Trials Of The Psyche – Mad Chaos: October 1, 2004

Trials Of The Psyche in its epic battle fertilized, alike soil, the freakish anabolism of pure academic synthesis, whose misused lamb bore empirical values of orientation and definitive answer for mind with self to see. 

These conterminous months encompass all matter of perpetration, and so a conterminous mind is also certain.  But while fertilization is a veritable absolute, I feel emancipated from its expansive creationism and of its pressures relieved.

A New Blank Canvas

Several reasons could have exacerbated the cerebrum to insatiable resolve, but it appears a new month is like a rebirth of a new psyche.  Its universe is of no existence save for formless values, until stimulators imbue the canvas, where inept maintenance incurs an exacerbation of stains whose presence create inexorable needs to restore balance.  This can overwhelm the faculties and several reactions can occur, from cerebral hyper action to cerebral override, and so the memoir furthers its imposter role on true psyche.

I know immeasurable stimulators will manipulate the psyche via an interacted mind, but hope an extenuation of circumstances to administer.  In this concession, the memoir streamlines its imperatives and regulates the accumulation, which is hoped to assist impetus in the reservoir. 

For now, the canvas is as blank as possible with formless values inherited from previous months, whose psyche will surface either via the makers or their spurious imposters.  I can be celibate or I can be morbid, and I do hope to improve self.  So, anxious will be the cherished hours until this canvas of the conterminous mind consummates another month.

This month will promise mere existence of lesser intervention and it will promise Trials Of The Psyche, a label I know will actualize.  I plan a pursuance of celibacy to improve on self, and this has been administered in a brief inscribed chronicle to honor the wishes of psyche.  These descriptors in humble, dedication identify the weak, the imposters and the lamb, which hope to expose the benefactors and partakers so as to – in aid of parables and lessons – help parse their behavior.

Visit To Local Shops

I drifted at 8:40am after nine hours of memoir fanaticism to rouse from my kip in this virile month five hours later at 2pm.  Patriotic sadism made swollen eyes sensitive, encapsulated within a ritual of exposure for blocks of hours to a computer monitor.  I viewed their wrecks in the wardrobe mirror and was relieved instead to hear drizzled rain outside for a second full day in a row, so deep sleeps and uncharacteristic rains could serve as a nice idyllic omen.

The primal consideration once awake was prophesy of the memoir, and this needed caffeine.  So, mind, under conservative provision subsidized by psyche, escorted self to the local shops.  I was there to purchase a carbonated guarana drink to emulate the inextricable patriotism of a carried torch for the memoir, and also to add to the pile of aluminium cans inside my bedroom rubbish bin.

Tetty The Maltese Shop Assistant

I wanted to arbitrate the level of interaction and avoid situations promotional of introspection. 

“I will avoid the fish and chip shop today,” I postured after withdrawal of twenty dollars from the automatic teller machine, “and the supermarket as well.” 

I scouted around in diplomacy, and then decided on the Chinese takeaway store to order sweet and sour pork with fried rice.  I also purchased half a dozen fortune cookies from there.

I was amicable in a humbled, impassive mood.  Rather than relate, I stood around the drinks area and looked outside, impaled to the drenched complex with its puddles that once were parched.  I looked and looked inside but the emulator of inextricable patriotism was nowhere to be. 

“Guarana,” I needed, words spoken in trepidation like an awful plague was in the courtyard complex. 

I knew now one shop was open to cater to such a frail mind under conservative provision. 

“Tetty,” I looked over into the far direction, looked back into the industrial fridge to see if there were caffeinated drinks.

When there were none, I said three inspired words, “Be back soon.”

Relative anonymity was enjoyed, but then I walked over to the opposite side of the complex to the chicken and chips shops, which is where Tetty works.  I observed blithe charm and reveled in insouciance, which is cheerfulness one has when nothing troubles them. 

The sprinkle of rain helped rejuvenate me.  I was untroubled by panic.  I was never insecure.  I neither feared rejection nor had baggage.  Instead I was rather comforted by human attributes of an affirmative psyche.  So, in this mood I spoke.

“Happy new day of the month,” I chirped in puerile, unfazed innocence. 

“Is it a new month is it,” Tetty sounded down and distracted. 

“Yeah, this is the new one,” I said.

Tetty lifted, “Oh, that means Christmas is near!” 

“Yeah, the month of festivities… do you want a fortune cookie to see what will happen?” 

“Nah,” she chuckled within, as her further words then made me realize the power of shed weaknesses.

“Nah… my life is fucked up,” she said in an unabashed manner that disarmed the lamb and makers in me. 

Tetty Shares Her Problems

In pristine concern that made plain I was there in a human capacity, Tetty was indebted to open up when I asked her to share. 

“Well… my ex-boyfriend has moved back into the house where we used to live,” she moved to restock the chips, “and my boyfriend now thinks I am a tramp.” 

