Bay Areadite

Dammit, Ramona gave me a brownie and I'll tell you all my genius secrets.

2009-05-17T00:40:00.000-07:00

I remember now that I wrote because I do not believe that the majority of minds or personalities can be relied upon to interpret my truthfully spoken mind, without experiencing some distrust, some fear of something different and then beginning to loathe me as the source of their fears.

For some reason, during my conversations with myself via internet blog, I reached a phase in which I had persuaded myself that to once more go out in the merry-wild-world in the hopes of finding others like me, might this time prove successful. Although, I now realize anew that relationships are not necessarily unsuccessful because they do not last eternally, that is an insane explanation. Relationships are macro models of the relationships among all particles of all living things -- the infinite is always possible and at any one moment. One must have already learned to read all of the infinite possibilities before they occur and act in accordance with the destiny one chooses for oneself, or one must give oneself over entirely to faith in some religion or God that promises a meaningful destiny, or one must submit in some manner to ultimate concentration and focus in the moment. Anything less than this, this phase which we will call "englightenment" will be deemed unacceptable.

Of course, as are not yet to this phase we're not sure how to consider our own goals and dreams. We are not even sure that the destiny that we might presume to choose for ourselves is the appropriate destiny. We have learned enough to know that this attempt to anticipate and thus control the future can not yet be rated on its success -- it is a very poor compass in a dark night, at best. Except in the business world and in particular in the marketing world.

In a world driven by consumer impulses, for every vice and every substance that might dilute or distract from reality, the marketers make the reality. They advertise and they market to you in such a way, as to make you think that it is day when it should be night, to make you think that you are normal when you are in desperate flight from reality, to make you think that fear of death can be combatted with the next acquisition of a Mercedes Benz or quality razor blade -- and the platinum blond public-saint/private-whore. The marketers are worse than any government agency hell bent on spying, the marketers and the writers and the master-minds stay closer to you than you do to them, your every "virtual move" is significant to them. Every pause at one web site, lingering at another, every page referall, every facebook login, quiz result, friend request denied or extended, the marketers are interested. We are interested, every search that you do tells them something about you and how they're going to get inside your head and pull your strings - with fear of the unknown.

But when these masterminds rise to a level of organization so far beyond the normal organization of man -- than you develop an entity that does not yet know how best to use its powers, an organization in which there is mass realization of the idea that anything is possible. Knowing that anything is possible means that everything is not only possible, but that it happens and all you have to is decide which reality you want to experience, which one you want to be standing in at the end of every single measure of every single moment that you won't experience, and then go there. You must operate blind, with a type of blind faith in your own will, you will achieve miracles.

This has been the policy and the belief of the publicly presented image of the United States, at least, to it its own people. The question now seems, is the United States still convinced of its unified infallibility or is the United States split? In which case, what are the objectives of these two different sides? Are there more than two, are there more than 6 different reactions? Do the reactions come in at time of crisis where the US seems to feel its status as the unchallenged master of the dominion has been weakened and it re-examines its own moves in ever further analysis so that it has no way of moving forward with total faith. It has become pre-occupied with the past. In the meantime, as populations flourished in India and China, a system, the internet was devised and with it all manner of communication from brain to brain for a very low cost, a system with internationalized information and removed the static of prejudice.

This allowed the minds to better organize, more combinations and more permutations of them, trying to seek dominance, to control the path of reality. The internet introduces greater competition in the game of largely organized dominance of one system of humans over another system of humans. The increase in competition made the US less secure in it status as winner. When the homeostasis fails the system responsible for its volatility is seen as responsible. There is global instability added to this recipe in which the connections among individual minds is becoming faster and faster and clearer and clearer. This will soon result in a clearly different landscape of all proportions.

Information. Access.

These are the principles on which this new reality is based. There are no other principles in this reality.

There is another reality.

Information. Access. Awareness.

This is the reality that I'd like to experience in this moment. The "awareness" as I currently understand Eastern philosophies allows one to ENJOY the process of playing the game. To actually, move with out fear of death through a game of infinite possibilities without fear -- there are some of us who feel we might play the game better in the absence of fear.

In Judeo-Christian-Islamic interpretations, fear is always necessary. Fear is ever-present, ever useful and ever a clear indicative of power. We fear those with more power than us. This is what makes us adhere to their will. This is as it should be.

