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Saint Lucia

The future of Bob Leeds

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By the best lessons ever learned, did I come to be a proficient labourer, probably. But there was a bleeding moonlight, that arched over the sticks of most nights, and that was bloody fags and I smoked them and wished to stop, and didn't care how. So, on this injustice of erasure, this childish pandering to British blubbering, there was a serious and frank admission, each time a rollie was smoked by these lips, each time a golden nugget was placed to the mouth, every time a biffa caused breathing to leave the lungs funny, then we would have to be late to the woods, and find each of us verily leaning towards the failure of that old bloody attempt, to be better in the face of an enemy. 

The drab seeds of the frantically wrenched personalities, the replaced and replenished the trees and bushes and thirty years later, the scene was not so desperate. But by loving was safest, by summer was rainiest, by watching the clubhouse of the builders we raised this message, this personal message, that reached out and faced itchy wastelands, and did all this work for that one master, the one who shall needs die. 

Most would have caught on that it's okay to write like this, provided you have someone to kill. And for now, the final message is, that the director of this passage is one you have realised kept personal the final message, and perhaps once, perhaps twice, perhaps more throughout the day, the director is backing the future, to know that all is forgiven, all is settled, and everything is fine. It's all good. 

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Saint Lucia

Finishing this year's studies

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Well! 

I've just not too long hence submitted the exam script that would have been my final one for my Q77 degree. So that in itself is an accomplishment. But since I have switched from that degree to the M06 Master of physics, I will no longer be able to claim that qualification. Still, it feels good; I now have three or four months of summertime fun to be had, and I begin with a night out tonight, at a house rave in King's Cross. 

How did I do in the exams? Well, I took two of them, and I must admit, the Relativistic Universe proved to be the simpler. Actually, perhaps the truth is that they were both equally as difficult. But the fluid mechanics exam seemed to knock me for six, and I daresay I attained less marks for that than for S383. We shall see, and yes, I am keen to find out. 

It is six twenty in the morning, of the 9th of June 2023. I uploaded my script by four thirty am, having sat the exam at 12 midnight - that's how I've always done these open-book exams, it's how I feel most comfortable. I have tried to sleep, but my mind is awake, and I am awake, and I have plans to visit the town to sit and perhaps write in my journal for an hour, before I come home to catch a couple of z's, before I go out tonight. 

What am I going to do this summer? There are things I have planned. For one, I would like to complete editing my book, and then go ahead and upload the manuscript to some relevant publishers, namely mental health publishers, and I really hope that somebody picks the book up. Unfortunately, the excursion with the script that was based on my book never came to fruition, in any decent way, other than that I made three and half grand for my deal, which was good. 

I am going to play some cards. I'm going to read some card books, in whatever form, and learn some new tricks, and skills, and show them to people. 

I'm going to play some computer games. I'll get my Nintendo Switch back from my folk's house, where it was so that the boys could use it. Also, I'll play some Super Mario World on my Super Nintendo Mini. I may buy some new games for the Switch. 

I'll take John's dog Leila for longer walks, so that I can get more exercise, so that I won't have to go to the gym. Although I would like to go to the gym, I think that can be supplanted by using the local swimming pool, which I'd like to make a regular visitation, and also, I have weights and exercise equipment at home. The only thing I'd miss at the gym is the heavy boxing bag. If I do go back to the gym, I'll have to quit in four months, because of the courses I'll be taking in October. Also, I'll need to watch my diet. 

Also, I want to make a huge effort to quit smoking, this summer. The bloody things have gone up now to thirty pounds for a low-quality pouch of fifty grams. There's no way I can afford a hundred pounds a week smoking. Not only that, but my health would improve. I've quit before, and I liked it. I know I can do it again. 

Should I try to learn coding this summer? I've learnt a little, but there's nothing stopping me from having another go at making a website. I'll have a go, I think. 

What else; what else? 

Ah yes! I need to make some more music. I'd like to finish my bands next album, for which we already have five songs recorded. We need another seven or eight. Four of these can be done in one hit, once we've practiced them and/or written them, etc, and we record them. Then I have to get some more songs down, and that's the album done. Hopefully, it will be available by the end of the year. I'd love to play some more shows this summer, but that depends on whether the others are down for it. I hope so, and I hope some venue can book us. 

Also, last thing. I'd like to do some more writing. Having written one book, I have another on the way, and I need to type up what I have, and see what I can do about writing some more. Hopefully, good things will come from it. 

So, that's about it. I'm in summertime for me now, and I'm glad I've finished my "degree", but I'm also happy that I can still continue my studies. One more year of level two and three modules, and I can move onto level four. Happy times. 

Best wishes
Daniel

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Saint Lucia

Invisible concepts and so on

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Hello. 

What a nice night of internal imagery and imagination presented in a most cranial way I just had. 

I won't tell you about that though. But just so you know, it was lovely. 

I think the current post I write will go on about your regular theories of time and space, space and time, spacetime... For instance, I've been on a meditative tip recently, and successfully so, and not to keep quiet about that! The meditation has been deep and I've been deeply, deeply relaxed and massively and hugely open to internal and cranial susceptibilities, such as those of time and space, and spacetime, etc... I'm actually ripe for the theorising, so let's get to it, and theorise, and do it well, for all and sundry. 

What is time? As we know it, it is the ticking of clocks, it is relative, and it is common to feelings of boredom or excitement. Time passes slowly for the bored, but if you're excited and manipulated, it goes fast, too fast sometimes. It passes at the relative rate of one second per second, is a tight little invisible concept, and herein lies the very interesting thing about time. It is invisible to the eye, like many things, and passes, and when we look, it disappears. 

For example, there are many features of physics and the natural world, that are seemingly invisible, and can only be experienced in a somewhat indirect means. One may take as an example, the first if you will, of water. We look at water and we wonder how something that is, something that has a form, something that is an object of sorts, is actually clear, and in many ways invisible. Water must have been one of the earliest primordial intellectual concerns. These days we have no qualms about it, it's natural. But I suppose children might think about why water is clear. Once we know that we are witnesses to a liquid made of sparsely jiving particles, we no longer worry. 

And then, as another example, there is oxygen - air! Primordially, we may not have understood about air, and from antiquity we have realised that we have before us another substance that is completely sparse and jiving. It is something, yet it is clear, see through, we love it, we know it, we feel it, but we can't see it. In any case, it is clear, there is something to be said about things being clear. 

As another example, and yet more invisible, yet clearly palatable, is gravity. Gravity is inscrutable enough that we have had to be surreptitious about it for many years, and we only recently began to understand this. Newton was of the notion that gravity was some sort of action at a distance, and Einstein realised that gravity is a curved spacetime. Gravity is a strange phenomena that seems to match this notion about invisible concepts. 

Yet another example to go on would be the reign of inner experience itself, which is invisible, so invisible. How might you explain to an alien who has visited Earth from far away, that we can touch and feel, that can sense things by touch, that we have sensations? Furthermore, how would we explain that we are able to harbour an inner intuition and harbour knowledge. In fact, it is only by common familiarity that we are able to do this for other humans. Thoughts are invisible, yet they are physical; we cannot see them, yet we know about them. 

So, the fifth example of invisible phenomena is, obviously, time. Now, time passes at a rate of one second per second, so in effect it's value is naturally just one. Time, therefore, is one, like consciousness. 

But what I'd like to say about time is this. If you can imagine a sphere, which incidentally is rotating in all possible directions at once, perhaps at the speed of light, perhaps the rate of the magnitude of the acceleration due to gravity, think of this. Take a vector on the sphere, tangent to the surface, and send it round the sphere. Whichever direction you move the vector, it makes no difference to the constitution of the sphere. A cube would be different, for keep fixed the vector in that instance and there is always a way of telling your orientation. A sphere is always the same, and thus there is only on direction on a sphere. And this is like time; time has the single direction, i.e. always forwards. Time only moves forwards, in this one direction, unlike space in which we can move forwards and backwards and all manner of directions. This, I believe, is a matter of entropy, which is the idea that time can only move in one direction, and that there is in fact an "arrow of time". 

One other thing I would like to point out is that, in the context of this single direction, there is a deeper notion to be seen. And this is that time is not merely the fact of a value moving in a single direction, but moreover the fact that there is a direction at all. This might be seen to be going the way of dual space. The dual of a time vector would be a dual time vector, namely, the fact of a direction in the first place. This is fundamental, and in fact, time is a fundamental fact, a fundamental value, and the value of time is one. 

To be continued...

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Saint Lucia

Exams for S383 and MST326

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Exams are coming up. 

And not too soon, I can tell you. 

I have five days to organise myself for the S383 The Relativistic Universe exam, which I will open at twelve midnight on Tuesday night. There are things for which I am prepared, things for which I am not prepared, and things for which I will never be prepared even if I studied for another year. 

