For the past three years, Death has looked me squarely in the eyes on a regular basis. Multiple lung collapses and surgeries, drug addiction and all of the associated problems, seizure and/or severe migraine problems, problems procuring money and shelter.

Right now I’m laying in bed with a nasty cold and mourning the loss of a Reese’s Dark Chocolate Peanutbutter Cup that I can’t eat. You see, I’m extremely sensitive to caffeine; even as little as 20 milligrams will cause me to have seizure-like symptoms (including passing out) within an hour. It just so happens that a serving of dark chocolate contains approximately 30 mg of caffeine.

I was reading posts by people with epilepsy while researching how caffeine acts as a seizure (and migraine, in some people) trigger, and noticed that a lot of people describe their symptoms as having progressed significantly throughout the time they’ve had their disease. Likewise, whatever symptoms I’ve been experiencing have progressed over the past couple years.

This led me to think about my time here and how little of it there might be. The same goes for you, by the way, even if you don’t have any sort of progressive or deadly disease. Epilepsy, as an example, occurs in 1% of the population and can show up at any time in your life without any warning. There are many, many diseases like this, and no genetic risk factor is necessary. Even if you don’t contract a disease, you can die in a car accident, a fire at your school or office, a freak avalanche while skiing, etc. People have random heart attacks in their twenties for no reason, people choke on food while eating alone.

I’m not writing this to scare anybody or raise unnecessary paranoia. Rather, I want it to be clear that this affects everyone. The condition of mortality is in no way unique to me just because I’ve had health issues.

The classic cliche goes: “if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?” I do not know when I’m going to die. It could be tomorrow, it could be next week, next year, or when I’m 120; it doesn’t really matter. When my time comes, I will die and I don’t get to take anything with me. I don’t take my money with me. I don’t take my friends with me. I don’t take my memories with me. It’s all gone. Nor am I going to opiate myself with the idea that there’s some magical afterlife equivalent to getting a one-way ticket to the Bahamas. If there is, then so be it, but there’s just no evidence to support this.

I really feel the inevitability of my death though. So what if I do die tomorrow? What could I possibly do today that will have any meaning whatsoever? What could I do that will have made today worth the struggle? If nothing, why bother doing anything at all. . .struggling through dull days in a cubicle or classroom, fighting through disease and illness, overcoming the sheer brutality that nature can bring?

I do think that there are things that make today worth living, or I would not still be here speaking with you. I would have said “fuck it” a long time ago. Fuck the emotional drama. Fuck the psychological trauma. Fuck the physical pain. Fuck these political games.

I endure it all because I know that there is joy, and beauty, and strength, and love in the world. The harder I struggle to overcome my adversary (whether it’s a person, or a weight I’m lifting while working out, or a sickness I’m fighting), the stronger I become as a result. That strength leads to joy. I believe it’s a simple fact that we cannot be happy all the time. Our brains will be depleted of the neurotransmitters that allow us to feel these emotions, or we’ll just be numb to the constant stimulation. When I was on opiates, I would feel amazing quite a bit. But sometimes it felt so good it almost hurt. Too good; I didn’t even want to feel good, but I had no choice because I’d feel too bad if I stopped. Without pain to contrast our pleasure, we have no means of fully appreciating or enjoying that pleasure. Think about how nice it is to have warm food every day. Think about how much nicer it is to someone who has been stranded on an island for a few months, or who just got released from prison. Struggle is an essential, whatever that struggle may be. A video game will eventually bore you if you play it constantly, but coming home from a long day of boring office or class time, and it’s sheer ecstasy.

Even with this in mind, those moments of joy are meaningless once we are dead. Joy is not an end in itself, therefore, but rather a necessary component of meaningful action. For anything we do to really have meaning, it needs continuity. It needs to outlast us in some way. Our race has continuity of existence through reproduction, and similarly our actions can reproduce if we do things to benefit other people in such a manner as to create benefit even once we’re gone. I might die tomorrow, but if I change someone’s life today, there will be a butterfly effect of meaningful actions. For me, making a difference in people’s lives — bringing joy to others — is a way to give my actions meaning, and brings joy to myself.

Due to the nature of mortality, this is something I need to do right now. I mean right now. Not next week. Not next year. Not when I’m out of college. Who knows if I — or you — will live that long? Every single day needs to be accomplished in a meaningful way. Time is the most scarce and valuable commodity we have; who can afford to waste any of it?

