Immediate Certainties.

Immediate certainties, how seductive… yet limiting they are in all truth.

What of the mind? If all things perceived are an illusion, does that mean to say that all things of the mind are not real. That they are all to be taken as a lie?

If we are to have a disbelief of this world, does that mean to say that we ourselves do not believe that which is created from our minds?

To distrust this world, is to distrust one’s mind. Would this lead one to presume, on the matters of neurology that all of which occurs, is in-fact, figments and projections of the mind? With our present times, one could conclude, that yes… this is definitely a contributive aspect.

What leads one to question reality? It is of course, the pursuit of truth.

If one were to discount all of which happens in-front of them as mere fiction… then would that mean to say, that any thoughts which arise from the mind are all lies? Where is truth? Does it perhaps exist outside of matters of the mind? Then, I ask, what is outside of the mind? Is it the phenomena we experience in our immediate reality. Non. Again, what we experience all comes back to the mind.

Yet, getting back to philosophical deliberations past biological musings… one must question the dichotomy of one’s suspension of belief in the world, in-which they are perceiving. It is, in of itself a conundrum to believe that truth in of itself exists amidst a mind which presents falsity… Impossible, for the mind created this dichotomy in the first place. If it is born of the mind, it cannot be one or the other…

The falsity of immediate certainties and secure yes or no’s. A world florid in this representation of opposition. Choose this side, or else… you are either with them, or us. For human, there is no such thing as equality. It is in our inequality, we are equal. Thus, this elucidates the problem of this generation… this fight for equality is one that is pointless, in essence. The contradictory, and paradoxical nature of human could not possibly abide by such idealistic and lofty expectations. The animalistic origin of humans, and their basal functions rebel against such things, which are beyond us. Yet, we attempt to truss ourselves in divinity, and to beyond what we truly are.

Every profound spirit needs a mask. One cannot reveal too much of themselves, to everyone. That is where madness is, one could presume. For in madness, is absolute and total freedom from the self.

Every person is a prison, even you yourself. Are we to love other prisons? To cleave to the other, can be seen as a certain kind of madness. Love, in its complexity can be seen as madness. Although, it depends on which love, you refer to. The love in-which we believe is love, is one conditional. Love me or else! As the favored god commands of his disciples. However, one cannot cleave themselves to detachment. Even then, that is still an act of attachment. Such as foolish tidings of the purely romantique, and the blind toward the impermanence of love (what you assume is love, is not love, but lust). Language has been bastardized, as a result of this information age. Information is neutral, beyond good and evil. Contextual… it depends on whom gazes upon it. Whether or not the tacit knowledge is transmuted to something communicable, will determine its impact on culture.

The conservation of self is a life-long pursuit. One which can be reached, however, one which is never permanent. To be human, is to never be guaranteed permanence. To live, is to be consequence to change. Mostly undecided… mostly beyond one’s will.

We philosophers love our truths. We must not be so precious with them however, regardless of how we cling to these ethics, within. Such ethics, we assume are set in stone. Yes, to our values! All prevailing past our stubbornness in our irrelevance. It is malleable. We forget that our condition itself is predicated on deviation away from what we are to become. Although the form of human is set, much-like the acorn who is determined to one day grow into the tree… the variables of the state of that form, is relied upon other factors. I allude to life-experience, for this metaphor.

Do I spit a lot of nonsense? Yes, and no. It depends who is reading this… I am open to contradicting myself. I will admit something, however: human nature leads me to be dogmatic, sometimes. A state, which is beyond conscious comprehension at times… although, I will my best to aim for an expansion of self-awareness in-order to secure more agency of the self (whichever one I may be).

Even then, language itself… as fickle as it is, in its translation of meaning can be misinterpreted and misunderstood. The paradoxical nature of language, in it explaining all… yet, explaining nothing at all, is one I find most interesting. It is no wonder why, the unconscious mind transcends beyond such structuralist limitations.

I do not ascribe by spirituality any-longer, that is new-age indoctrinations… with its influence from main-stream orthodox religions, and corrupted mysticism. Materiality, in-essence is its primary motive… which, is quite contradictory. The idealisms toward all things good, being prevailing and being the origin of all creation (As if all things which are true are, good)… what of bad, then? With the new-age movement of ‘The Law Of Attraction‘ leading its disciplines to cling onto toxic positivity in-hopes of escaping, that which is inherently negative (one desires, or wills to escape the opposite). What of the ethics of human, who manipulates the other through pure faith? Pure hope… that the truth (good) will always prevail? Why it is that indecency is sold under the guise of decency? We haven’t evolved out of our snake oil salesmen. We never will. So long as human being desires, always, will there be those to feast on their vulnerability.

