There is no external way to tell that a woman is ready to conceive.
Yeah, 1:43AM, Tyson-lee having a dig at life. Yeah kids, it's another one. Who'd have guessed.
My silk road is drying up, but I'm keeping at it, I do that. It's silk, it feels nice as an overlay, cool as Christ on top, warm as Gein underneath. It's good though, since I'm partially inebriated (Fucking rebel, Tyson) I'm at complete liability to bitch about my angst-dick in full swing without any consequence, if all else fails, blame the bottle, it's his fucking fault. Right, blame? Yeah, I can do that. Blaming shit is badass; it shifts any heat that I get onto something else so I can come out with clean slate, and I fucking love clean slate. What could be better than doing something completely apeshit stupid and then not having to deal with the baggage because I can mentally block it out under a lable of "not being myself" or "being a victim".
Fucking victimisation. You... Bastards. For fuck's sake, angry and drunk; nice Tyson, just fucking ambrosial. I'll tell you guys what, I'll take all of the blame for all of the dumb shit you fucks do, and then I'll fan it onto some unrelated source so none of us have to deal with it. I'll be the conduit for your mental security, yeah, fucking yeah... I'll do that. I'll do that and I'll fucking love it. This is going slowly, I'm taking so many breaks man, breaks to calm, move and order myself. Disorder, control, order, regret. That's how it is kids, no discipline leads to you bringing yourself upon the altar of fuckups, to be sacrificed to the dread lord of youth. If you realise your fuck ups, you can change, discipline, keeping your mind under wraps, willpower. Fucking Christ, it's not hard; just because you can't fathom the idea of keeping yourself from your wants doesn't mean it's not your fault. It's your fault for being weak. Writing here and incriminating myself because of lack of discipline is fucking well my fault because of my lack of willpower to keep my order under wraps. Regret? You don't need to be so shallow. Fucking lyrical insertions... God damn I'm teenage. Listening to metal and masturbating, wait, no, ragesturbating. I'm pissed. Both levels, motherfuck. Yeah, rebel, fuck, on a schoolnight at 2PM I'm psuedo-bragging about being an angsty blog-writing piece of pubescent shit and then blaming it on lack of discipline. Root source, wait, wait, no, we'll not go there, fuck you Mr Hartley. What, I passed C++? Shit, why did I do that? Autistic? Nah, just a cheat. Yeah, that's right, blame the other kids for getting high marks. Yeah, that'll make you cool. Fit the mold, be cool; don't make a scene, you're fucking making a scene, drawing attention to yourself when you're trying to obfust behind a mirror of pre-packaged angst that you stole off someone under the guise of a pretty witticism and a smile. You... Fucking... Cunt.
Heh, woah, that was a trip out; or was it a cop out? I can't remember, but Brisbane was fucking awesome. No Sleep 'till Bedtime, right Tyson? Just keep acting that way, they don't care, they enjoy it, you enjoy it, it's you. You're not numb, you're not empty, you're the same. And you love it. Hell, I love it; that's why I'm here, that's why you're here. I love that.
Love? It's a way of feeling less alone, so what's the deal? Wait, no, that's a Devin Townsend quote... Shit, I'm stealing off a fat bipolar balding man. That's a new low... Right? No? That started with Vonnegut years ago. I don't know, I'm prattling, I'm preaching, I'm rocking out. You don't do what you don't like. And I'm doing this, so therefore, I like it, right? It rests within my exhibitionist subconscious that I should slave away in the early hours of the morning to produce a text document for the purpose of entrenching ideals into people in accordance to how you live. Clever Tyson... That one would have worked if you hadn't done so many of these entries beforehand. Cut yourself! Wait, wrong scene, you're "metal" not "emo". Shit, sceneshift, need some makeup... Dammit, none around. I just want to be accepted, right? Accepted by the reader, at least? Here, comment me? Please. Please fucking comment me, I'm so alone. Alone without fucking comments. Yeah, and then I'll friendwhore until I get some sad sorry motherfucker who's willing to trawl through this disorderly bullshit and see through the schismatic partitions of this document. You mean there's only two parts? Yes dude, there is. There's fodder, and then there's fodder analysis. You'd be here for days making up shitty reasons for doing this if I let you analyse it further. Woah, analysis of lies. Can't you be true to yourself? I am true to myself, true to the point that I need to analyse and obfust further analysis under a guise of a self-matyring being.
