To be only a cog

It's crazy how my two last posts were poorly written. I think I wrote both of them after having swallowed some Lormetazepram. I should improve them, but I won't. It doesn't really matter, does it?

I felt awful again today, very anxious during the afternoon, and I didn't really do my job. The world again seem excessively complex, and I feel inadequate. I know what I should do in order to feel better. I should just give up. I should accept to have very limited understanding of the world, to be just a cog. I should find relief in blending into the crowd of the bus, anonymous. I have a job, I pay taxes, and I abide by the law. That's everything the society requires from its members. I'm a cog, like most people, and that's okay.

Week-end without much ritalin

As I couldn't seem to find what causes my mouth to be dry 24/7 for months, I finally decided to experiment with the last medication I wanted to experiment, because it's the one I need the most : Ritalin. This saturday, I didn't take my modified release ritalin in the morning. As a result, I spent most of the day having no energy for anything, and even taking long naps. My mouth felt moister than it ever felt for months ! I wasn't really happy though, since the price to pay for that was that I behave like the larva that I am. Reaching the end of the day, I took only 10mg of instant release, and was able to do some minimal but necessary stuff.
Next morning, I was able to wake up at 10am and felt I could do some stuff without the ritalin. I cleaned my guinea pigs' cage, I shaved, took a shower, and that was pretty much it. The I went for a short nap. Woke up again, ate some pastas with tuna reflecting of my lack of motivation to go to my dancing lesson later that evening. But I took 10mg of immediate release of Rilatin just before leaving for the dancing lesson, and it went fine.

I was afraid that I might discover that the Rilatin was causing the dry mouth, because I need it so much in order for me to function normally. On the other hand, the dry mouth issue had become very painful on the long run, and I feel relieved that I know what causes this pain, so I can now work on a solution to avoid it. I might be able to find a modus vivendi. Maybe I shouldn't take this modified released version. But rather the immediate release version each time I feel I really need it. I think it could result in a lower consumption of Rilatin, and weaker side effects.

This dream again, and I kissed her

On Friday the 13th of November, I spent  the evening with C. at my apartment, and she slept in my bed. Of course, it had to happen. We kissed. Then we cuddled. She said "Are you sure?". I answered "No. But aren't you feeling good right now?". Actually, while we were cuddling, I had flashes with the image of my ex-girlfriend, Her. I kind of felt some regrets.
Next morning I didn't kiss C., and just walked her to the bus station. A couple of days later, we went to the swimming pool together, and we acted toward each other as friends would. We kissed on the cheek to say hello, that's it.

But let's get back to the period of time after she left my apartment on Saturday evening, and before Sunday night. I hadn't swallowed my dose of Cipralexa the day before, on purpose, and the withdrawal symptoms were at their fullest now. So basically I spent the whole Saturday feeling extremely weak, sleeping, and having strange dreams. I was in my city, ten years from now. So I was like thirty-seven years old, and walking in a city I couldn't recognize because so many things had changed during the last ten years. It was like I had spent ten years in my apartment, or perhaps only going the same journey to work again and again, until I suddenly decided to walk the streets. I knew it was my city, but nothing felt familiar anymore. I went through a poor district, then through richer streets. All the houses were rather large and classy, and the ground floor of each of them had a display window. Through this window I could see large empty rooms with high ceilings, and paintings were hung on the walls. It's like all those houses were small art galleries, but nobody was inside. The ceiling light was cold, in those little museums without a public. I was older, alone, and felt the urge to have children. I was thinking about my late grand-father. My grand-father never used a computer, he never had any smartphone either. But in this dream he had had one. So I was on his smartphone trying to find meaningful information that should be saved, important information intended to the next generation. I guess I was feeling lost, and searching for clues, the way my generation produces and retrieves information... that is with smartphones (and computers in general).

This dream was similar to the one that took place in the apocalyptic world. The scenery as well as the scenario were different. But they conveyed the same feeling of aging and loneliness in a changing world, and the idea that I have to stick with what's left of my family, and try to give future to this family.

In terms of scenario, one important difference here was that it's my brother that was absent, and my sister had a role. She was still a cold bitch, but I was able to get over it, because I had a feeling it was important that I stick to my sister. Also, my mother wasn't there, but I don't know whether she was simply dead. My father was there though. I was asking him questions about grand-pa, still trying to save information from the past, but he wasn't of much help... just as he actually isn't in reality.

I was anxious asleep, and I was anxious awake. After this dream, I went on feeling like I still was a bit in the dream whereas I was awake. I felt some urge to call my former girlfriend. Telling her maybe we should give it a try again, and that I want a child soon. But I had understood I wasn't in a normal state of mind, and that I might do things I would later regret. So, I was able to refrain. Then I took Cipralex again, and after a couple of hours felt already a bit better.

Last Friday evening, C. spent the night with me again. And again we kissed and cuddled. I
hope we are going to be able to stay close friends. She is a sensitive girl and I need her. And I need cuddles.

Cheered up

So I had taken 20mg of modifed release of Ritalin around 4 pm. At 6:30 pm I took 10 more mg of regular Ritalin, as well as a small dose of Sulpiride. I felt a bit better and was able to attend my dancing lesson, and it went very well. I feel so much better. No I don't need Cipralex. I need more of this combination of Ritalin and Sulpiride. I'd say my mood was a 2/10 during the afternoon, and currently I'd say 5.5 or even 6!
I'm getting less bad at dancing. Maybe some day I'll be good and happy to master something new. That's what I need the most : mastering something new.

Worst day I've had in a month

My colleague tried once again to explain my new asignment to me. I didn't get it. I went to another colleague, twice. He really tried, but I still don't get it. I feel stupid and useless. Everything in life seems complicated. Like She said after we'd been briefly discussing how glass could be made of matter but still let the light goes through : "I don't know, the world is scary". She sobbed. And that comes from a 145 of IQ, high profile working for a top notch IT company. So what can I do with my life? I can only think of all that I failed to study and understand, and I only see more failures for the future.
I can't learn anything anymore. I have to check the same words again and again in the dictionary. My brain is broken.

Everything in this shit life is complicated, and I want to die. I searched the internet which of the pills I have at home could kill me with an overdose. I can't die from a Xanax overdose, and I'd have to eat a bowlful Rilatin to... probably just feel very unconfortable for a while. Even dying is complicated. I could try the hunger strike, but it's going to take ages. Why can't I just call a Kill() procedure on my body. I think my body should simply obey whatever order I give it. I should be able to die like I order my hand to close or stretch.

Maybe that's what I get for trying to stop my antidepressant. Maybe the Ritalin can't completely replace the Ciphralex.

I always found extremely important that I become a father. Like my life could only be a complete failure if I don't even have kids. Today, I changed my mind. I'm not sure I should put new kids in this shit world. I don't care not to leave anything after me anymore. Maybe that's the sign I'm ready for suicide. Until now, when considering suicide, I had always been worried about the embarassing things what people would find in my stuff, and what would they think of me. I have a shit load of hardcore porn movies. They are the reason my backups are so huge. Maybe I don't give a shit anymore. I won't erase anything. I won't clean anything. I'll be dead, and they are going to die too. And the universe eventually is going to die as well. So none of this matters. In a hundred years it's going to be like I was never on earth.