The assumption that the human soul, and/or spirit and its intrinsic knowing is already deeply entrenched in a being, and such a half-truth is parroted in the community of spirituality. Many a time, one may argue that it is the mind or the ego which blocks us from that transcendental knowing. “Ah, they are just afraid… that is why” When in all truth, everyone is afraid. What a generalization you have grasped, bravo! To be human, is to be afraid. To be aware of one’s self, in its fragility, is to live in fear and paranoia. Perhaps another argument, which appears more substantial and not as arbitrary as the former could be attributed to human experience, in its entirety. Human experience, being tethered to the mind of human… and thus, we extend to the conscious, and beyond that: the unconscious. What of the collective human experience (yes, that pack-mentality… community), as observed in factions of religious ideologies and henceforth? It cannot possibly speak to the individualistic experience of each man, or woman. Improvement of the group overall, does not speak to improvement of one’s own unique individuation. What their mode of truth is, cannot possibly be one, nor universal? To assume that the human being’s conscience can be controlled, is a common misconception. This is where rebellion is given life. Religion is Absurdissimum. When I speak of religion, I also speak of main-stream spirituality which permeates social-media. Toxic positivity, guised as a mere monopoly… a drug of sorts, to act as a hypothetical dressing to a festering wound which infects, and cuts deeper. The insignificant human’s grasp to something infinite, to justify one’s mortality. “You exist in the 5D, therefore you transcend this temporary existence.” Therefore, does that mean to say that this existence is not real, due to its impermanence? The claim of its existence is in exact opposition to absurdity, or contradiction. One refuses, through conditioning to teeter on that precipice/edge of uncertainty and certainty in favor for the extreme, of that latter. Ah, is this politics then?

In essence, one must do for themselves. The precursor to this, is the will of human… which has to do with the inherent nature of assuming power. That is the drive of human. In one assuming responsibility, one realizes that they are free… and they’ve much to do. With this freedom, however, introduces a crippling fear… that is, the illusion of our accessibility to the infinite. Human beings cannot possibly be limitless, yet this world in-of-itself, due to our small scope of perception, presumes that which outside of us IS infinite (or perceivable through sensorium). What with the “You can do anything you want.” Slogans conflating the natural seeds, of human narcissistic tendencies. The truth of the matter is that “Yes, you can do whatever you want. WITHIN LIMITATIONS.” What control have we? When nothing is predictable, guaranteed—or the like… When nothing, and everything at the same time is both known and unknown.

There are no immediate certainties. Creation of a higher power, or deity beyond ourselves is merely born of the human fear and reality of mortality. That is, beyond human, there is no forever. Therein lies the fear also, of assuming responsibility and direction for the self… thus, one’s alignment to a faction, or pack of sorts, in its animalistic nature is comforting, yet dull and listless.

My lust for this perceivable truth, is one of my cardinal sins. Curiosity is pleasurable.

What do you believe Meryl? :
“That existence, universe, and everything within… is utterly meaningless. It is beyond good, and evil… as well as the limitations of human. To be human is to be given to the temporal, impermanent conception of the ‘self’. There is no metaphysical. There is no beyond-the-beyond. inexplainable phenomena transcends beyond mere consciousness, and structuralism. That is, the deepest and darkest depths of the part we have not yet scaled—we have not yet traversed. The unconscious. Universal, and rooted in the psyche of all human. Human must not find absolute despair in the chaos of a world, most indifferent. There is no deity to cry to. No one gives a shit. There is freedom in that. Human must find their own purpose, otherwise, if they are to ascribe by one given to them, always will they feel lacking. Always will they feel empty. If you must question, there is a dissatisfaction. The betrayal of one’s true nature. Human is attempting to find immortality, through the promise of an enduring renewal of the self. Psychological renewal. Such a parallel is noticeable in allegory, and mythos spread throughout millennia. Human is most interested in human.”

That is my belief, not yours. There cannot possibly be any argument, when I believe you’ve an agency and will to your own beliefs. Take no masters. I do not, myself. Am I fence-sitting to avoid conflict? Non. Rather, I see no point in taking anyone’s opinions personally… for everything, in this world is a matter of opinion. Even what I write, is mere opinion. The core basis is my collection of virtues, and ethics built through time. Human needs moral compass, for preservation after-all. An aspect I have not yet questioned or explored, but will one day, when maturity and understanding calls for it.

