I love making fun of all that zodiac bullshit about “making strides in your career” and “finding interpersonal success”. Earlier in my teens, I sort of arrogantly juxtaposed myself to mainstream pseudoscience and learned a lot about it, despite having a harsh approach. Truthfully, the zodiac interests me in the same way that I despise it because it’s easy to make fun of. I often wonder why people get so caught up in their horoscopes when it is obviously just a made up superstition, but I have no right to scoff at those people, do I? Every human sits and waits and wishes for the affirmations that the zodiac always promises. Money, love, success, whatever. And in that sense, horoscopes are smart for taking advantage of that universal human desire. I might look down on people who are vulnerable or unwitting enough to believe in that stuff, but I understand why it works. The same way I understand why witchcraft works, The Watchtower Society, Christianity, Heaven’s Gate, and even Nazism.

Now, I’m not saying that any of these things are on the same scale as one another (obviously believing in zodiacs is not the same as Nazism), but they all have something in common. I’m hardly the first to talk about it. All of these groups and communities are similar in that they spread their ideology by means of satisfying basic human desires. Vulnerable people fall for these things because they don’t have the intuition, at least at that moment, to see past this repeating strategy.

Zodiac signs affirm a person’s behavior and provide stability and direction to a person’s life. Witchcraft, in a similar way, relies on affirmation and ritual to garner these things. These practices are benign enough to not impede a person’s normal life for the most part, but they still apply meaning and comfort in a false way.

More intensely, Christianity, or any religion for that matter, provides all of the above in addition to community. And that is a key component of how these belief systems function. Nowadays, indoctrination of the youth is largely how these religions perpetuate, but they are still able to effectively recruit outsiders. People who can’t tell any better, who have questions they can’t answer, or who feel they have nothing left. Regardless of a person’s situation, their faith will always provide that feeling of belonging, which is by far the most important social quality for most humans if you ask me. Religion makes that easy, and in all cases abuses that desire by weaving a person’s perspective on life into a narrow string even if they tell you otherwise. I would go as far as saying that the practices of modern religions are cult-like or at least close to it. In America I’ve grown up seeing how Christianity and Catholicism breed hatred for all types of people and practices, and that has always been outlandish to me. Christians in particular feel a sense of unity from judging things they were raised not to understand, and that is the most human thing I’ve ever heard. At it’s core, modern American faith is a capitalist construct to a degree that I am not nearly informed enough to explain. But I know that it is money-hungry and keen on pushing a very specific agenda. God forbid, literally, that I see a naked woman on television or get an abortion or identify the way I do. The American deviation from original biblical texts is also laughable. We pray to a white Jesus and say that God hates gay people as if he said it right there in the book. Millions upon millions of dollars pour into the pockets of religious leaders and organizations every year to pay off yachts, tropical vacations, and huge cookie cutter mansions in the midwest. If not that, then something more nefarious. Those people know exactly what they are doing and I have no doubt about that.

When you zoom out, it’s easy to see the commonalities of all faiths in their modern context. They are businesses that have the incentive of exercising control over large portions of their respective societies. The reason they work is because they satisfy people’s need to feel a part of something and establish a sense of normality. Followers have all the support they could ever ask for, guidelines for life, and when they die they know exactly where they will be going. Religion is the answer to every question, the thing that two people have in common, and the structure for a “happy” life. And if you ask me, it’s an excuse for someone to feel like a good person because they can’t figure that one out for themselves. As long as it is lucrative, religion will continue to create these homogeneous, sterile people. I think this system is easily observed in my country. Corey told me that a notable part of America in the eyes of other countries is its rampant Christianity, which at first confused me. It had never occurred to me that faith functioned differently elsewhere, but it does.

In any iteration, I believe that organized religion is fucking disgusting.

