# 9, Thursday ## Intentions: 1. Work on categorizing skills learned in 3-4 craft books and see if any of them combine/subsume each other so that there’s a megaversion of them which is ultimate complexity level you must convince yourself to expose your brain to in order for it to grow new brain networks!! 2. Research [Spot.ph](http://Spot.ph), Reddit, etc. for more ideas about how to go about UP culture from an outsider’s POV. 3. Read Assistant to the Villain / InterStellar MegaChef 4. Work on punctuation “:” and others.—perhaps your weakness: forgetting these options exist. ## Happenings: Still couldn’t keep myself awake after waking up early Exercised 10m Wave of tiredness 4:39PM Memory problem: couldn’t recall PGEBPC initialism. Theories: you didn’t actually encode it right. Couldn’t recall even memorizing the words in relation to their first letters. Just a passing “Oh I’ll remember this, this is so easy and familiar.” Nope. Only the first 3 and then the last one. Problem is I can’t even recall what it is that I already do know so I can’t relate it to just anything that could surface when I think about content creation. ## Grateful For: Exercised 10m. This was a semi-zero day, but I finally finished “The Art and Practice of Contacting the Demiurge” by Ophiel. I don’t exactly feel it’s going to work but it can’t hurt to make myself vision boards, so I made two. I feel like I have no real goal except to be beautiful, be surrounded by beauty, and most of all, to feel beauty. I feel nothing or short fleeting moments through songs, daydreams, small wins with productivity that’ll hopefully bring me there. The idea that the Demiurge doesn’t understand words is really interesting to me, because same. Only emotions-visualizations. And the rules are a mystery. This sounds so flimsy because anything can be a data point, and if not, it’ll just be chalked up to a random “sorry, I don’t feel you” from the Demiurge. Like a finnicky hand of a claw machine. Not so different because they’re also referred to as a kind of computer program. Again, there’s no harm in stoking the embers of my passions again. I’m just so afraid—I think, deep down—of it spiraling out of control again. You know, “obsessive spiral of jealousy” vortex again of yore. My idea of happiness is wedded so strongly to beauty and I’ve yet to process this. Perhaps I will in a story. Thought about the line, “Melted ice cream can always be frozen again.” I’m that frozen ube ice cream. Sure hope I am. Also, my muscles twitched over 80 times today. Fuck.