The world is pointless, therefore it is funny. Much-like how someone farts randomly, at unexpected times. It is funny, yes? Farts will always be funny, I do not care what anyone thinks. The unexpected, and taboo nature of the fart has me dead. My sensibilities could be described as European to many, due to my bluntness. I had to evolve this over time. Non, I did not happen upon such a state in immediacy. I used to be a coward. Afraid of saying, and writing exactly what is on my mind. Many see me as terrifying due to my being ‘filterless’—those closest to me see me as authentic, and real. What matters is that I chose this for myself. For those I keep closest to me, are ones I can safely be my goofy-ass self around.

Am I a Nihilist? Fuck no. Fuck those guys.

Self-help And How It Did Not Help Me.

Surrounding one’s self with positive imagery, does not seem human… the world of self-development is toxic in its positivity. That which is meaningful, is often created through struggle. With this, we’ve “Hustle Culture”. Yes, work harder… yes, throw out the limitations of being human in favor for work-work-work. You are no more than your work role in society… no human being with their own sense of identity, or autonomy. Never quit! NEVER QUIT! “It feels good to pretend, doesn’t it?”

And so… we question. Why do we seek ‘self-help’ in the first place? Is it to improve one’s self? What is to be improved? Why do we strive to improve? If one desires to improve, why is happiness tethered to it? Why do we assume improvement equals happiness? What equals happiness? What are your desires?

Say you desire: People to like me more, women to fall at my feet, to be rich, influential… powerful.

Why… ask yourself ‘Why’? Examine the experience of phenomena and culture. Why do we strive for the things we strive? Why do these problems arise in-relation? What defines these as problems as such?

The answer will be mostly likely, due to unhappiness.
Dissatisfaction within ones life. Now, wishing to change your circumstance due to suffering is not at all terrible… that is not the purpose of this post. I speak from experience, for I once walked this path in search for satisfying this dissatisfaction. I was under the assumption that my dissatisfaction was bad, and I should feel bad for feeling so. However, what is happiness in-comparison? And is attaining a permanent state of happiness achievable? Are these negative emotions to be discounted? Is a human, still human if they are forever happy? Isn’t misery, and struggle necessary?

Asking questions… and questioning the rhetoric of self-help books leads one to their own personal truth. Not just that, digging deep into your own values.

If there is one thing which has helped me greatly above all else, it is philosophy and virtue ethics.

The funny thing however, is that the format of these works will not give you a shopping list/set out of clear-cut instructions to follow… as self-help books do. Philosophy and virtue ethics, leads one to discuss ‘what a good life is/may be’ and not how to achieve it. The considerations for being good, which is synonymous to being fulfilled and happy.

In all truth, the self-help industry sells hope. Those who are in the state of dissatisfaction, are the hopeful.

Of course, philosophy does not offer all the answers… nothing will. There is no universal truth. No one can, and will tell you the truth. That is entirely up to you. In saying this, this is the path least followed. One of the most difficult things an individual can do. Take responsibility of their own understanding of reality, into their own hands. Self-help has much to do with giving one’s self reassurance, practical advice (platitudes), and establishing personal authority. Philosophy, on the other hand seek to introduce advancement to practical problems for a popular audience. In example: social issues. Philosophy in of itself is a practice of rational inquiry. Self-help authors do not criticize or deconstruct the concepts they present… this explains why we’re fed the same thing over and over again.

Most important of all, do not follow any master. Do not trust any advice given, out rightly. In your pursuit to self-mastery (by Nietzsche’s definition), you owe it to yourself to be skeptical… you owe it to yourself to question.

Also, in Meryl fashion… I would like to say “Fuck you, fake self-help gurus, and the self-help industry. Shove your culture-soaked toxic positivity up your ass! Every single one of you fuckers talk the same, and act the same in your seminars. You’re this century’s snake oil salesmen. Anymore sheen, you’d be blinding airplanes you fake fucks! I say people should all seek their own truth. Not be spoon-fed your snakeoil any longer!” (Note: for comedic effect, people assume the term of curses are well… angered. Not in this case).

Music Appreciation Post:

This damned man, right here. Where the hell has he been all my ears?! Not a single song of his, I’ve heard so far I do not like. All of them. Every. Single. Damned. One.

It’s like Tally Hall, Mike Patton, Cherry Poppin Daddies… a whole bunch of “Holy Damn…” Like Colourful atomic bombs exploding in this head of mine. To clear away the grey. To wash everything in colour!

I’ve Been Drawing You All Along…

AI Composite.
What AI, supposes he looks like in facial-features.
The Sir.

I flip-flop between believing in fate, and also believing in the notion of ‘soulmates’… although, something deep within me, always brings me back to that belief.

On occasion, I like to delve into the occult. Receiving readings, or getting drawings done… even drawing from my mind, to try and find out who this is.