And even something like that seems benign when you look at textbook cults like Jehovah’s Witnesses or Heaven’s Gate. JW is the easiest cult to pick apart in terms of analyzing means of control over it’s members. The Watchtower Society is smart with how it isolates itself and has a thorough understanding of how media works. Every year it releases mounds of media specifically catered to the religion. I’m talking weird stuff, like doomsday scenarios and children cartoons about telling people to stop being gay. There really isn’t much reason for members to watch content that isn’t made by or approved by The Watchtower Society, which further permeates the organization’s beliefs into the minds of its members. The authorities of the cult also keep a strict set of rules for followers. JWs can’t have solid careers and are encouraged to be working class with families. They are also encouraged or forced to spend as much time at the Kingdom Hall or with the religion as possible. They can’t have birthdays, hobbies, or any sense of individuality. There’s also some strange ones like a ban on tight pants because they are associated with gay men. But pants aside, what breaks my heart about JWs is that they are taught to believe that their faith should be the at forefront of their lives, and that nothing good exists outside of it. For people who are raised into the cult, that is largely true. The fear of being disfellowshipped is so strong with members that they live in a constant state of perfection. If they deviate even once, they can lose everything they have ever known, and that jump is too great and too intimidating for people to leave even if they have suspicions. You seriously can’t blame them. If a person leaves the cult, they lose their family, their friends, and their sense of belonging. Combine that with the fact that The Watchtower Society sucks money out of its members and you are faced with a fully functioning business, one that is self sustaining and profits off of its blatant exploitation of oblivious people who are actually encouraged to remain impoverished for the sake of Jehovah.

As for Nazism, it’s actually not as complicated as people think because it has some congruency with less despicable things of the same nature. Nazism is a sense of belonging that is built out of immense brainwashing and hatred. I’m talking people who have seriously hit rock bottom and have nothing left to live for. There is a Nazi problem in prisons, where inmates become so hungry for safety and family that they don’t care what beliefs they must adopt. It isn’t the initial recruitment that makes a Nazi. It’s living with constant exposure to Nazism that ultimately creates one, especially if Nazis are the ones providing that feeling of belonging. In recent decades that threat has moved online, and encountering literal Nazis on the internet is not exactly an uncommon phenomenon. Young people especially are subject to grooming, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know people who were victims of this in the past. Nazism thrives online because it targets confused children and people who have nothing else to live for. People who were definitely failed in one way or another. In real life, it festers in every city even if it is a small presence. Unlike religion or Jehovah’s Witnesses, it’s actually hated in the eyes of most people, but that doesn’t mean its strategies aren’t similar. Just like everything else, it exploits that need to fit in somewhere, even if somewhere is anywhere.

In many ways I am angry that people must live in these states. I could extend this “desire to belong” thing to all aspects of modern societies and everything we are exposed to on a regular basis. Everything from conspiracy theorists to sports fans to American patriots. I could talk for ages about how weird it is that we wear clothing or use silverware, along with all the other universal standards of normalcy but it would be a waste of time. The bottomline is that everyone looks for a sense of belonging. Most people look for the things they want to hear whether they recognize it or not, and most people wants to feel loved. It really isn’t a bad thing until it manifests in the form of paranormal beliefs and hate groups. And I do think there are people, very few people, who can live without it. I’m certainly not one of them and nobody I know is, but there are always outliers.

As for me feeling like I belong, well I’ll find that place one day. Or maybe I won’t, and I’ll remain a butterfly the way I have for so long. That’s fine by me because I am fascinated by everything and have a lot of hobbies, but I already know that what I’m looking for isn’t there. Belonging, for me, is something I can’t really describe but I see it in other people and I think that feeling will come when I have either a partner or a child. Someone I can devote everything to and be loved deeply in return, and know that everything I work for will have been worth it for that person. Besides that I think the closest I can get is involved with music, radio, and my local scenes. But hey, that’s just me. I know some people my age who get the same feeling from going to cosplay conventions and that’s cool, too. It’s such a specific and personal thing, and I hate to see it twisted in the ways I described.

However, I have no faith that any of the systems in place will change anytime soon. Sorry. I'm not much of a wishful thinker.

I told myself I'd step away from writing to gather myself, but God knows that would never work. I like to write. It's all I want to do sometimes even if I can't.

Anyways,

"Sometimes a way of seeing is a way of not seeing."

I've been stuck in my little loop. I'm still lonely, and I'm learning to be okay with that. The last few weeks I had all sorts of junk planned, and I've been learning so much about myself that it actually makes me uncomfortable. It feels like I've figured myself out and narrowed my point of view. I hate that. The last thing I want to figure out is myself. Anyone who reads this blog knows how I feel about identity, although I guess that's only me now since I became paranoid and made all my entries private. But that's beside the point. I'm shallow now. One way of thinking, one way of seeing. There's so much I don't get to see because of that.

