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I suppose a lot does have to do with that boredom factor.
If I were to go back to following the dreams I had when I was younger, I'd feel much more bored.

In my 20's, through luck, I got to experience a lot -- where the opportunities/experiences seemed to just fall into my lap.
In my 30's, I was bored with such external stuff and I turned more into exploring ideas, where info via internet forums/sites seemed to appear and fulfill my curiosities there.

But I also started my 30's by feeling inspired to help mentally handicapped. After close to a decade, I've been watching my clients degenerate (mentally and physically) and that's been exacerbating my own feelings/problems.
E.g. when I watch BF, after flushing his toilet 20 times per hour, and flipping off and on all his light switches at a similar frequency, and then falling asleep while snoring, and drooling, and then sticking his tongue in and out in some sort of self-stimulation way, it's that (craziness plus environmental waste) and his ugly, deformed body, and dopey face that after so many years seems to start to feel depressing on me.

I have two hands.
Left and right.
They close together,
With fingers touching each other.
Namaste.
(That was an exploration into sarcasm/hatred. (What I was actually imagining was how both my hands feel zombie-esque-possessed, and how they could grip my head, and with their fingernails, start ripping the skin off my face. (Energy feels negative, but if I can block out certain aspects, maybe I can present a mask that looks positive?)))
(Not sure how serious I was there.)

…However I think your life already has other crisis-ese too.

In the mixture of things, it can become too easy to over-generalize simpler problems (i.e. symptoms) into more general, simpler labels (like MLC). (I used "simpler" twice in that sentence, but also tried to exaggerate how I meant the two to point in opposite directions.)
But, yeah.
(Also, I hope I don't exploit certain symptoms to justify being a failure/acting immature. -- I'll keep an eye on it.)


I am so sleep deprived lately. I might be able take one more drink or depressant for sleep inspiration, but it seems pointless. Lately, the voices have a strategy where they attack minimally, but in a way to ensure no sleep. Somehow I've so far been able to juggle this with keeping a job, but each day I'm nervous -- like even with work tomorrow.

MK,

…I don't see her that often though.

In my late 20's, I was able to move around various parts of US, France, and Germany -- but I feel it was mainly because of luck (getting invitations from people for friendship or a project).
Pathetic mode:
Now whenever I watch DVDs/movies, (aside from fantasy/sci-fi stuff) I'll often try to absorb the background settings in a sense of, despite the storyline, what would it be like to really live in that place/time of planet Earth?
(On a tangent: I recently saw a show with a minute clip of an old desk with a drawer. It was so old and wooden, but mainly I liked the sound of when the drawer was opening and closing (the story was about someone being chased, frantically looking for a gun in the drawer). The desk's setting was in LA -- but if it was somewhere more "exotic" like, say, eastern Europe, I would have liked it even more. (Taiwan would have been even weirder.)

Ah, so Asplagis isn't they same guy (singer/bassist) from the metal band "Asplagis and the Poisonous Frogs"?
Cool band, though. Depending on how many members ODed before a gig, they'd have around 3 bassists, 2 drummers, and 5 guitarists per show.

I finally caught a new mouse in my glue traps.
She was so cute and tiny.
One of my voices said, "But you need to smash her".
That thought made my stomach feel sick.
Still, I looked for my old shoe that's become a weapon.
But I felt too guilty. So instead, I placed a cracker in front of the mouse, and named her Amy. (I didn't decide if that was short for Amelia or Amanda.)
For a while, I watched how she'd oscillate between eating the cracker, trying to escape, and resting.
But still, thinking about smashing her made my stomach feel sick.

I went away, then
...Hours later, I returned to the glue trap and she was gone.
Mother fuck! (The "desperate, cute, teen mouse" escaped.)
I was meaning to practice some sort of merciful death.
Now I'm just mad.