I call him “Alexander”, even though that isn’t rightly his name. It just seems rather ‘fitting’.

I’ve found him in traces of everyone I’ve ever became infatuated with… or, ever been in a relationship with. Had I ever encountered him physically?

The answer is ‘no’. I know that he rightly exists, however.

Subconsciously, I’ve been drawing him…

And even when I do find him, I’ll still… continue to draw him. He is my muse.


I will make an admission.

For many years, I had believed in the notion of soulmates. That there was only ‘one’ person, who was destined to be with me. That this person was looking to. That this person could fill an emptiness deep within me. Loneliness is what I have felt, for a majority of my life. It is in this loneliness, I had attempted to find fulfillment but had not succeeded.

I had spent hundreds of dollars, and countless hours of cold-readings, psychic hullaballoo for what? to quell my anxieties. To tell me that “It will be okay. It will be fine.” To be entitled to this fictitious pipedream of ‘true love’, via the media.

Nearing my late 20s, I realize that none of this is real.

The Greek Mythos, as per Plato’s symposium spoke of the notion of soulmates… that the eternal struggle of human, is to find the ‘other’. Such mythos permeates all throughout religions. It is deeply ingrained in history, and by extension, culture.

The belief of soulmate sets idealistic expectations… one which ultimately disappoints. People aren’t products. They desire, and fear… they have feelings. Yet, in today’s era we swipe through slews of people as if we were looking at a catalogue. To place a ‘value’ on a person. The notion of ‘soulmate’ demands that the other person be ‘perfect’, when perfection does not exist. Immediately, the individual strives for “happily ever after”, in this pursuit of perfection. That is their ultimate motivation. We lie to ourselves.

Soulmates aren’t all that romantic. Rather, it’s selfish idealization. Fights, squabbles, arguments… they happen. Polarities between two people. They happen. The notion of soulmate demands that the other does not bring conflict with them, during union. Again, nonsense.

In my digression, that is not to say that I do not wish to get married one day. On the contrary, that is my intention. To one day marry into a stable commitment, with the intention of ’til death do us part with children in-mind. They are not perfect. Rather, they are human. They are real, and practically speaking they fulfill my expectations. Man, or woman. It matters very little to me. It is the person.

“Is this the person I wish to spend the rest of my life with? To grow with, to experience all of life’s trials and tribulations with?” The ultimate question. I am looking for the best journey with this other.

Even then, one is complete all on their own already. There is no cosmic love pre-assigned.

Music Practise. Meryl’s “Technical Bible.”

NOTE: I’ll be updating this with any new discoveries I make for my own pianistic progress. Pianists, especially piano students stress the importance of technique in pianism. That is why many a young student attends Music College. To refine their technique.

It’s been quite some time since I’ve posted, and this is attributed to my attention being divided elsewhere. Namely, my PhD. I, however have not abandoned the prospect of piano. Primarily, I have been working on refining ‘technique’, that is to better make the piano sing… regardless of repertoire, regardless of differing rhythm or key. How can I better serve the piano? How can I?

The piano must sing.

I am reading a fantastic book by Hungarian Pegagogue, Jozsef Gat. It is titled “The Technique Of Piano Playing.” My piano teacher gave me some of the pages—scanned in-fact, which was given from one of the piano teachers to a good amount of students at The Conservatorium. Being the nosy beaver that I am… I tracked down the original publication. These are some notes that I’ve taken, to better refine my technique, so that one day, I may make the piano sing.

The structure of the human organism (physiology and neurology) has not differed, therefore, there is no new way to play the piano. Since Chopin, Liszt, and Bach’s time… the manner of piano playing is still employed throughout all conservatoriums. Good Piano playing. Just as well, in companion to the physiological aspects of human, the piano-forte has not since changed in its construction since the 88-key variation by Steinway & Sons was released in the 1880s. It is therefore, affable to consider that there ought to be a parallels drawn between the aforementioned pianists (and more), in how they relate to their instruments.

As for the “piano-murders”, and the thumpers… non-non. You want to love the piano.


What are tone-colour concepts? :

Tone Colour Refers to the quality of sound, also known as “TIMBRE”.

What is Agogic elements within pianism?
Accents dude, accents.

What is the “Dolce Touch”?
Dolce Touch means “Sweet Touch”. The pianist sweetly ‘touching’ the keys.

What is vibrato in pianism? In context of applying a display of ‘force’.
One can physically bend the pitch by applying more pressure, or forcing the key downward. That is, keeping the hammer in contact with the string, not retracting it to its former raised position.