Finally, note that I’m not arguing for self-sacrifice or saying that this is right for everyone. Only that I find joy and meaning in making the world better for others. Meaning is a very personal thing, and nobody but you can decide what is right for you at any given moment.

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Don’t you want to walk? This is our last chance. I want to make up for so much time I missed while I was in college or at work. Time I’ll never get back. Why won’t you get up? I love you.

Look at how you stare blankly ahead and smile as you pant. You almost look happy, unaware that death is standing over you, bending down to take you, and we’ll never see each other again. We’ve always been there for each other, but now I can’t help you, even though I love you.

I remember how young and healthy you were, much faster than I could ever hope to be. Dandruff and fleas lurk where your beautiful fur coat once was. Even though your bones stick out from what’s left of your body, you’re still beautiful and I love you.

You’ll feel much better soon. Your quick, shallow breaths will slow to a halt, and you’ll take on new life as part of the whole. You’ll be anywhere and everywhere, undivided from existence, which is pure joy. Even though I’ll miss you, I’m glad that you will no longer have to suffer. Even though I selfishly want you forever, I’ll let you go because I want what’s best for you, because I love you.

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Disclaimer: This was done legally in a hospital setting.

About a month ago while I was out at a guitar shop with one of my friends, I had a partial lung collapse and required hospitalization. After examining a chest x-ray to determine the cause, the doctors decided that a chest tube needed to be put in, and that conscious sedation was the safest method. They told me that I would be put out with ketamine through my IV, and asked if I had ever heard of it before. In addition, anti-anxiety and anti-nausea substances were administered to reduce negative side effects. Prior to administration of the ketamine, I was told that I wouldn’t remember a thing afterwards. but I thought to myself, “I hope I do.”

After the injection I didn’t really feel anything, so I asked whether or not they had given me the ketamine yet. They assured me that they had and that it should kick in any second. As hard as I tried to focus on my state of awareness so I could determine exactly when it hit, I couldn’t do so. I blacked out for a moment and when I regained consciousness I was tripping.

I was floating around through the void at first. There was no landscape, and I had no body. I was just a part of the surrounding environment, egoless and free. After some amount of time, I thought to myself, “this feels rather strange, is this how my existence has always been?” Eventually I came to the conclusion that I am eternal, and that conscious awareness is all I have ever been. I was very relaxed and elated, and I felt very much like I was a part of the entire universe/god. It felt like aeons were passing, and later, when I was nearly fully conscious again, I described the experience as having taken “lifetimes,” though I was told I regained consciousness after only 10 minutes.

The next part of my experience was quite hallucinatory. I was laying on the hospital bed, but I was in the guitar shop from earlier. There was a square pillar in the shop right outside the room in which my friend and I were trying out various acoustic guitars. I remember thinking I was going around this pillar over and over again, being moved by the doctors. Pretty soon, the hospital merged with the guitar shop, and I was in both places at once. As I went around the pillar, the scenery changed, and eventually my trip around it became an escalation up flight after flight of stairs, each one containing a different colour scene. One was orange, one was green, one was blue, etc. Everything had a gem-like quality to it with unique shapes and patterns, and I really had no idea what was going on. I tried to talk to the doctors, asking where I was, but at the same time, the whole thing felt natural enough, like I was on a ride in the amusement park. The movement on the hospital bed was very quick, like I was being rushed around through a tunnel at light speed. Even people’s speech seemed like life was a tape on fast-forward.

Suddenly everything was a brilliant white stretching infinitely in each direction. A golden castle floated before me, with countless disembodied entities floating around it. I was caught in its orbit and floated around it. I remember wondering if this was all the universe ever was, or if there was a “real life” beyond it. After struggling to remember, I decided that I had been floating around the castle for all eternity, and that there was no other existence. Suddenly I began to hear thoughts in my head that weren’t my own. One sounded like one of the nurses from before. I could communicate with them by thinking and just barely make out what they had to say–their voices were so fast and quiet. I asked if they were real, and they said “yes” and laughed. Although I believed them, I couldn’t help but wonder: how do I know you’re really real?

I seemed to come down after this peak experience in what I describe as plateaus. I would fall sharply from one state of the trip to a lower level of it, stay there for a while, and then hit another level.