I hope to pass; I am desperate to pass. But I will never get a distinction - I'm not clever enough. And people say, "You're only as clever as you think you are!" But I don't think that's true. I know I have my limitations. I wish I were special at these things, but I'm not. There are people who are special; but I'm just not one of them. So I hope to pass, and I hope that we are given the questions which I can happily answer, such as those about tensors, and those about Schwarzschild metric, and those with simple plug and play equations. If I were keen (which I guess I am, but need motivation and inspiration to come from somewhere right now), then I'd sit down and work through the following: 

  • Special relativity - I'd work through several past paper question ones. 
  • Connection coefficients - I'd work out how many some metric or other contains - I'd work out why they equal zero in flat spacetime metrics. 
  • Riemann curvature tensor - I'd work out the derivation - I'd work out the manipulation. 
  • Einstein field equations - I'd work out some manipulations of these. 
  • Accretions discs - I'd brush up on knowledge about these.
  • Gamma ray bursts - I'd brush up on knowledge about these. 

I suppose that's only six things to work on. When it comes to actually doing the past paper exams, I know that this is what most students are doing: They are working through questions and honing their knowledge. I have not done as much. But nevertheless I feel almost ready. I feel that my mind will change, and my motivation will kick in the second I click onto the iCME81 link. I do feel ready, in a way, but I must take heed of these things I have written above, and spend Sunday, Monday and Tuesday thinking about these things. 

But this evening (Thursday 1 June), and Friday and Saturday, I must do my utmost to get on with writing down some equations for the MST326 exam which takes place in exactly one week. I must work through: 

  • Statics - by doing some past paper questions, or understanding their answers. 
  • The Chain rule - there's a section of a question, a step that I know I'll have difficulty with. 
  • Navier-Stokes equations. 
  • Div, grad and Curl. 
  • Some water waves. 
  • some other things. 
  • Mainly the chain rule...!!
  • Separation of variables and Fourier series. 
  • Fourier series actually!

Those are the main things to work on. Actually, as long as I have down the chain rule step that's been bothering me, I think I'll be alright. 

I have a revision session tomorrow in town, with two students from the module. We're meant to meet at Foyles in Charing Cross. But I'm not sure I'll make it. I woke up at eight o'clock this morning, had a cup of coffee, some breakfast and a cigarette, then fell back asleep until four o'clock in the afternoon. If I don't sleep tonight, there's no way I can wake up to go there tomorrow, now is there? But I do want to go. I want to ask them about these steps. 

So that's it then! This evening, and Friday, and Saturday, I will work through some past papers, writing down some answers, getting a feel for the questions, then Sunday to Tuesday I'll work through some Relativity, and that's that. 

There! What's to worry about!? 

Daniel
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Saint Lucia

My mother.

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I think my mother wishes I was dead. 

Dear mother, 
Do you wish I was dead? I know we don't have much in common, and therefore we don't have a great deal to talk about. But have I really outlived your expectations of how long I should be alive? 

It's very sad isn't it? But I feel this way, because after our argument in the car that other Sunday, not only did you not talk to me for a week and a half, but you pounced on the opportunity. 

I feel like, perhaps, maybe you think I think I'm better than you. I can't help feeling that you'd be a happier person, in the long run, if I were dead. You're constantly communicating to me that I'm not good enough. You constantly blame me for ridiculous things. You're never happy with me. I always feel like I've done something wrong. 

If you were more that way inclined, then I could talk to you about this. But you don't listen, and you don't talk about these things. I have to stew in my own juices about these issues. 

I love you mum, but you're inscrutable at the best of times. 

Daniel

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Saint Lucia

Thoughts about the multiverse

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Sabine Hossenfelder is against the idea of the multiverse. Michio Kaku is for it. 

At the risk of writing another "schizo-post", I wish to emulate some thoughts about this idea - the multiverse. But first, I need to define what I mean by "Universe". 

One interpretation of "universe" is the naively realistic view that it is merely the arena of spacetime which we all share. That means including us, the Earth, the Sun and Solar System, the Milky Way galaxy, and all the stars, galaxies, black holes and spacetime beyond, from the beginning of time till now. 

But another viewpoint of "universe" is merely the one that it is redolent of everything that exists within our own experience. So, my universe is my body and mind, my thoughts and consciousness, and everything else that exists within it. In a way, my dreams are my universe, too. 

So on this latter view the idea that there is a multiverse boils down to the notion that other people, other entities, other beings have their own consciousness. 

Nietzsche was the first to purport the idea of eternal recurrence. This is the concept that, say you were happy to live your life as you were, with all the same thoughts and in the same time-zone of existence, you'd be happy to relive your life over and over again in the same body, the same person, with the same thoughts and consciousness each time. You would not have free will - that would be an illusion - but you would be happy. 

This Nietzschean view of being is one view of the universe that neglects multiple universes, in many ways. There is here, in a sense, no hope of ever ascertaining the existence of others, for example, your brother or sister, or mother and father, or friends, or acquaintances, or strangers and so on. We will only ever be the one person. This is one view in which there is only one universe, and we can not find evidence of other "universes". 

The multiverse, therefore, on this view, is not a matter of finding hidden realities where we may have done things differently - that view is surely false. Things are much more immediate than that: the other realities are the consciousnesses of other beings. 

And we have indirect evidence for these realities. That is, we have their physical bodies as primary signs that there is life beyond our own. 

But the view I am purporting is only solipsism. 

So do you believe that Michio Kaku is correct, or Sabine Hossenfelder? The view by Kaku would lead, eventually to a sort of Quantum Leap situation, in which science could find ways of entering the bodies of other people in time and space, and usurping their consciousness. Sabine says there is no multiverse, and I'm inclined to agree, on this view. But the multiverse in this respect boils down to the sense in which we are a different person from moment to moment. But in the sense that we are the same person from moment to moment, the multiverse is false. 

However, to say that there is only one universe is to say that the Nietzschean view of eternal recurrence is correct. 

Personally, my view depends on my feelings at the time. Sometimes I may be fully Nietzschean, others I may be a little more forgiving and think sympathetically toward the existence of others - the universe of others. 

I think that is all I would like to say about the subject. 

Many thanks

Daniel 

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Saint Lucia

Pain

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It has recently occurred to me, that most people are not in any appreciable amount of pain at any one time. 

Most people, it seems, are able to go about their daily lives all the while feeling fine, feeling good, confident, attractive, and mentally well. 

I thank these people for their fine contributions to society, and our socialist system of benefits, for keeping me alive. 

Actually, I know I need to die, to take away the burden of me. But that is a future endeavour. 

For now, I will concentrate on finishing my degree, on making music and art, and looking after my cats and friends, Tommy and Charlie, and friends Charlie, Roberto, Massimo, Lee, Eugene, Sara, Aaron, and Tamsin, and any others I have failed to mention, and my family, Ryan, Corina, Julie, Fred, Rio, Rocco, Sia, Fiona and Dayne, Phoenix and Montel, and cousins and all the rest. 

I don't really know what else to say this morning. 

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Saint Lucia

Some thoughts, complaints

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I've tried to sleep and failed. I'm tired, but I've got something on my mind. It could be the following. 

Earlier on I visited my parents' house. My mum made me a chicken roast dinner, and it was lovely, and then my dad showed up. And he said, "Let's go to the shed..." 

So we're at the shed, and I'm telling dad about my plans. I told him I've cut off the plan to do a Master of physics, and that I'd like to go back into construction, perhaps to get a ticket in plastering, so that I can earn a few extra quid on top of my benefits, so that I can buy a car and perhaps a dog. 

And then dad starts going on about "Plastering is hard," and "Dog's are difficult". Anyway, long story short, I realised that everything I tell that man, he returns to me in a negative manner. Eventually, in frustration, I said, "OKAY THEN I WON'T GET A DOG!!" - and then he realises his manner and kind of retracts himself. 

I started getting a bit haughty, saying, "Everything I say to you two, you say 'No, don't do that!'. I say I want to get a dog, you say, 'No, don't do that!'. I say I want to get a job, you say, 'No, don't do that!' I say I want to go to the gym, you say, 'No, don't do that!'" 

Then dad said, "I never said don't go to the gym."

"Earlier on," I told him, "I told mum that I don't necessarily overeat, but that if I got some exercise, I'd lose more weight. She said, 'No, doing exercise won't help you lose weight.' I mean, come on!! Of course it fucking will." 

Dad saw my point there, I think, but then went on to talk about some other thing in a negative light. "DAD!" I told him. "You're doing it again!" And he was, and told him he was always being negative. He was going on about getting a job, so I went, "OKAY THEN I WON'T GET A JOB!" but he didn't see my point. 

"Dad," I levelled. "What do you want me to do? What can I do that will gain your approval?? Because I feel like you won't be happy with me unless I'm digging a fucking hole." 

He didn't have any suggestions. 

Anyway, long story short, I managed to contain myself, and topics turned to other things, like dad's drama with the family in New Zealand, his diatribe during which he mentioned that his sister had told him that he has no experience with mental illness. Dad had said he thinks he knows one or two things about mental illness, since his son has suffered with it for twenty years. In any case, he sort of blamed my outburst on my mental illness. 