Do not associate the notion of “Tone colour” with the execution of touch upon the piano. The pianist makes use of many functions, physiologically speaking. Many a time, some functions… whether that be the wrist, pivot of the elbow, trunk and/or feet can be in contradiction to one another. Effecting ‘touch’, thus, effecting playing.

Tone colour refers to the quality of sound, within the harmonics series the ear is a peculiar thing… we’ve the lower overtones and upper overtones within each tone/note. Lower overtones produce a ‘softer’ note, whilst upper overtones produce ‘sharper’ notes… note that this is on the minute level. Within semi-tones. To the standard listener, a note may sound the same or register as the same note via a tuner device… however, the frequencies/oscillations will determine the ultimate quality of the sound. E.G. 440 HZ may register as an absolute A4, however 430 HZ still registers as an A4… albeit softer in its colour. The colour of tone is dependent entirely on the construction of the piano, and its very quality… that is, the physical materials used in unison to produce the sound. Quality of felt, and coating on the hammers for instance.

A longer time of contact, that is hammer to string will produce softer tone colours. Inversely, if contact time is shorter, tones will be sharper. Again, this has much to do with the piano’s construction.

By way of oscillograms, higher piano tones diminish more rapidly in comparison to lower piano tones. In essence the tone colour does not depend strictly on the pianist, but rather the construction of the piano.


“The hammer cannot be brought up to the strings by a uniform motion and therefore a swinging motion has to be applied in order to give the hammer the require impetus” (23).

NOTE: The velocity of the hammer, to the string determines the dynamics/volume of the vibration.

The velocity of the hammer is dependent on the pianist’s striking of the key, attained at the escapement level.

The manner in-which the piano operates, mechanistically to produce sound has to, in simplistic terms do with the hammer striking the string. Not ‘touching’ the string, rather, ‘striking’. If one were to softly press a key downward in a soft and even manner, one will no-doubt touch the string of the piano to the hammer. No sound, however, will be produced (Mute Sustain). The feature of the hammer falling back immediately, after ‘striking’ a string is tantamount to the production of sound.

Sustaining a note, without use of the pedal is where one would press the key/depress it right into the board. If one listens closely to the piano, vibrato is generated. A display of force leads to “Vibrato”. One is forcing the key, if one presses the key down to the bed of the keyboard.

Pressing refers to a consistent, and constant application of ‘force’. One does not press piano keys to adequately play, doing so is an inefficient use of energy. The beginner’s mistake, also is to combine the two… that is, ‘swinging’ with ‘force’ after the previous.

This is known as ‘thumping’. The pianist who depresses the key all the way to the key bed, fails to see how the piano works. There is no need to exert unessacary energy to produce a sound from a piano, even if one is attempting play at a louder dynamic. In deploying the depression of the key, should the strike be executed correctly… the key needn’t sink in completely, rather, only half-way to the bed of the keys. The mechanism of the hammer, supports this. Even a slight tap will deploy the hammer on the string. Therefore, any additional movement or force from the finger is merely supplementary. Never force the sound out of the piano, by way of the keys. Never.


  1. A firm basis: An elastic support; an actively swinging unit for executing the swinging motion, referred to as the “Active Unit.”
  2. A firm basis refers to the appropriate position of the body. That is, a good stool or bench and correct posture.
  3. In piano playing, the entire body works as an elastic support. The body is always in a state of elasticity, when afforded healthy tension. The rebound (springing back) of keys/shock produced is absorbed by a series of elastic joints. The subtle kickback is not noticeable, but indeed present.

    The same can be said for one striking a hammer onto a nail. One will not hold the hammer down after the blow, but rather, one will re-coil the hammer elastically by muscular action as well as force generated from hitting the hammer onto the nail initially. The same mechanism can be said of the piano hammers to the string. The ‘rebound’ or ‘kinetic force’ must be absorbed by the joints (of the entire body) in-order to execute the next stroke successfully.
  4. Yes, the entire body plays a role in absorbing this ‘rebound’ produced from the keys bouncing back. Therefore, the feet of the pianist plays a very active part in providing ‘elastic support’. NOTE: The feet do not play an ACTIVE role in playing a note, rather the feet act as support to the rest of the proceeding mechanisms of the body.

NOTE: Elasticity refers to physics. That is, the body possesses a healthy amount of tension, where the body can resist distorting influences I.E the motion of touch to the key.

Alexander Technique.

Drawing Dump.

I forgot to post these drawings, I did. They’re from 2019.

Meryl Keioskie
Meryl Keioskie

At this moment, I am still practicing pianism and music theory. Mind the delay in updates… more or less, I’ve other things to tend to. Enjoy these drawings, anyhow.