And there's so much I haven't written about, too. Things that were once new to me are now redundant to write about, but I still want to talk about them. And that's the point of this entry, so I'll make haste.

First of all, I went to a real punk gig in Philly a couple weeks ago. I was unbelievably excited about it, too. It was the type of small show where you have to ask the organizers where the address is, and you can imagine my excitement when I found out this thing was going to be held at a place called "Walmart Beach". Walmart fucking Beach. It's exactly what you think it is, too. Walmart Beach is an abandoned pier behind a Walmart that looks out over the Delaware river. Beautiful view. Hilariously on brand for a punk show. And my god was the show amazing. It was only 30 or so people including me and Vic (who I dragged along for the ride). I'm still new to going to shows and this was a really important event for me. Magical, even. The bands were amazing, the night was perfect, and I didn't feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, although I had deemed it wishful thinking, strangers actually talked to me there. I made three friends and it didn't feel contrived like I thought it would. They were really my type of people, and I want to meet more people like that. Unfortunately, they were from Philadelphia so it's not like I'll be seeing them regularly or something, but I'll never forget how they made me feel that night. Those people absolutely made my night. Especially that one guy, Jagger, who had a flip phone with an app that generates dad jokes. We stood around for 20 minutes laughing about it, all of us inebriated in one way or another. They all hugged me when I left. It was great. I'm forever grateful for Walmart Beach and that awesome night.

I made some plans for Halloween for myself since I knew I'd be alone. I was honestly okay with that. It's been a few years since I've had a memorable Halloween, so I made a day out of it on the 30th. First, the Cape May Zoo had a Halloween event so I went in costume (I was a Malachite butterfly) and walked around the zoo for a couple hours. Animals make me so happy. And little kids who shout "Butterfly!" when they see me also make me happy. I saw some animals I was really looking forward to seeing, like the scarlet ibises and red pandas. Being alone, I could just stare for as long as I wanted at any given exhibit, too, so that was cool. I don't even know how long I spent in the aviary. Overall it was a pretty wholesome event...

...too wholesome for Halloween. Which is why I also got a ticket for The Rocky Horror Picture Show in Atlantic City, something I know to be a Halloween classic but wanted to experience blindly. Now, generally I don't like these types of things. Stage productions were never my jam, and even overdone Broadway shows were never that interesting to me. But when I tell you I had the time of my life at this picture show, I mean it. For starters, a bunch of the audience members were dressed up as characters from the movie and some of them were almost naked which confused me. But I knew from the moment the cast came on stage and encouraged everyone to get drunk that I was in for something strange. I knew that this movie had a weird cult following, but I didn't anticipate something like this. At certain points in the movie, people shout obscenities at the characters, which I didn't know about. I also didn't know about the part where everyone throws stuff at the stage and makes a huge mess of the theater. My favorite part was when there was a joke about cards in the movie and suddenly a billion playing cards went flying everywhere. It was wonderful to me, and totally exceeded the expectations I had for some tame Halloween performance. No, this was raunchy and ironic and totally up my alley. The actors were fantastic, and hearing them talk about the movie was cool, too. I walked out of the theater so ecstatic that I called my mom to tell her about it. Maybe I'll make this a tradition.

I also took a card from the floor home with me. It's hanging on my wall now.

As for actual Halloween night, Corey and I were on call for 10 hours tripping out. That was fun, I forget most of it though. A great bonding experience nevertheless. I felt really close to him after that and I'm really grateful to have him as a friend. I didn't really realize this before but despite being painfully different in many ways, we are actually very similar people. Tripping together was cool even though I had another bad comedown and freaked out the morning after. I'm getting rid of my tabs, it's just for the better.

Overall, I'd say things are going pretty well. My social life is about as good as it can be at the moment, and I'm generally happy. I've gotten used to being happy doing things alone and creating good experiences for myself without friends by my side. Actually, things are little too stable for my liking. Maybe I'll have a nice, refreshing crisis soon to rid me of this complacency. But that's not something I can force. I might as well enjoy myself in the meantime. October has been an awesome month.

