was to have a son like that. I grabbed a screwdriver on the dash, a stoic seething anger building, not sure if I would have done anything, something major would need to have finally tipped me over once in your life. "Are you threatening me?" "Do it if you think it will help. When you were young everything we brought you was brand new." (What I would have needed most of all required no money). Later, after returning from a store he had stopped at, "Has the anger left you? Do you want a cell phone?" I said no, I didn't need one. The time he drove me home and a chorus of girls cried out "Bye Malice.", not mocking, he remarked on this and how he wished I would just talk to one of them. The car he bought me, how my reaction was completely stoic because I saw it as something simply getting you from point a to b, a material good. He remarked, in a light tone, that he didn't see me smile or anything. That when I graduated and got a well paying job I could buy a nicer one, if I wanted (Maybe he assumed it was because I felt it was an unremarkable car, nothing worth getting excited over. The book related to psychology, understanding your (troubled) teen, my mother reading. How she said sometimes she felt she just wanted to hug me. I remember her saying that when I was little I always wanted to be with her, likely shy from everything else. Then, a few times, towards the end, nearing the culmination of my detachment, "Malice, do you love me?" I told her to stop asking me that. That time I called he what could be translated as hag/old woman (bieja) and the way she looked down afterward, so sad. I remember one final rant from my father, triggered by and said to my brother, showing his view of me, what a disappointment I was, the trouble I had caused (I think I may have heard him once saying "someone that could kill me in my sleep" on the phone, after an incidence that led to visits from a social worker, meetings at school, due to my backpack being searched and book with disturbing drawings/captions I had forgotten about, planned to chuck over an elementary school fence or leave somewhere children would find it. To have come to have been viewed as such a monster, one I had become, by my own parents.). Him mentioning something in a conversation about how he thought the odometer wasn't working properly. I had been driving to college and just spending all my time in the computer lab, or a library reading manga, then, by the end, sometimes didn't even bother. It's a type of uninvolvement from lower class, particularly non-White/non-East Asian, parents most won't understand that enabled this to slip through without question. Just being asked when I got home, same as usual, "How did your day go?" "Fine." When he taught me to drive, and later my mom asked whether he didn't get angry and start to yell, after failing a few times she hired a private instructor, took me to the DMV that, in his experience, was easiest. When I came home my faster asked me what I had learned, I told him just the basics, and he asked in a sad tone "Couldn't you have learned them from me?" I said "Yes." I, could have, because his pain reached me. I remember afterward him making me drive him to the mass fleamarkets he went to on the weekends, his routine of getting out, like your thrift store perusal, Lanny. He was outgoing in a way, seemed to know many people there, spoke and made conversation. I also remember him seeming and saying things that made him seem very depressed, dysfunctional, unsatisfied with life; how hyper-critical he was of everyone and everything around him, how I never felt at ease around him, even as a child, and would tense up like a board, because he seemed so irritable, so easily angered, although he never hit us. If you were to see me in person, the look in my eyes, you would understand this same feeling. How he took me to his job on the weekends, to meet the widowed elderly lady he worked for as a handyman. Upper class LA neighborhood, the kind that's remarkable by how comparatively peaceful and quiet it sounds and feels. She had a collection of art she had made, an exhibit/storage, we saw once. I recall buddhist architecture in her backyward. i remember her telling me she didn't even own a computer, remarking how cell phones don't help anyone. She asked me to smile, and I gave a forced one, which made my dad chuckle and pat me on the back. I remember her saying she was going to give me a few books; prior she had asked what my favorite was, "The Call of the Wild", she said she could see why I chose it.I remember having asked on Zoklet how a person should react to this, being the autist that I am. It was just a few, which one she felt was right for this time in my life, another, about a love/marriage, for later. She fell and was in the hospital, and at her age, you tend to not recover, I remember him going over to clean her statues, unannounced, so she wouldn't "feel sad" when she came home. I remember how one day I stayed inside the truck all day, feeling tired, not having gotten enough sleep, trying to nap and him remarking that he had told me we would be getting up early. I remember him lightly mentioning to someone something about her inheritance and how he wanted me to get to know her, maybe she'd leave something for me as her children were well off and didn't need it. I thought it was unforgivably selfish, but don't know how serious he was. Then I saw her on a walker at the doorway with my father, looking towards me, I glanced up, then back down, shunning her, like all the rest. He brought me a treat she had given him. The next time he made my brother go with him and when he began to protest, "But Malice" he barked a stern "No."