A Rat Appreciation Post.

It is no secret. I am somewhat of a rat enthusiast. I own six of my own.

Meryl Keioskie.
My Rachmaninoff.

Rachmaninoff is my favorite, of course.

Meryl Keioskie

Then there’s Papa Haydn. A huge mega-chonk.

Meryl Keioskie.

It’s a pity, that they only live for two to three years.

Such wonderful creatures. They bring me a lot of joy, they do.

Taking Yourself Out On Dates.

There is a lot of pressure, especially in this society for people to couple with one another. The need to settle quick and fast, is what… I believe accounts for the high divorce rates nowadays.

As a twenty-five year old woman, and welcoming myself back into the dating scene… I don’t have a sense of urgency to settle, as I formerly did during my youth. For me, I do not need a man. I want a man. During courtship, if I am unappeased in any manner, or if any of my boundaries are crossed. I simply cut ties, and that’s it. I move on. There is no loss, for me. Continuing any further would be an ample waste of time for me, as well as energy. I’ve better things to do.

Although I had only just began, three years ago, working on myself as a person I see that there is still much work to do on myself. At the age of twenty-five… I view this as an optimal time. To do all of what I desire, to go to wherever I wish, to take up any hobby that my heart, well pleases! (piano and music theory) I am free to do what I wish. I’ve no obligations, no responsibilities and I am infinitely lucky. The time is ripe for myself.

And so, for the first time, I decidedly used my Sunday off to take myself out on a date.

I walked around the city, marveling at the beauty of the sights, smells, and cacophony emerging from… what could only be best described as an orchestral profession of crowds. The smell of singed meat on the BBQ stoves, the beautiful flowers, the children thrashing about in the communal pools, the skateboarding youth and joggers who added to the picturesque land-scape of my view. A strange calm came over me, as I strolled around observing people. I felt as if I were in a dream. Families, couples, and the odd homeless person or two graced my senses. Each with a story, only known to their sacred inner-circle. “People are just so infinitely interesting” I thought to myself. Some people had noticed me, and flashed me a smile. Some had even waved. A friendly gesture, which warmed my heart and yet… felt so strange. As soon as the exchange was made, the people would of course be quick to go about their businesses. I would become invisible again. Free to wander around, and admire the handiwork of this world without interruption. I felt as if I were god, generating and organizing this reality with my own filter of consciousness.

From all of my walking, I then had to add bandages to my blistered feet. My leather loafers bit into my heels, by way of my enthusiasm in covering as much of that portion of the city as possible. Whilst I tended to myself, an odd fellow approached me. Looking rather unsettled, he would point jarringly at my bandages and spit out nonsense that I couldn’t recollect. I would look past him, not acknowledging his presence. Signaling the vibe for him to back off. And much to my surprise, he did. I thought then “All of my working on myself is paying off…”

There upon. I had the opportunity to wander around my University. It was abandoned, after the Pandemic had led to a closure on many establishments. Doors were locked, the Campus empty… signs detailing the onslaught of fear and panic, with “Social-distancing” littering the expanse. The Café all boarded up, and chairs and tables, akin to a lifeless bodies stacked against its front wall. A complete ghost-town. And yet, in eying my reflection in the multitude of glass-panel windows and doors, I saw myself. Although I was physically alone, I didn’t feel that way. I enjoyed that echo of mine self, and I sunk deeply into the moment. I would dance, and tap my feet… allowing that impression of myself to follow suit. “We are both like puppets, on a Broadway stage… aren’t we?” All the while… the undulating, and familiar hums of “The Best Of Frederich Chopin” radiated from my noise-canceling headphones. Into my ears. Into my heart. Into my soul. The moment, through poignant imagery and sound now branded to memory. A sensation I desired to have again.

There upon. I attended a museum exhibit, and drunk in the sensual pleasures which resulted. The political commentary, the peppering of violence and sex in the displays–a common feature, no doubt in regard to contemporary art. I still remember that visual experience. That sensation. That emotion. I want it again… in writing this. And strangely enough, it was just me the entire time. Enjoying my own company. Enjoying my own time. I eyed couples who had also attended the exhibit. The museum exhibit, a common dating staple, to have poor fools who converse about their surroundings as opposed to each-other. Why is it, we are afraid to face one-another… yet we claim to love one-another? The cinema is a similar place. Stare at a screen. Do not bother about each-other.