I think that sucks, and if I wasn't sure I'd blow up again, I'd have said so. I'd have told him, Dad, just because I've got a mental illness, doesn't mean my anger isn't legitimate. Sometimes I'm angry with you because I'm pissed off that you've said something or done something I don't like. I didn't say it though. And besides (I'd like to have said), you're angry with something like seventy percent of the time - does that mean you're mentally ill? 

Anyway, that bothered me. That was earlier. It just annoys me because the man can't see himself as having done anything wrong. He's blameless. 

Anyway. 

I can't sleep. I've just tried for the last hour and a half, and though I nearly dropped off, I've been thinking about stuff. There's these women I've been talking to online - one of them on Twitter, another on Facebook - and I don't understand them. They're relatively attractive women, and they, like... they play games with me. I think they're bots, and it doesn't make sense. It makes me think I'm homosexual. Then I look at my life and I think, I don't know if I could have anyone in my bed whatsoever. 

I'm very confused at the moment. 

There's this bloke, Scott. He was my best mate growing up - I've known him since he was born. But I've not seen him for fifteen years, and I tried to contact him, and he blanked me. I don't get it. I'm confused. 

There's this woman, Tamsin. I've had a fling with her. She's like this little troll girl pixie woman, who has something about her, but she's this religious Catholic, and she won't sleep with me, although I've tried to convince her. Anyway her legs are shut tight. Once, I said to her, "You are dead from the waist down," and she said, all haughty like, "I can assure you, I am not." I was like, yeah? Where's the proof. Anyway, she's convinced I'm homosexual, and it's humiliating. In fact, Tamsin herself is a most likely candidate for homosexuality, but she hasn't had the same insights as I have. If she isn't gay, then I don't know what her fucking game is. She'll never find a man like me, or any man at all for that matter - yet she rejected me. I don't get it. I kind of hate her. 

The thing is, am I gay or not? I'm forty four years old; I should know. But the other thing is that I'm schizophrenic. Now, I'm not blaming everything on my mental illness, and rightly not, but the whole thing is a mystery to me, and in all honesty, makes me believe I'm the Christ. 

Here's where things take a turn, but I'll go with it. 

Earlier on there was meant to be a tutorial for S383, and the room was not available to me. But it turned out that the tutorial did go ahead, but I myself was cut out of it. As an ill person, I take offense at this. I think this fucking university thinks I'm trolling it! I think, in all honesty, they cut me out of that tutorial deliberately - personally, as a personal thing. I think I may talk too much in chat on those tutorials and they needed a break from me. That's what I think. 

And I think that I'm not gay or straight. I think I'm special. I think I'm Jesus. 

Be honest, reader, you're reading this, yes, you're fascinated - but you don't like me. Do you? No, you don't. And that's not for want of me trying to be likeable. You know I'm trying to be likeable, but you despise me. That's why you'll have got all the way down to the bottom of this post, and you won't engage with me, you won't comment, nothing. You'll just fuck off on your merry way like every other human on the planet. 

Fine. Be like that. 

I had a dream last night. I dreamed that I was in a van in London with my dad, and we parked up at a market, and went to have a look around, and there was a record stall, and all the records were fake. 

Dear life, are you fake? You're fake, aren't you? I think you're fake. 

I'll have to be careful. God is real after all. God is real, and I know this because He is not a human, and therefore not a beast. Humans are beasts. 

I'm done. 

Daniel 
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Saint Lucia

y=mx+c

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Curious and enlightening dream just now. 

I had gone into town, and was waiting outside a nightclub, lying down against a poster board, and I'm looking at the stars. Lee comes up to me and suggests we go in; apparently Ross or Ollie is inside as well. But this time, I decline and say, I'm happy having a good time just looking at the stars. And there are numerous stars in the sky, and some are flying about, and this confirms to me that there are aliens. 

Actually, prior to this, I have been in a tutorial, in dream, and the lesson concerns science and maths and a graph. The graph is a partly sinusoidal curve, with a maximum to the top, and a maximum to the left, and we work out together an equation that describes the motion of the curve, and it involves the equation y equals m times x plus c full stop

So, sitting - laying - at the side of the nightclub, I have this equation in mind. The sky is filled with life: stars shooting from left to right, satellites zooming all around, and a Chinese weather balloon makes regular appearances above the Thames, In fact, the latter drops a package to the ground - it explodes in a display of light and noise, and reveals presents of popcorn and other delights. I start to eat the popcorn. 

I find myself going into a small hut next to the river. In this hut, like a small classroom or boardroom, there are three other people: two young women and one young man. The young man has a degree from a brick university, and complains to me that I "must be one of those Open University people." I tell him yes, and consequently go on a diatribe about the nuances of brick universities. "You get to finish your degree in three years," I say. "And you get to come out and go into a job where you write words for a living, and you get paid £50 a word for your job!!" And I think, although the young man initially tended to look down on me, eventually he had some respect. I leave the hut, and walk through a courtyard. 

In the courtyard are university students eating lunch, although it's way past midnight, and I see an Open University tutor - a portly man with a bald head and a blue shirt and ID card around his neck - and I shout out, "I go there!!" and the man says something and backs away, and as he does so, I shout, "What is to become of me??" The man disappears with a smile on his face. 

Then, having followed the man, I find myself in a large hall, quite sparse, but like a banquet hall, and somehow or other, somewhere along the timeline of events, I have ended up singing one of my band's new songs to a crowd of people, and one of those who hear it is the young man from the hut, and he is impressed, and so was I! 

Then, next I was walking along the riverbank, with those Chinese weather balloons making regular appearances in the night sky, and dropping packages of popcorn that explode in light and noise. I notice that the weather balloons' appearances are highly regular, that is, they drive along at highly regular intervals, and whenever they do they drop a package in an explosion, and I think to myself, y equals m times x plus c full stop I find myself talking to some girls at the side of the river, and I say to them, "For some reason, I'm not very attractive to women." They recount that perhaps I should go for male partners, but I decline. 

Then, finally, I enter the nightclub. I walk around and find myself at a pool table. A black man approaches me and offers me a game, or some whores, and the whores are black women. I say to him, "No, I'm not interested," and it's fine, there are no repercussions. I leave the club. 

The sky is filled with activity. The Chinese weather balloons shoot past frequently in the sky, dropping packages, and each time they do, I think y equals m times x plus c full stop

The end. 

Daniel
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Saint Lucia

Candy dream with Adam Sandler and Heather Graham.

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I just want to relate last night's dream. 

The main part began, and it was a movie starring Adam Sandler and Heather Graham. 

Adam Sandler had been a worker for some company, such as a boxing company in a warehouse, and he worked alongside some other group of characters, typical as you'd find in the type of warehouses you see in movies. 

And Adam Sandler had managed to impress and consequently pull Heather Graham, the latter whom had been in a meet position in which she hadn't been before, and the same for Adam, the latter whom had been in a position the circumstance which he was not really meant to be, and yet magically or circumstantially found himself, and pulled Heather. 

But despite the magic that was put on Adam, that during the date he was not able to utter the words "today" at any point, it turned out that Adam's circumstantial pairing with Heather had been somewhat unfair on another character, a worker in the warehouse, who was really supposed to be in the place in which Adam was, when Adam pulled Heather - thus, the worker should have pulled Heather. This worker was a lumbering goon type man, perhaps like the neighbour from Seinfeld, whatever he is called. And all the other workers knew of this unfair situation, and were gunning for the goon's fair treatment. 

Nevertheless, a strange thing happened. There being yet another worker, perhaps a son of the boss or other, this worker got jealous of Adam, and intervened in a peculiar way, that is, he left Heather some presents, that were intended to seem as though they'd come from Adam, and were basically cheap gifts such as a sausage roll and sandwiches, wrapped in cheap tissue. Whether Heather was impressed or not by the receipt of these gifts is another thing - in fact she wasn't, yet she gave Adam the benefit of the doubt. This part of the dream came to nothing. 

The warehouse turned out to be a candy factory, and the dream was themed around making and eating these sweets. And at one point Adam had to save a worker from falling into a sewer. 

Consequently, the dream was uneventful. 

But there it is, and there you have it! 

Peace

Daniel

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Meditation and remote viewing.

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Today I managed to meditate for the sum total of an hour and a half. It was good meditation, and much needed; and very necessary - I was aggravatingly stressed out. The first half and hour simply took me perhaps to a less-intensely stressed-out state of mind, but I came out of it still with your particular mode of non-relaxedness, and consequently made some burgers for dinner. As a matter of fact, once cooked, I dropped a patty on the ground, but still ate it all up. 

Then, post-burger dinner, I went back and took up meditation once again. Of late I have entertained a notion of communicating with aliens, via training of consciousness, the latter which I believe is of such fine frequency, that it would not register on a physical measurement analysis. The practice, given its due, has led me to a particular technique: that of "remote viewing", which deserves more to be said. 