Then I disappeared on Halloween. A date chosen for no particularly good reason or symbolism, although the people out in droves, masked, would provide a good cover. I simple left a note saying "I moved out, I'm going to live on my own now". I burned some things I didn't want left of me, I had even looked through albums before and taken out pictures of myself. I remember going through cabinets in the garage, in part a habit of snooping/rummaging just for my own curiosity, and one day finding old childhood drawings I had made. I don't think I had heart to burn those too. I remember at some place, there being an assortment of brochures and one of them was for something like a mule ride into the Grand Canyon. "One day we'll do something like that." I knew we never would. I genuinely never thought about them, felt anything, a sign of the inhuman monstrosity I had become, until about two years ago when I finally broke and everything hit me.
The English teacher in middle who saw something in me, referred to me as "terrorist" and "unabomber", even buffalo bill and said one day he was going to show the class that film. "Malice can powerwalk x laps in y minutes." "That's because Malice is insane." (Habit I developed in middle school, really incredible speed.) "Malice could extract his own plutonium." I think he said my standardized test scores, those in the past, had been "state" (level). How he asked whether I considered myself part of the mainstream (He knew I didn't), that college is the perfect environment for non-conformists like me. The look on his face when he asked if I was "walking" (the stage), and I shook me head to respond know, uncaring, cold. Anger and disappointment, maybe he had seen others go down a similar road and waste potential. I genuinely I wasn't due to my GPA, turns out I was wrong.
The English teacher who noted my work, it was my writing that caught their attention. "Out of everyone here, you write the most interesting things." "Malice is just on another level." after some student said something related to me in class. After a meeting with the principal and a few others, school psychologist/psychiatrist, vice, where they had two police cars arrive beforehand. "I thought that was ridiculous. I had some shit happen to me when I was a kid, so if you ever want to talk." I never did, not once, and at the end I disappointed him like all the rest.
Another, who ended up dying of cancer. Atheist, may have ridden with the Hell's Angels in the past. "They tell me you're gifted, and, quite frankly, I have a hard time believing that. Never did the work, participated, looked interested, regularly showed up late (need my sleep). He said he would get me suspended for the latter once. Assigned Steppenwolf, which I never got, and at the end had a test on it, or part of the final had one on it, related to it, and I wrote my opinion on it, possibly just based from the excerpt/my general impression of what the question was getting at, what the book had been about. "You write very well." With a slightly raised eyebrow, a look in his eye (not of suspicion of cheating). We had an assignment one day where we would send him things, one part was a silly story about some petty vandalism I had done, stated in a non-self incriminating manner, along with a sticker from a climbing company that said "Get high". Some time after he passed, at school, his widower came up to me and wanted to show me something, a picture he took posing with that and smirking (I remember sticking one somewhere else and it staying up for years, all the way until the end.). "Thank you for that moment/so thank you for that". I felt no emotion, just nodded and said dryly "You're welcome." and she went on her way.
The early 30s born again Christian, Bush supporter (although not the talk show pundit listener kind, this can give the wrong impression.), dorky hair, very naive, but possibly the most laid back and friendliest person there. I remember him talking about his grandmothers racist and when he told her his best friend (in college) was Black all she could say, in shock, was "Hush!" I remember him asking why I had turned in an empty journal (completely, we were supposed to do things throughout the class), whether it was a statement. Actually, I think I just wanted the points for having a map in it or something. When he asked, out of curiosity, if he could see my report card, then said I was the only one who had ever said no. We were supposed to read for a period, then state what we had read about, discuss it, current events. I always said "I didn't read anything." because I didn't want to respond. They guy next to me said it once too and he mentioned something about my influence. He did tell me I could write it down if I wanted, but that he needed something. Some time later, he was hosting a PE class, "Alright, I have to see what you're reading." (possibly after the school trouble, maybe suggesting he had to keep tabs on me). It was the book Eragon at the time (claims of plagiarism/criticisms of originality aside, damn enjoyable fiction at the time). "The Madness of Life, hmm."
