I made the drawing depicted in the screenshot below shortly before “clocking into” my first (~8 hour) shift at the package sortation and truck/van loading facility in Fremont. The drawing was rushed despite giving myself more than two hours to work on it. I did not get to finish coloring it to my satisfaction. Hence, I consider the final product a dud and have removed it from my Instagram page. That image shall remain eternally housed on this web page as a digital artifact which exemplifies how deceptively time-consuming completing my drawings really are. I could have chosen to do other things such as work on computer science and mathematics software applications to showcase on Karlina Object dot WordPress dot Com or read a book or (if I had sufficient camping batteries on my person, I could play a videogame like Minecraft for hours without having to plug into an electrical outlet in a wall). I thought that drawing was one of the least stressful activities I could do while “waiting” to clock into work. Not having enough meaningful, enjoyable, and effective goal-oriented processes to regularly engage in is what seems to be the root cause of my depression and existential angst. (I have recently started to feel that terrifyingly morose and all-encompassing doom and dread fade such that I am able to now comfortably accept the fact that I am probably more likely to die within the next 100 years than survive longer than that (and my personal benchmark for what I think a minimally long lifespan “should be” (given what I think humans are capable of engineering) is 700 years) and that, like most of my fellow humans, I will almost certainly experience a gradual (if not quick) decline in my mental and physical abilities as a consequence of long-term exposure to environmental toxicity and physical hazards and, if I am not careful to control how I spend my free time and whom I associate with, socially-induced lameness which is hard to reverse once it becomes habitual and then seemingly inevitable (i.e. settling for having only shitty options instead of always making an effort to try new things and to keep learning and exploring the world with as minimal psychological and materialistic baggage as possible)).

To be clear, I really like my new job because it is very easy, low-key, and suits my temperament. The dress code is the loosest I have ever seen it and that workplace does not feel as uptight and cultish as did my brief one-month working experience at Amazon warehouse (in Newark, California in January to February 2017) as a package handler. I do have some lingering insecurities as a result of having been relatively hermetic and, most of all, deprived of the experience of being able to earn my own money in a way which does not feel so isolationist, elitist, and antithetical to my preferences. I am afraid I look worried or angry or depressed or incompetent (or like I feel “too good” for such a “lowly” job compared to what I am “supposed to” be doing: pulling in more than $90,000 annually as a software engineer). Honestly, I do not mind making all of my software engineering free and open source rather than under someone else’s dictates (besides myself as director) for pay. I do not need that prestige, recognition, and ridiculously high income compared to what I think I can comfortably subsist and grow on. I really think I may be “too low maintenance” for some of my most ardent critics (and those critics (whether real, imaginary, fictional, et cetera) seem to always want to be criticizing me for not being more desperate to make lots of money. My goals in life are quite simple, relatively cheap, and relatively flexible, and open ended. Think of me as a lifelong university student who is mostly self-taught and who literally lives to learn and to pursue creative and intellectual hobbies (and some hobbies which require that I maintain my physical fitness rather than let it atrophy such as mountaineering, bicycling, and lifting heavy objects (which I do at least some of the time at my new job)). I am not interested in getting married nor in having kids nor in housing pets (because I do not want to be that encumbered by dependents I am responsible for caring for and accommodating the preferences and whims and weaknesses of while leaving locked up in a cage and/or outdoors most of the time while I am away from home). I am not interested in buying a big house. Hell, I would be content to live in a trailer with solar panels on it and an electric car parked next to it. This is not to denigrate people who have different preferences, priorities, and paradigms than what I have. I must say that what has been missing from my life up until I got a job which I think is as close to perfect for me as I have ever happened upon is feeling that I have human peers to work with and next to. It helps keep me sane and to not feel like a lone hostage in a basement who is not exactly permitted to leave without having to fight some guardians of the threshold who do not seem to want me to leave such isolation, brainwashing, and captivity. This year has been my most productive year yet. It’s not even a week into the new year yet and I already accomplished what historically took me at least one month instead of one week (and my attitude is so much less fatalistic, depraved, ablest, and impractical than it used to be). I do not intend to ever apply for disability support unless I become seriously disabled (which I do not think is super likely). Hence, I will do my best to deploy the power of self fulfilling prophecy as a “rational optimist” assuming that things will generally go my way in the future and that my goal-oriented efforts will be rewarded (not because I am likeable, hardworking, kind, honest, and otherwise admirable but because I do the work which makes the result I want most likely to occur). What I am trying to say may sound bizarre, but it pertains to how I have been educated about how causality works. The results I am trying to manifest are not about convincing other people to dote on me, but rather, a consequence of implementing an algorithm which is “supposed to” work exactly one way and have very clearly-defined inputs, outputs, and rules for mapping those inputs to their respective outputs. Being a prostitute is not the same thing as having a relatively rigid schedule with set hours and concrete routine tasks to perform which are not about flirting. I think that customer service jobs are too much like prostitution for my comfort (even though such jobs tend to have some degree of regularity). I like working for companies which are large enough to not feel like a family restaurant struggling to get by and like a starving artist would. As long as the company is providing products and services which are in sufficiently high demand and in sufficiently large supply, there seems to be no shortage of work nor pay. Also, I do not have to be as desperate as I would if I only got paid in commissions like sex workers seem to be (i.e. only getting paid for getting a client to buy from you and having almost no other means of financial support to get by). Then again, perhaps, in order to keep the prostitutes from starving to death, the pimps which manage multiple prostitutes takes all the money his prostitutes bring in and issues each of the prostitutes roughly the same payout while he keeps the rest so that, if prostitute X only earned $100 for one night while prostitute Y earned $800 for that same night, both prostitutes would get paid $50 for that night (or something like that). Sorry; I went off on a tangent to “clear the cache” so that I can as quickly as and cleanly as possible move onto the next subject of relevance (and to make my weekend as productive and enjoyable as possible). I used to waste my weekends back when I did not quite feel okay to work for some reason. I am doing my best to avoid what I think are people who are opposed to me being happy, healthy, productive, and financially independent. Such people do not seem to be the majority. Not at all. There does seem to be an infinitesimally small portion of the human population who is opposed to my flourishing (and I consider such persons to be too mentally ill to endeavor to do more than short term gratification of base desires and rejoicing in other people’s suffering). I think it is most pragmatic to mention such people as little as possible; to not give them so much residence in my blog and mind. There are people who I think are more deserving of my attention than that.