My being solo had led me to reflect and observe these couples. Walking hand-in-hand, with much lust in their eyes, for one another. The giddy smiles, the queasy gestures. Their hands surfacing over the ‘designated’ places, where they ought to touch one another… their little conversations, that may later relegated to mere fluff. Ornamental, they felt to me. Yet, I felt compassion as I gazed down from the second floor, upon their little bobbing heads. Helpless fish, thrashing about. The curators, shuffling back and forth underneath to color that image with more ‘excitement’. Poor creatures… I wonder if they wonder what tomorrow may bring. I wonder if they wonder…

Wondering if you’re wondering, that I’m wondering… or perhaps to lead one to wonder again?

“How could they look so alone, even though they’re with one another?”

Was I envious? Strangely enough. No. In my being solo, there was no one to hurry me along, or annoy me with their banal conversation. I could take as long as I wished to truly enjoy what was on display. For it to leave a lasting impression. For this moment to be for myself, and no-one else. An instance of this rushing I had observed within those traveling in a pair of more, was that their attention was not theirs entirely. It was sacrificed for the good of those accompanying them. This revelation came upon me, when I saw that I was the last individual to sit through an entire Art film, whilst others had left. The raunchiness of the film, the absurdity. I saw it in their eyes. Glazed over. They were not attending to the piece. They were more fixated on others… and of course, themselves.

I came from being someone with little value of myself. I cared deeply to show compassion to others, at the cost of my own being… at the cost of my own character. My value was at their beck and call. From that moment, I realized I had changed. Now, I see that only some people are worthy of that tenderness. That softness. Not all. And that when people do things, there is no reason to get upset. People will do what they will do. I never had any say, or control over their agency in the first place. And why should I?

And I decided that the one who deserves that the most. Is me.

This is what it’s like huh?

Then I came to the conclusion:
“I can make beautiful memories with myself. And yet, I fooled myself for years and years thinking that my life will only begin when the right man enters the picture.”

I learnt that day, that I am just as happy and complete alone. I will take myself out on dates, anywhere I please from, now on.

There is no place, I won’t go to.

Valuing Yourself.

Before 2020 ends, It is important for myself that I ought to be honest. Always.

I like to be openly honest. Not to allow myself to be vulnerable… but to more or less place higher expectations on myself, and to of course improve as a person. If I have but one true purpose in this life, it is to find my true value in this life. Nothing else.

Some people may fear doing so, in speaking about themselves or publishing snippets of their lives on blogs. That’s understandable, I used to fear doing so for years. For me, my comfort is garnered from the reality that a. no one truly cares, b. I’m writing for myself, past anyone else and c. I’m forever evolving as a person. I have nothing to hide. Even with the walls of text I am prone to write, I still don’t reveal all of myself. I simply can’t, no matter how much I desire to. Therefore, this should further solidify my justification. This post will age, for certain, and with its aging, I will have matured into a different person, by then… as I have been, since I firstly began on this journey to retrieve myself.

I write a lot. Anyone who has corresponded with me, can attest to the amount of detail I put within letters. I enjoy writing… so a lot of people may make the false assumption that I am obsessed with myself to an unhealthy degree. On the contrary, I do not fantasize about myself (after this post, I now do)… rather, I project what I long within myself onto others. Therefore, this would suggest that I have much more work to do on myself.

I should be fantasizing about myself, that’s where I’ve been going wrong.

Problem area #1. infatuation and crushes.

I’ve recently entered into the dating scene again… not primarily for the reason of attempting to find love, but more or less for the reason that I’m interested in testing how much confidence I’ve garnered through the years. Initially, I had suffered with severely low self-esteem in my youth. ‘Extremely low’, by that measure would be an absolute understatement. I hated myself for many years. This hatred is a product of a number of things… firstly, one being with how I experience the world. My being Autistic (Asperger’s) leads me to be hyper-sensitive and anxious a lot of the time. Just as well, my being different and idiosyncratic to others is instantly recognized… and I was severely bullied as a child for this reason. The perfect recipe for low self-esteem, and the funny thing is that… I didn’t even know I had low self-esteem ’til three years ago. My initial low self-esteem led to a very damaging and toxic relationship. When you have no self-worth for yourself, anyone will do.

However, I do not regret this relationship. Just as well as everything in life, despite the pain, for it led me to realize: “Ah yes, I hate myself don’t I?”

And so, began three years of work on myself… and now, the results:
I am two years away from a PhD, financially independent, and I have taken up piano and music theory. I have developed a voice of my own, and assertiveness. I take myself out on dates, wherever I desire: The art gallery, piano recitals, concerts. Years ago, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to do that. However, I still have many blindspots to myself that I must iron out.