The UC Berkeley graduate socialist (in his own words) history professor, fairly dry teacher, although he tried, in a way, to instill enthusiasm, but it just wasn't there. On a final assigment, writing assignment, we had as a graduation requirement "That was the best paper I have ever read. It was written at a post-graduate level. On another test I think you were the only one to score __. I realized how frustrating it must be to ___(be around the average high schooler, with their typical conversations. People I couldn't relate to, not on "my level"). ___ because I think you deserve to go to a good university. Penultimate part, caused a sort of smirk on my face, but I didn't say a word, once again I never had the intention of opening up, and he sighed and sent me on my way.
I really was popular, in a way, and it was a smaller, more selective school, so the atmosphere was much better, friendlier, without the cliques. I wasn't bullied and have always had too much of "Don't fuck with me/on the verge of mass murder." Popular just for never saying a thing, being so reclusive, away from everyone. God that can make women hound you in way, along with a hyper-masculine profile. There's been interesting research, some from Haidt, on the mental profiles of political ideologies, that generally liberals have the most feminine and libertarians the most masculine. There is the "extreme male brain" theory of autism (Aspergers) as well. Even interesting information from neuropolitics on the effect of sunlight (which has downstream effects) and testosterone levels on political ideology. I flat-out ignored, coldly shunned, every girl that showed interest in me, and most were attractive and very forward. The stories of particularly cold shut downs.
There were so many people that tried to reach out, that really were nice, if only I had seen things differently.
Something I later sent to someone:
I later came to realize there was a richness and complexity to other people that you can't find anywhere else, and came to deeply regret that I had never opened up to anyone in my life and missed out on so much. No matter how much I've read, I've never found satisfying answers to the questions that really matter. In a way it really just made me more unhappy, depressed and unsatisfied with life, took away more wonder from the world. "The more knowledge, the more pain, the more wisdom, the more suffering." I really do feel like the story of Ecclesiastes, which may be one of the few or only parts of the bible worth reading for the non-religious; particularly if the modern versions that use the word "meaningless" instead of "vanity" and if you know that the final part may not have been part of the original text: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecclesiastes
Realistically the world is going to move on without any of us, and that's fine. The people in your life really are what matter, good close friends, a warm house with people waiting for you, who look forward to you returning, to share in their life and happiness, a loving family to return to, are really the best things any of us could hope for. I realized this too late, not in terms of you, but my own life.
Something I chose not to send:
I never really came out of it, though, drugs can't replace people in your life. Without people the world, life, just feels incredible empty and dead, lifeless. It's a hollow life, an imitation of what human life should be, and I was trying to run away from that for so long. My past is and always will be a black hole of depression, empty. Imagine every relationship you've had with people, every connection, every moment, gone. What it does to you. I'm telling you this because I've felt the need to tell someone and this is the ugly reality. I never would have imagined I would fall apart so much and so fast, lose so much ability to function; I really did feel terminally ill and still do in a way. I lost interest in life, in everything, I lost what little ability to experience emotions I had left, any drive for life, any energy to live, I feel completely disconnected from other people, I don't feel like a part of this world. You majored in psychology, so you should probably have some understanding of what severe social isolation of this level, taken to this extent and prolonged for so long, does to a person. I realized that even as a child, life had never felt right to me, how I imagined it should feel, feel to others. For example, at a beautiful park, there was something that just wasn't there. I later realized it was the human element, the emotional coloring of life, the feeling of connection. As much hatred as I've felt for other people, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, it's just wrong, something that shouldn't exist; and I did feel genuine deep regret and resentment for ever having come into existence, as much as someone can genuinely mean this. There are so many aspects of my life that are just unbelieveably depressing.
I've driven myself to an incredible level of isolation and alienation. I have no friends, acquaintances, family, relatives, coworkers. There's absolutely no one and hasn't been for so long. I literally have not had a friend in over a decade, and I don't use a strict definition of that term.
---
Two parts I did send:
You made the right decisions in life for happiness. For me, it's almost as I wanted to be unhappy. I've done everything wrong, had nearly everything go wrong, to feel happy, fulfilled, and successful in life. I feel like I've destroyed myself, ruined my life, and squandered my potential. I've completely fallen out of human society, alienated myself to an incredible degree, and don't know how to integrate after all this time and everything that's happened, if I'll ever be able to or even have the capacity to experience basic and crucial human emotions/experiences. There are so many things about my life I never told anyone that are just unbelievably depressing. Dear god I hope I'll be able to come out of this one day after what I've done to myself.
