Pain versus pleasure - which one is the beneficial feeling?

[somewhat a Bryn Mawr-esque styled sort of meditation, upon societal ”… umm, stuff” I guess]

At times, 

I imagine that people are trying to get a hold of me, remotely. I’ve come to associate the premise of an actuality of this sort of thing having become a viable belief, or reality, even, in the lives and minds of people. It amounts to, I would suppose, a greater actualization of some degree, or threshold - albeit, only a given measure and extent of identity or persona, I would say. On top of that, it is a limited-use basis concept to stage aspirations and beliefs upon, given the ongoing presence of human shortcomings and failures in life, of all sorts of various forms that exist - the year, at the time of this writing, being 2022 A.D. 

Imaginably, at some point in the future, human personality shortcomings and abnormalities (disorders) would be undone and conquered, as it were, much earlier on, in the core education topics and subjects which are covered in school, or prior to school-age learning. Also, imaginably, there possibly are limited demographics of people who are brought up, of this more faultless form of a human, in learning. 

It made me question a notion, this previous time that this perhaps otherwise “delusional” sort of belief, as it stands, as for myself: ought I act upon a call for help, given a premise of absolutely non-verifiable synchronicity? What if I show up and it ends up being an inappropriate hour? What if people are stalking me, out in public, or something like that? On one hand, I’ve been a faulty-enough person, to imagine, for myself, that various people or entities would have it out for me, and that these types of validated or seditious indulgences - take your pick: are potential realities of exclusion that a person would have to go through. In an ideal world, we would more verifiably capably determine, more fluidly, and insightfully, whether or not a person has entered our lives, or persists there, for that matter, for our benefit, or for the sake of consuming us, as a resource of flesh, and of a subjective design, rather than a project of labor, and trials of development, perhaps, that a human could aught be. 

In this instance, I was “somewhat” challenged, for this outreach premise to have occurred, to me, of a completely introverted and “directed energy” sort of basis about it. The person had had what might seem to have been a trivial problem, yet numerous seditions exist upon this given premise - on one hand, it’s a “most obvious” sort of request to have, for a person - forgoing blurting it out, on one hand. “We all have this need,” some people might think, yet it’s very difficult, I find, to truthfully discern, whether or not somebody would display a given “human” trait of need, or shortcoming, as it were, unless we, ourselves, are the superior intellect and visceral discernment figure, in the human dynamic concerned here. In other words, it’s not until we become a superior critical mind, on a topic, that we become the appropriate person to resolve the problem, for others. 

It’s confusing, a bit, to think deeply, and to wrap the mind, effectively, around this subject basis, since it implies that we capably accept burden, which stands against a more “simple” and pleasurable life, being lived out, however temporary that it may be, for that we help others, yet it’s somewhat unclear, on one hand, whether or not extending this help, unto a person, could potentially develop in to a symbiotic, mutually beneficial sort of engagement and interaction, whereas some people are simply lacking in morals, whereas other people are unduly burdened, and whereas they “would” help somebody, whereas other people “would” help, or offer their help, and the circumstances amount to that they offer a less desirable solution than a better-positioned, more aptly capable person could offer. 

The corollary to this topic is that we would have a difficult time discerning whether or not a service offered to a person is even necessary to a person who is in a position of a greater extent of maturity - of many, or at least several - measures of “need” that a person has, whereas we become more ethically considerate, and capable, of acknowledging, and tending to needs of ourselves, others, society, etc., for attaining a higher degree of serenity and maturity. On one hand, sometimes we’re coddled, of some form, even in to our adulthood. We’re given graces of forgiveness; sometimes people look the other way - that’s the way my mind works, in any case. 

On this day, however, the topic of “Reclamation” was the outstanding decree, and seeming spirit, of the moment. I became a paranoid schizophrenic, of this basis, of an even earlier (oh, yeah… I forgot) premise that had been established, of that it was riot preparedness day, out where I started my day, for doing my daily rounds. To be certain, it was a shaky mindset, of all sorts of battering about, that I’d taken in, to wind up eventually finding my way home, while fitting my day in to various “demands” and threats upon me, of my home life, [somewhat], that it is - stuff such as that I need to get home at a certain hour, that I’m sometimes held at fault for things that had already been discussed, that appear to be my “fault,” for having acted out, violently, whereas I’m also being treated as a sort of “false idol” of some sort, of various measures of merit and attainment - in essence, it amounts to that I develop upon aesthetics practice and material attainment. 