I loved that Tetty confided in me, because those who confide in others think them human. 

I was thankful I had attracted a view into her private life, which I never abused, as I wondered, “So does that mean you were married?” 

“No, never married,” Tetty explained, which infected me with curious contemplation.

I wondered whether the house her ex-boyfriend moved into had sentimental value or how this related to Tetty. 

“Am I prying,” I asked in no contrived emotions, as I moved around the store, paid for the carbonated guarana drink and opened up the can in interest to have a sip. 

“Nah.  You’re fine,” Tetty said, proud that true intentions made it so. 

Tetty never had to open up, so lighthearted as usual, I joked in mischievous compassion. 

“I will walk out if someone else enters so we can save you the embarrassment,” I was a paradox that wanted to keep our intimate simple, or otherwise withdraw into the shadows and hide.

Then I drew her smile when in temerity I continued, “But, tell me all.”

In the end someone walked in, and then another person.  Tetty was in the store alone, but we had unfinished business each of us seemed intent to finish.

So I said, “I have to wait for my fried rice,” and implied I would remain. 

I walked over to the side entrance and peered like a watcher yonder to the other side of the courtyard, a little wet in clothes.

Tetty looked pleased but other customers demanded her.  I had opened up when she showed me how, and so we do have a friendship now, but friends see when others are busied.  So I commented how I would reserve a place for the story to be continued and then farewelled her in as frivolous a nature as when I walked into her store.

Rediscovering How To Be Human

I had since collected my sweet and sour pork with fried rice and contemplated whether to walk back over to her store emboldened by sincere intentions.  I was prepared to hear her confessions.  I also planned to ask if she used email, which was an impulsive idea.  I would have loved a formal introduction to Tetty as well.  A reference used to make her aware of my name, while her coworker made me aware of hers.

I like how information incognito said once is remembered more than when a person states and states their names.  I remembered hers on first citation but it remains unacceptable when people become familiar to each other but taboo because the issue of names for a lack of formal introduction, so one remains in generic words while one would like to utter those identifiable syllables.  The definition of friendship is insulted and no better than a complex of insecurities. 

I had no fear of rejection.  I was so calm and considered… and human weakness made me so. 

Weakness is universal.  Its liabilities honored mark a contrived veneer whereas its assets embraced marks the mettle of a real man.  Man is only limited by his fears, and sometimes those fears can undo him.  Those that choose of fear to conceal their weaknesses are damned to artificialness.  Those brave souls that shed fears are baptized real men, and I was one of those men.

I embrace weakness and am capable of human emotions.  I dared face insecurities and capitalized on success.  I rediscovered how to be human, to open up, experience care, concern and compassion.  I am so happy to be here now with celibacy its vehicle.  If this continues, an abundance of faith will overcome all other feared caste weaknesses.  All I have to do is conquer and be true.

I never did speak to Tetty because from outside her store she looked busy, so I retired home to have the meal and watch half an hour of television, before I embellish on the memoir, where 3pm was its hour. 

For four hours since the meal and guarana and the memoir demanded, in the aftermath of a soaked afternoon, I walked back to the local shops to compliment the rewards scheme.

Return To See Tetty

I ducked down at 7pm and made an initial approach into the supermarket for conservatism, but hanker made me refuse their commerce and walk over to the chicken and chips shop, to a broken scene where Tetty was the damsel and I the chevalier.   I was nonetheless pleased for customers and business to hamper conversation.  I was prepared to resume it with piquant expression, but the minute of conversation, like the carbonated guarana drink purchased, fulfilled the addiction.

“Is it all chill,” the subtle subtext was exclusive to us, as Tetty said she was fine.  

I had a man behind me while a women scanned around the side.  So instead of obvious references, I veiled my words in implicitness we would understand. 

“You know the cat and curiosity,” was the final rhetorical question, as she smiled in response, and that was all.

How I Made People Smile

I walked home in satisfaction along the damp paths because I liked how I made her smile.  I did so little but be a marker of courteous presence and that snap of cavalier and chivalrous show, its quirkiness made me remember how before imposters, the contrived monsters, I used to make people smile. 

I used to make people smile.  I used to make people smile before born into an abuse of façades distorted with insincere pretense to shed all care and concern.  I used to be so impugned by their character.  I was rendered speechless on the walk home.  I had flashes of her smile whose sincerity I have never seen since… I had no idea.  A shock realization disconcerted me.

Since home returned I reflected on smiles and their absence from my psyche, to make one so insecure and one never to realize.  Real women.  A real woman smiled.  Foibles and stupid quirkiness adopted I lived with for years have been the curse of misfortune, where I have been unable to associate with a smile, or a kiss, or a look of admiration from afar.

I saw I had problems whose stem was cut, but while I ponder when, motive celibacy has popularized me in such a short span of time, where I have a whole localized area of friends and possibilities.  I have friends like Tetty, Cheryl, the expendables of the supermarket branch, and social fodder in the owners of the fish and chip shop. 