How poorly written is this? I bet it wouldn't be much better if I had written it in my mother tongue. I'm just vomiting words.

I took a small dose of Xanax and another Ritalin. I'm not sure I feel any better so far...

Why is it so hard to close my eyes

I tried many pills to help me sleep. But I don't have as much trouble sleeping than I have allowing myself to fall asleep. I fight the pills. I don't want to sleep. That's why taking Xanax (against anxiety) is much more efficient than any pills that just make me feel tired. When I explain that to a doctor, this doctor usually asks "why don't you want to sleep?". It's easy to understand though : the problem with the night is the tomorrow. If I go to sleep, then I'll have to wake up. I don't want the night to end, I'm warm and fuzzy. The night is too short if I spend it asleep.
It's like jumping into the cold water of a pool. It's very unpleasant, I have to swim and fight the cold before I get used to the temperature of the pool. But then, if I get out to wrap myself in my towel, I can't jump back in the pool without starting over fighting against the cold.

I wish to fall asleep and never wake up.

I want to be left alone. Please, leave me alone.

Geeks are bitter

In web development, there is something called the "MEAN stack". Of course MEAN is an acronym. Now I have just came accross "HATEOAS". It made me think :it's ok to have names with such negative connotations in web development. Those names are made by geeks for other geekss. Geeks don't have girlfriends, they are lonely, they are bitter.

Yesterday, it was the first time I had attended a job interview in an important IT company. The first thing that struck me was that everybody was young and nice looking. Elite people aren't just smart, they are nice looking. From what I see, I think that, in our society, intelligence can't completely make up for being ugly.

Today I feel tired. After my second intake of Ritalin for the day, I almost yielded to the temptation of taking a nap. I did lie in bed, but instead of sleeping I read the beginning of the book "Atomised" by Houellebecq. It seems promising. Probably better that the last one I read : "Whatever", from the same author. 

Anyway. My new theory is that I might have some thyroid issue. It could explain the cold hands and nose, the tiredness, the depression, and... the concentration and memory issues. My father had some thyroid issue. I need to check that.

If C. was just a bit more pleasing to the eye, it would be enough to make my qualms vanish. I'm just a man. I'd fuck her, even knowing that it's never going to be a serious relationship and that I would hurt her in the end.
It's ok. I'm still morally better than ninety-nine percents of people. So I guess it's ok. I'm not Jesus, I kind of wrapped my mind around this fact now. It took time though.

Godmother of war

I feel inadequate. I feel all I procuded in this job so far is shit. I suffer.
I know a tenth of what I need to know, and this tenth I think I known I acually only partially understand.
Tomorrow is going to be a harsh day again. For some reason the installation of my beautiful "web platform" failed on one of our client's servers. It's the first client that is going to use the completely new version of my web app. I mixed what I had heard of what the blueprint to build the Coliseum could look like, with the blueprint for my shed. Could be called "art " I guess.
It still works better than the first version !

Maybe I'll call C.P after work, just to exchange a few words. I think what she is to me is kind of a  "godmother of war". I'm surrounded. My fiercest enemy is myself, and I'm surrounded. Life is carpet bombing my position. I need a contact with a feminine soul.

I took sleeping pills. but that can't be the sole expanation for the poor quality of my english. That's got to be me. I'm bad.
Soon enough I'm going to stop reading those french novels, and start reading english books instead. Then you'll see...

Better stop writing and closing those eyes.

The ridiculous propaganda against Ritalin

On Sunday, just after taking my 20mg of modified release of Rilatin - what some people call "legal cocaine" - is the perfect moment for me to take a nap. Go figure.

Ritalin is the most powerful antidepressant I ever took. It's about to replace completely the Ciphralex I've been taking for years. I used to take 20mg of Ciphralex per day, which is the maximum recommended dosage. I now only take 5mg a day, and I'm considering stopping completely.
When I take Rilatin, after half an hour, the concentration of the substance in my blood is is at its peak. I feel relieved, and can finally take a peaceful nap.

The way the word "drug" is used in English is part of the problem. In French, "la drogue" only refers to "recreational drugs". Drugs connotes junkies, prostitution, etc. The pills that a doctor gives his patients are "médicaments", or "medicine".
A drug addict takes drugs for a recreational purpose. One takes drugs because one wants to function abnormally for some time. One takes a medication in order to function normally. I take Ritalin because I want to function normally.

Most people don't understand why recreational drugs are prohibited. It's not because drugs are "bad" per se. The fact is, most recreational drugs cause serious health problems on the long term. They also cause social problems. In order for a society to function properly, it's mandatory that it bans recreational drugs, as well as murder, and theft.

I'm like Robert De Niro in the movie "Awakenings". I spent my life in a wheelchair not moving a finger. But give me L-Dopa, and suddenly I wake up, I start doing things, I even dance (literally), and life is enjoyable. Then the L-Dopa concentration in my blood drops, and I'm back to sleep.

Ritalin causes no serious health problems on the long term, and actually improve the way I interact with people. I now have a social life. When I take Ritalin I'm more confident, and often more kind to people. Ritalin is a medication. And comparing Ritalin to cocaine only demonstrate plain ignorance from people that probably never had to deal with real "psychological" problems. Would they blame a cripple for using an artificial leg? Real psychological problems are just as harsh to deal with. And no, some relaxation is not going to help the cripple walk. Talking to a so-called "psychologist" is not going to help the cripple either.

I'd like a cuddle

We talk all the time, on skype, with SMSs, emails. We started seeing each other every Friday, in addition to attending the dancing lessons together every Sunday. C. is a great friend.
I had a hard day, and I was yearning to ask her to come to sleep with me tonight and cuddle. I'm only talking about cuddling, that's what I need the most. I need affection.

But then I would have to deal with an oversensitive teenager that thinks she is in a relationship with me.

Bad idea.

I'm not going to make her suffer just to relieve my own pain a bit.

I have no output devices

I've just watched "Indie Games : The Movie", which I found to be very inspirational. It's a documentary about people that are dedicated. It doesn't matter that they are weird, or whether I appreciate what they do.

I think I have a geat deal of creativity inside me, and I always had. I simply lack any output devices. I can't draw. I can't sculpt. I have a hard time crafting anything I planed in my head. I write in french rather properly, but I really need some serious practice. I have some potential in programming too, but I'm clrealy light years away from those guys in the documentary. I wish I had those programming skills that are like the chisel that the sculptor masters so perfectly it became an extension of his hand and he can forget about the tool and fully focus on pure creation.


A guy from the documentary :

I am determined to make video games, and I'm making video games because I can. I'm very very good at programing. I can still basically make something that expresses myself, like a movie or something that I wrote. I can make that as a video game and I have the full ability to do that.

But I, I have no output devices.

Maybe I should stop worrying about the ideas I had that somebody else had as well and turned into reality before I had the time. Maybe I shouldn't worry too much my failed projects. I only start to understand how I should organise, carry out my work. Maybe all those failures are part of my learning process, and I shouldn't worry about starting new projects that will probably not go anywhere.