Heh, you got it made man; right in the bag. Never would have thought of it that way had I not said it, right? For sure, but you're forgetting Socratic method... Again. Humans know everything, they just have to be shown the method. The ability to reason is what makes us human, and it's within reasonability that logic can be employed to speed the process. Logic of what, you ask? Logic that defines the process taken to get to the final goal of the problem. In this case, the logic employed is that a person's need to communicate outweighs their grip on discipline. The product is a communication; the result is disorder, followed by control of said disorder through tenuous discipline, which begets order; onsetting regret as to the process in efforts to learn from the error, rather than correct it. To erase is to correct an error, to leave it as a memento is to gain baggage. Baggage as a memento isn't constructive in the sense that said baggage leads to an insight into the method employed into the action, which triggers further curiosity into the machinations of the process repeating the entire scope again. This endless cycle forms the genuine human routine, and is commonly paired with a sense of blame.
To repeat an error is not madness, it's process analysis by using yourself as a conduit. An experiment, to which life is a series of. Granted, attachments form to errors in the line of emotional baggage; a look at failure and error is seen as a negative; and thus as an effort to disassociate oneself from said failure, no matter how small. This is where clean slate is employed to erase the weight of one's failures by shifting the load onto an outside source and protect one's feeble mind from shame and regret. All coming together now, isn't it?
This is the crux of observation, whether you retain the knowledge of said mistake, even if disassociating from it's baggage on you, or disregard the entire event and continue your series of repeated tests. Observation is a wonderful tool in your biological arsenal; by observing and retaining information, you have a wider variety of knowledge to tap into to manipulate a situation to your benefit, which is definitely needed in modern day society. Every one of your senses can be utilised to a higher level to take in your surroundings, each employed at the right time, synergised with your logic drive can create the ideal being; one of order, no shame, no regret, no problems. But alas, such a being would not be human, as it's not in one's nature to live on common sense.
Quick equation: Logic + Senses + Recollection = Common Sense
See how easily that blame was placed? I admired it myself, thankyou. But heed said words; an example used (At the onus of the one who brought it to my attention) Would be a young girl forming a bond with an older male. We'll evoke some hearsay right now, for flabour in this hypothetical example: The young girl in fresh into puberty, her gangliness and hormonal imbalance obscures her drive of common sense; her need to "fit in" or "feel loved" is fueled by life's bastardisation of singularity. Her peer group, the media, every aspect in her life points to the answer of fraternising with someone outside her usual needs and conforming to society's standard to be fully accepted. She takes up effort on conforming. The male of this equation is experienced, out of puberty but still feeling the backlash of society's expectations of procreating with the younger generation; as, after all; there are 'of course' far less birth defects and problems with "Fucking young". His need for her is out of lust and a bounty of hormones; her need for him is to feel secure, or to be accepted by society. Under the social expectations of the common world, these two entities are drawn together and pitted to a number of possible outcomes:
Idealism: Girl and Guy have a lasting relationship; The social norms are bent slightly, procreation is left until both are secure in their arrangements and negatives are kept to a minimum, happiness prevails.
Cynicism (I): Girl uses Guy for all he is worth, his car, his money, and ends up getting a taste for a pampered lifestyle. Guy's hormones keep his negativity in check and a lasting relationship ensures, both get what they need until Girl gets bored.
Cynicism (II): Guy uses Girl for all she is worth, her supple form, her good will, and her time. Girl gets a taste for acceptance through procreation and a lasting relationship ensures, both get what they need until Guy gets bored.
Realism: Guy and Girl fraternise, go through the motions of a low-grade relationship, with the possibility of a trade of resources/services until either/each get bored and look elsewhere for acceptance/hormone vents.
These are a few probable outcomes of arrangements; being as unbiased as possible. Of course many variations to these exist, yet acknowledging all of such is far too strenuous at the current time. Call me in the fucking morning. Anyhow; it seems that some parts of society victimise either of the parties in this arrangement:
One sect viewing the Girl's worth as something sacred and not to be used as a bargaining chip for acceptance; especially not to one more experienced and versed in the way of life - This is considered "Being taken advantage of" and roughly translates to "The strong preying on the weak" and is a logically sound way of life.
Another sect viewing the Girl's worth as an asset rather than a right, that it is her property to use how she sees fit, regardless of what she has learned preceeding the events. This view is in opposition to the current values of morality that the majority Australian society has in place at this moment. As moralism is a way of making life more pleasant for everyone. (Apart from the strong who wish to prey on the weak)
These arguments, and the numerous amount more pitted to this situation are all as valid as each other and come down to a question of the person's views and rationalities. Emotion being the polar to Logic, as impulse supercedes planning and vice versa depending on person.
The ultimate point of this excersize in observation is that human life is methodical and given enough information; predictable. The goal of this conclusion is to show that aspects such as common sense can be employed to head off harshly moralistic points of society to evade negative baggage before it weighs one down into the point of disorder.