Remote viewing is a set of protocols that would enable one the ability to see deeper into spaces or objects, than one would normally. That is, one may imagine the view beyond a wall, or into a closed box, or into somebody's personal arena, or indeed into the spaces of extra-terrestrials, be they aboard a ship, or merely chilling indoors. 

It has become a great technique for me, that enhances meditation, by giving it a goal, not to mention a means to an end. I've only used it now for a week, but I must say, the employment of its use is the most natural thing on Earth. That is, the way I use it and have been using it is to visualise by imagination what it must look like to see myself floating above my head, in the situation of a God's eye view. Imagine it now! Just picture your head from above, and see that it takes no effort at all! 

One day many years ago when I was freshly medicated I found myself transitioning to the effects of this new feeling, and among many other experiences, such as hallucinations (meagre and nothing as they were in comparison to the enlightenment of previous experiences) and beautiful visualisations of the phenomenal world (which I saw was "classical" and vibrant), laying on my back to sleep of a night, I followed the train of a thought, which turned into a point of light, which became a picture in my mind, which revealed itself to be an image of my own face, and it was accompanied by a high-pitch noise of intense vibrations, and because I hated the sight of myself, the image disappeared. Nevertheless, ever since, I've been convinced about the truth of the existence of outer-body experiences, despite never having repeated the experience. 

But I believe, and fault me all you like, that consciousness is not restricted to only first-person internal experience. I can say this, because I am a schizophrenic, and not an academic, and I have a layman's mind. That is, I believe everything about and around us may have a type of consciousness, however simple. In fact, I wonder at the idea whether human consciousness is as complex as you can get, and whether God's consciousness is a simple matter. 

When you remote view, it is plain to see that the practice not only is effortless and natural, albeit only accurate to a diminished degree, but it also has a soothing effect on your immediate social influence. I will say no more about that, except to say that society enjoys the calm member, and to remotely view yourself as though in the throes of an outer-body experience is massively calming. 

In any case, I recommend it. Please try it, if you can! 

Many thanks, 
Daniel. 

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Pressing concerns

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I must say, the Christmas and New Year's break certainly seemed to take a lot out of my study process - I've seemed to totally lose momentum! 

I have two TMAs due in next month - one on 22nd Feb, another 23rd Feb, which means I now have two weeks per TMA to sort this out. 

Did I get anything done at all during the break? Well, yes I did. I managed to read and reread Observational Cosmology, although I haven't performed a single exercise in it. And people on the S383 forums seem to be absorbed in doing these exercises. I daresay I won't do a single one. And I'll be fine, I promise! I have my methods. 

But in terms of actually doing the S383 TMA, I must say, I'm far behind. 

Having said that, our TMA02 is due on the 19th of this month, and I submitted that one over two weeks ago. Whether it's any good is another thing. 

I think, were I to only have had the one TMA, I'd be up-to-speed with MST326 TMA03. And actually, I think I am. I've just seen a tutorial that deals with Unit 6 of the course, and that's quite good timing. And furthermore, I think I'm quite good with the questions for which we have to answer that Unit. 

There shouldn't be a problem. Perhaps I'm over-worrying. I think I'll be okay. 

But something else I've been needing to express, is my concern about the situation with my degree. Here's the thing: If I want to do a Master of Physics (M06), I have to effectively do a further two or three extra years of study. That is, I'll have to redo Level 3, under the auspices of the requirements of the M06. 

Certain things are telling me, that I haven't got it in me. One year of OU time is two years of personal time, and I won't get my degree (Q77) until I finish next year. 

There's so much work to do. 

I've told myself I'll give myself a month to make a decision whether or not to pursue the Master's route. I'm tending to the decision that I finish my degree this year. After all, even if I don't do the masters, there'll be other degrees I can take. And what, after all, do I actually plan to do with the masters? I couldn't be a teacher. 

On the other hand, at times, I feel things are going fairly well, and perhaps I'm simply "going through the motions". What would I do if I didn't have study? I think I'd stagnate! 

It's just those two or three years of extra study that seem counterproductive. In any normal universe, I could go straight onto a Master's after having finished this degree! 

I suppose those extra years would add to the list of credentials. 

But what am supposed to do with those credentials? Could I teach? Could I do research? In any case, they'll look good on the wall. 

Hmmm! 

Well... 

What is the fuck it! decision? What decision would I make if I had to say "Fuck it, I'll do it?" 

Well, I think that's the Master's route. 

Fuck it! I'll do the masters route. In any case, I'll give myself a month to think about it. 

There, that's the blog. 

Peace
Daniel

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Merrington Chrimbobulations!

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Happy Chrimbo! And Merrington Chrimbobulations to one and all! 

It appears that the conspiracy is such that Covid-19 was planned all along, to ease us into the waters of World War III. 

But we could be each destined to move to our own planet! The world doesn't turn for it's own accord, and there are many options open to us to make. 

The almost fourteen billion years it has been since the birth of this universe has left us in early days yet! We are young! Evolution can develop to many much further outposts.

And consciousness is the micro-expansion of the local universe. 

We think about death too much! 

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Terrifying dream

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Morning all, 

I feel I have to write. It's 6:15am and I just woke up on the cusp of what might have been a nightmare. 

I was on a building site, digging a cheese baguette out from the sandy foundations of a building, for a new girl, Polly, to go an buy. The cheese baguette was rotten, but we discovered an underground cavern into which I dug further. I got so far, feeling that digging with a trowel into this soft sand was quite satisfying, then found I had dug out a small cove, and I tried to get inside it. 

Then I woke up with fears that the whole sandy foundations might collapse onto me. 

What would you do in this situation? What if you dug a cove, got into it, and the sand collapsed around you, and nobody saw you? You'd have to sit in the cove and try to dig yourself out. 

If somebody saw you, they'd have to get the boys to dig you out. 

I'm terrified! Honestly! 

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Mediation and subjective idealism.

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Hello to all, 

Now, I'm not entirely sure as to the meaning of this post, what I'm going to try to say, or why effectively I'm writing it. But to put it succinctly, I've decided that I'm certainly a subjective idealist. 

Last night, within the hour before I went to bed, I had a meditation session. I did my usual practice: starting by breathing in through the nose, and out through the mouth, and saying "I am aware of my breath," twenty eight times, from twenty seven to zero, and I was generally relaxed throughout, and whenever I realised my thoughts were distracting me, I would acknowledge them, note them, and return to the breath. 

I do this every time, and in fact, for some time it has been my practice, and I aim to go for an hour, but mainly only reach half an hour or forty five minutes, before quitting. And it has served me well. I've taken the relaxation and blissful happiness that results as a good enough consequence of my practice. 

But last night, as I pursued this practice, I decided at some point that I would aim for a two hour session - although, as to the time, I am guessing, and do not look at the clock. And consequently, as the thoughts came in and distracted me, and I acknowledged them and continued to focus on my breathing, I realised that my mind and breathing had led me to a state of existence that one can only call "nothingness". This state, as it is, was intermingled with sporadic and fleeting sensations of some really quite beautiful and psychedelic images, that were thick and full in their right, and looked at times as like coloured foliage, and at others like the ocean or sky. And these were images of heaven, I took it. 

But at some stage, I took even these images as distracting thoughts, and would note them and return to the breath. And in so doing I arrived upon that state of existence called "nothingness", and would enter into this state, until I realised that I was inside it, and then the thoughts would come. And I would note the thoughts, and come back to the breath, and would enter the nothingness that was this blissful state of existence. 

It is a lot like sleeping, I noted, although you are not asleep. It was a lot like a sea of black, and a lot like death, although you're not dead. 

I came out of the feeling, and lay down on the bed, almost accidentally. It transpired that I had meditated for exactly one hour. 

The feeling, I may add, was not inherently a pleasant one, although I feel that it is worth further exploration, and that I now have a better view of what I'm supposed to be aiming for in my meditation. 

Whether I have attained nirvana, or an enlightened state, it would be nice to say that I have. But the nature of my mental illness is such that I was left with a kind of disturbed feeling, that perhaps what I experienced was not quite right. Nevertheless, as I say, it is worth pursuing further investigation. 


As for being a subjective idealist, you yourself may do well to search that term, because I have no inclination to give you an extended account. However, I will say that it requires that we see the physical world as made up of elements that are connected by the mind. That is, all ideas of waking life - a tree, for example - exist within my own mind. But what it is that differentiates the waking life from dreaming life, is that the conscious experience of all others is substantial in creating the reality of ideas in waking life, whereas my own dreaming life requires no such condition. 

My conception goes further, to say that nature exists in the mind of God, that is, in the imagination of God, and this produces a law of nature, that we need God to be the father, just as God needs us to be his children. That is the relationship that is required for the whole concept to work. 

I could go further (but I wish to close soon enough), and say that empirical conceptions, such as constructions of the physical world like created objects - coins, ornaments, clocks, etc - adhere to this notion, whether the creator is alive or dead. But when God created the world - perhaps He did so at the beginning of time, and hence left it to run by itself - He did so alongside the notion of humanity, or man, or humans, and we are connected and necessary to one another. I digress. 

That is my contribution to society today. 

