The Last Night of Debauchery

So here we are, my mind and blood is finely tuned. For at least the next month these will be the last drinks, smokes, and sweets I'll be having. Throughout the day I have been thinking about it. Sometimes I got scared, and sometimes I got excited. Less have I been wondering when I'll break early or cheat, and more I've been wondering how I'll feel on December 29th. Will I have lost weight? Gained weight? How will my mood be? How will I feel physically. Will certain senses become more vivid like smell and taste?

In the span of a day the experiment went from blogging the hell I am going to go through, to see just how well the body naturally regenerates and detoxes. It got a lot more interesting, to me at least. I wanted to take all kinds of notes, like weekly weight checks, or even the amount of THC in my urine and other chemicals. Needless to say I understood I'm not going to go through the trouble of seeing how much THC or whatever is in my piss. It would be nice to know, but I'm not going through the messy business to find out stuff. So I'll just keep my weight checked.

I'm pretty much certain now that by the end of this experiment I'm going to feel a million times better than I do now. So I'm planning to just keep off the cigarettes (already a month in, why not see just how far I'll go?) and use the booze sparingly for the sake of my wallet and my newly fresh liver.

But for the time being I have a 40 in the fridge waiting after I'm done this one and half a pack of smokes. I'm like Duke Nukem and Snoop Dogg in one. Scary.

Experiment time!

I've decided to conduct a social experiment on myself. Starting possibly tomorrow, Sunday the 29th, I will stop smoking marijuana, cigarettes, consuming sugar, and drinking alcohol all cold turkey. I think I'm addicted to all four. Some more than others. But it should be interesting to see how the body and mind react to such drastic changes in toxin consumption.

Procrastination is something that I really do give myself credit for.

For example, I haven't done laundry in probably well over two months. The catch is I have my chill out comfy clothes for home and I wear a "uniform" for work (basically a t-shirt and whatever pants/shorts I want). So what ends up happening is, I wear my work clothes when I work, and my comfy clothes when I'm home. In between are my regular clothes I guess you would call them, mostly for going out.

So anyway, finally yesterday in my eternal boredom I finally gave in. You see I'm one of those people who doesn't pick up after themselves until I can't stand it anymore, then I spend a whole day or night like a mad man trashing and cleaning. Don't worry, my threshold isn't that high. My room is pretty neat and tidy, just up until last night there was a mountain range of dirty clothes.

I walked into my room and noticed, "Damn, it smells like dirty laundry.... or Stu. He DID sleep in my room on Friday night... Hmm. So regardless I said enough was enough, and I went to work. Like I said before my room isn't trashy so it only took me a couple minutes to roam around throwing out old Ott's receipts and clock-out notices. My first load of laundry took well over a night to dry... with a couple extra minutes in the morning... yikes. Now I'm into my second load. I predict 4 loads altogether, but I can't be sure.

I basically just got tired of showering and still smellin nasty in whatever clothes I was wearing, lol. Why am I telling you this? I don't have a clue. That's the point of a blog, to talk to people who may or may not exist about shit they don't even care about. But the weird thing is you do care about this? Why? Because people have this innate love for knowing about people, whether they be their next door neighbor or the hottest new celebrity hookup.

Now I have to challenge myself, so that this never happens again. Doing a load of laundry every week or every two weeks can probably stop this situation from ever happening again, hopefully. But then again... I said the same thing to myself last time...

This is me live from the Hasenauer household.

Clarity is what I'm going through. I do not know the meaning of life, but I can currently see what life is about. The struggles we go through, the emotions our bodies exhibit. Everything makes sense for the first time. The strange thing is that I cannot explain their reasons. Love, hatred, music, the rights of humanity all make sense to me right now but I cannot explain their meanings.

The vastness of the universe is only as big as you make it. Right now the universe is all but a speck of mold on some other universe's old hamburger. Our measurements of size have no explanation of the big picture. Other times though, the universe may seem as if an unending field of nothing.

Sometimes I regret living in the times that I do, knowing that with the laws of averages, there is another planet that sustains life, may it be identical or different than ours. But knowing that in my lifetime there is a major probability that I'll never see for myself is devastating. Then again I know deeply in my heart that my lifetime is less than a quadrillionth of a second in the lifespan of the universe. Me understanding another tenth of a percent of the universe around me is meaningless to the forward progress of civilization.

The end of the world will be when humanity finally recognizes that we are but a small microbe in the matter of the universe. Everything we take pride in, music, film, art, technological advances mean nothing in the big picture. Even when we find other lifeforms, other species, other planets, far far away from Earth, we will still feel alone. A universe so vast, a universe ever-expanding, with all intelligent life knowing of each other, will look around and say "Now what?". We will all look for answers, and find none.

And the process starts over again.

She Got Pwned... Seriously

The 1910s really sucked.

If you were alive and aware of your surroundings, you would've had to thought the world was coming to and end. Think about it. First you have the Great War, and 20 million people die because of the war. Then in the Fall of the same year the war ended, 70-100 million people die in the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918. Damn. Talk about a bad time.

The only worse I could think of is like a revolution of all the insects in the world against the human race, and being outnumbered billions to one, ending humanity by being slowly eaten to death my millipedes. But eventually birds take over the world. Swooping down and monching on all the insects who are nice and fat from the whole human race.

I really want waffles right now.