Perhaps the only people who are “out to get me” are fictional beings I imagine which are only loosely based on real people. As someone who is always skeptical and never certain about any claim, I think it is a useful strategy to assume that I always have stealthy, rich, politically powerful enemies who would seize every opportunity to hurt me if they can get away with it. That keeps me from being too complacent, trusting, and procrastination-driven. Also, I imagine that my “enemies” may in fact be my allies at least some of the time if they are actually helping me achieve my goals faster and more effectively than I would without their influence. I get too many “mixed messages” to be able to tell what other people want from me. I think most people just want me to shut up, relax, and work and neither be rich nor poor. I think that is reasonable. People do not want me to be richer than them because that makes them feel relatively poor. People do not want me to be poorer than them because that makes them worry that I am some kind of public burden which makes other people feel coerced into having to financially support while those people work full time jobs to support themselves without having to be such a public burden. People want me to be roughly as functional as they are (at a minimum) and people may even want me to be one of the smartest and hardworking people in their lives because, that way, I can help inspire and lead by example to other people that we can have nice things if we do the work required to attain them; that we need not resort to nepotism (i.e. getting money as a result of being favored by just a few individuals). We need not be like Cinderella who does little more than wait for other beings to come to her rescue to make her life better. If we emulated Cinderella, we might never leave the cellar we are basically being held hostage inside of as a domestic slave and “invisible” person who is effectively deprived of citizenship.

I am irked at how negativistic I have come across. I would rather drop as many presumptions as possible and be as open minded as possible (without necessarily relinquishing my assumptions about how physical reality operates so as to avoid putting myself and others into harmful situations). Every day I can see myself as being “reincarnated” from the prior day as a vessel carrying some dead person’s psychosomatic and cerebral memories. I have been a perfectionist most of my life but have come to see perfection as a target that can never be attained unless one makes radical acceptance of reality its highest priority goal in life. If I endeavored to make radical acceptance of reality my highest priority goal in life, I think I would be as happy as possible because, rather than try to change how I feel, I will acknowledge how I really feel and act accordingly. My intuition is a crowning achievement of evolution. My intuition is my personal global positioning system which efficiently tells me how to proceed in every moment. That does not mean my intuition is omniscient or always factually accurate. It is neither of those things. My intuition is based on a finite collection of data (as far as I can currently discern). I will not claim that I am “secretly” omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent while operating as though I am neither omniscient nor omnipotent nor omnipresent (though I may attain some metaphysically transcendent experience as a result of doing psychedelics (especially DMT)). One of the best things I could do with my money (in my opinion) is invest in psychedelics; not those over-priced and white-washed retreats in exotic vacation resorts, but rather, from buying substances off the dark web using cryptocurrency.

