I used to eat a lot. I wasn’t exactly happy but the high carbs and sugars kept me full of energy and motivation. My brain worked. However, when I hit puberty I didn’t understand why girls weren’t all over me. Instead of realizing there was nothing wrong and it was just my perception that was holding me back, I decided to blame my body weight.

After struggling with yo-yo diets, I had finally started to starve myself in college. I began to document it in a LiveJournal which I was hoping it would give me the exposure I needed to become a news celebrity (’cause that’s gonna get me women.) It didn’t work but I did lose a lot of weight and kick start my male pattern baldness at the age of 19. It also gave me weird circulation problems and mood swings. My hands and feet were always cold as a corpse that before going to job interviews I would always make a conscious effort to warm up my paws before giving someone a handshake. I had a short temper and at times I would catch myself not being myself. I would either be sullenly slumped in a corner or the biggest asshole on this side of Lake Ontario. Often friends and family would be upset with me and I would forget what I had done. I felt like the abusive husband, spinelessly apologizing to his wife in those PSA ads for domestic violence. I chalked it up as this being my shitty character flaw and I was fucked.

I lived with these symptoms for decades. I started to eat better but because of my foray in anorexia, I had learned to suppress hunger pains which would cause me to forget to eat. I would drink a lot of coffee which also suppressed my hunger but also accelerated my heart rate which I thought was good because it gave me energy. This energy also came with extreme anxiety that I medicated with weed. Amongst my pothead friends, I gained the ridiculous reputation of being the guy who never gets the munchies. On top of all of this, my erratic behavior was getting worse and worse.

With all the caffeinated anxiety and THC-laced paranoia, there was no way I could maintain a relationship with anyone. I couldn’t deal with dating and the few friends who would put up with me would get sick of my chronic flakiness. Family was always a source of unconditional love but they were struggling with their own problems. Ironically, it wasn’t until I started to pay attention to their health problems that I was able to identity my own.

Everyone in my family has type 2 diabetes. Both my parents struggle with it and my sisters were diagnosed with gestational diabetes after they had kids. In case you don’t know, type 2 diabetes is the one you don’t need to inject insulin for. It’s partly from genetics and mainly from a shitty diet/rough life. The poor man’s disease. Everyone told me that if I didn’t watch out, I would get it. I accepted the inevitability but always assumed it would happen when I’m old and gray. I would get yearly check ups from my doctor and everything seemed fine so I paid no heed.

A good sex helps maintaining a good erection. viagra pill on line There’s just something special about her sunsets, her streets and her towering cliffs and valleys that captures the eye and transcends borders, especially brand viagra australia on film. There robertrobb.com discount viagra no prescription are various such factors which are the responsible elements to ruin the erotic state of a couple. You may probably come up with your own choice and can discover for source viagra for sale india make your love life happier. Just as I lost my hair prematurely, all of these mood swings were pre-diabetic symptoms and I was on the edge of getting full blown type 2. It’s called hypoglycemia and explains a lot of my problems with bad circulation and horrible mood swings. I was just hungry and human beings need to eat.

As I am typing this an alarm is sounding off on my phone reminding me that it is time to eat. To deal with my disassociation of hunger with hunger pains, I use a small app (3 Hour Diet) on my phone to remind me to eat and drink enough water throughout the day. As stupid as it sounds, it has helped me manage my hypoglycemia. Incidentally, eating every 3 hours is what you are supposed to do to keep your metabolism in check. Doing that and getting the right exercise everyday has helped me become a little less of a psycho which I’m sure the people around me appreciate. In fact, it has allowed me to be around people instead of shutting myself in.

Part of me wishes I (or a medical practitioner) had figured this out a decade ago but I also know dwelling on the past and blaming others is worthless. I’m happy that I was finally able to identify my weaknesses and treat it properly. I’m much more optimistic about life and excited to focus on my career and relationships that were being neglected do to my ailments.

To summarize; Mortal Kombat taught me that knowledge is power and GZA from the Wu-Tang Clan preached that knowledge of self is the ultimate power. These are both Westernized, pop culture versions of ancient Eastern philosophies that I wish more people would take to heart. The struggle of life is never over but it’s important to keep on fighting.

Deconstruct everything around you so you can learn to build a propitious future.

You know how Hollywood always glosses over things in history? Like if it’s in a multimillion dollar blockbuster film it will be sanitized to not step on anyone’s toes and get the maximum market appeal. I’m drawing blank on some examples at the moment because I’m excited to write down these thoughts: imagine a movie set in the past but void of racism and traditional gender roles. Like what if a social justice warrior was able to rewrite history.