I understand. It’s an easily fault-worthy thing to be guilty of - materialism. On the other hand, I “could” still be an unapologetic, relentless drug addict, and be the subject of distributed humor, in circles of superior displays of having attained a greater degree of maturity on the subject. The latest joke being something, essentially, like “oh, yeah. This guy. He looked like he had a thermonuclear explosion happen in his face.” Ha. I know the guy, for that matter. 

Sometimes, that sort of guy challenges me. Should I help someone who has absolutely no cares for etiquette, on top of a viciously seditious and remorseless attitude, simply because I’m a better person? Hopelessly devoted Christian dogma would largely suppose “yes,” that I do show unconditional love, turn the other cheek, and offer graces of forgiveness, etc. On one hand, displaying charity had been shown, in Pew Research, in previous years, some study and analysis (statistics, as it were, or is), of measures of virtue, in various forms, that distinguish people of a higher social class. That was ten years ago, however - what does it matter? - that’s somewhat the sentiment on my mind, yet I don’t quite expect that people would give me a hard time, in life, about stuff that had happened 10 years ago, or further back. On one hand, I was criminally incompetent, and I did criminally incompetent things, although I did pay the price, in doing so - some of these folks would disagree, and they take it upon themselves, in remote sensing applications, to personally abuse me, and threaten various measures of personal space and security that a person would typically assume, in life, for having locked spaces, a quiet personality, and a generally modestly considerate lifestyle. Who would imagine that absolutely all people surrounding oneself is, here and there (oh, how cute, right?), so casually interested in stealing and defiling “my” (i.e. supposed, or given “person’s”) property and personal, private space? 

Perhaps I’ll update further, some time soon. I’m getting cold, and I’m outdoors, at the moment. It’s sunset.

Some hallmarks of the times: 

It is near to the time of having been Easter, and subsequently, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday had come to pass, as well. Now is the time of Lent, where people in the Catholic religion are presented with the challenge of giving up some sort of worldly attachment. In practical terms, it’s a virtuous premise. My criticism of this premise is that sciences, of various ones, had been primitive, or pre-science, so to speak - sorts of knowledge base and philosophy about them, whereas in the past several hundred years, or so, sciences had begun to demand the rigors of objective proof, of an incontrovertible nature. Another corollary issue about this premise is that drug abstinence becomes an obvious claim of a needed thing to give up, for Lent, whereas in the twelve steps and self-help paradigm, the saying is that we strive for progress, not perfection. Ostensibly, a particular group of individuals, archetypal sorts, imaginably - get rebuked, and abandoned, during this period of time, every year, for the fact that drug use, and everything that comes along with the subject - commonly would become a sacrificed habit, or practice - a worldly thing that had been disavowed. The slighted one’s revolt, in response, and a person such as myself becomes a target for stalking, and I get let loose, of various elaborate ruses of the mind, at a costly rate to the establishment, for the nature of the fact of the matter - being that I only latently, perhaps, come to understand that I’m being robbed of my conscious mind’s continuity and sensory experience, whereas life seems to happen seamlessly, as though I’m not having some sort of lapse of consciousness, similar to an epileptic event. Today, for example, my non-laced shoe strap tightener constantly became loose. Another thing that happens is that my asspad becomes loosened, from between my butt cheeks. It gives me the impression that I’d been violated, somehow. It’s an issue of concern, because it’s a noticeably “just had” occurred, sort of thing - that doesn’t happen every day, yet it definitely happens over and over, on a day like this. Perhaps for the sake of confessions being wrought out of me, for some sort of “somebody’s” pleasures? Perhaps. I would, ostensibly, be the one to confess, in honesty, and I commonly do that, since it had been requested of me. The problem is that some people are not ready for honesty, and they react against the season of self-sacrifice with antisocial behavior. 