Daniel

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Actual science blog!!

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Just woke up (half an hour ago) at five thirty am, from a night's dreaming of various showers, and then, slowly drifting into conscious life, I opened my eyes and looked into the morning darkness and saw a type of lensing effect within the shapes upon the objects in my room. 

I wondered if, for all our studies into the deep universe, i.e. into space, using astronomy and cosmology, whether the laws of physics - as we know them - could be translated into a space that little bit more close to home. 

That is, could our investigations into deep space and time be scaled down to account for the more immediate experience of human consciousness? 

For example, perhaps the lensing effect familiar in the phenomenon of black holes, or other lensing bodies, may be scaled down to account for the immediate vicinity of conscious experience. I imagine this would require an investigation into optical physics. But what, in this scheme, would be lensed, and what would do the lensing? 

Light can bend in a gravitational field, and this happens at large distances. But perhaps light also bends according to a quantum scheme, along vanishingly small distances. Perhaps the idea of consciousness has something to do with this. 

Then I came to realise, that in so many ways, whereas the Schwarzschild metric is a solution to Einstein's field equations, and said metric contains however many singularities, that there must be in effect a solution to Einstein's field equations or a solution within the metric that solves for what might be known as a singularity of consciousness. We have a singularity at r equals zero comma and a singularity at r equals cap r sub cap s comma but is there another singularity that takes into account the observer themselves? 

When we deal with physics of potential, in terms of the Earth, including gravity, we take the zero of gravity to be either at h equals zero or h equals normal infinity comma in order that we take into account the concept of a "test-particle". 

So it follows that, within all our equations in physics, that we have neglected to include a term that takes into account the observer himself. 

That is the long and short of my conjecture, and I shall deign to investigate further. 

Daniel

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Beautiful coin dream.

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What did I just dream about? 

It's five thirty am. I woke up, slightly tired, about an hour ago with inclinations to write a facebook post that some people may or may not deem to be quite funny. I forwent the opportunity, for lack of funny ideas. 

Nevertheless, having gone to sleep at about eleven o'clock, I went into a sleep that was themed around the trip to Greece of a young man who happens to be my cousins young son. Said young son has been the subject of my cousin's wife's recent facebook posts, and for some reason they had a small effect on me. 

I remember a feeling, last night as I slept, of a type of anxiety, that the boy himself may be having a turbulent time of sorts, at once stage opening my eyes at hallucinating that his image was hovering above my bed and intermingled with the shapes of objects set about the room. Quite, quite unnerving. I hope the boy is fine. 

I dreamt about something else meanwhile, but the memory escapes me. 

However, the main dream I had, when all turbulence had calmed down, was that I was sitting in my family's living room with my father and a man called Scott who used to be my childhood best friend. 

We were watching the world cup on television. Suddenly, my father hands me a beautiful, large silver coin with an intricate design etched into it, based upon the world cup, and in particular, a British coin. The coin is heavy and feels very, very valuable, and my father and I talk about it, and my father watches the football. There is a commentary on. 

At one point, with Scott sitting to my left on the settee opposite the television, and my father somehow sitting in front of the television to my right, as like unto a small child, I ask my father what he is thinking. In fact, it is a very pertinent and imposing question, more like a challenge. "Dad," I say. "Are you thinking?" 

"Yes," he replies.

"Tell me what you are thinking."

"When?" 

"Now!" 

I say this, and then my father starts lucidly and fluently talking, telling me things on his mind. I can see his eyes, bright, brown and clear, and his monologue is fascinating and fulfilling to me. 

The coin... now, the coin being very heavy and solid and valuable seems to have been constructed from constituent coins. That is, it seems that one may take the coin apart, for it to be constituted by other smaller coins, and this feature is what has made the coin so heavy and valuable. There is a constituent smaller five pence coin, and another constituent fifty pence coin or ten pence coin, and it feels wonderful to piece it together, like parts of an intricate watch. 

Then it seems my father has had a revelation and wants to do a piece of writing. For inspiration he asks me to talk - to "Just say anything!" And so I start talking and do so fluently and clearly, and whatever I say seems to cause my father to engage in writing his letter a bit better. 

But he seems to be struggling a little. Struggling, I say, in the same way that I myself may have struggled to write a letter in the heyday of my religious inspiration. That is, my father keeps restarting his letter, and crossing things out, and rewriting them. Well, it is and isn't like that. Effectively, my father writes a paragraph, and he addresses it to me, and everything he writes is perfect. It is humorous, succinct and pertinent, although with a few crossings-out. It is inspiring, and makes me wish to write a funny post on facebook. 

Then Scott also begins to write. It seems the theme of the dream scene is writing, and Scott is also writing me a letter, and he writes it in his own style - mainly humorous, in his own humour - and he says some very funny things. It makes me a little jealous, truth be told. 

I had an idea, then, to wake up and write a humorous post on facebook, that spoke on the theme of "How to write a funny post on Facebook, at a moment's notice!" 

Well, that post did not come to fruition. Nevertheless, this one did. 

That's it. 

I hope you have a good day. 

Daniel 
x

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Dayne's Grandma

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Dayne is my little sister's partner and father to her children, my nephews, Rio and Rocco. 

Dayne's grandma died yesterday. She was ninety. Apparently, however, the cause of her death was the fact that she had had an adverse reaction to both the covid-19 and flu injections. 

Sometimes certain things go in to reinforcing the beliefs we have about certain things. Dayne, for example, did not take the coronavirus vaccine, for his political views. This particular instance must've reinforced Dayne's conviction about the vaccine (and, consequently, the government), and in this case there's nothing that anyone can do to make him think otherwise. 

But death is a funny thing. 

Before my own grandma died she was unwell a lot of the time. She'd go in hospital, you'd hear, and be out and reasonably better, then she'd be back in hospital, you'd hear, and recover and be out again. 

My Nana Lucy was a Samoan. She was loved by many, many people. If she had died out of the blue, it would have been devastating to everybody - devastating in a way that would almost be unnatural, and poor granny must've been exhausted. She hung on, I believe, for everybody's sake, suffering, and doing so to avoid making everybody feel sorry for her, or whatever, whatever it is, whatever it was, that people were feeling. I maintain, had she died "out of the blue", things wouldn't have been quite right. 

Then, suddenly and crushingly, my twenty one year old New Zealand cousin Robert died from some type of glandular fever or other. I hadn't seen the young man since he was two or three, but it was a devastating shock to us all, and us family in the UK were greatly saddened and sorrowful. Although, between my own father and his sister, Robert's mother, there had been tensions over money since grandad Peter had passed away from cancer over fifteen years ago, everybody could feel the pain of this loss, everybody was hugely concerned, everybody was devastated. 

Then, less than a week later, Nana Lucy died. 

Everybody was very upset, including my father, my uncle, their sisters, our cousins... everybody. But in a way, the blow had been softened. And it had been softened by the passing of Robert. 

Death is a funny thing. It is my firm belief that Robert himself died - nay, was put on this planet to die - to soften the blow when Nana Lucy died. Robert made that sacrifice for her. Had he not, it might have seemed that Nana Lucy had died almost for nothing. 

Cousin Robert died, then Nana Lucy was able to die. 

But again, this is a private thought, and not one I've made popular to my folks or family. It's just something I think. 

When Chris Cornell died, he committed suicide. But, that day, he might've been in the company of someone else, that might've prevented him from doing so. Yeah, he died of asphyxiation, and it was suicide, but he so easily might've lived and fought on for many more years. He might have lived to ninety. 

Last week, I was going to do it. I was going to commit suicide. I didn't, but if it wasn't my brother's daughter Sia's birthday, things might've been different. I held back because I didn't want Sia to have a birthday on which her uncle killed himself. That would've been selfish. So I fought through, that reason being the only thing which kept me alive. Then I got better, and I live to fight another day. 

My point is, God takes us when God wants us home. Nothing more; nothing less. There is no surprise with death. You'll find, in one way or another, that there is a reason behind dying. Even if I had committed suicide, it would just have been the way that I died. There would've been no anomaly, no strange thing, nothing out of the ordinary. That's just the way it would have been. 

I'm happy to live on. There's a lot to live for. Perhaps I'll live to ninety? Perhaps I'll be killed in an accident? My point is, God is in control. 

Dayne's grandma might've lived for another few years, but it wasn't meant to be. And not to be too disingenuous, but this was her destiny. God is in control. There is nothing out of the ordinary. Everybody leaves a legacy. Perhaps Dayne's grandma died to fulfil Dayne's personal outlook on life. That's what it seems to have done, in a way. But God took her this time, and thankfully she was ninety, and had had a good innings, and left a legacy which made sure she could burn till the end. 

I'm sorry, Dayne. My condolences to all your family. 

Daniel. 

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Little dream...

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Kiki and the seven items of Mill Hill. 

There is a group of friends in Mill Hill whom each have go through a test in time to earn their own personal item - an avatar - that gives them special powers. 

