Fuck it

I’m lying awake in bed, 10:16PM, gotta be up at 3AM and get ready for a 6:30AM to 1:30PM shift. I calculate my daily protein need because I need to get in shape again. I feel terrible and I need a haircut. Stopped smoking and ate whatever. I deal with life one day at a time. I can’t remember the last time I felt happy. Is it depression? Maybe. But I live in Germany where medication isn’t the same as the USA. I supplement cucurmin and omega3 vitamin d and goji berries, all that shit. It helps a lot too. As reading the bible and praying. I worry a lot, I mentioned that. I worry that I will be too tired to perform at the job, to tired to drive and make stupid mistakes, too tired to deal with all the people at work who I look down upon secretly. None of them got my talent. I know my worth, I fought hard to crush my self doubt about my worth. Yet in the end it is as my Korean pastor said: our talents are just tools. One isn’t better then the other for being given a tool. In fact those who are are called to use those tools for the benefit of others. Is my motto. Since we believe in a God who called us to serve. Who served us throughout His human life. I know you don’t believe this shit. You’re one of those sick fucking animal kind that I am called to be put down and suffer because you’re so tucking petty that if your fucking wife wants shit you become her little bitch and can’t see that there are genuinely people who don’t care about the food you eat the car you drive nor the tucking penis size.

Call US the mentally insane. So be it I guess. One day at a time. One tucking minute to another. Fuck

I

Just deleted my post by updating blank space. Fuck!

In a nutshell: Buddhism is eastern paganism dressed up in progressive rags by Japanese Zen masters. Rampant sexism would lead any liberal Asian women (actually men too when i think about it, you dont need to know any jews to be antisemite either) (fuck my post before was so much better) to mockery. Like liberal westerners do to Christianity. Yet they don’t because we’re raised Confucian, baby. Something westerners lack yet try to grasp intellectually as the single most important factor of East Asian society as a whole. I made the usual witty comments and showed how different and all together higher evolved I am and that I avoided the route of getting all emo about it because of my male determination that is not reflected in my penis size, yet I know that it is a deeply superficial world we live in and that I appreciate the truth it holds (superficial they may be), for without those shitty parts, the blessed parts wouldn’t work for me either. 

Oh and it’s my birthday tomorrow. Fuck. Tuck tuck tucking fuck tuck tuck tuck autocorrect ducks 

I feel weird 

I think I hate this blogging shit. For real it is just a ducking waste of time and nerves.

Blabla

I often dream about my senior years in high school. Like just now. I went to a pretty reputable one, due to my Latin teacher thinking I was a borderline genius or something, going to waste at my local one. To be clear, Germany has little to no private schools and reputation (of public schools) stands and falls with the territory, staff and students. But nevertheless, I dreamt sneaking back. 10 years after I graduated. Walking through dark hallways and weird shit that makes no sense to a rational mind happening. Meeting people, seeing people, crawling into the yard via tunnel system and waking up. I never liked the education system. I got lucky that some teachers liked me. Never thanked them. I am pretty deserving being liked, as I stated before. Well, anyway. Met a girl and her kid at the grocery yesterday from church. Having had a Sales training that day must have screwed with my schedule so much, that I ran into them. You know I suspect there are certain times that all the married people, blue collar workers, jobless people, migrants, friendly and unfriendly people, etc. do their groceries. They all know when to go but nobody knows how they know. Well, besides a empty fridge for starters. But someone someday should write a paper about that, for sure. Anyhow, I always liked those two. They were always friendly to me and the kid especially lacks the meanness that comes natural to most young boys. Making him both: sweet natured, but on the other hand, weak. At times looking, I worry myself for him. Yet, who knows what’s in the future for anybody. (Look at “Teddy” Roosevelt, for example) I think he must have gotten it from his mother. She’s a cutie also. (Me too when I was young btw.) Good people but I went to church purely on impulse. And left on impulse too. Well, stopped going. Got a little angry with their teachings, to be honest. After talking to Sean, my buddy from the States I met there, giving me some examples and listening to his wife speak about: “Going on a date with Jesus”; and, “I know we are all busy but did you ever think about praying on a daily basis”; and shit. My head went: Huh? I thought it is a given to pray and read the bible on a daily basis and don’t come to me with this dating Jesus crap, girl. Keep those fantasies to yourself! (I felt myself thinking) (…felt myself thinking?) But anyway. As I wrote: I’m not the one to judge. I go to whorehouses, because I like it. Though, I know that I can hardly call myself a son of God.