Then, there’s the odd flows of vehicular traffic, and there’s simply more people out on the streets. On one hand, it’s all basically opposition to self-sacrifice, but how could a person identify, with certainty - the perpetrators, while there’s such diversity at stake, out here, in Los Angeles, California, USA? On one hand, the strangeness definitely happens. The side-chained narrative of paranoid beliefs is the supporting mechanism that thwarts complacency, although, to reiterate - these strange things “are” definitely happening. Technology is established, at this point, in time, sufficiently such that a person’s mind could conceivably - at a great cost, be robbed of one thing, such as time, whereas it would seem, nonetheless, that “nothing” had happened, yet some changes that are incontrovertible seem to keep happening, regardless of that such detriments to self-sufficiency and upkeep would typically otherwise be uncommon. 

I’ll update more, in a bit. It took me from sunset until 11:00 p.m. to get home, today. 

Update: 6:48 a.m., April 29th, 2022

Moving forward, to bring this all to a point, of some various sorts; I’ll try to do that, here. First of all, given how commonly my overseers, or perhaps, at times, my directed-life designers, as they might be termed - given how often some of these people have as much as sensory insight, as much as I do, or more - about my surroundings, because - let’s face it. This is high tech stuff. People could be teaming up on me, while looking at what I see with my own eyes, while knowing what I’m thinking about something. Most commonly, it’s about “losing” something, for example, amongst my mess, otherwise known as my crumbs and knickknacks. Conceivably, they have a database of when I was last in knowing possession of the object, and it’s databased somewhere, easily accessible for them. On one hand, it’s my punishment, for doing something improper, perhaps, which I do, somewhat, and I’m otherwise allowed to float by, for the day, in general. So they try to make me believe that somebody had stolen my stuff, or moved it around, or something, while I was out, while I used the restroom, or was bathing - stuff like that. They tell me that my housemates had done it, to invoke suspicion and ill-will towards them. Sometimes it works, hence I’d broken some holes in the drywall, here at the transitional living home. Yet, I hold my anger, and aggression towards others, because… hmm. Because of various things, yet, I suppose that the most prominent reason is that I’d like to not fall out of form, and do something uncharacteristic, in another part of my life, more important than the material world; crumbs and knickknacks of my room, as it were. 

Which brings things to a pertinent second point: people who practice “anything,” I’d say, or even just “do” something - are likely to “do” that thing, of some offhanded slight, perhaps a social faux pas, for example, and conceivably, it would slip out, at an undesirable moment, such as when an opportunity arises, for that it’s an uncomfortable thing, which is a realm of un-knowingness, I’d say. That being the case, when we’re uncomfortable, we don’t quite always know what to do. Hence, as for myself, I was a self-injurer, and I punch the walls, because I get that upset. Some of these people get me that upset. Over time, the message slightly comes across, I’d suppose, or I get bigger, tougher, I get better “lines,” in remote sensing, for persona development and marketing purposes, and I have to be okay with that good enough is good enough. I have to consider that other people aren’t doing so great, such as the guy who had the… yada yada yada sorts of stuff to think about. A lack of restraint is an undoing of a man or woman, alike. It makes people nervous, amidst the presence of such - a lack of restraint. It signals danger. It causes people to become uncomfortable, and frightened of showing up where that sort of thing happens. It makes people judge the superficial. 

Alright, that’s my little morning’s update, for the time being. That’s as much as I have in my mind, at the moment. 

Ooh! A big one, really quick:

These sorts of things, in needing to be surveilled, polls run, people queried, reactions and responses taken - the cumulative effect of it all is that it drives the need for Daylight Savings Time, which, on one hand, we benefit from, here in California - we somewhat bask in the indulgence of having a long, warm or hot day, from spring until fall, largely, and it’s a largely vertical expanse of land, our state of California. It’s a popular destination, yet with people so commonly rioting about, in the streets, and following people around, it gives the entire place a poor reputation, and we used to have a huge tourism industry, as a source of revenue. 

Anyhow, the Daylight Savings Time “belief” thing is one of the “beliefs” lobbed at me, to establish my paranoid persona | identity, au jour. On one hand, people seem to combat and warmonger around town, with the basis of burgeoning California’s place, in benefitting from Daylight Savings Time, but it’s unkind to other states, other nations, who get the short end of the stick, with short days, colder weather, and embattled trade provisions being made out, as a result. Take the European Union, for example, particularly in the context of the Russia | Ukraine war going on. There had seemed to be, anecdotally, for example, a bargain-rate cosmetics ingredients supplier, which I’d discovered on the net, and I came to find out that they didn’t accept payments from the United States, even though their website said that they do. It was disappointing, because I was hoping to get a good deal on some hard-to-find ingredients. 