My ability to communicate with the outside world was severely limited at first, but got easier and easier. When I tried to open my mouth to speak, it wouldn’t move. However when I “thought” the words to the doctors, sound came out and I could speak. Eventually, at a lower plateau, I could move my mouth to communicate, but it felt very slow and clumsy. I asked if they had been taking me into other rooms, as I had been experiencing earlier, but they assured me I was in the same room the entire time. Also, eventually remembering that I was undergoing surgery (though I had serious doubts about it), I asked “is the tube in yet?” and heard a nurse tell me that it was. Some strange noise in the background was present and sounded like a high BPM drum beat, or like there were frames missing from sound.

While gradually coming back to consciousness, I was still in a very altered state of mind. I thought my dad was the mayor from “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” and that one of the nurse’s was Frankenstein’s creature. It was nearly impossible to focus my vision properly on anything. My family tells me that I kept asking them the same questions over and over, such as for how long I had been out, if my girlfriend was there, where I was, and so forth. At one point, after being annoyed with having to answer me so many times, my dad told me I was out for three months. At first I believed him, but then I told him he was a lying bastard.

In all, this was an amazing experience, and I had an unbelievable amount of fun while tripping. I gained a lot of insight on the nature of my consciousness and mind, and would definitely try this drug again.

——-

I wrote this in the hospital while not fully lucid; excuse my poor writing.

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–

God, so many relapse triggers here. The cool morning air. The sound of cars going by outside. Her mom getting ready for work. She’d be taking me to work soon if it were still then. A twenty minute car ride and then a walk to the bathroom stall. Prepping my dose, and the first shot of the day. Too good but so bad. I can’t believe I used to put opiates into my veins every 3 hours. I can’t believe that out of anyone who could be saying this, it’s me. Me with the near-perfect SAT score. Me, the kid who used to wear dorky glasses and have tight jeans with pant legs that were too short. Me, more interested in my books and programming than parties and shallow interactions. Ah, middle school. We change so much over the years.

There is not one among us who would resist her call at this hour. Turn back before it’s too late.

All it takes is an accidental injury, a brief stay in the hospital, and you’re hooked for life. Even when you’ve been off for months, you’ll wake up at 6 or 7 AM, maybe an hour after falling asleep. . .and all you’ll want is one last hit.

There were times that my “one last hit” almost was just that, and for reasons completely unrelated to me wanting to stop, or being unable to get more — if you catch my drift. I can’t believe I’m still here, after endless hours in the bathroom struggling to stay conscious when I took too much. Would this be it? My last breath? They got so shallow sometimes, and I’d wake up hours later on the floor, my eyes still pinpoints but already time for another dose. Damn, my second two hour break for the day, tenth for the week. . .and they still haven’t fired me. They must have really liked me. Just like I liked the $20,000+ I spent on oxy in a year.

And just like that, my cravings are gone again. For now. Good night.

–

I thought I’d mention that I managed to stay off oxy all this time. If any of you remember my last post entitled, “Addiction and Recovery: An Experiment,” I’d like to mention that it’s been a huge success. Keeping a journal and exercising is all it’s taken to keep me clean.

I’ve tried a few different forms of exercise and have found that lifting weights has been the most effective. Sometimes the endorphin rush from weight training is so intense that it feels just as good as if I were on opiates. Give it a shot! Just remember to train properly and under supervision. I ended up hurting my rotator cuffs and having to stop for a long time. Although I took up running, it wasn’t nearly as effective at keeping my cravings, lethargy, and restlessness at bay.

Good luck and stay away from dangerous cults like NA!

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I remember how hard it was to get to you. You were only at your dad’s house every 2 weeks for a weekend. My parents installed an alarm system. . .not to keep others out, but to keep me in. I remember spending an hour ripping apart an old harddrive for its magnet, so I could trick the alarm system into thinking the window was still shut. Crawling out the window. Freezing as we walked through subzero temperatures. Snow, wind, no coats or hoodies. Miles through blizzards. Sometimes just to hug at the halfway point for 15 minutes, and then part for 2 more weeks.

I still remember your scent. Gucci Rush. Every time I smell it, you come flooding back. It makes me crazy. I’m still addicted to you. You made sure I always would be. You would spray my pillows with your scent. Go running and “forget” your shirt at my house. And even after we decided the two week breaks were too painful, that our love wasn’t worth the hurt, you would make sure I couldn’t forget you. You still write suggestive things to me from time to time. You put Rush on the letters so I smell you. You don’t want me to forget.