But you knew that already. Fuck Socrates.
My silk road is drying up, but I'm keeping at it, I do that. It's silk, it feels nice as an overlay, cool as Christ on top, warm as Gein underneath. It's good though, since I'm partially inebriated (Fucking rebel, Tyson) I'm at complete liability to bitch about my angst-dick in full swing without any consequence, if all else fails, blame the bottle, it's his fucking fault. Right, blame? Yeah, I can do that. Blaming shit is badass; it shifts any heat that I get onto something else so I can come out with clean slate, and I fucking love clean slate. What could be better than doing something completely apeshit stupid and then not having to deal with the baggage because I can mentally block it out under a lable of "not being myself" or "being a victim".
Fucking victimisation. You... Bastards. For fuck's sake, angry and drunk; nice Tyson, just fucking ambrosial. I'll tell you guys what, I'll take all of the blame for all of the dumb shit you fucks do, and then I'll fan it onto some unrelated source so none of us have to deal with it. I'll be the conduit for your mental security, yeah, fucking yeah... I'll do that. I'll do that and I'll fucking love it. This is going slowly, I'm taking so many breaks man, breaks to calm, move and order myself. Disorder, control, order, regret. That's how it is kids, no discipline leads to you bringing yourself upon the altar of fuckups, to be sacrificed to the dread lord of youth. If you realise your fuck ups, you can change, discipline, keeping your mind under wraps, willpower. Fucking Christ, it's not hard; just because you can't fathom the idea of keeping yourself from your wants doesn't mean it's not your fault. It's your fault for being weak. Writing here and incriminating myself because of lack of discipline is fucking well my fault because of my lack of willpower to keep my order under wraps. Regret? You don't need to be so shallow. Fucking lyrical insertions... God damn I'm teenage. Listening to metal and masturbating, wait, no, ragesturbating. I'm pissed. Both levels, motherfuck. Yeah, rebel, fuck, on a schoolnight at 2PM I'm psuedo-bragging about being an angsty blog-writing piece of pubescent shit and then blaming it on lack of discipline. Root source, wait, wait, no, we'll not go there, fuck you Mr Hartley. What, I passed C++? Shit, why did I do that? Autistic? Nah, just a cheat. Yeah, that's right, blame the other kids for getting high marks. Yeah, that'll make you cool. Fit the mold, be cool; don't make a scene, you're fucking making a scene, drawing attention to yourself when you're trying to obfust behind a mirror of pre-packaged angst that you stole off someone under the guise of a pretty witticism and a smile. You... Fucking... Cunt.
Heh, woah, that was a trip out; or was it a cop out? I can't remember, but Brisbane was fucking awesome. No Sleep 'till Bedtime, right Tyson? Just keep acting that way, they don't care, they enjoy it, you enjoy it, it's you. You're not numb, you're not empty, you're the same. And you love it. Hell, I love it; that's why I'm here, that's why you're here. I love that.
Love? It's a way of feeling less alone, so what's the deal? Wait, no, that's a Devin Townsend quote... Shit, I'm stealing off a fat bipolar balding man. That's a new low... Right? No? That started with Vonnegut years ago. I don't know, I'm prattling, I'm preaching, I'm rocking out. You don't do what you don't like. And I'm doing this, so therefore, I like it, right? It rests within my exhibitionist subconscious that I should slave away in the early hours of the morning to produce a text document for the purpose of entrenching ideals into people in accordance to how you live. Clever Tyson... That one would have worked if you hadn't done so many of these entries beforehand. Cut yourself! Wait, wrong scene, you're "metal" not "emo". Shit, sceneshift, need some makeup... Dammit, none around. I just want to be accepted, right? Accepted by the reader, at least? Here, comment me? Please. Please fucking comment me, I'm so alone. Alone without fucking comments. Yeah, and then I'll friendwhore until I get some sad sorry motherfucker who's willing to trawl through this disorderly bullshit and see through the schismatic partitions of this document. You mean there's only two parts? Yes dude, there is. There's fodder, and then there's fodder analysis. You'd be here for days making up shitty reasons for doing this if I let you analyse it further. Woah, analysis of lies. Can't you be true to yourself? I am true to myself, true to the point that I need to analyse and obfust further analysis under a guise of a self-matyring being.