Paul is playing silly buggers with his friends in Mill Hill park. He is hiding his rather large penis in the foliage nearby where several girls have been sitting, and telling them there is a surprise in the undergrowth. When they find the surprise, it is Paul's penis, and it is most amusing. 

But Paul has a guitar, a twelve-string acoustic, which, when the police are summoned to arrest him, Paul has hidden in time. 

The park is huge, like a reserve, and has many trees and valleys, and Paul goes missing one day. 

Daniel also has a guitar, and he was supposed to play it to the group one special night. But Daniel has gone in search of Paul. 

Daniel finds Paul, in the midst of an ancient age, and Paul has special powers, and reveals to Daniel that he had to go through a series of trials before he could master his guitar and achieve these special powers. 

Dean is also there, and he has to master his nunchuks, which were hidden in the forest of Mill Hill during the Chinese age. 

In any case, Paul has returned to Mill Hill park in the present time, and he is training Daniel so that he may master his item, an acoustic six string guitar, when the time comes. But Paul and Daniel have to overcome their own difficulties before they are able to progress to master level. For instance, when Paul was playing silly buggers with his willy, Paul claims that the police only intervened because Daniel hit him on the willy a little bit, which in addition, caused Paul to cum a little bit! This has been on Paul's mind for all eternity, and Daniel says, "Sorry Paul, it was just a little smack!" The issue is resolved, a little. 

But there is a crack of thunder, and an item comes flying out of the sky, It is a taikwondo stick - it is spinning through the air. Sarah, a friend of the group, is able, with deft skill and amazing talent, to catch the stick in the midst of a martial arts spinning jump, and she catches it right in the middle of the pole. The skies light up with her reward: GORGEOUS!! says the huge message across the sky, and fireworks and stars go off, and this is Sarah's avatar, her item, and a hole opens up in the ground. The hole reveals a burning pool of lava, and the ground burns away gradually, as the hole gets larger, and friends are sitting about the pool of lava, whilst the legacy of how to beat the lava ball at the centre is revealed, by a ghostly voice. The hole is increasing in size, and everybody manages to escape the lava ball in the centre, which burns the ground all around. 

Daniel, in particular, escapes, and jumps on a crocodile, his companion in the quest to find his own item, an acoustic six-string guitar, and the crocodile/alligator speeds off towards the forest of Mill Hill, and sees, in the daze of travelling a great momentum, the return of the same alligator come back from the forest, in the future. 

Beyond the forest is a vast plain, whereupon all manner of safari animals are grazing, and they are unfortunately in danger. Daniel has to climb a tree, reminiscent of a tree that once existed in the Mill Hill park days, and to avoid the danger, has to reach the very top, which is constituted of very thin branches, and he ascends. 

Will Daniel reach the top of the tree? 

To be continued...


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Admission

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How can I put this? 

I'm not very well. 

Perhaps I just need a good nights sleep. I have just the answer to that - sleeping pills. I have one or two left over from treatment years ago. That's what I'll do tonight; I'll take a sleeping pill, and conk myself out. 

To put you in the picture, and for want of some other way of putting it, I'm suicidal. I can't lie. There it is, written out for all to see, and perhaps in the mode of a cry for help. 

I meditated earlier, and for forty minutes. I've realised that my suicidal thoughts are like a cloud, that hovers above my head, and won't go away. 

Then, when I was done meditating, I read some of the MST326 Block 1 book, Unit 2, and I had a glimpse of joy. I transcended all my worries and fears, that I can't understand this text for my life, and realised that I can actually understand it, but that it's going to take a little more effort. 

What does this effort entail? Well, an hour's mathematics, working on a single equation, just for the purposes of coming to grips with a method, could be just the ticket. If it's good enough for Joanne Holford, and other tutors in tutorials, it's good enough for me. Well, I guess for some reason, I feel like this effort is not within my grasp. Then the day turns to this night hour, and I feel... energised... energised to get my head down and work. 

I'm alone. And I have once said, I'm alone but I'm not lonely; I have God for conversation. But I don't have God for conversation; God is quiet - too quiet. I have once said that I believe it is God who wants me to commit suicide. But it's not God, it's the fact that I'm alone. 

But I know a lot of people. I could list them, but I won't, and they'd all be devastated to know I was dead. In some ways, perhaps I need to feel that love. 

My nephews and niece are young children. They're young enough to be able to grow up and not to miss me. Tamsin says I should live for them, if no one else, because they'd want me around. 

Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'm on my own, and I guess it's taking it's toll. They say go on an app. But I think you need a bit of confidence to do that, and you have to expect sex, and you have to have money, and be relatively healthy. 

I don't think I will kill myself. I just don't have it in me to hurt all those people. And I don't feel sad, just frustrated. Writing helps. 

Also, I have schizophrenia. Schizophrenics commit suicide. 

It's an internal pain. 

It's a discomfort. 

It's a sorrow that scratches its fingers down your back, and does it all night and day for weeks on end. 

I haven't played guitar in a while. Perhaps I should. 

Do I want to kill myself? No I don't. I don't know what's after. 

Although, I've heard heaven is five minutes away. 

Should I turn to drugs? That is a thought I am seriously entertaining. I reckon a nice spliff would calm my nerves and make me feel relaxed and happy. It's a thought I'm seriously entertaining. 

In any case, there's no need to quit the fags right now. In fact, they are my best friend. Having said that, it might be conducive to my plight and prerogative to resurrect. 

I could become Christlike. 

I don't actually have a lot to say.  When you're thinking about suicide, it's a depressive thought, a cloud that hangs over your head. 

Perhaps it's the new term? I remember when I fucked it up at university the first time; I tried to commit suicide within the first two months. It was very stressful. 

I don't mean to make people worry. Not that anybody cares. Just another dead schizophrenic. But rather me than someone else. Someone else might beat me to it. 

You know how I'd do it? I have these plastic cable ties. I'd tie one round my neck. I wouldn't cut my wrists; it's too unreliable. Besides, I have special tattoos, that I can't interfere with. 

Dear Lord! Dear Christ! Save me from these thoughts! I love you. 

anyway, that's it. 

Daniel xx

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Dream of heaven

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Edited by Daniel Frederick Best, Wednesday, 12 Oct 2022, 05:22

"No sooner had I sent that email, then problem seemed to resolve itself!"

I'm tired. It's four thirty five in the morning, and it's about three hours since I fell asleep. But I'm awake now.

I don't really know what to tell you, other than the ins and outs of this dream I just had, to which a small blog post could never do it justice. 

I think I might kill myself. If I do, know this, there was nothing you or anyone could have done about it, and it was the right thing to do, and it was good. 

I'm not depressed. I'm hardly psychotic, but that's debatable. I'm even happy. I'm happy, and happy to work on my course, and go to the gym, and deal with life on a day to day basis. I'm happy to work on my course, even though it's just transpired that I won't get my degree for at least another two years - even though the good thing is that I'm almost to be shifted over to the OU's Master of Physics degree. I'm happy to go to the gym, even though it's a constant uphill battle to maintain twenty three stone versus the amount that I eat. I even happy to deal with life on a day to day basis, even though it's fraught with strange characters and circumstances, and to be Frank, I'm exhausted. 

I feel like Sisyphus. Pushing a rock up a hill for the rest of eternity. 

I could kill myself. It's not good for people to hear or read; it makes them worried. 

If I kill myself, I'll go straight to Heaven. I'll leave a legacy. People will see what I've done in life, finally. They'll look at my paintings and recognise my genius eye for colour. They'll listen to my albums and music and recognise my genius for melody and structure. They'll read my book and recognise my genius for language and literature. And when they read my book they'll see why I killed myself. I'll finally be recognised. 

"Kill yourself for recognition, kill yourself to never ever stop" - Thom Yorke, Radiohead. 

The dream was set in a house in Stevenage, but more likely my old house at number five. The earliest part I can remember was when I encountered Christine, my dad's auntie, and Brian, my dad's auntie's son-in-law. I've had beef with these people in real life. During the George Floyd situation back in 2020 Christine was posting "White lives matter" memes all over facebook every five minutes, and in the end I called her out. I had a go at her in a public letter, and it was necessary and got twenty or more likes from people who thought the same. But perhaps it caused a rift in the family relationship. I notice now that our little unit is never invited to parties or nights up in Stevenage, where they all live. And Brian, well, I've recently unfriended him on facebook because he keeps posting conspiracy posts. It was all well and good during covid - you half expected it at least from some people. Nevertheless it wound me up, and recently, well, from lack of conspiracies about coronavirus, he was posting flat Earth theory posts. So I unfriended him. It was impulse, really. I kind of regret it. 

So there they are, in dream, coming to the party at number five, surrounded by others from the family, and Christine has come upstairs and stands outside my bedroom with Brian standing there, surrounded by others from my the family. "Christine," I say. "I'm sorry! Forgive me! Peace! Peace!" And a friend of hers says, "Peace!" and Christine recognises the sentiment and shakes my hand. So does Brian, and we embrace and I say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! You're the man! You're the man!"

