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Guilty Speaks
 
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Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in Magda's LiveJournal:

Wednesday, June 30th, 2004
12:54 am
The other day I was thinking about how I can't actually produce anything worth anything. I mostly am a service provider. I don't have anything I could make and sell on ebay and it's depressing. So I felt it my duty to try to get my friend Ben, the menacing artist of darkness, to let me sell his stuff on ebay. He found one thing I could sell. A bronze thing he calls "lawn art." (I told him he should probably name it something more pretentious so now it's called something-or-other #3, I think.) But everything else he looks at for awhile and then no. It needs touching up. I want it. No. Hmmm.

I told him he should not be so selfish and should share his art with the world. let the people of the world support him. but he just thinks of stuff he can't let me sell on ebay. I almost got a cool skull painting but he looked at it too long and changed his mind. I said, hello? How are you going to afford dominoes to play with in jail. Imagine how good you will smell if you can afford Irish Spring while everyone else has to use Ivory? By the time you get out, you'll be famous. You'll be Ben, also known as ebay item no. 3495804593. Man he smells good. Fresh. Is that a hint of baby oil? But then I realized that he obviously is appreciating his talent. There's stuff all over. And he won't let me sell anything. I'll always say he should be a musician or a scuptor. It's just a hobby though, like everything else. He makes me jealous when he plays the piano. I will write him a couple letters promoting the marketability of his art for him to ponder while he's in jail. Tomorrow I am going to stop by and see if he really did paint something tonight "for the people [of ebay]".

Look at this. Ew! Ew! What is it? Ew! He had this plastic container with weird things floating in it. This thing I found. It's some kind of animal, look. What is it?
I don't know. I dug it up. It looks like an animal no one has ever seen before.
Oh my god! ew! Stop touching it! No! No!
There were sick nasty froggish birdish legs. A head like a dinosaur bird gargoyle. Weird things floating around. Freaky looking soggy grayish slimy looking things. It looked ever so disgusting. It looked like an animal no one has ever seen before. Something the rest of the class had to dissect while I puked - except more evil.
Keep that fucking thing away from me!
Look at it's head.
and while you're at it, let me sell it on ebay...
No. Well, sell it to some kind of ologist then. No, then they will try to take it away from me. Well, yes, that's why you take their money. Dominoes, ben. Dominoes.
...
Damnit. Why do I always fall for that shit. Why don't you finish putting it together and let me sell it on ebay?
Look at its head.
What did you make it with? Wax.
Ick. That is so cool.
It didn't feel slimy like it looked.
Saturday, June 26th, 2004
7:24 pm
forgetting
I wanted to dispose of a lot of paper that I didn't want any other human eye to ever see. My shredder only takes one sheet of paper at a time and still jams. My back started to hurt. I decided to burn them in a ritualistic fire so I dug a small pit in the sideyard (after moistening the ground.) It was like playing in the mud. I liked it. I also cut apart my old bamboo windchime to weigh down the paper. (about 6 reams worth). It was a lot smokier than I imagined. There was a lot of smoke. It was going into everyone's yards. I didn't want anyone to know what I was up to. I started tossing in mud clots around the sides of the trench. This, of course, didn't help anything. The smoke was blowing right where I was sitting. I was not pleased. It was a little too dramatic. And I'd hardly burned anything yet. This wouldn't work. Eventually the fire went out because I'm a lousy girl scout. So I threw my ready bucket over it. Took out the bamboo pieces and threw them in with the yard waste. Buried the evidence and covered the mud patch with straw. Smoked a cigarette. Considered dyeing the lot of it black. I only have purple dye. But this gave me another idea. I divided the pages into reams, careful to have backsides of the pages on each side. I tied these off in bundles with nylon string. Then I dipped each end of each bundle into a bucket filled with homemade glue (glycerin, gelatin, vinegar & water). Upon soaking each end, I wrapped each bundle in newspaper and painted it on with more glue. I put two of these bundles in each of the plastic bags. These bags I placed in a paper bag. I wrapped the paper bag in 2 more plastic bags and tied it off very well with more nylon string. I considered letting it all dry but decided instead to heave the whole thing into the trash.

Only you and I know about this, and I'd prefer to keep it that way.
Saturday, May 1st, 2004
9:05 pm
I don't want to talk to anybody at all because I feel guilty.
Friday, April 2nd, 2004
3:26 am
Introducing: Mental unbalance.
My real problem where education is concerned has very little to do with education -- the learning, the content -- & probably everything to do with balance in my life. Specifically mental balance.

It's certainly true that I've wasted a lot of "study time" doing nothing of any consequence but behaving like a child in the summertime.. - with nothing whatever to do but entertain myself. The only difference between myself & that child is the guilt, the self-destruction, & the cost of the entertainment--all three imposing influences to my escapist pleasure-seeking... Struggling with my desires in this way cmopaounds the complications of achieving the mental balance I speak of.

The act of educating myself of various topics of interest seems to excite me in such a way that I attempt to connect the information to the other pieces of information I've collected. I'm aware that these are the usual effects of knowledge, however, my connection period always seems to eventually accellerate out of control. The learning of A prompts a connection to B and C, and soon a hazy recollectino of D. In researching D, I might notice how B is related to C & A only when E is present. So I ponder E & ponder E & research D & research D and suddenly I realize my paper has nothing to do with A anymore.

And so on.

But that's only the partial truth, of course.

I rarely seem to even get to the assignments in that kind of involvement.. but my memory is hazy. The actual process of completing assignments is so relatively infinitesimal that even mentioning the problems therein is disordering my current logic; I still haven't gotten to the root of my issues with mental balance.

The primary factor, or collection of factors within the primary genre of factors, is influenced greatly by environmental & situational elements occuring & involves my focus and involves me. It involves focusing inward; it is self-involvement, self-centeredness, self-discovery, &tc. An underlying theme of these frequent waves of introspective analysis & research is their untimeliness. I become very preoccupied evaluating &/or educating myself of a sudden, emergency set of problems with my emotional self. No responsibilities can overshadow the importance of my new-found shortcomings until the disadvantage/s is remedied. (For instance, I cannot study when I think I'm falling in love - it's something I've learned.) I can't multi-task my emotions. This is my unbalanced mental state, in a nutshell.

There are advantages & disadvantages to my propensity for putting my every mental desire first. The disadvantages seem obviuos, but the advantages are worth mentioning in general: I find my personal (emotional) growth to be ever-acceleration & the extent to which I falter reducing & I emerge from each episode with greater self awareness.
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