Okay, the metaphorical flying bus is here. It is time for me to get onboard and ride to the next stage of my life. I might have to leave without saying goodbye to those I am leaving behind (and I might not ever contact such persons ever again). Oh well! I am ready for adventure and success and living with gusto. It is time to for me to leave behind what is no longer relevant in my life and to embrace a new and improved identity (which is still essentially a continuation of each of my old identities in chronological succession). Though my identities each seem to have finite lifespans, the consciousness which passes through each of those old identities like a string passing through a sequence of beads in a necklace can be construed as being immortal.

Perhaps the biggest enemy in my life is that caricature being projected into my mind against my will by the literal thought police who keep spamming me with ugly and unhelpful caterwauling and taunts. That caricature has been described numerous times throughout this website. Hence, I would rather not reiterate those descriptions. What I would rather state here is what I think that caricature is essentially promoting: because she cannot fathom life outside of being a prostitute or very part time pink collar worker (i.e. a little girl who works just to appear to have some rudimentary independence and so that she can buy herself clothes and makeup while someone else provides for her basic economic necessities in a conditional and monopolistic and possibly dogmatic manner) and because she is extremely narcissistic, she demands that I be forced to stay underemployed and brainwashed to accommodate her so that, as time goes by, I am making more of what I consider to be “anti progress” than “actual progress”. (She is not exactly fit for life outside her daddy’s bedroom. Hence, she wants me to be just as mentally crippled so that she does not have to feel so alone in her miserable circumstances). She wants me to regress into infancy and be sex obsessed to a depressing extent. She is always impatient, whiny, asking only rhetorical questions, quick to put words in my mouth and pretend that she is talking to me when she is really only using me as a doll while talking to some version of me she imagines is real, dogmatically obsessed with making how I look the center of my attention, and desperate to prevent me from enjoying the fruits of my own labor. The “cure” seems to be working at a suitable job (full time rather than part time so that I do not end up being forced to look like and live like a high school aged adolescent rather than a non-disabled and well-rounded adult). I really enjoyed my first work shift at OnTrac and genuinely had fun (especially while loading packages into the truck trailers from a conveyor belt because it felt like a Tetris game and I got some rigorous physical exercise. Contrary to what my “enemies” have threatened, I do do not expect my physical fitness nor intellectual skills to atrophy as a result of holding down this job. In fact, I expect my physical fitness and intellectual skills to get better as a result of having a job I enjoy and which gives me sufficient free time and money to support my lifestyle preferences. Having a full-time job which is not excessively time-consuming nor stressful seems to support my mental health rather than diminish it. Without such a job, I feel that I can hardly think in a manner which is ideal for problem solving and for appreciating my present moment experiences. Without such a job, I honestly feel like a hostage being bullied into having no life outside of my parents’ home or some boyfriend’s home while being socially reinforced to be a child rather than an adult (which only seems to hinder all of my desired progress in life (which is convenient for my enemies because they seem to have the upper hand when I rely on them solely for money while they threaten to cut me off their financial support while deliberately setting me up to spend money like there is no tomorrow because they refuse to set deadlines and negotiate contracts nor discuss matters which they find inconvenient without retaliating against me)). Of course, I know that neither my parents nor my hypothetical romantic partners are not legally required to provide me money nor honest information. The law condones them pulling a bait-and-switch scam on me because such a scam is totally legal (and I think many people enjoy the prospect of me being set up to fail). If I could start my life over again at age 18, I would be doing a job like what I am currently doing and use that money how I intend to spend my actual money. Some of my money I intend to go towards getting certified in technology skill sets so that I can put those certifications on my new and improved resume.

I am about to start a new journal chapter. I will let this journal entry represent the point in my personal journey in which I close the door on complaining about things which I prefer to leave in the past for now onward into the future (regardless of whether or not the things which I have been complaining about are remedied to my satisfaction now or at any point in the future).

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