My intuition more powerful than my reason

Like a year ago, I installed this little game on my Android phone :

 

It's called "Entangled", and the point is to relocate the balls so that in the end no link crosses any other link. It made me think of those relational database diagrams I had to draw in college; with one rectangle for each table, and a link for each foreign key. We, the students, had to organize our diagram so no link would be crossing another, or the teacher would get angry. At that time, this problem already "threw me into perplexion" (I naturally felt like writing that. It doesn't mean anything, I just felt it was legit. Sometimes I write things that seem new to me, then discovering I feel like writing them because they indeed are legit, and I heard them in some movie, or read them in some article. But here no, it just doesn't mean anything). At that time already, this problem left me puzzled (there we are). How could I automate this? I had no idea of the algorithm that would untangle my tables. I was also wondering how to test whether it was actually possible to completely untangle a diagram. In the end, I would only use the good old trials and errors method, but I was feeling dumb, and anxious, as usual.
Here we are, a few years later. I had the brilliant idea to download that nightmare. Those nightmares make me anxious, but I can't get rid of them. I'll come back to them every once in a while. All those things that seemed complex, that I didn't perfectly understand, or didn't understand at all... they haunt me. So, at first, I couldn't solve the levels past the most basic ones. It seemed incredibly complex to me, once again. I was searching for The Criteria. I was in the mindset of a programmer, and consciously searching for an algorithm. What is The Criteria that would make me choose one ball to move? And based on what would I choose the direction in which I'd move it, how would I choose the final location? It was driving me extremely anxious, which mindset, I know from experience, is the worst of all to solve any problem efficiently.
I let it aside for a while. But it kept haunting me. One day, I opened this game again, and I was suddenly able to solve the levels one after the other, easily. What had happened was that I stopped thinking. I looked at the setup, and one ball was standing out, and that ball felt like it was attracted to a different position. So, with my little finger, I dragged the ball to where it was called. Then the focus naturally shifted to another ball that was attracted to another position. Ball after ball, I was finally able to untangle the setup, every one of them. I almost solved all the levels now, and I only stopped because it became boring.
I still don't know what I'm doing. And I try not to think too much about it, lest the anxiety appears again. But I'm pretty sure that I'm now closer than ever to finding the algorithm. Now there is something that I do that solves the problem, and I can try to analyze this thing.

My English in this article feels so bad that I'm not even going to try to fix it. I know why my english became so broken lately. I stopped reading articles in english every morning. Currently, when I'm in the bus, heading toward my workplace, I read books in french. Only books in french. Also, I don't talk to my ex-girlfriend at all anymore...




 

Awful nap

I spent the evening on Friday with C. We ate at my place, then we went to the cinema, then she naturally followed me home. I was under the impression that she wanted to stay with me. I was feeling exhausted, as I usually do after 9pm, when the Ritalin has completely disappeared from my blood. I suggested that we watch a second movie, and we both sat in my bed to watch "The Weather Man". After a while I asked her whether she wanted to cuddle. I thought that's what she was waiting for, but she clearly was unsettled by the proposition. We did briefly cuddle, but I could hear the steam hissing out of her hears. She started asking lots of questions, like how could I love her already! She said she was afraid that she would believe it was a serious story, and then that I'd dump her. At that moment I knew it was a mistake, and I should have stopped immediately, but I needed a cuddle so much. I managed to rapidly put an end to this cuddling though, and I drove her home. She asked me what my favorite color was. It's easy to understand : she is only about to turn eighteen. I'm ten years older than her. She is a bit younger than my sister.

On Saturday, I felt tired all day long, and took a nap. My former girlfriend was in the dream as a reference. I knew I had lost her, and it was a big thing. It was, because I had just lost both my parents too. I felt alone in the world. I didn't have children, and without Her and both my parents, the world turned into something like a zombie apocalypse. I was searching for food supplies, and trying to stick with my brother. My sister was completely absent from that dream, like she didn't exist. It is true that my brother would be the person I could count on the most in case of zombie apocalypse.
Soon enough, the world will turn into that apocalypse for me.

My English is so clumsy. I didn't exercise for a month.

Taking those dancing lessons was the best decision I've made in a year. And yesterday, as we were dancing together, C. asked me whether I'd come to the lesson on Tuesday. I said yes, she answered that it was a bit late for her but she would come because it was one of the rare occasions she had to see me. "Do you want to see me?", I asked. "What do you think! ... unless I misunderstood something last evening?...". So, after the lesson, I told her. I told her that she was very young, and I didn't want something serious right now, and I didn't want to hurt her.

Hopefully, we'll remain friends. She is a nice girl, and I need a friend.

My relation to language

I often feel like my brain only has room for a precise and limited amount of words. I reached the limit a long time ago, and now, each word I push into my brain, it's another one that is pushed out of my brain. I started to feel this problem about the French language a long time ago, and now I feel the same about the English language.
Today, after further analysis, it occurred to me that it's not that I can't learn new words, I simply don't understand the new words. I already gathered the labels for all simple things, and I cannot really understand the more complex things. I look up the new words, and read the definition, but I don't feel those definitions in my guts. As a consequence, my brain is unable to retain those words. I have to look them up again and again. It makes me anxious.

Simple things in appearance... I can't really get what is, figuratively, a "sour" or a "bitter" feeling. I can only use those words by imitating sentences I read or heard.
I only really understand what happened to me personally.

I don't know what is being "bitter". But I think I can give a rather accurate definition of "being cynical". If I were to give a definition of "being cynical", I'd say it's showing disdain for things that are otherwise "universally" recognized as having positive value. When my mother sees a young couple that just got married, she often says something like "those goons just got trapped for twenty years!". She is being cynical.

If that makes me an idiot, so be it. I care less and less about looking like an idiot. Now, the thing I mostly care about is finding a way to live with myself; a way to be.

Wish to be a thing

In high school, I would often stare at object imagining I was them. I was so anxious, I would stare at the wall and imagine that I was a brick, or even just an atom of the brick, or maybe of photon coming through the window and bouncing on the brick. Atoms feel no anxiety. They feel nothing. Beings pass before them, time passes through them, they remain. They are just there.

Being good to people

At the beginnings of my treatment with Ritalin, I noticed the pill made me nicer to people. The things was it made me relaxed and happier. It's like Céline wrote : "Si les gens sont si méchants, c'est d'abord parce qu'ils souffrent" ("if people are so mean, it's mainly because they suffer"). Then Céline added "mais le temps est long qui sépare le moment où ils ont cessé de souffrir de celui où ils deviennent un peu meilleurs" ("but there is a long time between the moment they stopped suffering, and the moment they become a bit nicer").

I forget about people. To them, it seems like I just disappeared after I got what I wanted from them. Indeed, I'm so busy with my inner problems that I have no energy for relationships maintenance. I don't just forget about people, but I can't "ping -t" them. A connection can't be maintained for a long period of time. Resources should be freed. Connections should be closed and opened again.