Would fearing my God not only serve to keep me more distant from the infinite reality, which is to say, God? How does fear of anything serve progress - actual progress to an understanding of the infinite and calm, contented acceptance of it. How does fear serve any of my objectives then? Fears serves no objectives to my plan - or does it? Do I seek to control others by manipulating this same human lever? Do you? Are you doing that to me? Am I doing that to my lover? to my parent? my boss? Is my boss doing it to me? Where does the fear come from?

God is a version of reality in which there is a singularity and an infinite and its all part of the "grand concept."

As every reality exists, that reality exists, simply because I can imagine it.

If any one human, one creature, can imagine a reality, it exists.

Thus, there must be one in which every version, every definition of God exists.

This does not make the other less true, they exist, it simply means that everything can be true, there is no direction but the path that you choose.

Therefore God must exist. I do believe this, but sadly, I fear the version of reality in which I am wrong.

That fear debilitates me . .

Even this thing that I write as we speak, I write in the presence of beings empowered to read my words before they leave the page. To not only read and interpret my words but to then communicate them instantly to other people. Imagine that I were important? That part of the delusion that I clung to in order to animate me to the effort required in order to even TRY to move through the versions of reality with choreography, with rhythm, instinct, cunning, grace, gratitude, love, understanding and ceaseless pursuit if the truth -- of course, this should be its own reward but even our confidence of that flags at times and we wonder if we are necessary to the plan, the master plan. If we are not necessary, it follows that we are expendable.

This is the rationale of a corporation. Or this is the "ethos" do they say? This is the moral framework of the corporation. They wish you to feel as if you must be absolutely necessary to their course of reality or else you're expendable.

And in a consumer-driven society, to loose all income is to be expendable is to be dead, to be annihilated. Because to loose your ability to buy status symbols means to loose your place in that consumer reality. If you cannot envision another reality then you cannot envision your own continuity beyond such a disaster. You have become expendable. And so fear of being "expendable" in a corporation is akin to fear of death and they keep in you in nearly constant fear to attempt to get the most floundering out of you in your efforts to avoid the death of being expendable.

They think that they will be able to analyze your floundering and find some sense that they have been unable to find in their own floundering. You will do something that will help them get money, which will help them tell other people what to believe, which will make them thing that they have some assured worth and when your floundering no longer speaks or tells of their desired reality -- you must go, or they must re-examine their reality. When pressed, at the very end of your relationship with a company you will give any information, you will share all of your individual knowledge in one last month of massive download, you will struggle tooth and nail to avoid that course -- to prove to them like a dog doing tricks to earn its dinner, that you're worthy of your paycheck, which equals your identity, that you would loose all of your human value, all of your individuality searching for that bigger paycheck.

Strangely enough, they do value you for your mind despite not understanding it completely, but if they realize that you will use your ability to try and alter their course through reality, they will eliminate you. They will motivate you with fear to provide them with the information necessary for your deletion. Particularly if they are defensive about their course through reality, if they anticipate being rocked with hardship. They are about to use sonar to get to where they're going. They're going to have collision after collision and attempt to re-correct their path after each one. They may be heartened by any period of smooth sailing, if only because they are so surprised by their own luck in avoiding collision for any serious length of time, because it makes them believe, in response the sheer improbabiity of it, that maybe there is a higher power and that higher power has some interest in the individuals well-being.

They convince you that if you're hard-working and you save your money you can be part of that next level of organization in which you get your own free will. They control whether you live or die, in a psychological sense.

If you find a way to define yourself in other ways, it is a bit like varying your investments. You become a better strategist. If you can successfully identify areas of your own psychology in which you can hazard losses with confidence that you'll still be able to accomplish your mission, you begin to make yourself less susceptible to these tactics.

More later

Does "suicide" need some SEM help or what?

2008-05-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

Bitches, can we be frank? Anorexia and bullimia have had there day.

You skinny hags . . prosaic, I'm over it. I've been over it for, like, ten years, since I was 98 lb in the Kaiser hospital, hearbeat down to a flutter, machines goin' off, Siddhartha full-on contemplative; so don't think you can front ( I had fish weight in the lining of my underwaear, cups full of pee in the drawer by my bed . . . thats right . . step back . . have a burrito .. enchilado style . . I DID . . . still do, and it does me well, so eat your fuckin carbs, you sad, sad, little over-achieving waifs . . and whatsmore, when you want to be lesbian-spanked, don't come to me - i'm over that, too).

Now that I've proven my will to disembark, let's talk about it. First word: LAME.

LAME.

Like a horse you were -- I'm sorry, like a warmblood cross you parents flew to Amsterdaam to pick out for you but failed to have the education to notice his hooves were like pinpricks on his two-ton body - LAME.