The truth is that beneath everything, as much as I wanted to run away from it, I was just a profoundly lonely, damaged, and depressed person, and still am.
I wasn't exaggerating when I described how I felt as being terminally ill in a way, feeling that one day I would wake up coughing/vomiting blood.
"Just go out and talk to somebody." After everything I've done, my innate, abnormal predisposition/brain combined with the environment, life choices, leading to the perfect psychological trainwreck. Having missed out on so much, never developed properly, zero natural social skills, after this level of extreme isolation, this level of alienation. What do I tell them I'm going, have done with my life? How do we possibly relate?
But, what I fear most, is that at this point I'm never going to be able to experience what others do, the critical piece that was missing, the human element of connection. I genuinely don't even know how to connect with others, I never learned. Dear god, to not have known it once in your life, to reflect on everything, and realize this in the cold of night. What I would wish for most in the world was someone lying next to me to hold hands with and share in their warmth.
"It's so unbearably, grotesquely, empty." I thought during the trip. This is what occurs in a life without people. I knew for certain there would be no point in ever tripping again until that changed. There's a term for what afflicts people like me. "Cancer of the soul." I hope I'm not in the terminal stages, I'm afraid of the finality of death, even if life is absurd, consciousness ultimately illusory, everything fleeting, impermanent, and in vain. To die without ever once having known what it was to live. Would that be the saddest thing of all?
If I have one dying wish it's that no one ever feel as alone and empty as I ended up feeling. -
2015-11-22 at 2:41 AM UTC in "I'm an alcoholic"Lanny, do you take NAC/N-acetylcysteine? May legitimately prevent hangovers if used properly, a lot of the negative after effects.
https://www.reddit.com/r/Nootropics/...are_my/cqpu4lm
You can find other information about it related to this. Not sure if I've mentioned this before. -
2015-11-22 at 1:51 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionI could have sworn you had said the opposite within the last few weeks. Well maybe not referring to the super elite, just the top portion of society, the smart fraction (interestign theory to read about, with evidence backing it, such as returns on investment in education: http://lagriffedulion.f2s.com/sft.htm).
Regardless, I wasn't arguing about that. What you wrote really had nothing to do with it!The idea that you could take an average person, even above average, the most intelligent members here, and with the right experiences turn them into prodigies, is a fantasy.
This is what you bolded. It really should not be controversial based on the overwhelming evidence.
Here:Think about biology, realistically only a tiny percentage of people are really going to contribute significant advancements, natural born geniuses.
Significant was the key word, which is subjective, unfortunately. But just look at the people around you, think about the masses, the average person! I'm not arguing you can't contribute anything meaningful, help humanity inch forward by being a cog, just that compared to the top fraction of a percentage what they contribute is orders of magnitude above that. I remember you mentioning a while ago a study, although you may have said that it was often/usually misrepresented by (some/a certain type) in the tech/programming/com sci sector that showed the top x% programmers were y times more productive that the bottom z percent. -
2015-11-22 at 12:31 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionI know it feels hopeless, when you're in that state it's so hard to do anything, even things that seem like basic tasks to others, you can lose the desire to even get better and live.
But if you're at the end and feel you're going to die, you may as well give it one last shot, do something crazy/illegal/dangerous if you have to, make the money any way you need to. Nardil, NSI-189, transcranial magnetic stimulation. If you manage to become happy, and it still isn't what you want, you can't find anything in life, then you can at least feel confident in your decision, go through it without regrets or concerns about what could have been.
Hey, you have the NHS in the UK, you should see if they have TMS available. -
2015-11-21 at 8:35 PM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition
jesus fucking christ shut the fuck up
Now you know how it feels. :smug:
Everyone should learn to skip/skim things that aren't relevant or interesting to them and to speed read. The compulsion to read everything, not miss out, is understandable, but you have to develop this habit and learn the importance of rational ignorance, particularly to the aspiring scholar, or you're just going to fall into the trap everyone else does, the massive time sinks that are everywhere on the internet.
"Will this make any impact on my life? Will this knowledge ever be relevant, useful enough, to be worth the time? Am I ever realistically going to think about this again?"
