You're Set!

Today's bit

Up early (5 a.m.), 42 degrees (fahrenheit), Berkeley (South, near Oakland), on this November Saturday, officially a month away from Winter's start (December 21^st, the solstice) still, but arrived nonetheless, according to the oracle of my bones. The gym is open, but I won't take the 20 minute bicycle ride to the YMCA downtown 'til it warms up a bit. I can exercise in my room, anyway. I have dumb bells and space for push-ups, planks, bicycle crunches, and yoga stretches. I have a book of 2100 yoga positions (“asanas”). I use the dumb bells for arnold presses, tricep extensions, and bent rows. I also do the isometric “shake-weight” thing, but without the weight, plus dancing (with myself). My room is like a gym, in that respect, and also due to the fact that one entire wall is covered in mirror-tiles. So it's a good thing I'm not a vampire, or there would be a lot of shattered glass! (metaphor for hating your body, your image, yourself, or 1/2/all of the above) And having the mirror is a good thing as well, presuming I make steady and noticeable progress in my efforts to lose my gut, gain muscle, and look like the true Olympian deity that I truly am, inside. My name (Jesse) in spanish is Jesus (which is pronounced hey Zeus :-) I want my appearance to make me happy. The endorphins of a good workout are a natural high, too. Schwarzenegger said that pumping iron is “better than sex.” So exercise is a good place to start, in addressing my mental illness. My meds are a mixed blessing, however: The antipsychotic I'm on, olanzapine (also called zyprexa) is notorious for it's weight-gain side effect. My gut is distended and gross, and I don't even drink beer (much). But zyprexa does succeed in alleviating the mental noise and aggravation of pain, voices, head-shocks (aka “brain zaps”), teeth-tapping, and other symptoms of my particular strain of what they're calling schizophrenia. Sometimes I wonder if I have a freakish infliction that isn't part of any medical books, or if I even have schizophrenia at all. Maybe everyone hears voices. My birth mom (Annette Riddle) has schizophrenia, which maybe I shouldn't have told the clinician. Then again, maybe everybody is insane. I think I read somewhere that anyone COULD be schizophrenic. I must have pissed off a telepath. I also wonder if it's possible to self-medicate, using meds/drugs other than the risperdal and olanzapine I've been prescribed. Or even if I can or should ever stop taking meds, and emerge sane on the other side of the med-less trip through the hell that is having a direct telepathic link with David (Andrew Eldridge). He's a mutant that can talk into anyone's head, possibly. A 'global telepath' to use his own words. He and I make our own collective unconscious, to reference Jung. Either that, or I'm a serious piece of work, lol.  We can set each other free, from the inane chatter that irritates us both, if not the entire goddamn planet. I mean, what's the difference between a voice sent to a schizophrenic and a prayer sent to “God”? The solution is to exercise and fuck and eat so that I make my body as happy as it would be if I had a lifetime supply of heroin! My body is a chemical factory, and I can synthesize my own bliss, without the expense, criminality, and harrowing consequences of being a druggie. Music and books and movies are stimulus enough. Throw in good conversation and laughter with friends, and you're set; one happy camper. You have to make your own heaven. And if you're going through hell, keep going. There's a lot of goodwill in the world -those who want to help- and there will always be someone to listen, give advice, and provide for basic need. 'God' is just the simplification for this collective reservoir of good will (in all of humanity), that can help and hear your prayers, even if “He” doesn't strictly exist, at least not in the form thought of by most (right? lol). I suspect the peak of human potential is pretty amazingly Godly, especially now, enhanced by technology.  Community and a sense of belonging is helpful, and can make all the difference. Your creator was your parents (and evolution). God is like a Santa for adults. There are real results for believing, even if it's only virtual. It's a mad world. Reasons people believe include a deference to authority, people want to live forever, there is a need in all of us to make peace with the 'other' in their minds and bodies, believe in cosmic justice, as well as have recourse to an all-powerful friend, on their side, who can make the uncertain less terrifying. So let's all be Gods to one another; that is to say, sources of goodness, creators of a better world, incarnations of Love, and victors over the temptation to commit evil, vice, crime, and sin. That is what I believe. Let's all be sane and healthy.