I've come to understand recently that sometimes there's more to gain from doing and not thinking than from thinking and not doing. Yesterday I had this impulsion to go to the beach, so I drove to Ocean City in the early evening. It was warm last night and I drove with my windows open for one of the last times, with one arm on the wheel and the other out the window as they should be. It's late October so the city was practically empty. Across the bridge, the first pastel shades of evening began to layer themselves across the whole isle. Parking was easy for once; I quickly found a spot only two blocks away from the beach and the excitement in me was so strong at that point that I locked my car and immediately sprinted to the boardwalk.

I've never seen a beautiful place so empty. It was just me and this huge, open boardwalk, stretching for miles parallel to the beach. In summer at this time of day, it would normally be ridiculously crowded. In fact, you'd probably never see it this empty at all in the warm months. But on this temperate day in late October it was glazed in a type of serenity I have only ever seen in my dreams. I walked quickly out of anticipation, eventually working myself into a jog, and then a sprint, past all the closed tourist shops and attractions. Once I ran out of breath, I walked and observed the air around me which, for some reason, in this perfectly whimsical way, was filled with dozens of Monarch butterflies. Really? Seriously? I mean, come on. It was so perfect it felt like a joke. The ocean, butterflies, an invigorating sense of aloneness, and myself. All engulfed in the pink light of a sunset. The ideal conditions for a specimen like me. Surreal.

Eventually, the ocean beckoned me in its usual way. I don't know why I tried to tell myself I wouldn't go on the beach. It's always "you'll get sand in your shoes" and "someone will steal your keys at the beach entrance". Who cares. The only thing I regret is wearing my high tops because I couldn't get them off fast enough. When I finally did, I chucked them impassively by the fence and bolted straight to the water. The ocean was cold I guess, whatever. I didn't care at that point. I ran back and forth in the water, splashing around and laughing for awhile until I was almost completely soaked and covered in sand. Eventually I ran out of breath again and made my way back to the boardwalk to enjoy the rest of the sunset. The huge, full moon rose in East, and I watched from a bench. I only left when it became too cold to stay, and even by the time I was home I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

I always struggle to write about stuff like this. It's beyond normal happiness to me. That single hour yesterday felt like the happiest of my life, but I say that every time. It's more than that- it's too profound, too enormous to put into words. How often do I get to feel that good? I feel like all of my most memorable experiences somehow come back to being in water. Open expanses, crashing waves, quiet places and seabirds I know all the names of. It's a part of me. It has to be, the way it makes me feel. And to think I gain so much joy from a place I've known my entire life, I have so much excitement about going elsewhere. I mean, this is New Jersey of all places. If New Jersey can be this gorgeous, imagine what other places are like.

It’s in the perilous boughs of the tree
out of blue sky the wind
sings loudest surrounding me.

And solitude, a wild solitude
’s reveald, fearfully, high I’d climb
into the shaking uncertainties,

part out of longing, part daring my self,
part to see that
widening of the world, part

to find my own, my secret
hiding sense and place, where from afar
all voices and scenes come back

—the barking of a dog, autumnal burnings,
far calls, close calls— the boy I was
calls out to me
here the man where I am “Look!

I’ve been where you

most fear to be.”

I am very sleep deprived.

Today I went to Hoboken and visited Amanda. Nothing about this was very notable. I met some of her friends and I noticed for the first time since college began that I am definitely not like these other college kids. I stand out in a crowd, not because of how I look but because of how I act. At times it can be a very isolating feeling. Amanda is doing well with her new friend group though, and they are good people. I'm happy for her. I just wish I could say the same about myself.