The party begins in my bedroom. Brian and I are trying to get on facebook, using my various devices, including my Atari, my Commodore 64, my BBC Acorn, and my PC. He links up to the BBC but it's archaic, and nothing comes on the screen except some code nobody understands. I go on my PC and am thwarted from getting on the website by some means or other, then I switch my attention over to putting on some music. 

Smashing Pumpkins are playing on my system, but the speakers are the old ones, and I have to try to switch the cables over to the good speakers, and so I do this, and it sounds good. Some people are enjoying the music, others not so much. There are many people here, including some of the rougher people from Brian and Christine's entourage - a wiry man who appears to be on ecstasy, and some others on the same. Christine's son, a down's syndrome boy, sits there in the corner, gurning away. I don't partake of the recreational drugs. My own family is not there, although perhaps my sister is there, and Camille, and Kerry and Tasha - some of the girls of the family. 

But Lee is here. Lee the writer. Lee is all about truth. 

Somehow or other there is an altercation - a backlash of sorts - and it seems Brian and friends have not taken my apology seriously. Their friends stay looming outside the place - in fact, it seems they've been banished; they can't get in - they can't affect us. 

And Lee has left messages everywhere, on television, on radio, on walls, in books. 

The messages affect people here, including Marius, my cousin, but especially the down's syndrome boy, who seems to have been so affected by Lee's messages that his down's syndrome is cured and he sits there like a normal boy. The boy talks and says of Christine, "She's grotesque." 

People can't accept that Lee has cured this child, and they become very agitated and rile up against Lee, who is very easy going about the whole thing, and has gone ahead and left messages for everybody in the neighbourhood, and the latter have arrived to protect us all. There are Chinese neighbours who muscle in on the protection of those within the party. But it is rather amazing that Lee has cured this child, and it appears that Lee himself is, in fact, the messiah, 

I wake up wanting to kill myself. 

But it's not a sad suicide. No. It's a necessary suicide, from happiness and joy. 

In any case, I don't commit suicide. I come here. I write. 

But now I'm done writing. The dream was golden and heavenly, but it was just a dream. In any case, whatever happens, God loves us. 

Thanks. 

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Saint Lucia

A Theory of the mind of the other, and consciousness.

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Edited by Daniel Frederick Best, Wednesday, 5 Oct 2022, 00:02

I would like to open this blog post with perhaps a disclaimer, that whereas I myself was once very much largely into philosophy, and loved it greatly, today and these days I cannot say the same. 

But this is not to say that I do not have philosophical thoughts. But I can now say I much prefer physics and mathematics, because these are palatable and tangible endeavours, and as such have graspable answers. With philosophy, I very much have felt that I have not had anything so tangible as an answer. Having said that, and although I have come far from such a disposition, I also once had a very secure worldview about my religious outlook, and was able to explain my views about God and so on, and so forth. 

Now, this blog post has begun for the purpose that I can explain something that has occurred to me, from considerations about consciousness, and objective thoughts, and the inner mental existence of others. That's plainly the subject matter, nothing more, nothing less. But be warned, at present, although I feel I am close to being in a state of worldview similar in strength to that of my prior religious convictions, these thoughts here are being had out loud! 

So, we begin, largely in the vein of Descartes with his 'Meditations', wherein he sought to deny everything he knew and began from a rational "island" on which he built up his philosophy, by stating some basic facts about the mind and consciousness, and about the form of objects around us. 

It is known, and seems largely true, that one of the properties of mind is that it's contents are private. The ideas that we have exist inside our minds, and they are unknown to all others. Also, the mind is inside something. This notion seems to have been outlined at least in part by Hegel, and perhaps it was known to Kant, and certainly was purported around the enlightenment period. Nevertheless, that the contents of mind are personal and private can be gleaned by empirical investigation. Yet, this only applies to subjective ideas. 

It is a mainstay of some philosophy, that in the empirical world of experience, i.e. the physical world, that objects are ideas. That is, the things around us, the ornaments, the tools, the matter, the substances, these are all inherently ideas. Objects are ideas. QED. 

Now, talking as a singular automaton, namely, a person and being in his own right, the above is plainly true - and I certainly believe it. When I have thoughts, and do not express them, I can be certain that nobody else can know of their content. In addition, when I look about my empirical universe, I can be certain that I am surrounded by ideas. These all pertain to my own consciousness, that is, my awareness of my universe.  

But in saying the above, what I have previously not been certain of, speaking as a singular automaton, is the inner mental experience of others. Hitherto, this problem has been conceived naively, by myself at least. That is, I myself have mostly taken it on trust that other people have a defined consciousness, albeit one that I find extremely difficult to imagine for myself. I find, by way of an example, that when I observe others, and I try to place myself in their own position, that is, exchanging my consciousness for theirs, my thinking breaks down. I have failed to see for myself what it is that others glean from being them! 

And in light of this personal failing, I have sought a worldview that makes sense to me. And I think I have a way of putting it so that it can make sense to others, too. 

To recap, I assume that consciousness is private and personal, and I assume that objects are ideas, and I assume there is no way of ascertaining the inner mental experience of others. 

So, subjective ideas are personal. When I think of a dog, there is no way for others to know what dog I am thinking of unless I act on the thought, by explaining it. 

But this breaks down once we consider that objects are ideas. Plainly, this is a concept that must be taught. Our intuition of "objects" is that they have a 'real existence' outside of ourselves. But these objects are ideas! How, then, can I share these ideas with other people? 

How, indeed, can I share these ideas with other people, and hence not consider myself a mind reader, or some such other mage? 

But we do share these ideas. When I show an article (some ornament or other) to a friend, we are sharing an idea. How is this possible? 

But then we realise: We do not have access to the contents of others' minds. Well, isn't that convenient? 

Nevertheless, the object does have reality. 

So, whereas I cannot be sure that others' have an internal mental experience, I can be sure that this property of mind can act as a cover for the fact that, in one or other sense, I know to an extent what is in their mind. I now come to understand that the property of mind that its contents are private, forever hidden, must go some way to explaining the fact that we can have the same idea at the same time, namely, the object in question (the ornament, the environment, the world... our hands and bodies!). 

Perhaps in some way this is a claim that somehow others can project their consciousness onto objects. But how can it be any other way? For somewhere along the line the existence of objective matter gives us more or less direct insight into the contents of others' minds. 

I am saying that whereas others' minds are historically unknowable, the existence of objective material in waking life gives us insight into the reality and existence of others' minds. 

As a caveat, I would also add, that the same cannot be said for dreaming life. When we dream we are exposed to ideas and thoughts entirely distinct from objective experience. In fact, this property is what characterises dreams in themselves! In fact, that is how we fall asleep into dreaming in the first place:- we disconnect from external life, and we drift into subjectivity, and a subjectivity that is completely shielded from waking life. It must be true! That is the difference between dreaming life and waking life. We dream, then when we wake up we know we are in reality, because we are surrounded by all the ideas that have been cultivated by our peers, our friends, our families, our counterparts, our ancestors and all those people we will never know, living or dead. The world into which we wake up is built of the objective ideas that these people have created. This is proof of the inner existence of others' minds! 

Whether all this pertains to the existence of God or not, I cannot say. But what we can ascertain from experience, the existence of God notwithstanding, is that all academic pursuit is, in one way or other, the pursuit of the endeavours of man, i.e. humans. We are the ones that have built civilisation. We are the ones that have designed the infrastructure. We are the ones who create facts - and facts can be created. 

But saying that, I admit, there is nature, and there are physical laws. There is space and time and matter and radiation and gravity. There are planets and moons and suns and stars and black holes and light. Nature, therefore, must be indistinguishable from God. And furthermore, we work in unison with God, creating and designing by his wont. 

But is humanity distinguished from God? We can say it is, by dint of our creative measures. And God would be happy about that, because we can revel in his glory. 

That is all I have to say about the matter. 

Daniel. 

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Saint Lucia

Colourful dreams and painting dreams

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The night that was last night, and its consequent situation about sleep, consisted of a very mentally dry experience in which it seemed I had been asleep for all eternity. That is, it felt like I was dead, and had ended up resting for the rest of time. 

Then I woke up; it was five thirty in the morning, and I did a few things, had a mince about on the internet, at a cheese sandwich (this was American cheese on 50/50 Kingsmill bread), you know, the usual things. Then at eight thirty am I went back to lie on my bed to read a book (that book? Block 2 of MST326, of course), and I drifted into sleep and consequent dreaming, and the following dream. 

There I was, in my little room, with my sister there, and a painting on the wall. There was a painting on the wall, of which I was particularly proud that I had painted, and then Lee shows up. And my sister is the sister of my childhood, writhing and squishing about in a pre-adolescent condition, and Lee has taken pains to be the judge of my painting, which, now I think of it, was of a man in three colours, brown, green and blue or yellow. And it is a tall painting and takes up the space on the wall of the room. I don't react too kindly when Lee's judgement culminates in his slight and careless retouching of the face of the man in the painting, with his own brush, and I find myself becoming very, very upset by this. I admonish Lee. Meanwhile, my sister, squirming in the glory of her childlike youth, takes a goddess-like phantasmagorical presence, and the dream progresses. 