It's only lost time if I stop halfway

I'm under pressure at work. I'm under pressure with this house I'm trying to buy. I'm under pressure, and I still have no idea which path would lead me to success. As usual I recently started things that I didn't finish. I have a thousand ideas that I won't turn into anything real.
And what should I study? Should I keep learning mobile development? Should I sharpen my web development skills after work? Should I study mathematics? I'd like to study chemistry... but should I  rather study a new language?
Three weeks ago I had enrolled in the highest level of some English evening course in my city. I attended two lessons. I attended the second one only to make sure this course was useless to me. I'm going to keep on studying on my own instead.
In place of the English course, I'm enrolling in an Italian course. Why? Because of "The Great Beauty". Because of the music of the words. Because it's easy to learn, and because I have the opportunity to practice this language with my own mother. I hesitated a lot, but today was my first lesson. I hesitated because I don't have time to do everything I want and need to. Is this the right choice? Is learning Italian going to help me succeed somehow? I was grappling with those questions when it occured to me that it could only be lost time if I stopped halfway through this year of course. But it's also true for most things I tackle. It's only lost time if I stop before getting anywhere. I don't need to become fluent in italian, but now that I started this, I should give it enough energy to reach "some" level. I should keep on attending the course until the end of the school year. I should pass all the examinations. Then I'll allow myself to stop this activity. But I must not give up in a couple of months, only being able to say "Hi I'm Yugo Amaryl, I was born on .... and I'm a programmer". That would be lost time.

In 5 months I'll be 28. In 2 years and 5 months, I'll be 30. I want to already be able to show some achievment at 30.
I feel lost, but I can already set a couple of goals for my 30th birthday. I want my house almost completely renovated and rented, I want  the Cambridge English Proficiency certification on my resume, and I want a better job in some serious company.

In the weeks to come, I want to finish reading several books that I started weeks, or even months ago. I'd like to finish a book a week for the next four weeks. That seems like a reasonable objective, even though I'm only going to be able to seriously read during the weekends, after I cleaned the cages of the guinea pigs, cleaned my apartment, after I took care of some more legal issues related to my house, ...

My english is getting worse. I was stuck on a plateau for months, and now my skills are deteriorating. I clearly feel it as I'm writing thoses thoughts. And spending time on the italian lessons is not going to help breaking through plateaus in english.

I need to keep calm, breath, and keep on working. I'm the hero of the story.

It may just be an impression, but I think I'm getting some more attention from women those last few weeks.

I want a woman in my bed.

I'm surprised that I don't really miss Her anymore.
This relationship brought me a huge amount of good things, for what it lasted. Now is probably the moment to take a step in new direction.
I was 24 when I met her. Today I'm 27. My young cousins have kids already. C. is even pregnant of her second child, at my age.
30 years old is not too late to have the first one, but I shouldn't wait any longer. Beside, I'm not searching for the same kind of women anymore. The next one probably won't be as smart and educated as Her. But, with this woman, life will be possible. Simple as that. With her I won't fight three times a week, and I won't constantly be afraid that she mutilates herself. I want life to be possible with the next one. And I have the feeling it's going to develop very fast with the next one. Especially if my house is renovated.  In spite of my psychological problems, I think I'm going to grow reasonably successful during the next 3 years. Slowly but steadily. And I'm going to meet this reasonable, nice, and livable woman, and she'll give me my first child, because I'll have created a situation in which she feels I'm reliable and she feels safe. One day, she will be pregnant, and we'll both be happy. I'll have a serious conversation with my father and...

Well, let's go to sleep.

I don't have diabete, and it's a problem

As usual, my blood test didn't show any major problem. As usual, I lack D vitamin. Quite understandable for a guy living such a country, and rarely going out anyway.
I'm disappointed. For obvious reasons. If I had developed diabetes, I'd know what's wrong with me, and I'd have something to tackle to. Last time was the same surprise. I took a thorough blood test, including genetic tests, to be accepted as a sperm donor. It seemed to me that there was a quite substantial possibility that my blood test would disqualify me. Then I had this woman doctor in before me. She read some report, and page after page she commented how perfect my test was. I was thinking "how can I feel so bad, and my blood test be so good?"
I was young, in perfectly healthy, no major genetic problem, with perfect spermatozoon whose concentration in my sperm was 3 to 4 times the average. I was the perfect donor, and was thanked  and thanked by the woman doctor.

I increased my intake of Cipralex. I was down to 5mg a day for weeks, but I cannot live like that. I'm back to 10mg. The Rilatin I took an hour ago in now in my blood, so I can now get out of the bed and do something.
My psychiatrist prescribed something new : Sulpiride. I only have 12 tabs. That's for the week ends like this one. When I'm not under pressure and have too much time to think. Those are the worst days. Sulpride is for the treatment of "psychosis associated with schizophrenia and major depressive disorder". Not sure how much I relate to each of those terms, but it seems pretty serious. It seems like it's going to help me. I took a quarter of a tab at work a few days ago, and I'm not sure it had any real effect beside little feelings that I could have invented while searching inside me for any effects of the drug. Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm probably going to have to take half a tab.

"And all I loved, I loved alone"

I keep reading and reading again the first paragraphs from Poe's House of Usher. It seems repetition can't strip this poetry from what Rimbaud called "the alchemy of the word". It doesn't matter whether I understand every word, it's about the music.
I remember when I first read those words. I was struck by how similar they felt to a poem from Baudelaire. I checked Wikipedia, and indeed found a link between both men. Baudelaire appreciated and even translated Poe in french.

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens (...)

This poem, Baudelaire even used an english word to title it: "Spleen"...

Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle
Sur l'esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis, (...)

I feel frustrated. While some of the best sentences can be translated perfectly in French...

the hideous dropping off of the veil
--
la laideur tombant le masque 

...others are just meant to remain powerful only in English. Like this wonderful alliteration :

There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart.

Tonight, I just read a bit further than usual, and was stroke by something new...

It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression;

He knows. He knows what it's like to enter a room whose atmosphere is unbearable until one lights some even very weak lamp or candle in one corner. He knows this one little light that suddenly modifies the whole atmosphere of the room, which thus become livable.
As I grew stronger, I became less sensitive to this... problem. When I was a kid, I couldn't properly explain those feelings. And who would understand anyway?

This is another poem from Poe. It begins like this...

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

I am not lazy, but it is hard to do something

I am slowly realizing how much I let people not knowing much about me define who I was.

People at school used to make me feel like I was a scrooge. They didn't know, and I didn't either. They didn't know I had had to fight for the right to receive pocket money. They didn't know I was only receiving from my parents like a tenth of what they were receiving from theirs. They didn't know that buying a sandwich outside of the school at noon was just beyond my means.
I wasn't a scrooge, I just didn't have money.

Later, my father didn't allow that I work during the holidays, like a lot of students do. My stupid ex-girlfriend S. found me lazy. She thought life was too easy on me, that I never had to fight, and was wrong to complain. She said I should just work to earn some money. Why didn't I think of that ! That's obvious and I'm so dumb !

I was acutely sensitive, different, probably over-protected, and, among other things denied the right to feel the empowerment of earning money for myself. But I was guilty of being a scrooge and lazy. And I did feel guilty.

From my very first day at school, I had been a bad student. Surely it was another proof of my laziness. I was repeatedly told so, therefore I believed so. Fortunately, my father knew the power of yelling at a kid that cannot focus on his homework at 8pm. I was so much better off feeling anxious on top of feeling dumb and tired.
I did view myself as a lazy kid. I thought high school would give me a fresh start. But things happened the exact same way than in primary school. I was no more able to focus on something else than the world outside the window, and I was still mocked and insulted by the other students.
During my last two years in high school, I found myself in a slightly less hostile environment, and started to play with that image of the lazy student. I played it cool. I acted like I didn't care, that it was some choice, like I was this kind of relatively intelligent guy that just was too lazy to study. I actually couldn't help it. And I suffered a lot. I was extremely anxious all my childhood.