Draw a sharper line between experiencing something for knowledge and pleasure. Compared to the time you could spend viewing silly videos/pictures/gifs, reading amusing news stories, posts on reddit, click-bait/mass entertainment/infotainment articles, wouldn't you derive much more pleasure from using the time you saved skipping that to enjoy higher quality material made specifically for enjoyment? -
2015-11-21 at 11:02 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition"my dream is to blow up the moon"
Late night googling before I'm sedated enough to go to bed. -
2015-11-21 at 10:01 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionPoC, I prescribe post 2019 to you. Seriously, talk to your psychiatrist/therapist about it, it may be covered under whatever insurance you have, if you have any, or they could find a way.
"I think I'll just make a makeshift electromagnet with a copper coil and a car battery and do some home TMS."
"meh, just cut an extension cord in halve and connect the coil to an outlet."
Lanny, you aren't hard science retarded, could we actually feasibly generate a magnetic field of sufficient strength at home, at a relatively affordable price, with an acceptable risk of death?
Unrelated, you know, I really wonder what 7,8-DHF would feel like if used after ketamine. Whether there would be some redundancy due to both possibly largely depending on the effect of BDNF. Although, since they lead to the increase in different ways -> dose response curve, unknown whether it would push things too high. There are multiple theories for ketamine's MOA, though, seems the other main aspect may be its effect on synapses, and 7,8-DHF has other interesting effects as well, such as on the plasticity of the hippocampus and amygdala:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22710915
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/24662915
Also unrelated, I just had a memory of a time before depression, when I would literally regularly become euphoric throughout the day and receive a feeling similar to ASMR (possibly the same, or stronger, better) just from the thought of how great/wonderful I was, how much I loved myself. This was during my teenage years. And at that point I didn't even have friends and had retreated from family, I suppose just being around people, in a group, but not participating, was enough to keep me healthy. With a good past, loving close/warm family, good friends, a challenging school environment, I wonder if I could have managed to attain the end game of autism, actually falling in love with myself. It's like, I could have become my own wife, then I wouldn't need anyone. Maybe, one day, I really could attain this and need no one other than myself.
It's what the Buddha would have wanted.
"Yes you are. And you're boring. And totally ordinary. And you know it."" Ricky Fitts, American Beauty. We are kindred spirits. I am Ricky Fitts, and the world is utterly hopeless.
"The sole worry of Haruhi, who looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, could be summed up with the words “the world was too normal."" - Haruhi
I want to be rolling on the floor, drooling from my own endogenously mediated euphoria, hugging myself while smiling and laughing, a feeling of warmth beyond the happiest, most joyful, playful, adventurous, moment you could have with a woman you loved. I wish to inherit the kingdom of sploo. Having the urge to try a good floor roll right now, normally when I lay on the floor it's because I'm depressed.
"Hahaha, Malice, what are you doing?" "I've never met anyone life you before, I've never been this happy."
Genuinely thought that while doing it. Mild, but we still haven't reversed enough of the long-term damage and inherit deficits. You know the path now, though, ascended one. Every neurotransmitter system, every aspect of the brain, can be modulated. Drugs loosen the chains of biology, the tyranny of the double helix. Technology, the divine fruit of the tech sector gods, will one day shatter them. -
2015-11-21 at 9:22 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionWoah, dude, remember that depression helmet I mentioned a while back? I recall PoC responding along the lines of "I want this."
http://www.bbc.com/news/health-27115432A helmet that delivers electro-magnetic impulses to the brain has shown promise in treating people with depression, Danish researchers have said.
About 30% of those with the condition fail to respond to medication or psychological counselling.
The new device targets malfunctioning blood cells in the brain.
In clinical trials two-thirds who used it reported that their symptoms had disappeared, and improvements in mood were noticeable within a week.
The helmet was tested on 65 patients with treatment-resistant depression.
"They were feeling well, they were functioning well, they could start work," said Birgit Straaso, chief doctor at Hillerod.
"The helmet is amazing," said Annemette Ovlisen, a graphic artist who suffered recurrent depression for 16 years and a participant in the Hillerod trials.
"It's like the fog lifts. It was like somebody hit the reset button."