After I got done catching up, around 10:00, I felt melancholy. I walked to an area on her campus that overlooked the Hudson and took a seat on a bench. It's a difficult view to get. The entire New York skyline sat before me in it's usual lively way, with distant wails of sirens and wind off the river. On the other side the world was breathing. I pictured the girls in stilettos walking out of clubs, the men in the pubs watching the game, the millionaires in their penthouses looking over the city in a similar, lonely way. I know it all happens away from here, far from me, yet so close. And that’s the observation that really got me thinking. I've played the hand I've been dealt pretty damn well, but I want more from this life and I want more now. As in, my desire to experience new things has become so potent that I can’t snuff it anymore. I wish the world would just swallow me up and spit me out in 10 or so years, like send me on some wicked journey that challenges everything about myself or something. Drop me into that city and see what happens. It really would be perfect to just disconnect from this identity and suddenly assume another for awhile. I want to be something new, something intangible. I want to experience a higher love, and for this I am greedy. I have everything I ever wanted in college at my fingertips; wonderful friends, near perfect grades, any substance I could ever ask for a phone call away, and still I feel something is missing. Something that everyone seems to possess except me. But there are some things I just can’t have, and whatever that thing is, it is one of them.

Across the river, the city weeps with temptation. I want nothing more than to be a part of it.

I definitely do not shoplift regularly. I do not steal from large corporations for personal and ethical reasons. I have never gone into a store on multiple occasions and taken merchandise without paying. Shoplifting is immoral and wrong, so here are some tips on how not to shoplift from me (not a shoplifter).

1. Firstly, do not shoplift. Do not become disillusioned with capitalism and American culture. Do not think outside of the morals that you have been raised with and do not challenge authority. Live with what you have always known and feel intimidated by your moral code. It will serve you good to be a consumer, you know, to support the economy.

2. Do not go into Target between 5:00 - 7:00 PM when it is not dead, but not too busy. These are the perfect conditions for shoplifting, and you may develop the urge to steal from these conditions alone.

3. By all means, avoid wearing baggy clothing with lots of pockets and long sleeves. Especially jackets with pockets on the inside. Immoral shoplifting scum hide small and slender items in their sleeves, and put larger items close to their torso, which is wrong and horrible.

4. Avoid using folded clothing as a way to steal merchandise. Do not hide the items in the folds and walk nonchalantly through self-checkout. The underpaid employee watching the self-checkout area cares deeply about upholding the law and will definitely notice if you do this.

5. Do not think they can't see you. Big corporations enlist only the most professional staff to ensure security in their stores. Every night, these employees stay after their 10 hour shifts to watch the security footage intently, and they will find you. Believe that there is no escape from the law, and be comfortable in your complacency.

Remember, shoplifting is a disgusting crime committed by murderous lowlife punks and impoverished mouth breathers. I would know, because I am a normal middle class citizen with unchallenged beliefs (and not a shoplifter).

It's finally fall.

Honestly, I'm excited this year. Life is so wildly different than it was a month ago and there is a lot of change happening in my life at the moment. I think I'm doing alright, though. I'm not having the college experience I anticipated, but I'm not disappointed in the slightest, either. Instead of going to parties and socializing I've mostly resorted to considerable crime and skinny dipping. Yesterday I stole two small bottles of wine and I've shoplifted from Target twice. I probably shouldn't talk about the other stuff but you get the idea, I'm a menace. I feel no regrets about my behavior and it doesn't scare me anymore. I am approaching the abhorrent margins of society.

I feel a bit out of place at school because I am out of place. I'm pretty shy and don't look approachable, so I was worried I would have trouble talking to others. I have made one good friend, though. His name is Vic and he asked me to get coffee with him after class last week. I was taken so off guard when he asked me, and I was more than happy to sit down and get to know him. He's a cool guy, and we share a love for learning which makes our conversations interesting. He has a lot of happiness and compassion in his heart and that's really refreshing for me at the moment. I think it's important to have normal people in my life considering that I mostly concern myself with sociopaths, drug addicts, and mentally ill criminals who are one bad trip away from inpatient.

And I say that because I've been hit with a bit of misfortune. Yesterday I woke to a wall of text from that close friend whose name I can't say, and she just admitted to the psych ward. Apparently she did a bunch of DMT, LSD, and weed the other night, felt like she was dying, and went what I can only call insane. Just absolutely gutting stuff. Stuff I saw coming, stuff I couldn't do anything about. Stuff that no one knows what to do about. I was devastated by what she sent me specifically because she still expressed her gratitude for me in her darkest moment.

It's a hard pill to swallow, but this is reality of many of my friendships. The people I care about the most are fucked up people with fucked up issues. Normal people don't deal with a fraction of what some of these people are going through, and I can say that with confidence. They are all outcasts and freaks and I have their back no matter what. They are at the margins.