At 23 years old, I was afraid of taking a train. I didn't know my city really. I knew mostly the journey from school to home. I didn't know what to do of my life. I still had never earned any money, I still was a bad student (only at a higher level, college), and of course had a very poor image of myself.

Some day, I decided this situation had to change. I started taking Sipralex (which I'm still taking every day), and I stopped going out. Indeed, for a short period of time, I had sought happiness at parties, among stupid people I used to call "friends". I abruptly stopped seeing them. I stopped going out at parties, I stopped drinking alcohol. My "friends" then, predicted I would "come back to it". They didn't understand. In spite of their prediction, I didn't drink a single beer since then. I lost the count of the years. It has become a religious principle. Wine is alcohol, beer is alcohol. A 2% beer still is alcohol, and I don't drink alcohol.

When I stopped seeing them, my friends thought that I had blown a fuse. I even got rid of my "best friend" for many years. I later heard this had been hard on her. She didn't understand more than anyone else what was happening. I had suddenly become adversarial with her. The fact is I had decided I wouldn't just shut up and listen to her stupid liberal opinions anymore. One day, I carefully explained to her why I found her views utterly stupid. Then I told her I was done with her, and never spoke to her again.
I'm sorry for her pain, I'm not sure she deserved the way I treated her in the end.

I didn't fit in, in spite of all my efforts. I was not just sick of the pressure anymore, I was becoming genuinely mad. I craved for a radical change. I didn't want to try to fit in anymore. I wanted to embrace the fact I was different. I barricaded myself and embarked on some kind of inner quest.

At 24 I took a plane for the first time. I had found a way to get some money to pay for my Erasmus trip to Greece. I lived there on my own for four months. When I left my country, I had just enough money on my bank account to barely survive during a bit more than the first month there. I was expecting some money to arrive during my trip.
I had to evade on that Erasmus trip. Among other things, I needed to prove that I could survive on my own. The only way I had found, to earn some money without my father knowing, was to donate sperm. Something for which my ex-girlfriend, A. (Her), hated me.

I cannot win. I'll always be a scrooge, lazy, or simply an awful person to somebody.

At 25, I got my first job, and a few months later, started to rent an apartment. I was finally an independent person.

At 26, I accepted another job offer, and since then my salary is a bit higher than the average wage for my profession at my level of experience.

Today I'm 27. I'm about to buy my first house, and become a landlord.

That's just a brief summary of my path, of course.

I cannot win. I'll always be a scrooge, lazy, or simply an awful person to somebody.

--

It's another Sunday I spent mostly in bed because I'm feeling too weak to really work on my projects. And this is in spite of the ritalin. I'm not lazy, I do push myself, a lot. I always did.

I'm constantly thirsty, but pee crystal clear, for weeks. I think I also often feel weaker when I eat than when I'm starving myself. I'm soon to get the results from the blood test I had yesterday.

Whatever those results, I'll keep going.

Unfair to him

I hated him. I almost fought with him. I pushed him. I threatened him. I broke some of his things.
He was not always right. He made mistakes. I sometimes had good reasons to strongly resent him.

I remember that night that M. had just broken up with me. It was like 11pm, I was at her place, extremely upset, and I had my things to gather and take home. I called him. I asked him whether he'd come and get me. He asked me whether something was wrong. I answered that everything was fine... but couldn't help a sob that I swallowed as quickly as possible. It was late, and he was tired. He took his car and drove to get me.

To buy my house, I'm shy of just 20k. The family won't help, and no friend of mine will. I know he is going to search for a solution. In this project, he is much more supportive than I ever imagined he would.

We never said good morning to each other otherwise than by insulting each other. But for all the serious matters, when I really need to be able to count on somebody, he is there.
At the end of the day, my father is the only person I can really rely on. Not my drunk mother, not my crazy ex-girlfriend, not any friend of mine, just my father.

Mood log

The quaternary sector

This deal must work out. I need that house, and I need to work with my hands.
All the banks will be long gone before my house is down.
There are no "financial products". "Products" are things that grow out of the earth.
There are politicians everywhere, traders, and all those useless fuckers. But eventually, the only ones that win are the farmers.

No time to give me shit

I was standing right in front of those large city stairs, and it wasn't where I was supposed to be.
I used to meet my psychatrist at his house, but for the first time I was supposed to see him at some clinic. The clinic wasn't at all where I ended up searching for it. I don't know why I imagined it was there. My mind was stuck on this wrong belief, and I already was half an hour late when I finally decided to call the clinic to ask what its location actually was.
That's very embarrassing. In the past, I missed a rendez-vous with this psychiatrist because my mind was stuck on a the false souvenir of a wrong date.
This kind of things happens to me on a regular basis. I need to do something about it, because it's a problem. I regularly imagine things that I become so convinced are real, that I would never question them, until I hit the wall.
I also thought this rendez-vous was scheduled for tomorrow. Fortunately, I had scheduled a reminded in my smartphone a month ago.
Tomorrow, I go to meet my mother's counselor at some bank, in order to discuss the possibility of getting the money to buy my house. As I originally thought my rendez-vous with the psychatrist was scheduled to tomorrow as well, I had requested an afternoon off, hoping to take care of both matters the same day. Now had to request a second afternoon off for tomorrow, to be able to attend the rendez-vous with the counselor. This - for some reason I won't explain, just to avoid making this story even more confusing - is going to force me to cancel the afternoon off I needed to meet another counselor from another bank.

This explanation is messy. Nevermind.

Fuck.

I could easily justify why I am confused. This is the first house I buy, so of course it's a lot of things to manage, legal stuff I'm not accustomed to at all. I also have a lot on my mind at work, plus She is still displaying a passive-aggressive behavior, plus the fact that I'm a bit sick for 3 days, plus the fact one of my guinea pigs has some health issue, ... But it doesn't matter. I should grow strong enough to handle all this. I need to gather my shit and handle all this, like a serious man. I need to get more organized.

Today, I had awkward interactions with the pharmacist, with the psychiatrist's secretary, and my psychiatrist himself. I kind of felt he found me awkward. My own psychiatrist finds me awkward. But what does he expect? I don't see him just because I have too much money and I'm bored. Of course I'm not "well".
He clearly is not a genius. But he rather easily consents to give me the prescriptions I need. I don't really need anything more from him. And I really should start studying some chemistry. Who knows, with enough work I might be able to learn how to synthesize the molecules I need to function properly. I would then still use my legal prescriptions, because it's easier and legal, but knowing my life doesn't depend on the opinion of any stupid doctor anymore.

I don't even know why She is mad at me. Talking to my mother, last Saturday, I mentioned the fact I had a fight with Her, and that we were kind of broken up (I try to pretend it's serious, but I just incremented our counter...). My mother asked me "why" of course. I answered that I didn't even really know anymore. That's no joke. There surely is some kind of "reason". Or maybe she is just a woman that wanted to have an argument over nothing. The usual way women behave with men. I shouldn't worry, but it's still upsetting.
I'm not sure but it had something to do with the fact that I said I wouldn't marry her at the present time... which is easy to understand for any rational person. We only know each-other for three years, and met only once ! If we were actually living together, for four or five years, maybe it would not seem that crazy. I'm trying to do things right, here. I'm buying a house, trying to secure my future, improve my career perspectives, and build a serious relationship with a serious woman.

