Tuesday I’m going to ask for a raise. Just going to ask and see where it takes me.
Am I selling out? Not really. I want money. There are a lot of things I want to buy for the sake of order, beauty, simplicity, and release.
I’m going to figure out how to live my double life better. On the one hand, I take cold showers, write in this journal, read a lot, code, quite porn, stay fit…
On the other hand, I chain smoke on the weekends, drink heavily, take stimulants…
On the one hand, I wear faded, loose clothes to work.
On the other hand, I wear all black on the weekends.
It’s a weird dichotomy. I don’t think it’s normal, which might be why I like it.
There’s more I want to accomplish with my life. I need to focus on figuring out how to achieve everything I want to do. I want to be able to perform live. I want to be able to fuck girls with large breasts. I want to create beautiful, clean software for VR/AR. I want to keep taking drugs when I can.
I also want to design an apartment with a concrete or marble floor. I want tall glass windows and a high ceiling. Maybe that means living downtown.
I also want to live in a dirty apartment (minus cockroaches) filled with drugs and remnants of people’s fantasies about becoming hookers.
Do you see now that this doesn’t make complete sense? I want beauty and destruction depending on what day of the week it is.
I need money no matter which direction I take. Which is why I keep working. I stay productive because I want to achieve all these things for myself. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I also don’t want to not enjoy my life just in case I die young.
Which means one night a week, I allow myself release. I work toward that one night. Every other day, I maintain my schedule. I seek order. I make money, improve my artistic abilities, and become a better coder and designer. I live a life of reason and balsamic vinaigrette.
But for one night, I take shots, take drugs, and try to fuck women with large breasts.
But why one night a week? Why not one night a month? Or one night a season? Or one night a year?
All these time frames are symbolic, just like how I’ve organized a lot of other things in my life. If I can’t justify one night a week, maybe I should figure out whether these are goals even worth trying to keep.
I think they are. Because I’m not acknowledging my darker side these days. It needs to be fed. I’m not 100% clean. And I don’t want to be. But maybe one night a week is just too arbitrary a number. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to think of a better scenario.
Maybe I’m allowed to binge when I hit milestones. No, that’s not quite right, either.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s best that I don’t feed my darker side. Maybe it’s best that I let all these things go. Maybe it’s best that I stick to discipline and order. That instead, I look forward to creating more order.
If that’s the case, then money is no longer as much of an issue for me. I should be fine with the way my life is right now. Not only fine, but content. This is where I want to be. Maybe a nicer apartment. Maybe a nicer car. Maybe a nicer view at the office.
But none of these things are necessary. These are just goals to try to attain to keep me going. Goals that aren’t related to binges.
Such a fucking square, though. It seems so by the book. That rat experiment is fucking with me. The one where they put the rat next to a button that jolted the part of its brain that controls desire. It would keep pressing that button until it passed out from exhaustion. When they tested on people, they reported that they never actually achieved total and complete pleasure.
Our lives are like that. When our favorite movie or TV show’s over, we’re left feeling empty. There’s that phrase that we should be happy that things happened. Smile because it happened or some shit like that. But we would trade that smile to go back to the way things were. To bring back the dead.
I think the mind is addicted to novelty. We want to try new things. When we get stuck in a routine, we lose our taste in desires. A life without fulfilling desires seems empty. We just need to think about which desires will help or hurt us.
The desire to fit in to society seems almost like a nightmare to me. As if I lose my individuality in the process. I really don’t want that. So what instead?
What keeps us spinning the wheel in the cage? To be surrounded by beauty and to be rewarded for our hard work.
Love is a drug. So maybe I want a cocktail on the weekends.
This concept seems easy for me to understand. But the type of love I attract will change as I make more money. Right now, I need to find girls in my income bracket. I’m not sure where I’d find them. Probably around the neighborhood.
Ever since I quit watching porn, it’s like a switch turned on in my brain. It’s bizarre. I didn’t give nearly as many fucks about them until now.
So in the meantime, I should eat well, keep studying, keep writing, keep reading, keep developing better taste in things. We want to be rewarded. I don’t know how long the feeling lasts, but we keep chasing that high. I don’t see what’s so bad about being the rat if we’re aware we’re the rat. If we know that we need to go back to work to be able to pay to push the button. And that button will change for us. It’ll keep changing as novelties wear off.
For now, I live for Friday night. The weekends, I still work like any other day.
I keep working. I keep pushing that button.
Any last words? I’m a dreamer. Dreams will end. But I’m having fun anyways.