I am a liked man perhaps because I am able to smile, and so people return smiles. 

I sense verve like steel that shimmers with miraculous sparkle.  I am sure the previous month of parables and the core revelation of imposters was my chance to in introspection mature, and this method has championed an undeniable optimism inside.

Help Eric Install Software

I have since sips of guarana and the memoir helped my brother install software on his laptop.  He arrived in the latter hours and knocked on my bedroom door at 8:30pm, to share he purchased an external compact disc reader.  Eric hoped I would help in a limited role to install office software onto his computer.  In jovial mood I happily helped.

I minimized all my personal open documents and explained directions to him.  I had no extended time to help.  I had work and was in the middle of its concentration, but I found a couple of minutes to help in an equitable manner that in his example with Lottie would allow him his independence to learn and think.  I was tired of the cliché of how it took me ten years to be where I am now and that my brother should use trial and error as his weapon, so I copied him some files with a disclaimer instead.

“I will hand you this disc with the files on there and see if you can work out how to install it,” I allowed him the chance to learn in a practical. 

I handed him the software he needed and advised my brother once more of the litany of problems he may encounter.  Armed with all this information, he thanked me and walked upstairs.

“If you need help or are lost, come down and ask,” I did leave the door open for further consultation.

I welcomed my brother when he returned at 10:20pm to explain his progress.  He had an envelope with all the files written down, as I nodded in approval at his efficiency.

Eric explained how the laptop had prompted him for an application to open files, which I advised was possible because the laptop may be deprived of software to unzip archived files.  I was conservative but also supportive in his stonewalled predicament.  I knew I could fix his laptop with a couple of hours alone or perhaps even half an hour, but instead, copied software onto a three and a half inch floppy disk.

My computer then froze because the processor was cooked, which in convenience was the end of our consultation.  Eric was anxious that he caused the problem, but even if the three and a half inch floppy disk that I provided had faulted, his mild hysteria was calmed when I remanded such fears.

“The computer freezes all the time,” my assurance calmed the concerns my brother had. 

In these minutes the computer rebooted.  In its scan process that I knew would take minutes, I used that productive time in initiative to walk upstairs and help my brother install software. 

“I never did lose any information when the computer froze,” I included.

He then spared me a pillow and place on his bed so I could examine his new hardware.  I suppose his elation for a novel new tool I should be happier for, as I was once there, a capitalist alone while a shrewd dealer with friends, as we swapped games and bolstered our friendships.

“The person sold it to me for sixty dollars,” the price was considered premium.

I explained my brother was lucky there is hardware available at all for such an outdated laptop.  Upon his behest, I commandeered his virtual machine and explained in a procedural vernacular its shortfalls.  I used terms he would associate with. 

Instead of megabytes I said in relation to his zealous ambitions to install an operating system onto a laptop that has maximum hard drive space of five hundred megabytes, “The value of the software is three hundred dollars and your laptop will allow you to invest a maximum of one hundred and fifty dollars.” 

I did mean he had no space, so he either had to wipe some unneeded files or live with what he had.  I also knew he could install the new platform over the old one, but even this had complications I never wanted to entertain. 

The software was impossible to install on his laptop, so I said to my brother, “Patience,” which I now have an abundance of. 

I also complimented him when he spoke of the improbabilities of an upgraded hard drive. 

“You did well to accomplish so much already,” I reassured him, “you found serial cables and located hardware you searched for, but pace yourself.” 

The words seemed to sink in.  Eric appreciated the advice.  I sounded cruel to dash his hopes with inevitable truth.  He still held favor.

A Slave To The Memoir

Since those fifteen minutes I came back downstairs with a blank computer readied for action.  I have since been on this one entry for over seven hours, which perplexes me because all of the procedures of inextricable patriotism for the memoir demand so much.  I am a pedantic and assiduous slave to master each sentence with protracted restructure, addicted even in necrophilia to revisit its tomb a day or days later.

I am now fifteen minutes close to a closed inauguration of the tenth month.  I woke up after five hours of sleep and remain awake.  I had a meal and rewards in caffeine, entertained this new liberation of self-esteem amid three simple cameo appearances.  I have a multitude of work and research to accomplish, but a shower and a handful of sets on the bench press beckon.

This will be a month where patience, pressure and expectations are its foundation setters.  I vow predicted I will maintain utmost no pressure, no unrealistic expectations, and patience plentiful, where the inveterate patriotism will persevere, as conterminous as months whose labels are their only separation. 

I will have motive celibacy and aim to take back self. 

I will work like an intricate snail. 

I will spare time for basic functions. 

I will reach for resolutions and reserve the reservoir, and reward this month as another insurmountable crucible to overcome. 

I am bound to these claims like the teat of a mother bound to suckle its children.