I love Her, and I miss Her.

I just wish she was a bit more sensible.

The Insider : of moral integrity

While you've been dickin' around at fucking company golf tournaments, I been out in the world, giving my word and backing it up with action.

A great movie I discovered lately, based on a true story. It's about moral integrity, and an awful stupid wife. But mostly about moral integrity. About serious men.

The extra mile

I'm doing it. I found the house, and I'm about to sign an agreement.
It's 9pm. I had a harsh day at work, with 32°C in the office. My head hurts, but I did eveything I had to do.
I called my father, I called the current owner to tell her my decision to buy this house. I came back from work. I met my father to get further information. I ate, and finally I just called the owner again like 15 minutes ago, with the new information. Now is the time to care about the mortgage.

In the middle of this, I was called by one more recruitment consultant. I cannot get rid of them since I updated my resume online. It was always online, but it's like it triggered some alarm as soon as I updated it a couples of days ago. Doesn't matter. I gave those people the phone number of my former colleague, S., that needs and deserves a better job. He thanked me a lot.
Today, I was called by like the manager of some recruitment consultant I talked to yesterday. This manager gave me the name of the woman consultant from yesterday, but I confused her with another one, and pretended I gave this one the name and phone number of S. Then I got a message from the woman consultant, apologizing for loosing the contact information I supposedly gave her, and asking me to send it again. At that moment I realized my mistake, apologized, and sent a message to her manager to make sure he would not hold her responsible for anything. I didn't blame her, talking to her manager, I was just confused. But I believe she might have had some word with him. That's very embarrassing. But I tried to make the things right.

Of course, beside all this, I had to do my job, sweating on my keyboard.

Now, I should work at least a bit on one of my personal programming projects.
A few months ago, to the list of "keywords" describing my attitude on my resume, I added "always willing to go the extra mile". This must not be a lie. I'm exhausted, but I have to work at least a bit on my project. I do believe that this extra mile will make the difference.

I am short on Xanax. But I'm going to be fine.

Unreliable

My mother did it again. She says something, she doesn't do it, and seems surprised that I'm angry.
She said she would cook something for us to eat today at noon. I tried to call her 3 times. It's 1pm and she finally called me back. She just woke up, and doesn't know what we are going to eat.

She doesn't owe me anything. But I never asked either that she comes at my place, nor that she brings something to eat. She said she would do it, so I counted on her to do that. Now it's 1pm, I'm hungry, I have nothing to eat, and I need to work.

I think I used to be rather unreliable too. Now that I try to achieve something in my life, I find unreliable people extremely upsetting.

I mean what I say, and I do what I say.

When somebody tells me "ho you did it", I answer "of course, I told you I would do it". And I'm secretly upset, because I think people that are surprised that I do what I said, are surprised because they know they themselves are unreliable.

To be further examined

Yesterday my brain classified the capacitor...

...and the pipe bomb...

...close to each other. Of course both are about concentrating energy. What else...

My poor decision-making, my uncommon path through life so far, the odd ways in which my brain seem to work, all those things makes me unique. But it can either be good-unique, or bad-unique. Of course I'm not interested in being a very original failure.
It only has value if I end up winning.

Topple

Without thinking to much about it.

People are unreliable

How I hate people that don't do what they say.
This person was supposed to come to adopt 2 of my guinea pigs at 2pm. It's 5pm and she wouldn't even send a message to apologize. I have very few time, and need a strong organization. She said she would come, I organized my schedule accordingly, and now what?! It's the second time in a row that somebody do that with me. It seems people don't have any plan. They wander randomly through life like rats in a labyrinth. They randomly turned left and ended up with kids. Now they happen to feel like adopting some guinea pigs, they should turn right for that, but suddenly they see some cheese straight ahead and they forget about the guinea pigs.
People are unreliable. The worst part is they don't even seem to think it's a problem. I don't even understand how they happen to survive.

Why can't they just leave me alone ?

I am the kid on this photo.
This is one of my mother's favourite photos of me. A friend of her had put her hat on my head, and they found that so cute that my mother took this picture.

A few years ago, during a dinner with my family (I was still living with my parents at this time), my father expressed some concern about me. I was going through especially harsh times. I don't think I was actually more anxious and depressed than usual. It's just that I was so tired that I couldn't hide my inner state very well anymore.

He told me :

There is this picture of you as a little kid. You are playing, and suddenly somebody put a hat on your head. You turn towards this person and look so sad. It was like your face was saying : "why are you people annoying me? Leave me alone". Well, those days you have that same look on your face.

My father was not considering young children just as cute objects, but as persons. And as such, they had feelings and deserved respect. He cared about my feelings and as a consequence was neither the person that put the hat on my head, nor the one that took the photo. He is the one that perceived my sadness but probably thought it was useless trying to explain to people around why this picture was not actually cute.

"The Child's Right to Respect" is a book from Janusz Korczak. One of many that are patiently waiting on my reading list. I still didn't read any books from this author, but from what I currently know about him, I think he must be some great man. Someone that could contribute to restoring some of my faith in humanity.

Maybe there is a connection here with my grand father shaking the hand of babies to say hello, which always shocked my mother. She perceived it as an impossibility to display, or maybe even feel, tenderness. She perceived it as some important issue in any way. Knowing myself a bit, knowing my father a bit, and having no hard time imagining my grand father having similar traits, I always considered she was right about "our" difficulties with displays of emotions. But my grand-father's behaviour may also have had the purpose of showing the people around that babies too were persons. After all, he was a psychiatrist. And I think he actually liked children. I remember that he would give positive comments about the fact my parents bought little chairs, tables, and armchairs especially for their children. I did hear him say something like "Good. I see that's a littles-friendly place".

I wish I had talked to him more. I'd like to go on his tomb. I'd like to see his name on the stone. My name.
He published around 50 papers, studied all his life, and left us thousands of books. I wonder whether he had found something about life. Something that could help me.
But he was no-one like "the old rabbi". As I remember him, he was rather constantly discoursing. But that's ok, because I don't think I would be satisfied with "all you need is love, be a good boy". And I am not certain that would really be an answer from someone that actually went to the bottom of life.

I think my grand-father was constantly flooding people with loads of informations about entire worlds they had never even heard of. He must have felt very intellectually lonely.
At the end of his life, he had a "girlfriend". There is an ambiguity in French. The word "copine" is a common word for either "friend" or "girlfriend", depending on the context. One often plays on this ambiguity. He never said anything about her. But we know she would come several times a week. He even paid for her tickets as she used to park in front of his apartment with no consideration for the law. My aunt said she saw them together. They would just sit next to each other in front of the window and watch the park. We didn't know her name and had a hard time finding her when my grand father passed. What they were talking about, together, in front of the window, we'll never know.

"Whoops, that was weird. I don't know why I did that."

Silicon Valley, season 1, episode 2.

Quote 1:

- Did you just take a sip from an empty cup?

- Yes.

- Why did you do that? 

- Just something to do. 

 Quote 2:

Whoops, that was weird.
I don't know why I did that.