Heh, you got it made man; right in the bag. Never would have thought of it that way had I not said it, right? For sure, but you're forgetting Socratic method... Again. Humans know everything, they just have to be shown the method. The ability to reason is what makes us human, and it's within reasonability that logic can be employed to speed the process. Logic of what, you ask? Logic that defines the process taken to get to the final goal of the problem. In this case, the logic employed is that a person's need to communicate outweighs their grip on discipline. The product is a communication; the result is disorder, followed by control of said disorder through tenuous discipline, which begets order; onsetting regret as to the process in efforts to learn from the error, rather than correct it. To erase is to correct an error, to leave it as a memento is to gain baggage. Baggage as a memento isn't constructive in the sense that said baggage leads to an insight into the method employed into the action, which triggers further curiosity into the machinations of the process repeating the entire scope again. This endless cycle forms the genuine human routine, and is commonly paired with a sense of blame.
To repeat an error is not madness, it's process analysis by using yourself as a conduit. An experiment, to which life is a series of. Granted, attachments form to errors in the line of emotional baggage; a look at failure and error is seen as a negative; and thus as an effort to disassociate oneself from said failure, no matter how small. This is where clean slate is employed to erase the weight of one's failures by shifting the load onto an outside source and protect one's feeble mind from shame and regret. All coming together now, isn't it?
This is the crux of observation, whether you retain the knowledge of said mistake, even if disassociating from it's baggage on you, or disregard the entire event and continue your series of repeated tests. Observation is a wonderful tool in your biological arsenal; by observing and retaining information, you have a wider variety of knowledge to tap into to manipulate a situation to your benefit, which is definitely needed in modern day society. Every one of your senses can be utilised to a higher level to take in your surroundings, each employed at the right time, synergised with your logic drive can create the ideal being; one of order, no shame, no regret, no problems. But alas, such a being would not be human, as it's not in one's nature to live on common sense.
Quick equation: Logic + Senses + Recollection = Common Sense
See how easily that blame was placed? I admired it myself, thankyou. But heed said words; an example used (At the onus of the one who brought it to my attention) Would be a young girl forming a bond with an older male. We'll evoke some hearsay right now, for flabour in this hypothetical example: The young girl in fresh into puberty, her gangliness and hormonal imbalance obscures her drive of common sense; her need to "fit in" or "feel loved" is fueled by life's bastardisation of singularity. Her peer group, the media, every aspect in her life points to the answer of fraternising with someone outside her usual needs and conforming to society's standard to be fully accepted. She takes up effort on conforming. The male of this equation is experienced, out of puberty but still feeling the backlash of society's expectations of procreating with the younger generation; as, after all; there are 'of course' far less birth defects and problems with "Fucking young". His need for her is out of lust and a bounty of hormones; her need for him is to feel secure, or to be accepted by society. Under the social expectations of the common world, these two entities are drawn together and pitted to a number of possible outcomes:
Idealism: Girl and Guy have a lasting relationship; The social norms are bent slightly, procreation is left until both are secure in their arrangements and negatives are kept to a minimum, happiness prevails.
Cynicism (I): Girl uses Guy for all he is worth, his car, his money, and ends up getting a taste for a pampered lifestyle. Guy's hormones keep his negativity in check and a lasting relationship ensures, both get what they need until Girl gets bored.
Cynicism (II): Guy uses Girl for all she is worth, her supple form, her good will, and her time. Girl gets a taste for acceptance through procreation and a lasting relationship ensures, both get what they need until Guy gets bored.
Realism: Guy and Girl fraternise, go through the motions of a low-grade relationship, with the possibility of a trade of resources/services until either/each get bored and look elsewhere for acceptance/hormone vents.
These are a few probable outcomes of arrangements; being as unbiased as possible. Of course many variations to these exist, yet acknowledging all of such is far too strenuous at the current time. Call me in the fucking morning. Anyhow; it seems that some parts of society victimise either of the parties in this arrangement:
One sect viewing the Girl's worth as something sacred and not to be used as a bargaining chip for acceptance; especially not to one more experienced and versed in the way of life - This is considered "Being taken advantage of" and roughly translates to "The strong preying on the weak" and is a logically sound way of life.
Another sect viewing the Girl's worth as an asset rather than a right, that it is her property to use how she sees fit, regardless of what she has learned preceeding the events. This view is in opposition to the current values of morality that the majority Australian society has in place at this moment. As moralism is a way of making life more pleasant for everyone. (Apart from the strong who wish to prey on the weak)
These arguments, and the numerous amount more pitted to this situation are all as valid as each other and come down to a question of the person's views and rationalities. Emotion being the polar to Logic, as impulse supercedes planning and vice versa depending on person.
The ultimate point of this excersize in observation is that human life is methodical and given enough information; predictable. The goal of this conclusion is to show that aspects such as common sense can be employed to head off harshly moralistic points of society to evade negative baggage before it weighs one down into the point of disorder.
But you knew that already. Fuck Socrates.