But whatever. Hey, did you know that there are decent offers for you to go into the EU and call from there with your mobile to Germany and in that country, yet no such offers to call from Germany to that EU country? Given you made your mobile tariff with us of course. That shit is confusing. (If you go in not knowing anything) But I want to get good at my job. I eat for ten lately, I worry about what is to come and I need those paychecks coming.

Did you ever went to the Düsseldorf airport? If you came from Incheon or let’s say any other airport that is fairly modern, Düsseldorf will look like one big forest of signs. A “sign forest” as we say in German. Just like European villages grew around churches and places of commerce, so the airport’s seem to handle their guiding system. What I want to say is that it seems to be made confusing on purpose. Well German is a precise language. So it is in its nature to be complicated, I guess. Would be great to have the best of two worlds: Easy guidance system at the airports, Goethe’s Faust, recited by the cab driver. You know, the Nazis were the one who started simplifying the language, by changing the font and effectively skyrocketing readability. In view to become a world dominating force of course. You know its true. Hitler believed in Atlantis. That Germans were descended from them somehow. I say it’s true, because of the fact that they sent search parties to look for artefacts. Heck, that Indy movie says it all. Yeah science! Not so proud what you did to poor Germans back then are you? Yet you seem fine, given that nowadays no one makes science responsible for messing up peoples understanding of race. Which is fair, yet religion ain’t got the same treatment. What it did to peoples understanding I mean. But I came and wrote what I wanted to write after talking about my dream and the run-in. This is all just the rumblings on a Saturday morning.

Maybe

I pushed it too far. Was too willing to abandon tried paths in favor for my own. Now I am left with a shattered personality. Every night I put myself back together. Like stitching up my belly after letting my guts hang out to dry throughout the day. If I would know in which ways I went abnormal, maybe even anti-social, maybe I’d change. Act normal, for sure. Yet I don’t know, so I can’t. I can only witness all the alienation I produce in people. Yet, I secretly revel in knowing that I am not part of that petty bunch they form. This collective of misery and absence of raw talent. There must be some rules in the guidebook to humanity I’ve failed to learn. Sometimes I shudder in disgust when I look at mainstream music videos, especially South Korean ones. So fake and bent to plunge society into a even deeper hell, in favour of an industry that hammers out dreams like a factory. I know that I produce the same kind of resentment in people that watch and listen and actually like this shit. Which is when I get proud of me, being so damn real and authentic. For don’t get me wrong, it is hard to be the only one. I don’t just act like I’m the only one. At one point I thought that people would love me, once they realise that I could bring them authenticity, real talent, even a pinch of magic into their shit. But, alas it’s always going the opposite way. This all reads like a sob story written by an idiot. Rambling on and on about how misunderstood he is. Yet I am looking forward to type this shit up. Recently I try not to think too hard about what would happen when I’d loose my job. My feeling says that I wouldn’t, but call centre agent, even when inbound and part time is a damn miserable soul sucking occupation. The upside is that I can buy all the food I want. Downside that there is only so much ice cream, chips and soda one can eat. I’ll try to clean up my diet. Chicken breast and spinach, eh? Even started smoking and cursing for a short time. Luckily the smoking I got rid off again. Learned a new name today, tidusekenu, or something. The Lord of my righteousness. I like to watch sermons on YouTube before work. It calms me down. Opium for the working class. But still more real then those power ballads trying to soothe the Korean soul, aching from pressure that only Confucian societies could produce, plunging into economic hyperdrive after the war.

So

This is it, then. The same ol’ story playing out. I am worried and I get worried about many things. Like the coherence of the shit I write. 

Little things, really. Little things matter to me. Like manners and stuff that makes one want to be a good person, because reasons. 

I hate things that aren’t really deserving. Like people with girlfriends, kids or those who choose to marry and make everyone else miserable in the process. They strive for what is normal. Yet end up filling their void and erroneous thought with other people. Erroneous, because their capability to think and come to the right conclusion is stunted. Stunted by an provincial attitude of their spiritual capability to know universal truths. A good mind has to have a grasp of its own blind spots. How? Well, you tell me! 