The device contains seven coils that deliver a dose of Transcranial Pulsating Electro Magnetic Fields (T-PEMF) to brain tissues.
The pulses are so minute that the patient cannot detect any sensation, and the only side effect so far is occasional "tiny" nausea that immediately disappears after treatment.
Prof Steen Dissing, of Copenhagen's Faculty of Health Sciences is the helmet's principal architect.
He said: "The device mimics electrical fields in the brain, and triggers the body's own healing mechanism."
The pulses activate capillaries in the brain, which form new blood vessels and secrete growth hormones.
"We think it works so well because we have imitated the electrical signalling that goes on in the brain and we figured out that this signalling communicates with the blood vessels," said Prof Dissing.
"And blood vessels do communicate with blood tissue. And we found that communication pathway."
In the trial, whose results were published this month in the journal Acta Neuropsychiatrica, 34 patients received half an hour of T-PEMF once a day, and 31 had two 30-minute doses.
The treatment had the additional benefit of enabling patients to improve their tolerance of the anti-depression medicine, researchers found.
They are currently seeking permission from the European Union to market the helmet within six months to a year, and said the potential demand was enormous.
Someone mentioned TMS treatment for depression on reddit, others shared their experiences: https://www.reddit.com/r/science/com...pression_have/
"I've had major depressive disorder for at least 10 years and I just got this new treatment called TMS like 6 months ago. I feel amazing and winter is my worst time of the year but I just feel incredible. I sleep less now because I really want to experience all of this I've been missing."
"I was told this before and I don't think I will do it again because I honestly don't think I'll have to. It did what I needed. You feel the magnetic pull it's like flicking the inside of your head and it's not fun so yea, I can understand how it could be bad."
"Someone I know had a similar turnaround from TMS. It wears off though, hers has pretty much gone way after a few years."
I didn't know this had already taken off so much: https://neurostar.com/neurostar-tms-...ion-treatment/
There's one right by me: http://www.baytms.com/#!directions-map/rjc7j
May be covered by insurance as well: https://neurostar.com/neurostar-heal...ance-coverage/
Hmm, although there's this so called "deep" version: http://www.brainsway.com/us/why-brainsway
Would need to find good info first about differences between various methods/providers. Likely is more effective, the best option.
Pretty futuristic that we have treatments like this available now.
"I think I'll just make a makeshift electromagnet with a copper coil and a car battery and do some home TMS."
"meh, just cut an extension cord in halve and connect the coil to an outlet."
Lanny, you aren't hard science retarded, could we actually feasibly generate a magnetic field of sufficient strength at home, at a relatively affordable price, with an acceptable risk of death? -
2015-11-21 at 8:15 AM UTC in Is it weird that I never stuck anything up my ass?Lol, that's what it was this entire time? It looks so ominous at avatar size. Never bothered to image search.
-
2015-11-21 at 8:02 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionAs for Nardil, as I've said some time before, for anxiety and depression it's the real deal, this is literally, no exaggeration, a literal miracle drug, life changing, complete life turnaround/personality transformation. The only hard part is actually getting it because of the myths and stigmas about its dangers. The diet is really simple and it's extremely unlikely you're going to have anything serious happen. That's the catch, can be difficult to find someone willing to prescribe it/to convince them (depends on how much your psych is willing to listen to you address the myths and misconceptions), although you could always lie and guilt them, say you've tried everything, nothing works and they just end up making you feel worse, giving you terrible side effects, you're at the end of your rope and can't bear to keep trying things that don't work for years etc. Other techniques to manipulate them, like the classic "I moved and ran out of my old prescription. I feel like I'm dying inside without it." It's not abusable, though. Then there's the diet, and you can't take any drugs that effect the monoamine system, but you won't need to because you'll already feel incredible.
www.google.com/search?q=nardil+hypomania
www.google.com/search?q=site:socialanxietysupport.com+nardil
As to the debate of whether the "old" version of Nardil was significantly more effective, whether there's any difference, the answer may be yes: http://mentalhealthdaily.com/2014/08/16/old-nardil-vs-new-nardil-comparison-was-the-old-version-more-effective/
It could at least avoid/(greatly) reduce side effects. Fortunately a DIY enteric coating is incredibly easy and simple: https://www.dmt-nexus.me/forum/default.aspx?g=posts&t=14708
Hmm, diy enteric coated capsules could be interesting to experiment with for other things as well. Things that aren't suitable for ROAs besides oral due to various issues, causticity, poor mucous membrane penetration, or needing to be metabolized by the liver/having active metabolites, but may be greatly damaged/have bioavailability greatly reduced due to being destroyed by stomach acid. I should make a thread on r/nootropics about this. -
2015-11-21 at 6:43 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first editionhttp://steamcommunity.com/sharedfile.../?id=386594506
Comment by "Niggas in Space". I wonder if they're a member of the site or if it's just a coincidence. Just funny that we'd end up at the same patch.
