Currently Kon-Tiki: Across the Pacific in a Raft By Thor Heyerdahl see related

I got back from Ukraine last night. I was too exhausted to write and in fact didn't feel too up to it, even though a part of me wanted to write.

The trip was, on the surface level completely normal. Not interesting. I went to Ukraine for 7 hours. I broke no laws, not even the smuggling laws I usually enjoy breaking. I had about 8 cups of tea and 3 cups of coffee, 10 half cigarettes and a bunch of garlic. Chicken too and a loaf of bread, which I disgarded as it wasn't fresh.

I tried writing, at first good. Then I became terribly depressed. In fact the entire trip, to and back I was depressed. For what I think I may have figured out. The whole time I was wondering whom I'm supposed to be, who I am, what I'm doing. I guess I've lost perspective and parts of me are in conflict with eachother. Its strange, since I realized I was to go to Ukraine this weekend, everything has seem intense and distant. Like each single thing are ridges on fast spinning rubber wheel that keeps grinding into my head. I can see one, but then all the problems become a blur of red rage or despair and distrust.

Ugh I forgot why I have this blog anyways. Update...

My mother visited me some weeks ago. It was a lot of fun and she has been the first to visit my in Poland. It was a wild and crazy set of weeks. Lots of fun and even though a few things she said pissed me off, I think they've helped me realize things. Anyways, great times.

The other day I was quite devious and purchased a few books at the local bookstar. I looked at some of those 'enriched classics' and I choose my normal set of fantasy/Clavells books. I looked at a few of these books, carefully looking at the covor and back to kind of get an understanding. I saw the Dubliners which reminded me of an irish version of The Jungle. I saw the Jungle, which I've never actually read only heard about. Scarlet letter, and something else and then I saw some weird book with raft on the front. The Author had a foreign name: Thor Heyerdahl. I looked at the name trying to deduce his origins. Even opened the book a few times. Put it back, picked it back up. Then I bought it.

 The book was Kon-Tiki. I read the back "Five men in search of a mythical hero jouney from Peru to Polynesia in this classic account of nautical adventure". Seemed uninteresting to me, it looked like one of those annoying books they always force you to read in school. When I discovered it was based on a true story by some scientist my hopes despaired. But then I found myself with only this book on a train to Ukraine over the weekend.

This is a very dangerous book for me to have in my hands. I want to do this. This guy writes a paper saying some guys 1500 years ago sailed 4300 nautical miles in a Stone aged Purevian raft. This is just a paper and when someone else says it was impossible, he gets all pissed off and does something about it. He gets several other crazy, badass individuals like himself, goes deep into ecoudor to get the supplies to build this raft, then just sails it without any sailing experience whatsover, in 1947.

I think it would be a good idea for us to do this.

"May 17th, Norwegian Independance day. Heavy sea. Fair wind. I am cook today and found seven flying fish on deck, one squid on the cabin roof, and one unkown fish in Torstein's sleeping bag."

dream

I had a dream.

I wanted to go to the beach but it was not within walking distance. So I hopped on a bus that I knew was heading in the direction. I did not know what stop to get off of. I remember it being dark, and the street damp, the reminants of the pieces of clouds in the sky. The moon was shining brightly lighting up the watered cracks in the street with a dim white glow.

The bus skimmed along the streets for a great distance until I could smell and hear the ocean. But I had missed the stop to get off. I had anticipated this and that I would get off on the next stop and walk back. I saw the beaches, and the water flowing back and forth on the shore. The bus drove onto a bridge, i felt the change of asphault from rocky but sure, to a smooth but hallow feeling as the bus drove up the bridge. I could not see, nor had any idea where the end of it was. I only knew I would have to get off and walk back in a cold drizzle to sit and enjoy the beach.

I woke up before the bus could find its stop.

Adderall Me. Part one.

I s'ppose to begin with I was lazy. An under-achiever to sum it up to those whom it had mattered to the time. I always vaingloriously added the adjective hopeless to the expression in my mind, after the remedy to this malady had been received.

The hippie persona was beginning to developed. A lover of life and more than anything a lover of attention, social interaction. A strong interest in science, a small interest in writing and an even smaller interest in mathematics. In fact it was more like a strong distaste in all things mathematical. I remember my father trying to help me with division and myself crying and screaming and refusing every single problem. These anomalies, in what people hoped would be a perfect student, were what prompted it all. Or rather they would have been construed as anomalies in a simple normal student. So I guess I was no normal student. Too bad no one really noticed I had actually been sick during the week we learned division. Still action had to be taken.

It took some time to find a adequate remedy. The first resulted in sever backlashes. I remember for the first time in years, for the first time since I had been 6 years old, I threw what was known to me as "Bloody Temper-Tantrums". I was a 10 year old fighting my parents. Screaming, yelling, pushing down cabinets and throwing my treasured toys. I thought I was only misbehaving. Being terrible. Phrases like highs, lows, and comedowns wouldn't occur to me for at least another four to six years. They eventually found the appropriate remedy. The failed attempt was known as Methylphenidate, also known as Ritalin.

A mixture of salt, dextro-amphetamines, and racemic-amphetamines were prescribed to me. This would be my cure all for all things educational. My report card for the first time ever was straight A's. Not only that I had a 100% in language arts. I never knew it was even possible to 100% in any subject. Unfortunately it would be the end all for all things social for me. Within a year my social circle had moulted to almost nothing, however, my grades had never been higher. So on paper I was doing quite well.

Motivation came with the ease of every breath. My skills in English increased and I could describe the books we read with enthusiasm and gusto. Poetry, essays and short stories flourished over the years. My ability to adapt a sentence to situations increased and built what I now call the canals of my mind. I blended math, language arts, and science all onto the paper. Three subject I excelled at, and without strong social relationships to distract me I could devote my full attention to it all. I became calculating, intense person. I desired to be the most intelligent person and could not comprehend how idiots could live with themselves. Over time I would take up socialist and communistic ideals, praising them for their promises to the greater good. To the idea that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. I grew to believe that if someone could better mankind and efficiently aid in their progress, they deserved not to live.  If I ever figured out that I retarded the scientific progress of mankind, I would remove myself. Permanently.I was constantly on the guard for proof of this to uphold my 'enlighetened' ideals. This was all created from a mind-frame that I would later dub "Adderall Me".