All that being said, we’re generally not as productive as, say, farm workers, for example, who do labor, by the day - I know farm work. Several years ago, I went out to work on a farm. Now I’m a bit nostalgic for that opportunity, and on one hand, I’ve got to print some flyers up, and distribute them, and see if I can round up some work. 

People who don’t care, don’t work, I suppose. 

Okay. That’s all, for this re-update. Thanks. 

Some updated observations: Saturday, June 25th, 2022:

As I’m out trekking, in a nuclear watershed South Bay community, I encounter that I’d found a slight diversion in what would have otherwise been my standard route, out to the place I need to attend to, for a pickl app gig, and I made a turn down an earlier, more nested street than the main street, where most of the non-local traffic might likely enter through. I sat down for a moment, having spent a fairly time-consuming amount of the day in resting, in intervals, already, whereas, for being out and about, and for trekking, I encounter various pitfalls and hazards of inefficiency in performance. Here, the problems had amounted to establishing warmth (not so much, since I’d largely been on the move), maintaining hydration, which I managed well, come morning, when I woke up rather cold and apathetic towards moving around, due to subsequent inflammation - by making good use of my fleece-lined pantyhose that I got, from Amazon, by setting them, fairly fully, yet not completely all-over, which I found to feature good protection against hypothermia, while being on the move, yet also good insular warmth, from the fleece, which is both cushiony and absorbent, while the elastic synthetic outer layer provides easy wicker penetration and breathability. Now that I’m closer to my destination, I stopped to have a sandwich: peanut butter and green tea cookies, and I started to cool down, a bit, which was accompanied by a reminder of that I had stopped approaching my destination as a result of becoming electrically exhausted - the kind of exhaustion that merits that the muscles can no longer be flexed; me, as a load-bearing laborer, for trekking with bags. On one hand, the same weight can still be carried, yet, simply not so, in the case of that the various bags’ centers of mass remain the same, and I didn’t quite feel like rearranging the bags’ belongings, as it was already late at night, and also because it had been a long day (a long week, in fact, in preparing myself to pursue litigations, of a personal nature, for having been put out of my home). I was told that my better opportunities for managing the worth of covering ground, towards my destination - on foot, for the fact of that it didn’t really seem as though buses were running, and for that I may have literally been an acute targeted victim of stalking, for various or unknown reasons, since last night, or yesterday, being that there was also associated unrest in downtown Los Angeles - the more unlawful gathering sort of unrest having happened at night, whereas I left, for the South Bay, to complete my pickl gig.

How to compose a proper personals and classifieds ad for success.

Last night, I wound up nearly accepting a “hang out” offer, from some guy that sat near me on the train home from Santa Monica. 

The first premise, at issue, here, is that I generally take issue with “guys” and “hanging out,” somewhat as a flat-out decree, being that people who pay attention to me, personally, and as a person - generally, (post-university years, especially) are the types of people who failed at school, they have nothing to do except bet on that I’d be an unrelenting gay hooker, and they sit around, drinking alcohol, taking drugs, laughing amongst themselves with a notion as trivially slight as that, and some forces of networking and psychology get put out, on the loose, and eventually - the victim of such intentions having played out, in life, become the rhetoric upon which demographic typologies are forged, and a litany of followers ensue - as casual stalkers, out on the streets, somehow - “just” how, I’ve never bothered to figure out, but people wound up treating me a little bit differently, today; some guys, for example, and they greeted me, whereas more commonly, it’s typical for people to ignore me, out on the streets. It hadn’t always been like this, I can recall. Here and there, I recall a time, yet not the place, off-hand, where people would greet each other,, much more commonly than we do, in these times. On one hand, Covid-19 caused us to be conditioned for social distancing to have become the standard. The anarchists rebelled against this sort of premise, and they proceeded onward with assaults upon people’s personal and private spaces alike, and even more people than ever started finding ways in which they could keep to themselves, or gather in more exclusive circles than ever - I, for one, being particularly isolated; introverted, by nature, that is, to say, couldn’t possibly suit the sort of personality type discussed in articles that featured accounts of discrete Covid-19 circles being established - I’m a bum; a pigeon-feeding bum, as my most prominent sort of bum, and it’s generally taboo for people of the middle or upper classes to associate with a bum, by and large, although here and there, small tokens of acknowledgment are witnessed, such as considerate food or drink offerings are left out, and, in many cases - recyclables are left out. It’s suggestive of that people would like to see a working person, as well as a hungry person, out of the sort of people who have wound up at the end of their rope, in life - so to speak, and who else, but an otherwise unhoused person would have to seek out novel accommodations of food and general interests? For one, a stalking victim would have to, a knave, a mentally I’ll person, here and there - a few, or several types, that is to say. People who were observing me, earlier today, noticed that I was acting out imprints of having been a bum, whereas I had just secured confirmation of that I had a promising serendipitous moment happen for me, in finding a client for my gardening services offer, which I’d put up on craigslist, the other day. My budget is tight, but it’s only $5 for a services ad, and I figure that craigslist features a rich trawl of both interested, as well as valid - employers, for jobs, big and small, as well as clients of all sorts - I’ve personally landed several thousand craigslist gigs, to be sure.