Quote 3:

- Um, but first, if you don't mind, I'd like to use the restroom.

- Yeah.

- You don't have to ask permission to do that.

- Why, have you not gone since you've been here?

- I have not. 

I feel a bit better now, but this describes well how I behaved during an important part of my life; because of social anxiety. I would have strange moves, say strange things, or refrain from going to the restroom to the point it would become a real emergency, a matter of life and death, just because I was afraid.
Those strange moves, and those strange things, I would have them against my will of course. I was aware of being weird, which would increase my anxiety, which in turn would make me do more weird things. I couldn't help it.

I remember once, my parents and I visited some friends of theirs, that I had never met before. I was probably around 8 years old, and they had a girl a bit older than me. Her parents suggested that she should lead me to the playroom. I said nothing, and felt compelled to follow the girl. Indeed, they had a nice large playroom full of very tempting toys. We stopped at the door-frame, and she asked me what I wanted to play with. I just froze, and said nothing, for long minutes. And more minutes. With time passing, as I was aware of the weirdness of my behaviour, I would feel more and more anxious. She sighed, and leant her shoulder against the door frame. I did the same, and kept waiting. I was hoping that at some point she would give up and just leave me alone. She didn't, and I finally gathered enough courage to move silently towards some toys. She followed me and tried again to talk to me. I never answered. Then the parents called us because the dinner was ready. It was a huge relief to go back to my parents. At the moment she got to her own parent she said that I was "really a moron".

I'm not a moron, I'm just a weirdo, and today I'm fine with this fact.

Like chocolate with whole nuts

From http://www.texturex.com/albums/Brick-Textures/TextureX%20Curved%20Brick%20Wall%20Warped%20Stone%20Cement%20Texture.jpg

Kind of feel good

I stopped taking the 30mg version of Equasym in the morning. I now only take 20mg. But I keep taking 20 more mg around noon. I think this is contributing to some improvement in my mood lately. I feel less anxious, and have a bit more energy. Sometimes I even feel like running and jumping a bit.
Since I started this treatment, I lost like 10 percents of my body mass. I wanted to. But this means it's not unlikely that the initial dosage of Rilatin became too much for my body.

Today, I had some discussion with an older colleague about the advantage of buying a house or an apartment, as compared to renting. I discovered that I already earn way enough to get a loan to buy a good apartment or a small house. I feel like I just got some new power.
I also did chat with a former colleague over Skype. He was very unhappy with his job. He is a good guy and his employer is a prick. My friend is competent, has more experience than me, works much more than me, but earns way less. I told him he would have no problem finding a better job, and that he should start searching immediately.

There are a lot of people doing better than me, but also a lot doing much worse. And for me, it's only the beginning. But I shouldn't feel too proud of myself. First because I must not become "satisfied" with the little I have, and then because I owe much of my current situation to other people. First, my parents, of course, did everything they could, with they own defects, to educate me properly.
Today, I thought again about this guy that gave me some advices about the test I had to pass to get my first job. He did it for free, just because he was a nice guy. I don't think he realized that if it wasn't for him I would probably have failed that test. I gave him this game, Watch Dogs, as soon as it came out. He didn't like it very much. I really thought he would. Anyway, I felt it was important that I express my gratitude. He was surprised that I made him a gift. He still doesn't know the influence he had on my life. This job led to the one I currently have, and the more general fact that I'm now launched in real life in spite of all the poor decisions I made so far.

And of course there is Her.

Feel dumb, again

Bad day. I confronted some riddle on the "Puzzled" Stack Exchange forum. My mind first tried to evade. I caught it again, and after a few seconds, it seemed I was on a right track. As it happens very often, I was tempted to read the solution before getting to the bottom of the problem on my own. I surrendered to this temptation. Then I spent most of the day trying to be sure I had understood the solution, going mentally back and forth from "yes, of course, I got it" to "wait a minute, but if...". I still didn't really get it. I think it's a matter of "mental representation of the problem" (if this makes any sense in english).

She called me in the middle of the afternoon, She wanted to talk. We had just started a Skype video conference when She got a phone call and told me She would call me back very soon. She never did. I was very upset, especially because I already was upset by the riddle. I was just trying to ask for Her opinion on this when she hung up. That's the second time in a row that I ask for help and She evades.

It's a very lonely road.

I'd like to find some rare ability inside me. Or I'd like to develop some skill to a very high level. I'd like to achieve something special, beyond the norm, something I could really be proud of.
I'm 27 and I still don't know which path to take.
Maybe my colleague is right, maybe I just ask myself too many questions. After all, I have an ok job, an ok appartment, and obviously a more than ok physical appearance. Maybe I should focus on my well-being. Maybe doing some sport, and feeling emotionally better could also improve my cognitive performances.

If I have nothing special, what's the purpose of my life ?

There is this CPE. The fence is not so high that I would feel a sense of real achievement once I passed it. But still, it could seriously increase my self-confidence and be a step towards greater successes.

I don't know.

It's late at night, and this post is poorly written. But let's just breath...

From bad to better

Ereyesterday, I took this listening test. In spite of the positive conclusion explained in the previous post, I didn't feel much better. I instead focused on the fact I did nothing else that was on my to-do list for that day. All those tasks were related to personal projects. The morning was a 5, the afternoon was a 5.5, and the evening was a 5.5.
In the evening, as I had no more Lorazepram, I took this shitty Zolpidem again, to try to sleep. I didn't sleep much, but ended up writing inappropriate emails to unknown people. While doing so, it felt like part of my brain was dreaming. I would have fleeting random pictures appearing on what I was doing. For example, the line of text I was writing became a unstable cliff holding houses in danger of falling with the erosion. I probably slept like 4 hours, and in the morning I saw on Linkedin that I didn't send a message to the person I thought, but instead requested a connection with an other unknown person, and had no recollection of the latter event. Of course I started being anxious of what else I could have done that I had no recollection of. I took my 30mg of that modified release version of Rilatin. It didn't boost my mood like it usually does. The morning unfolding, I became more and more anxious. Nothing felt right. From my apartment overpopulated with guinea pigs, to Her displaying a passive-aggressive behavior lately... I had to take some Lorazepram.
The morning was a 4, afternoon was a 4, and evening was a 3.5. I also noted my level of anxiousness in the morning, it was a 8.5. I wanted to hit the keyboard with my forehead.
Overall, I didn't do much of the work I was supposed to.
It was planned that I meet my mother after work, to go shopping a bit. I was less anxious but sad. I hesitated but stuck to the plan in hope that it would cheer me up. In the beginning she was annoying and I responded by being rather aggressive with her. A behavior for which I later apologized, explaining I wasn't feeling very good. She forgave me because she is my mother. She wasn't feeling very good either. The daughter of a cousin of her died yesterday, of cancer, she was 20 years old. My mother said it should have been herself dying instead of that 20 years old. Very theatrical, and I failed to see the connection between the two of them. It's not like my mother was actually close, either genetically or even emotionally, to that girl.
While shopping I started feeling light electric shocks in my nape. A withdrawal symptom I know very well. I forgot to take my antidepressant the last evening. That and the fact I didn't eat much, could explain a lot of how I felt during the day.
In the evening I took more Lorazepram, and sent some news about Héline to E. I immediately got a nice answer. She apologized for not answering my last email, and said "thank you for taking so good care of Héline". So it seems she doesn't hold me responsible for what happened to Héline. That cheered me up a bit. I slept well, thanks the Lorazepram. Even though I had a dream about being in some school with some teacher spreading the word I had very poor English skills.
This morning I feel much better. I think it's a 6.

