Just found this in my drafts.

First of all,

Candid Xander, if you still read these: I miss you and hope you're living a life that makes you happy. 

Secondly, 

I love being poor. I love that it's been less than a week since my last paycheck and I have absolutely none of it  now because I paid a bill and my monthly rent. 

Maybe you're thinking I'm saying this just to convince myself of this, but that is not the case. I genuinely love it. 

I have many desires. I want good food, I want drugs, alcohol, vacations, clothing, and so many other things and I work in an environment that displays and sells many of the things I want. 

So many times I've picked out a toaster that I would save up for, or a dress that would have been just cheap enough and sold it to a customer that same day.
Material desires be damned and I need to remember that, forever. 

Wisps

As we destroy our environment we destroy ourselves.
Our rootlessness, depression, and lack of purpose all stem from our disassociation from our natural world.
We think we are better, smarter, cooler, than the cycle of life but we never have been and we never will be. This illusion of separation is isolating and toxic to our psyche.
And soon, we won't have a cycle to return to. We will forever be lost in our own shallow, unfulfilling creations.

Making myself feel better about having to drop a class.

Sometimes I feel better when I think about what it means to really be human, to feel the way we do and think the way we do.
Because then, even in a sad and lonely life there is still beauty in the struggle and that is only because it's a struggle we alone have.
Only we can feel the void the way we do. Only we can appreciate our futility and mortality.
It's not that we are all special.
It's that there are some of us that are really special. There are the few gems that push us forward.
The move continues.
The march of life evolves on
and we are passed over like little river stones.
And that is to be a part of something, to belong.
And what an incredible thing to be a part of. What amazing things have been achieved by this continuation of life and we are so fortunate to witness and appreciate it's beauty.
We are the only things who can and only to us does it matter so.

I refer to us under the assumption I am not a brain in a vat.

But what if? Let's say this whole creation is a simulation to me.
What a rich story! This is the best epic that exists, this whole universe and what's beyond.
From the microlevel to the vastness of space, from the beginning of it all to the imminent end,
it's overwhelming.
It's the greatest story of all and I get to live it.

I've been struck, several times every day, by just how mortal we all are and the thought, "I'm going to one day cease to exist and everyone I know will one day do the same" crosses my mind. All the damn time. Sometimes it gets to where I'm thinking, "one day I'm going to die and it may be much sooner than I anticipate". Our lives are so fragile and when we're being truly honest with ourselves, we do NOT know what happens after that.
It could be that that's it. The mass that makes up our bodies will decompose and take on another form of life or matter. The chemical reactions in our minds, making up our personality and 'soul' will stop and 'we' will end.
It could be that we all are endowed with souls that answer for their actions in the physical world after the physical vessel shuts down. Some of us suffering for eternity, some of us lounging in a paradise all in accord with some divine, moral scale.
Truth is, we have no idea. We have absolutely NO proof of either one and, at least using science in it's strictest definition, we will never have scientific proof telling us one way or another. We can believe one or another based on testimony or logic, but never will we be 100% certain as we are today.

So essentially, there is a point in time in which everything we know ends for us and something else ENTIRELY foreign begins.

And yet, in spite of this completely inevitable mystery to our lives, we act as if we have an eternity to waste. We sit in front of televisions and stare at screens until our eyes dry up and shrivel out of our skulls. We satisfy our deep need for touch and companionship and clan with cheap, shallow experiences that leave us empty. We have replaced kinship with a screen thinking we need nothing else.

We drive cars.

Shallow husks, constantly drugged, entertained, and stimulated, we wonder at our rising depression and cancer.

But because that's the way it is for the majority of Western civilization, does not mean that's how it's going to be forever or that it has to be that way for me or you. We as individuals can break free from that system and lead real lives, fulfilling lives with the intent of truly enjoying that truly fleeting sentience we've been endowed with.

We can make our own movement, or own rebellion against this oppressive and sedating lifestyle. In doing so, we can hope to show everyone around us the benefits of stepping outside, adventuring, and truly meeting the people we encounter. We can show people what life is supposed to be, what love is supposed to feel like, and what real enjoyment we can get out of it.

I've been thinking about this a long time. It's been brewing inside, getting angry at times and screaming with elation at other times. Next post will be thoughts on steps to take to replace the processed entertainment we've been fed with genuine experience and fulfillment.

Which is better?
Retail drone with cancer, television shows and a little bit of sleep
OR
Homeless.

EDIT: Being homeless and having cancer are not mutually exclusive, I know. Question remains.

Retail

My blogs, seemingly for no one, really for me, have very little continuity nor do they seem to have purpose.

And yet, here I return, every long night, every torn thought spit onto this blog for the whole damn world to see, regardless of whether they choose to or not.

I work in retail now. No more galley open to the vast wilderness of Alaska. No more kayaking with bigger-than-life humpbacks. Just a bunch of lazy people and young people, selling used shit to old people and poor people. Maybe that's not very charitable, but that's how it feels today.

Today, the highlight of my day was... no wait, there wasn't a highlight. That was actually me, trying to think of one. I made no meaningful connection with a single person today. I ate hard candy and pasta noodles with fake butter on them.

I'm watching Battlestar Galactica and currently feeling more alive sitting in this comfy chair in sweats, alone, and hungry than I have all day long.

I miss my family. I cried today thinking about my little sister graduating high school and coming to Western this next year. I'm supposed to be her rolemodel and she looks at me as such and I spent all day fakely chatting and killing time...

waiting and waiting for 8:30 to roll around and then waiting and waiting for midnight to roll around and for what? For another episode of Battlestar Galactica, alone in a dark room and cold tea.

Dark rooms and cold tea are my two best friends.

Bitches won't understand.

I stand alone with hearts at my feet. Squished between my toes and flat under my heels, poor, beautiful, gentle, kind, fragile hearts have fallen at my feel. Sharper than eggshells, they pierce my souls, worming into my veins, making their way through my bloodstream to my head and heart where they stay forever. A needle in my eye. A sting in my heart.

I know what I want. I alone can hear my own heart sing. I watch and observe the pitter and patter of her whims and wants and when she ignores the arrow shot from a boy, pushing me forward, pushing me elsewhere, I can't help but look behind me at the carnage. I try. I constantly battle. Force myself to get to know the boy behind the man's face.

But that only makes it harder when I keep moving forward. To know exactly what I've done to a person I've grown to love in another way.

But no one feels bad for the rejector. It's only the rejected the people pity. Do I not also feel pain? Another day, I am alone. Another day my blood stained feet carry me forward, split on bone and weary. To fall into another's arms would feel so sweet, but my bitch of a heart won't fall for one, fall into any set of arms.

She wants to be here, alone on the battlefield. "Victorious" to some, I only feel empty. I will always be here, I will always be alone. A bitter shield, blocking those sweet affections, keeps me isolated.

Against my will, I stand, my malicious little heart and I, over the bodies of those potential lovers, those potential Valentine's Days, those long, potential nights of bliss.

What happens?

"no dawn no day i'm always in this twilight"

Again I'm awake in the corners of night

my mind in hallways decorated excessively.

With paintings of cupid in his chubby smiles

teasing and tormenting

pleasing and fermenting

ideas of childish pursuit.

Thriving and striving

off the fruits of romance.

Feeling the burn of excitement as

my firefly heart flutters around

this cage of a body.

Looking for the escape.

Stuck as long as my mouth

remains shut.