(What makes one strife for this kind of knowledge, anyway. You’ll end up more alienated from and hated by people, that’s all. But for some of us that isn’t a matter of choice really. At least there is all this poetic language to speak about this shit, so “we” can feel important or just confuse the likes of you by making it sound glorious)

I seldomly love, yet I know that without being loved, it would all be just unbearable. Do I feel deserving of love? Well, of course I do. I am a pretty loveable guy. Once you got around me considering you less evolved for all the meanness, pettiness, gossip, cruelty and superficiality. And your need to shove it into my face because you know that anyone who is different is a fucking misfit. In fact let’s just peacefully ignore each other. For your love would be a greater burden then your hatred. Both I can dismiss on my right assumptions of your mental and spiritual capacities. Yet love is stickier and harder to wash off then hatred. But usually you’d probe the ground first. Until you know your self love would take the greater hit of rejected love or friendship, the only response I have to offer by default. And when you finally get tired of hating me, then my friend, peace arrives. And there I am, having suffered through all this shit, without complaining because the world loves you. You are many, we are few. And the part that cares in me is just as guilty as you are. And whatever I have to say is foolishness. Like, I go: good thing I write for myself, cause I know this doesn’t make any sense to anybody, but me. But then again, I write cause I like to imagine an (inner) audience. Maybe to those parts that are fragmented from plunging down the fucking abyss. Who knows? 

Hi,

My name is Danil and I am writing because it makes me feel like a human being. I am 29 years old and will turn 30 by the end of the month. I am a second generation (south)(duh) Korean, hailing (haha… hailing, get it?) from Germany. I always liked English, ever since my brother made fun of me not spelling “forever” correctly. I tend to drop a lot of childhood memories in blog posts. Maybe a Korean thing, a sign of unresolved childhood trauma, immigrant thing or just “my” thing, I don’t know: My rich interior life seems to be fuelled by them. I don’t have friends. I don’t have a girlfriend. I am straight. Christian. Recently got a dead end job as call center agent, part time. Live alone in an shitty rooftop apartment in a shitty old house with shitty people living in it. Oh, my parents are the owner so I don’t pay any rent nor bills except for internet. But I don’t feel bad about any of that. Heck, I say: heck.

I honestly regard people who are obviously part of the bourgeois as other species. I dream of being part of them. The air around them is just different. The good life. Academic brilliance may get you entry, money may too. Yet there are many rich people who are very base and vulgar in their taste. I speak of people who seem to have descended from another stock. Who seem to radiate those civilising factors of society so naturally they must have had it up and running for centuries. Why all this sugar coated sentiment around all the shit that clearly come with obligations that are slipping my mind in order to built this case, you may ask?

Because I got a reasonably wealthy father who is very base and vulgar in his taste. A mother who has struggled against and lost the fight to integrate her feminist tendencies, being a horrible, un-nurturing mother in between. A older brother, who has done exceptionally well academically, gone off to be protestant pastor among all his German girl friends he uses as anchorpoint for both, emotional stability and personal value in a society that is predominantly non-Asian looking.

I resent them and I resent my past up to around half a year from my present point. When all my life choices were made by “old me”. I am pretty weird, from what I hear people say even flat out, bananas, bat-shit-crazy. I hear that I am gay or transgender a lot, maybe for being so weird or not having interest in close personal relationships with women and in general. Recently I hear that I have a small penis too on a semi daily basis from my 25 year old co-worker who is struggling with some of the shit that society does to people, (all that entitlement crap) but heck: call center agent in Germany usually means being one pay-check away from jobless-benefits, anyway. The tattooed, borderline retarded, stinking loosers without manners nor any common sense, talents and skills (but alotta issues) gather there. Which is why I fit right in, you see? I got hate and resentment as my number one driving factor. How far do I thought that would take me. Heck, if it keeps me fed and clothed and clean, you won’t hear me complain, amigo. In fact I am thankful that an oddball like me found a job. Minimum wage, sales goals, co-workers who hate my guts, all things that would have been fine for me to handle while I was sitting at school, sleeping. Now that it is my reality, I start to write. On an Easter Sunday evening in 2017. One day before we commemorate our Lord coming back from the dead. Still better than those panic attacks I had being on jobless-benefits, stuck on three months of “Project: Fit For The Future”. Elementary math and German on the level between 5th and 8th grade. Microsoft Word, typing up CV’s. It was living hell, a reminder why being without a job doesn’t pay. I vowed never to talk about it to anyone, but this hardly counts. Gosh. I see myself when I was in high school. Stoned and angry. Vowing to reach for the Buddhist idea of enlightenment above all else. How noble I was back then. This sense of nobility has never really left me, speaking of entitlement. The kind that makes you feel like it is all a big joke. Like a drama, so badly scripted that anything but clocking in your hours and spent the rest in solitude seems like a waste of precious energy. Hey, gotta go. Did I mention I spent good Friday with a prostitute? I regard myself “unconventional” in regard to the Christian faith. But, like you would give a damn.