Lovers later, fiances later, and I still miss you. And you miss me too. You drown yourself in alcohol. I suffocated myself in opiates for 2 years. But heroin isn’t as good as the real thing. And neither is alcohol. You still miss me when you’re drunk, I still miss you when I’m high.

Are we going to die this way? Me longing for Gucci Rush because it is better than a heroin rush, and you hung over with tears?

Why did we always have to be Romeo and Juliet? Why would you only see me at night? Was I just your means of transcending the mundane?

I still think about you.
Miss you.
Want you.
Love you.
Need you.

I still remember.

–

In his hit masterpiece “Re: Your Brains,” Jonathan Coulton makes a humorous, albeit vehement, attack on the corporate lifestyle. While juxtaposing office workers with zombies, he uses a tightly-woven series of literary and musical elements to further his critique.

E-mail is the dominant form of interoffice communication. Although phone calls are also commonly used, e-mails allow for non real-time communication to occur between multiple parties. The song’s title, “Re: Your Brains,” is a reference to e-mail subject lines. Taken literally, this would refer to the mythological idea of zombies needing to consume human brains for sustenance. In the corporate world, however, it refers to the idea of being paid for your time as opposed to what you produce. Your boss is literally renting your mind from you. Often, when a worker returns home from a shift, he may be too mentally fatigued to engage in any worthwhile activities. In a sense, his mind has been consumed–or “eaten.” Like his coworkers, who are “zombies now,” he too has become a zombie. The tone is furthered by other language commonly used in the corporate environment, such as FYI, colleagues, call, compromise, “wrap it up,” and so forth. Much of the negotiatory language is borrowed from typical managerial conflict resolution strategies.

Irony established throughout the song contributes to its humorous tone. In the refrain, the narrator states “all we want to do is eat your brains \ we’re not unreasonable, I mean, no one’s gonna eat your eyes.” Obviously if one’s brains are literally eaten, their eyes are useless. In a corporate sense, someone might argue that you’re not really a slave because you aren’t literally chained to your desk. This point is similarly moot. You are forced to be in an office unless you wish to starve, just like Tom from the song is “[spending his] whole life locked inside a mall.” The narrator makes it sound like the horrible effects of office culture aren’t so bad, when in fact they are fatal. Even the song’s melody contributes to this, using happier sounding notes when the narrator sings “eat your brains” at the end of the refrain.

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I realize it’s been a while since I’ve actively posted. Much has changed in my life over the past year and a half. Besides quitting an addiction and exiting an abusive relationship, I’ve made new friends and lost old ones, moved 3,000 miles away from home to make a new life for myself, and started my own business: all while disabled by a medical condition which prevents me from looking at fluorescent lights.

In the next few weeks I will be posting a few things I’ve written but never go around to putting up. I’m also looking forward to editing a couple of my old writings, specifically the ones on Thelema. My opinions regarding certain Thelemic topics have changed drastically and I’d rather present my views accurately since there are a number of links pointing to my site referencing these documents.

Finally, I will be creating a new template for this site when I get around to it. The current layout is pretty boring and not very attractive. Since I have my own web design company and my portfolio could use some more active sites, I figure this is a great chance to demonstrate my abilities. (If you want to support my company and hire me to do some website work, please visit http://www.sigil93.net to get in touch with me.)

Thank you all for helping make Achad a success, and I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

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Ever since the first time I listened to Lady Gaga’s song “Poker Face,” I noticed that the refrain seems to sound something like this:

P-P-P-Poker Face F-F-Fuck her face

However, every time I mentioned it to a friend, I’d get a response like “whatever man, you’re just hearing what you want to hear. It doesn’t sound anything like that!” or some other form of denial that Lady Gaga would ever include lyrics like that. Unsatisfied with these responses, I did some Googling. It appears that I’m not the only one who has heard this.

Upon some further research, I actually found some videos that convince me that it is not just selective hearing. In this video:

Lady Gaga admits that she does indeed say “fuck her face” in the song lyrics. In case the video is ever taken down in the future, here is a transcript:

“It got played all over the world amidst thousands. . .tens of thousands of radio stations. But Kiss FM is the only one that said I had to censor my lyric because they thought I might be saying something bad. Out of all the radio stations in the world that play this record over and over. . .Kiss FM is the only one that was right and caught on!”