Oh, as to mood/posting, what the hell? Is it the 7,8-DHF doing it, with a delayed effect? It seems to kick in maybe 7-8 hours after administration, if so, although it's always possible something could be altering it, particularly forskolin due to the effect on TrkB receptor (possible regulation or upregulation, seems uncertain how significant the effect in, then there's always the issue above that of bioavailability and BBB penetration, other issues there usually isn't much, if any, data or even speculation on). Hey...I wonder what would happen if I snorted it before sleep. If it didn't cause overstimulation leading to decreased sleep depth/quality or premature awakening(s), it could be even better this way.
Crazy Taxi does sound like a great game for this mood. Oh, fuck, Blue Brain Boost was the only one selling it and they unexpectedly went out of business. I wish I had bought more, but, unforeseen, you know. -
2015-11-21 at 5:29 AM UTC in The retarded thread: Fuck, §m£ÂgØL made one first edition"I was an early bitcoin investor. I just got lucky, really. Read about it, thought it looked really interesting. Decided to spend a relatively small amount when they were selling for pennies, then I forgot about it until years later when I saw a news report on the record price they had set and decided to sell. It's like winning the lottery, sometimes it just happens to people. *shrugs* I donated most of it and spend most of my time doing charity work now, I want to give back to the world since I was so fortunate, and so many others aren't, rather than just splurging on mindless consumerism and buying things to impress others. I never want to become that kind of person, Ferrari's and McMansions aren't for me."
"How much do you have?"
"It doesn't matter, money can't buy happiness."
If they continue to press me, particularly women, while scowling: "You aren't getting any of it, so you don't need to know. I'm not spending a penny on anybody and I'm not interested in the kind of people that can't make their own way in life. You could put the most desirable woman on Earth in front of me and I wouldn't even buy her a drink. Anyone who's looking for someone to provide financial support and security, splurge on them, or someone to brag about to their friends, can look elsewhere, because I won't even consider them for a second regardless of what they do. Not all men are filthy animals. If someone's income and status matter to you that much, that's not a good sign."
Hehehe, that's good, I'm going to memorize it for if I ever get out of this (NSI-189 + intensive therapy and relationships, followed by long term enteric coated Nardil, possibly combined with ALKS-5461 and whatever other good stuff comes out, is my best best.), Patrick Bateman style, but more refined. Fortunately the Grant study did find no significant difference in the incomes among those with 110-115 IQs and those with 150+, I being not deluding myself about being a genius (I'm at least highly damaged and dysfunctional, likely having squandered my potential. Eh, ending up a PhD or university researcher, working for someone else, despite how high up, isn't that appealing.). Motivation, work ethic/productivity, and daring can, however, be manufactured. Just think about drugs/combinations like meth, Xanax, and phenibut.
http://infoproc.blogspot.com/2005/03...epreneurs.html
Nardil actually has a good chance of triggering hypomania, and that's a good thing if you can contain/properly manage/channel it, which we all know the vast majority of people sure as hell can't. The other substances stacked on top of it only make this more likely, increase your positive attributes. I have literally 50+ substances on my desk and in my refrigerator at my disposal, and they're only getting better. Can't wait to see what's in Ceretropic's backlog of 50 substances they've been planning to release, hopefully they don't shut down before then.
Imagine my post quality back in my glory days, except significantly higher, combined with IWD's post frequency and length, all that effort instead, after finally having gotten it together (don't bet on it), being channeled into making money without regard for conventional morality. My god, I really could go into semi-retirement before 30, having made more money than nearly everyone will earn in a lifetime, having no worry about meeting my needs and only taking on projects if they interested me. I'd finally get to spit in the face of society like I deserve.