Lee's retouching of my work, culminating in a mere brushstroke of black paint over the man's face, has caused me such pain, such sorrow, that somehow my painting has improved some-fold. Before I admonish Lee, I can see a version of some of his own work, and the colours are a psychedelic display of vibrant beauty, although the shape of the image is merely a psychedelic pattern, and I'm stunned. I ask Lee, "How did you get those colours?" And he explains, 

"I just mixed these three colours together," and the colours were green, blue and yellow. It is good. He achieves a neon sparkle with hints at a techno festival light display theme. 

Soon we see that the room has opened magnificently into a part of a large two storey house, and one that sits detached from other houses, like an American house from a horror television show. It is not strange that this house, belonging to me myself, contains rooms in which the interior decoration takes the form of pictures and paintings that I have painted - that is, on the walls - and they are all my work. The dream is very much one of those "painting-as-you-go" dreams, but that is not the theme. 

People are arriving for a party, and many faces bring me to this state of feeling very popular. They are the faces of my youth; some are people I haven't seen for years, some are people I have as friends on Facebook, some are Eugene and Lee and Ashley. 

They come to me, these people of my past, and they wonder what is wrong with me. They don't know that I am butthurt about Lee's judgement of my art, and his consequent desecration of said art, but I am - very butthurt, and I spend most of the party in tears, and weeping, and crying. They are all very concerned. 

Meanwhile, the walls of my house are covered in my own art, and Lee also paints several pieces, and I never quite grasp how he gets his brilliant colours. There are messages all over the walls - Lee has left many messages in his art, and this helps me to communicate with my party guests... however, I refrain from employing the use of his every message, being that I feel as if it is disingenuous to do so. I am trying everything in my power to make this a fun party. But I am so butthurt. 

Martin is there, and so is Scott. These are teenage friends. They don't know why I am so upset, crying all the time, weeping, and getting angry. 

Then, suddenly, I figure it out. 

I'm upset because I met God, and went walking with God, and then God forsook me. 

"I met God!" I say to the people, including Tariz and Sharon, and it cheers me up some since I now know why I was so upset. "I miss God," I tell them. 

"Oh, he misses God!" they say. 

Something in the dream is alleviated. The messages in Lee's art are pertinent, and prominent. There is graffiti all over. The art is painting itself. 

We move from the second storey to the balcony, which overlooks the main hall. And then we are in said main hall, and it is dark outside, and the dream slowly comes to an end. The party is over. 

***

Usually, by having these dreams about colours and painting, I wake up wanting to paint. This time, however, I woke up feeling that I was a failed messiah. 

And it's true - in the end, I do miss God. The sentiment served to set me up for confidence in the following day. 

There we have it. 

Daniel

x

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Saint Lucia

Riffing on a theory

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Now that I'm at the beginning of my final year of studies (Q77), I've been reading through the books for my courses, to get a heads up for the official start of my modules. Today I finished a cursory readthrough of Block One of Mathematical Methods and Fluid Mechanics, and hence began to read the first chapter of Observational Cosmology for The Relativistic Universe. And in doing the latter, I came to find myself reflecting on a physics theory about the Big Bang. 

We ask "Where did the big bang occur?" and we are given various answers: The universe began everywhere, at every point of space and time, etc. We ask, "If the universe is expanding, what is it expanding into?" and it is suggested that, since the big bang happened at all points of space and time, it is not really expanding into anything; moreover, it is just expanding. We ask, "What happened before the big bang?" and we find that there are various answers - Penrose suggests conformal cyclic cosmology; that the universe is composed of a multitude of previous universes, that somehow information seeps through from past epochs to present epochs and from present epochs to subsequent epochs. I am no expert on the latter theory, but I like it, yet I have to work out the details, etc. But it is also said that there was nothing before the big bang, because that is where the universe began, including matter, radiation, gravity, space and time. That is, the big bang constitutes the beginning of time itself. 

I found myself previously unable to imagine this idea, of time having a beginning. But when we look at that other cosmological idea, black holes, we often hear of those infinite solutions to Einstein's field equations, namely, singularities. These are the objects at the centre of a black hole, and have infinite curvature and infinite mass (I think), and from them nothing (bar Hawking radiation) can escape. 

It is said that the beginning of the universe constitutes such a singularity; that the universe came from this singularity. Now it makes sense to me that this latter notion could be true. 

It is a known fact of physics that time runs slow for moving clocks. That is, in the strength of a gravitational field, observers find clocks run slow. And now time runs slow for moving clocks, consider this: At the beginning of the universe, when all in existence was a singularity, this singularity must, from its infinite curvature, have contained time in its slowest form known, namely, a grinding halt!

That is, if moving clocks run slow, and singularities constitute the required infinite curvature, time at the beginning of the universe, before the big bang, must have been very, very slow. 

So time did exist at the beginning of the universe, but it was at a full stop. This was the beginning of time. 

Now, if that is true, then it is viable to consider that after the big bang happened, and thus time was born, there must have been a period in which time was able to "get up to speed". It so happens that such a period has been suggested, namely, inflation

But could it be possible that all moments from the big bang up until and including now were part of this inflationary period? The big bang is in the distant past, but perhaps we are more related to it than we know? 

Anyway, in short, that's the theory. In the beginning of the universe time was so slow that it was effectively stopped. Somehow, this was disrupted, and there was a period of inflation in which time increased to the pace we feel it today. 

There are other theories, some claiming that lightspeed was faster in the distant past. I feel this accords with this little idea I've been explaining. 

Anyway, it's time for sleep. 
x









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Saint Lucia

Graduation dreaming

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Hello, 

I've just experienced the most compelling, inspiring and uplifting dream I've had in a while. 

And while there were no extreme visual revelations, no immediately distinct creative representations, as I'm often used to having, that involve images of abstract art, or canvasses made from warehouses and so on, that cause me to wake up with a determination to create, there was a subtle and important theme which I feel is most necessary to my own development as a human being. 

How far back the dream went I could not tell you, but I come to in the old kitchen of number five, my old house, and I have just been at the park where I had an opportunity to engage in some sports. The engagement itself, whilst it may have involved the swinging of a "hammer", like they have in the hammer-throw, was a short opportunity to kick a special type of rugby ball, that looked like a spinning top. The owner of the ball had kicked it my way, and I myself had tried to kick it back, by spinning it on the ground and kicking it that way. Whereas the act itself of kicking the ball was not a very successful one, I felt like I had a purpose - to kick a ball - and that gave me the confidence to go back home and proclaim a new devotion, that of kicking balls, to my father. He was in the vicinity of the kitchen, and so was my mother. 

There we were in the kitchen of number five, and my mother somehow or other got onto the subject of my accolades. In fact, she was going through some old school reports, and one of them had said, "Daniel is a very creative person, but he spends most of his time making googly eyes with Sarah." I said to my mum, "Which Sarah?" and she said, "Sarah Heimann." The Sarah in question was a chubby Jewish girl, and I was indifferent. 

Then we received a visit from a friend of my sister, another girl, whose presence in our lives I was not sure about. She herself was a smart young lady, and happened to be doing a maths course of some kind. She showed me her work; I was nonplussed, and recognised the equations, and was able to say something about it. 

Then I was talking to my mother, who was really admonishing me in her own way, encouraging me to get on with my life, as mothers do, and she reminded me, that not only do I have a place to stay at her house, but I have my own apartment, and not only that, please don't forget, I also have that other apartment in Colindale. Of course!! I have another apartment, and effectively three places to be. 

We went, mother and I, to the spare apartment, which was the one in Grace Close, Edgware now, and we sat and had tea, and watched television, and I checked through the mail. 

And then, as we had tea and watched television, the phone rang. The person on the other line was my one-time care-coordinator Mark, and he had some good news. "Daniel," he began, "You have been with us a number of years, and we're very impressed with your progress." He was referring to my mental illness. 

And I guess that there are a good many reasons why such a representative would be impressed with my progress: I haven't got in trouble for some time, I haven't been hospitalised for ages, I haven't hurt anybody for fifteen years, and I've quit recreational drugs for some two and a half years. 

The care-coordinator, now a black man, referred me to the literature that was on the hallway table, that had come through the post. Mother was keen and interested as I opened the pages of a prospectus and read, 'Now that you have come to the end of your mental illness...' 

And there were a great many opportunities now open to me! Now that I was clear of mental illness, why, I could get a job in a library! I could get a job anywhere I liked! I had graduated my mental illness. 

I had graduated my mental illness! 

I must say, this was a very life-affirming dream. It caused me to wake up early and positively, and I looked at all my achievements: my certificate of higher education, my diploma of higher education. And it caused me to reflect that I am less than a year away from graduating university. That's no mean feat. It's quite impressive. And while there's no reality to the idea of graduating mental illness, there's depth and meaning in the achievements I have made, and am yet to make, and the future is looking good. 

Thank you
Daniel

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