This is from Wango Tango in Irvine, California, if you ever have to go looking for it. Now, I admit this can sound like she is mocking Kiss FM or being sarcastic. However, in another interview, which was already taken down, she states that she is completely serious and not joking.

Further evidence can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exwZXQoHkwg&feature=related

This is a concert from Tokyo, Japan where Lady Gaga sings an acoustic version of Poker Face. If you skip to the last 15-20 seconds of the video, she very clearly enunciates “fuck her face” at the end. It sounds something like “Po-Fuck her face.”

After watching the above videos, what do you think?

Pain and more pushing, and eyes so wide. Are you even the same person? You’re different inside. . .

Trickery of the highest order. I’ll make it stop if you sell yourself to me, you say. And then I do, and then you start again.

We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the harder way. I’m just making it harder, you say. Stop fighting, you say.

I can see the whole thing ahead of me. A place I don’t want to go, and I’m not as strong as you, and you make me go there anyway. I can see every step along the path, and you’re dragging me, and my chest is covered in blood, and the chains bruise my wrists.

How can you do this to someone you love? How can you still tell me you love me after all this?

Did you have fun, you ask. I die a little at your heartlessness. Fun? I ask. You’ve forever stolen that word from my vocabulary. Every time I think about tonight I’ll cringe. You’ve taken my life away. And I’m not just being melodramatic.

How can you do this to someone you say you love? Love for a human is different than the bond of possessing an object. But you’ve made me an object. And you’ve broken me.

But there is light in the distance. A great distance to be sure, but not so much time-wise. Love is the law, but not a law like the one you’ve broken. Love is a law like gravity, and that means you can’t break it. Love is there or not-there, and it is There. And There is where I’ll be, starting to pick up the pieces you’ve severed from me.

How can you do something like that to someone you say you love? How can you laugh while you do it?

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Facebook's New Layout (Click to Enlarge)

Pictured above is a screenshot of Facebook’s new layout, with private information blocked out in red and numbered locations for reference. Apparently, not all users have been transitioned to the new layout just yet. Those who have are almost unanimously disappointed with the changes. Here is a brief rundown of the reasons I dislike this new layout. Each number below corresponds to a circled number in the graphic above, where applicable.

1. The “Top News” section is selected by default, instead of “Most Recent.” As far as I’m aware, this is unchangeable. “Most Recent” would allow me to see posts in the order they were made, similar to a news feed. This is the Facebook experience I am used to, and having “Top News” as a default changes the site experience in a way I do not like.
2. Bookmarks have been removed from the bar at the bottom. Most of the time I spend on Facebook is spent playing Mobsters 2, World War, or Medical Mayhem. Having quick access to these applications, especially in the case of emergency events that arise in the game, is vital. The new layout forces me to take an extra step to access these applications.
3. The search bar is hideous. It looks disproportionately long compared to other elements in the page, and despite the fact that the page is divided into a (sort of) three column layout, it still appears to be placed in a haphazard fashion. It looked much better in the right column of the page and with a shorter width.
4. Links at the top are inconsistent. Some are graphics, some are links. . .and it’s generally confusing. Additionally, AJAX code at the top apparently isn’t functioning properly. When I receive a friend request, a badge will appear on the appropriate icon with a number “1.” After accepting the request, the number doesn’t go away until I click the menu again, click accept again, and receive an error message saying that I’m already friends with the person in question.

   The placement of the links at the top is unintuitive. I feel like “Home Profile Account” should be on the very left as they seem like important administrative functions. Ideally, these would also be made into graphics and grouped with the other three buttons.

5. There is no directly accessible logout link! Instead, I have to click into a menu and log out from there. This is annoying and, in my opinion, constitutes poor interface design.
6. The new layout doesn’t always load, for whatever reason. Sometimes I get a blank page with just the template and have to refresh.

I believe there were more, but I can’t think of the rest at this time. Even besides the specific points I’ve outlined, I think the aesthetic is just generally unappealing. Perhaps Facebook should consider an advanced option in which users can upload their own CSS stylesheets and customize the layout for themselves. This could even open up a market for companies or individuals to sell custom stylesheets to Facebook users (or provide them for free and profit from advertising revenue).

What do you think of the new layout?

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