Yeah like maybe a time traveler that goes back to prevent slavery, religious persecution, and patriarchy and how it changed present day. Think about everything slaves and cheap labour built. How long would it take society to build infrastructures without subjugation and war? Would present day be total shit?

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So as you may know I got a G.I. track infection from eating some expired blue cheese after performing at an open mic. It gave me explosive diarrhea for an entire week and then the following week I had massive constipation. The insane push and pull on my anus caused monsterous hemorrhoids and a fissure in my hairy butt. Every bowel movement felt like giving birth. I couldn’t figure out why I was so terribly constipated until I realized I haven’t drank coffee in 2 weeks.

I’m horribly addicted to coffee and after some googling about I found a lot of people get constipated once they stop drinking java cold turkey. Holy shit! My body forgot how to shit without a Starbucks blast of bean water to the colon.

What the fuck? I need to drink coffee to shit. What happens if I survive a plane crash on an island or something? Do I need to carry instant coffee in a back pocket at all times in case of emergencies? This is a goddamn nightmare. I don’t want to be dependent on a substance to shit. I read people who give up smoking go through this. I’m don’t want to be a caffeine junky!
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I also read that the only way to really give up coffee is to ween yourself off gradually. I never understood what decaf was for until now. Now I’m gonna be that guy with the decaf at checkout.

What I learned: Don’t drink coffee or drink it all the time.

After years of using social media through Facebook, Twitter, and Google products I have come to realize that you can learn a lot about yourself and others by what the Internet is marketing to you.

When I see ads and how accurate they are in pinpointing who I am and what I want it really creeps me out. I quickly think back of what I may have posted to a feed, watched a clip of, or chatted about to warrant the advertisements. Which in my case are for hair plugs, body waxing, and embarrassingly specific types of dating services. I totally understand the fear of the power of having unbridled access to such data creates.
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I wonder how much a bald, hairy, single in their 30s is worth to online advertisers. There must be a website that takes all your social network information and tells you how much advertisers bid for your attention. How much am I worth to a corporation? Can governments see how much I am worth to society? I guess this data would be useful to a human resources department to filter through job applicants. Imagine to apply for work you have to sign into a HR site through your Facebook or Twitter account which searched for keywords to flag. I’m assuming all this already exists and it’s why everyone is unemployed.

It was the year 2006. I had just turned 23 and was living in Shizuoka, Japan while teaching English and growing marijuana in my sliding door closet. My father had mailed me seeds upon request and I acquired all my grow supplies from “The Daiso” 100-yen shop across the street from my cramped little danchi apartment. It took me 4 months to grow from start to finish and if I was ever caught, I would’ve been facing up to 12 years’ imprisonment.

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I am compelled to write. You should write, Billy. Time to write.

Stop thinking that you are writing for an audience or that you shouldn’t say certain things and censor yourself in fear of big brother because then you are dishonest. Dishonest people are in sales or politics and not in the creative field of work. However, these business minded individuals don’t consider themselves dishonest as they are simply articulating the truth. Does that make sense? Yeah, it should. These folks guide your focus towards something else to benefit themselves but yo who cares about that.

Because it’s time to write. You got to write and do things you love over and over again for you to get better until you are the best. And once you are the best don’t stop.

There is a word counter at the bottom and I will force myself to hit 500 words as a measure of accomplishment. I will also refrain from cursing unless it is absolutely necessary because I believe I curse a lot and it cheapens my writing or takes away the thunder from lightening. Whatever that means.

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But didn’t you write while you were earning that expensive bachelor degree? Why yes I did and none of it was creative. Academic writing was soul crushingly yet I still had a glimmer of joy from typing words and holding a printed document I created. I’m sure deep in the subconscious I have etched an ability to fully form arguments and present my ideas in a more coherent way then what you are reading right now but that will all come together once I put more time in exercising the creative side again. I will also take the time to read through my writings once to fix glaring mistakes and hopefully expand on ideas. There I just read through it once again which I regret because I ain’t done yet.

Time to write. I must write every night and grow back the cystic notches on my wrists that accompany the carpal tunnel I developed in my youth. These hands are no long devices solely used for gaming and maiming my reproductive tenders. Juice shall flow from my index, middle, ring and pinky every night. Let it flow unto you kind reader. Seeker of inner truth. I shall be nothing but a conduit. A servant. A serpent. These absurd words I bring to you are in exercise of my ability to express emotion and explore the human condition.

Get it out. Write it out of me. Get all these words out until I am able to say something. It takes time and it’s ugly, unpolished, and raw. But it must be done as it is now time to write.