My complete failure of the day

I did what I said. I examined more closely the level required to pass the CPE. I did it by taking a mock listening test. I was stressed out, it seemed hard, and I felt again like my mind wanted to blackout. I didn't eat much, was a bit hungry. This was compounded by the relatively high dosage of Ritalin I took. I was nervous. In spite of the Rilatin, I felt like the test had less that 50 percents of my attention.
The test ended. I felt like it was a complete failure. The program said that all my answers were stored. Now it's obvious that they weren't, since it was a mock test and I had provided no identification information. But at that moment I couldn't think clearly and was just ashamed of what somebody that would look at my answers would think of the person I was. The message the program displayed requested that I "wait for further instructions". At that moment, I was stupid enough to actually wait, like a complete moron, in front of my computer screen ! Well, the instructions were not coming. I refreshed the page, the test started over. Then it occurred to me that I would get no answers from the program. I looked at the original CPE website, and there was a link to a PDF document giving all the answers to the mock tests. That's another problem I have : not reading the instructions.

Now, let's have a look at my answers. The ones I got right are highlighted...

Ok, so I indisputably scored at least a 26 out of 30. If the person that corrects the test is not a jerk, I could tally two more points for “cave” and “stream”. And I don't know why my mind added “mountain” before “climbing”, but it doesn't seem like a completely wrong answer either.

That was my complete failure of the day.

I went for the listening test because I already know I'll perform very well in the reading comprehension test, and I already know I have to work on my grammar and writing skills. I was uncertain about my listening skills. I have never been good at recognizing words in a spoken foreign language.
I remember that moment I had with P. in a café. We were listening to some music, and she asked me to translate some words from a song. She repeated them perfectly but didn't know what they meant.
I didn't hear those words in the song, she had to repeat them for me, but I was able to translate them, they made perfect sense. On the contrary, she didn't know what the words meant but she was able to extract and reproduce them perfectly. To me, the song was just a stream of sounds.

So, I didn't fail the test, and now I'm in a phase where I'm playing it down. My father would recognize this phase. He saw me in this phase so many times. Once, he worded my problem like : “each time you fail you pretend that's because you are bad, and each time you succeed you pretend that's because the task was easy”.
The thing is that this task would actually seem very easy to Her. But she obviously matches the level of a native speaker.

Wikipedia states :

Today Cambridge English: Proficiency continues to test English ability at the highest possible level and demonstrates that a candidate can communicate with fluency approaching that of a native English speaker.

So this test could prove I'm close to the the level a native English speaker, not even.

Let's fast-forward to the next phase. Ok, this CPE might prove I'm skilled, but I don't owe the acquisition of those skills to my work only. In facts, I mainly owe it to Her.

She eats

Héline is much better than yesterday, much more vivid. Yesteday she was livid. I could see it to the color of her ears. Its the only part of her body not covered with hair, and it's full of tiny blood vessels. As a consequence, her ears usually are very red. But yesterday they were skin-colour, and she wouldn't eat. I tried for like half an hour to feed her, without success. I put her back in her small cage, but with her daughter. It doesn't matter that it's her daughter or an unrelated female. I chose her daughter because, like Héline, she is very calm. A bit less calm actually, but probably because she is very young.
They are social beings. As soon I put her daughter next to her, she was aroused.

I was thinking about the activation theory. I was thinking about Winston Smith getting physically healed by his relationship with Julia.

I think E. resents me for what is happening to Héline. And I feel like I disappointed her. But I fulfill my guinea pigs' physical needs. They never lacked food or water, and I spent hundred of euros for medical treatments those last 6 months. I did complain that they are currently too much work for me, and I did put some of them for adoption. But the reason only a couple of them were actually adopted is precisely because I'm too selective. I'm too afraid they are not going to get treated well.

Héline is awake and eating.
She whined a bit. She peed on me abundantly, but that's ok. I showered, and I'm going to wash the armchair's cover.

Was I provocative ?

It's been over 8 months that I was sent to the hospital for my political opinions. The police has the name of the thug and several testimonies. I think I'm going to involve the League Against Antisemitism. I first rejected the offer for help from its president. But now, I don't see what else I could do for this thug to get to pay.

I won't let them make me feel guilty. The day after I got beaten, I went to file a complaint, and the inspector wanted to know why I did that. He wanted to know whether I had a good reason, or it was just provocation. At that moment I didn't find the good answer. He wouldn't ask a woman that got raped whether she is responsible for her rape. If somebody is responsible for this incident, it's the ones that organized a public demonstration in the first place. They went on my streets to display their political opinions, they provoked me first. I reacted by showing my different views, and got beaten. They are guilty from A to Z.

The most dissapointing ending

It's been years since I first watched this movie. I keep getting upset at how bad they spoiled the movie with this ridiculous ending.

Dunque, che questo romanzo abbia inizio

So, this web log could fill three purposes. The initial one was to be a feed for Her, a log that would be independent from Skype. The second purpose could be to work on my English writing skills. And the third one would simply be a log of my mood. My psychiatrist requested that I start again logging how bad I feel three times a day. He gave me a grid where I write marks, out of ten. He used the word "cyclothymia", the one I had on the edge of my lips for such a long time. But he hinted towards this possibility on his own. But, more generally, I don't like providing answers without justifications. I'll write justifications here.
Yesterday's morning was a 7 out of 10. I was thrilled by the idea I could pass a CPE. The beginning of the afternoon was wonderful. For an hour, I felt this lightness of being I can only remember feeling once before, like 3 or 4 months ago. Everything seemed fine, life was light. I felt "inner peace". I don't remember a day when I was not anxious. At least not before this experience 3 or 4 months ago. But it wasn't a whole day, just a short afternoon. Since then, I've been seeking this feeling, like a drug addict seeks the beauty of his first shot. I felt it yesterday, during an hour. It wasn't as pure as the first time, and anxiety quickly caught up with me. I felt I didn't work much in the morning, that my boss would end up really wondering what I was doing for the last two weeks...
The evening was a 5 out of 10. I felt tired and hungry.

I like when things organize themselves into multi-purposes solutions. It reduces my anxiety.

CPE may be within my reach

Tomorrow is a day off. Just like any other day off, I'm going to spend it working on my personal projects, or try to.
A new project is probably going to join the long list I already have. A short term project : passing a CPE exam. But first, I need to examine more closely the level required to pass this CPE. It seems too easy to be true. I only read superlatives about this test. From the official website :

Cambridge English: Proficiency, also known as Certificate of Proficiency in English (CPE), is our most advanced qualification. It proves you have achieved an extremely high level in English.

As I said, the short online test seemed suspiciously simple. But then, the glimpse I had at the samples of CPE subtests reinforced my hope that this exam may not be out of my league. The next examination session I could attend is scheduled for December. That's timely. I need to grab a good grammar book, and work on my writing skills. But first, I'll read a good French grammar book. I need to fix a few things in my mother tongue too. I don't want to build a house on a landfill.