Historically, craigslist had been acknowledged as one of the Big 5, of the internet - inclusive of Google, Apple, Microsoft, hmm… I don’t remember the other one, but craigslist had been notably mentioned, in my encounters with content, on the internet, of having that distinction. Today, it apparently stands in the top 20 - not bad.

A Sunday morning’s pwn’ing of a pigeon-feeding bum - a 12-Steps program confessional episode.

As the literature of the 12 Steps addiction recovery program proscribes, we are to admit that we are powerless over our addiction, and that our lives had become unmanageable. 

The practice of confession, in civil society, dates back hundreds of years, perhaps over a millennia and more (I’m not quite sure, off hand), although events such as the Inquisition, which happened in Europe starting around the 12th century, continuing forth for hundreds of years, would perhaps be the most notable historical time period and setting which we would correlate with the preeminence of the Catholic Church. Obviously, confessing is a difficult and humbling thing, to say the least. I’ve not raised a child, personally, but my own imprinting, from my nurturing environment, was a slightly heavy-handed period of discipline upon myself; my father not having been much of an intelligent man, of some sort of faculty of insight and breakthrough, as far as having attained a more perseverant and empathetic affect for us. 

That being said, I spent much of my childhood years, through my young adult life, fraught with dishonest slips of disclosure, characterized by a subconscious fear of being reprimanded cruelly by others, coupled with the inclusion of willingly intended acts of deception, which would correlate with the trait of caring to please others, and appear to be well and upright, in disciplinary terms. Having been an abuse victim, in my younger years, less-efficient and less-productive traits saw their way through in to my developmental maturity paradigm, in other words, and looking back, I would have sought better methodologies of progress and self-representation, whereas the mysteries as to whether or not a person is depraved, as a dishonest person, in this day and age - prior to the brain-computer interfacing adjunct intellectual evolutionary era of development and understanding - in many various social and technological sciences being affected and dependent upon ever-more challenging and demanding standards of understanding and of communication, we face an imminent existential crisis, each unto ourselves, yet, in the age of the mind, to come, a well-minded person would most commonly seek to persist, and to thrive, whereas in keeping with inclusions of “what’s necessary” for survival, being the primary driving impetus in establishing our prescience in … 

Eh. Maybe that’s all. I crashed my definition check basis in implementing prescience, just to be sure of things, and I’m generally sure that it ought to fit appropriately, according to logic, but I was just saying… just remarking on the confessions and admissions that had been going on, for me (in my mind), and it’s obviously a complex set of contexts and issues which could have words put to them, although people are supposed to be afforded their anonymity, in the 12 Steps program. I stopped where I determined that I had been challenged by my own ambitions to have my place stated, appropriately, and accessibly, for including prescience - even though I feel that it was a good enough logical adjunct as for communicating what would have come, from out of that. I figure that if I’d crashed the definition engine, it’s possibly not affording accessibility to the common person. 

Oh, okay. Update: apparently I’m … 

Well, never mind. It was just a connection glitch on my iPad Pro. I’ll stop, in any case, but here’s the definition of prescience, just for fun. It turns out, it’s actually somewhat just been characterized in the above paragraph.