2008-05-03T23:48:00.000-07:00

Interesting. These posts seem to be running on an almost annual frequency.

I'm thinking, again. I'm thinking I need to write again. There are so many voices out there now -- Isabella Wunder had her way, in her day and now its just a great big forest of gold prospectors.

I wish I could smoke in my apartment. I lied to the landlord. Wonderful man. Hard to stomach the lie. I should've admitted that I smoked. He probably would've liked me anyway. He used to smoke.

What motivates us to write? What motivates me to write? It seems to be some kind of loneliness that may be a bit less lonely than the loneliness of my experience in "coupledom". It seems to silence me.

Its been so long since I've written anything - I don't know how to say what I need to day these days. Perhaps I should excercise my initial technique - just write, write, write.

What happened tonight?

Do you know, I've got a bicycle now. I love that damn heavy 1971 bicycle. I love riding the bicycle. I love moving through wind and traffic - as a novice, I'm exhilarated by a my heightened sense of danger, by the speed - slight though it may be - and most of all, I'm happy to be outside again - to recover that sense of freedom which is youth, which is a connection with the air around us. How ironic that I still smoke.

I keep writing like a child searching for love. I keep searching, like an "adult" -- in quotations this word means much less than child. This is what I've found.

What masquerades here as "adult" is just a terrified child. Not necessarily in my case. I'm much more of a child. Its a deception and likely the reason we're all so unhappy - likely the reason I'm most often so happy -- and so noticeably unhappy when I am.

Becoming an adult has become so difficult that nobody knows what it is anymore. Its a marketing facade. Its a credit facade. No one has any idea. Thus, our progression becomes a distorted regression. Those who rebel are immature or "immature".

Maybe I'll go now.

This monitor is too high

2007-05-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

How did I start my first blog?
Well, technically, I didn't start my first blog. My father, then sixty-something -- but newly -- invited me to join his blog.

I quickly found that I was not on his intellectual niveau.

Which is not to say that niveaus are as three dimensional as we once thought. I am just not on the same plain.

Thus was born "isbella wunder".

It started out poorly. Just like this blog starts.
But I wrote,
and I wrote.
and eventually it was just poor . . . and eventually, I suppose, it was more than mediocre.

I think I was in a lot of pain when I started that blog.
I was in a lot of pain last year.
I like to talk about how my life has transformed.
But I am in a lot of pain again.

I don't think i wanna' publish this. But the writing can't be bad. God, its been so long since I've sat down to write.
And the blog did that for me.
It gave me the motivation. It provided the audience for that tree falling.

Wait, I just read back, thinking, "but I actually will publish this", and I realized that some of the writing can be misunderstood. The writing is definitely bad, however, for me, personally, the exercise of writing again, can't be bad.

Maybe I should post a bunch of old Isabella Wunderisms to get me back in the groove. Or, maybe, I'm somebody else now.

Although, then again, can't be so much, 'cause here I am, on Thursday night, dissatisfied with my career, drinking beer, and thrown into this melancholy because of my dysfunctional love life.

I guess it is all on a different "niveau" now, though.

Oh, I'm not sure I can write now.
The familiar terrain of this particular niveau is producing vertigo.
I look down at the last one and grow confused that this one should look so similar, yet, be so different.
Everytime it leaves you, it leaves you broken, no matter which exit it takes.

And when I say "it" I mean your status as a celibate, single girl.

And when I say, "I love you, _____", I mean, ohmigod, i still love you, despite everything in between, despite the fact that you only finally love me and you still can't understand me when I say, "I love you."

Because I don't care anymore.
Because I don't really love you.
Because

Drinking Alone

2006-07-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

I was sitting here trying to recover the corpse of my dead-bodied isabella wunder, lost to a blogging suicide and rotting among the ruins of so many other dead blogs taken over by soulless "marketing" perverts hell-bent on capitalizing from the empty skeletons of neuroticism, wit and wunder left strewn about the internet.

What is going on here? So much for our utopic phantom telephone booth where minds and ideas could flourish without the contraints of capitalism, nationalism, bureaucracy or bias. Its like the first slaughter of the innocents and pandora's box cracked wide open so the ass-germs, herpes sores, warts and cancer could fly out to infect the flesh of the new dawn.

But its always this way, no? I think with a few towels, some anti-viral precautions, a sense of humor, and a firm belief in neurogenesis we can snatch a line in the master plan. Foh' sho.