… And although I boast about hatred and anger, I can’t help but find myself a constant victim of love. No matter how much disdain I harbor for everything, I can never truly shut down and reduce myself to a bitter state. Sincerity is the trait I value most, even if it has no place here.

I don’t like when people write me off as sheltered or foolish for being cheerful. As if I don’t see what’s fucked up about humanity or feel negatively about it. I think it’s a side effect of a deeply rooted societal or maybe artistic standard. In the words of Ursula K. Le Guin,

“The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting.”

There is a happiness that exists outside of the themes of ignorance and optimism that we are used to. What turns people away from it is the manner in which we judge feelings relative to our intelligence. Where suffering is genius and happiness is idiotic. We believe that knowledge should come at a cost, that it must be grandly punished for what it is. Those who suffer from their knowledge are unknowing martyrs of this unfortunate trope.

But hatred is a single story of doom and defeat- an imposed narrative that needs to be broken away from. Misery then, in these cases, is a state of complacency, isn't it? If being intelligent strips us of our authenticity and benevolence, then can't we at least try to preserve it? If not out of necessity, then at least out of spite?

I'm always talking and thinking and learning about nonconformity. I love things that go against the grain. I hate society. I've been effectively indoctrinated by various people into despising the status quo. I am weird as Hell. So that begs the question:

Why the fuck am I so anxious about what other people think of me?

I've been pondering this since last night and honestly, I think it has to do with the few specks of trauma I have mustered up from childhood. Growing up, I was encouraged to be my weird self up until a certain point. Once I hit those horrible tween years things got rough at school and with my parents, and that is when I think my confidence began to decline. I was harassed at school pretty often and ridiculed by certain people, and my mom in particular didn't seem exactly proud of me. People encourage you to be yourself until it strays a little too far from what they are used to. After that, you are nothing more than a laughing stock. Experiencing that reality when I was young really fucked with my head. Whatever I was supposed to be during middle and high school, I simply wasn't because (and this is the most important line here) I found that it is easier to conform than to deal with the consequences of nonconformity.

This concept can be clearly seen in how I've dressed over the years. I only started dressing the way I want to relatively recently, maybe in the last year and a half. But I'm still terribly worried about dressing certain ways in public. Like, a bit freakishly so. Take for example yesterday, when I was worried about wearing my spiked choker to class. I ended up wearing it and everything was peachy, I sighed my breath of relief, and went about my day normally. I worked myself up over nothing because when I'm afraid to dress a certain way, there really is no consideration for why. The "why" is that it's easier to not chance being stared at. But that's not very Ricky of me, is it? Who gives a fuck if people stare? I do, apparently. And this isn't just about fashion. My beliefs, my hobbies, everything falls under this. I'll admit it, I'm not as confident as I think I am.

And so, with this realization, I've concluded that all efforts towards nonconformity have effectively been in vain because I am too meek and too tired of the mere idea of perpetual harassment to do whatever the fuck I please. Suddenly I feel pretty sick of it. For many people, the fix isn't as easy as "stop giving a shit", but for me that's exactly how it's going to work. In fact, I'm going to really start pushing it here just to get used to it. Fuck it, I am going to wear the absolute worst, most attention-grabbing clothing I can find to class next week. If people look, they look. If people laugh, they laugh. I gotta get over it. I'm gonna get over it.

Watch me, motherfuckers.

I am drunk and high and listening to music.

The thing about music is that it really just makes no sense to me. I love music because I don't know shit about how it's mixed, how it's mastered, Hell, I can't even read notes. It all sounds like magic to me. I wonder if people who have a technical understanding of music experience it differently than people who don't. I feel like they would, but I'm not sure. In my opinion, ignorance is bliss because to this day I still wonder how the fuck Neon Indian could conjure up something as perfect as "Slumlord". Or Ween with "Transdermal Celebration".

Regardless of all beliefs, you have to admit that enjoying music is a spiritual experience. It is humankind's best trait because we don't know how the fuck it works. It defines our existence as a species so much that we even sent it into fucking space for aliens to find. Fucking wild shit.

I'd rather just enjoy music blindly like this and hail it as the divine mystery. As far as I'm concerned, Dave Grohl is the guy we should be praying to.