I bought way too many records, sheet music books, other books, etc. on ebay and amazon this week. I’m having problems with impulse control. Granted, these are all things I would’ve wanted to buy anyway, but it would be better to buy things in moderation rather than, say, spending hundreds of dollars on just records in a single week.
A couple weeks ago I swore up and down that I wasn’t even going to buy that picture disc (released on Record Store day), but then I found it for a bit cheaper. I also bought other Record Store Day re-releases.
I’ve spent more than $100 this week just on books related to David Bowie, and I’ve also gotten other books and a buttload of CDs. [*headdesk*]
In addition to all that, I’ve been drinking too much and I often start crying for no good reason. I’ve been having a terrible time sleeping, too.
Somebody told me again that I probably just need good sex and that would help with my problems with having a high sex drive. That might work for other people, but considering that I tried to most of the past 16 years or so to get someone, anyone, to have sex with me, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to assume I will be able to have sex again anytime in the future. I certainly wouldn’t consider it healthy for me to get my hopes up, anyway, because that would be setting myself up for failure. It’s possible that I will never really get over that, the fact that people don’t seem to find me sexually attractive, but I think I also need to be realistic about things. And I do hate the idea that I “need” sex, (this person’s words, not mine) because I find it highly unlikely that I will ever get any. There was a time when i was in more of a depressed episode and didn’t really care, though, but it’s impossible to predict these things.
It is a difficult symptom of my bipolar disorder, and no drugs or anything seem to help with it. But like they said in The Princess Bride, “life is pain,” I suppose.
I think people just say that because they assume anyone/most people are able to find sexual partners. I’ve had people actually suggest that I hire prostitutes, but I would not be comfortable with that and am too afraid of STDs.
I suppose it annoys people when I complain, but I don’t really care. If they find me annoying, they can stop talking to me, I guess.
Woohoo. Additionally, I don’t like the inability to use HTML (or, in the case of forums, BBCode) because that makes it difficult to have any control over the way you refer to things outside of Facebook. But that’s neither here nor there. I think a good way to go would be just to unsubscribe from all the humans and only see stuff from groups. I’d like FB if it was just, say, the 60s/70s vintage advertisement group and the David Bowie group (which migrated from an actual website). It’s the real people posting random, unpredictable stuff that I don’t like. I like to see things posted in categories, and this doesn’t happen on Facebook.
I have been trying to move to other places on the internet. It’s nice to interact with people sometimes, but it’s too difficult for me to do that on Facebook. Anytime I try, usually by commenting on people’s posts, I am ignored. This often leads to me deleting the person because I don’t see any point in being FB “friends” with people who completely refuse to talk to me.
I also enjoy that forums, in addition to usually being based on a specific topic, feel less like a popularity contest. There are usually fewer people posting photos of themselves, fishing for compliments, etc. (Posting photos of myself is extremely terrifying for me, and bad for my self-esteem. Another reason I don’t leave the house is because people often think it’s ok to just take/post photos without asking me.)
This has been a terrible month for a number of reasons. I seem to have forgotten that it’s not necessary to be drunk or otherwise intoxicated every day. There is just sort of a cloud of despair that follows me around. I’ve been having anxiety-type nightmares. Yesterday I dreamed I was just standing in the kitchen, screaming as loud as I could. Not out of fear, just from being fed up with life and everything in it.