One of main issues in life is crushes and infatuations. They serve no purpose, and are of no use to me… yet they have sustained my fascination toward the unknown, throughout my twenty-five years. My infatuations would be very intense and long. I have in-fact been single for a majority of my life by choice, and my infatuations and have sustained me for one to two years. Such obsessions and inclinations have nearly destroyed me, and you know why? I was too stubborn for years, to let go of these fascinations due to my fear that I wouldn’t be able to draw.

OH! Heaven forbid that I don’t have some ideal–some muse to draw! HEAVEN FORBID! Yes, I’m a lot like Hector Berlioz… sadly. Minus the genius. Berlioz always had to be infatuated, or he couldn’t create.

The ultimate.

And although that was the narrative Berlioz told himself, I believe I can change mine.

What I draw, is essentially my projection of the imago of this desire onto the object (individual). My fascination of the opposite sex, all has to do with a desire deep within myself to unionize the unrecognized aspects of the self.

Infatuation can only happen from when you are distanced from the object, or you just simply don’t know them enough. For me, it’s perfect. I could fantasize and imagine the way this person is, in any fashion I would like. Selfish? Absolutely. Which leads me toward that desire of rectifying it, in the first place.

The rush of fantasizing about scenarios in one’s mind, much-like a film reel of romantic montages is like that of a dopamine hit. I have clung to it for years. Oh, for so long… I have longed for an idealized image of someone who is my counterpart. The unreachable. For so long… and this is a guilty admission that I have kept to myself for all of my life, due to a lack of understanding. This is an unhealthy, obsessive fascination which boarders on absolute lunacy. My infatuations would be long, and detailed within the space of my mind. I would fantasize about objects of desire, and how great I thought they were. How wonderful it would to be with them. To talk to them. For them to understand me. For them to hold me. And so… this desire would fuel me during courtship. I would take the initiative, and pursue my object of interest with tenacity. Leading the conversation along, as it were. Taking a stronger approach as opposed to being meek. When I see something, I have all intention of attaining that goal. And of course, this scares men off. They go running for the hills.

Was it desperation then?

No? For me, that never occurred to me. Subtlety isn’t something that I can do naturally, however it’s the forte of the feminine, apparently. If I like a guy, I like a guy. I tell him, and whilst doing so, I set boundaries. I am impatient, and I don’t like wasting time truth be. Either, the guy likes me or not. If he doesn’t, he can fuck off. Simple as that. I can seem rather forceful. Rather intense. I know that to be certain. Is that the main problem? No, because in all truth I don’t care if they run. It’s the feelings I am left with, that are far worse (even if I have another guy to replace the former guy). And they aren’t a symptom of the fellas who run. It’s a symptom which leads one to ask “Why.”

Causation: Lack Of Self Love.

This is the reason: It is within these objects of desire I see lack, not a lack of their presence (although, that is a very important thing) but a lack within myself. My longing, and fantasizing for someone else is evidence of the still present lack of self-confidence within.

For years… I finally figured it out. I wanted someone to complete me. I wanted happily ever after. I wanted roses. I wanted that nastiness–that emptiness within me to go away. To subside. But you know what? That isn’t addressing the issue at all. No man could ever complete me, no matter how perfect he appears to be. No one should EVER place their condition of happiness on someone else. EVER. No-one is responsible, at the end of the day for how you feel.

People are unpredictable, nasty and damaged themselves. People will let you down again, and again.

Therefore, the responsibility of happiness shouldn’t be placed unfairly on others. Always, the responsibility is yours. You decide, and you choose your happiness.

In your life, you are number one. Always. Number one! I know it’s cliched, but damn if there isn’t any truth in it. You must love yourself before someone can love you. It’s that simple.

Just as well, place expectations on no-one. People will do what they will fucking do. No-one is predictable. No-one.

Ultimately. When it comes to a crush: tell yourself, it isn’t true. Because it isn’t. That there is as fake. You don’t want fake. You want real.

The fake imago that I had built up in my mind, through strangers all had one thing in common:
They would adore me.
They would understand me.
We would have long drawn-out conversations together.
And they would love me.

Therefore… I had all I needed to know. I now needed to do all of those things for myself. I needed to give myself all of those things, and that is what I am now in the process of doing.

I see this disease is found, not just in myself… but others too. We all desire for ‘love’, yet none of us know what love is truthfully. I myself, do not know what it is, in regard to Idealizations, and seeing past the ‘good’ of the person.

Everyone has darkness to them. Everyone.

One day, I am certain that I WILL love. However, love truly is mysterious. Lust isn’t love… love has staying power. Love is getting to know someone for years, and years. With all of their damage. With all of their ugliness. With all of the gross and disturbing truths. People are gross close-up, did you know that? Love is all about staying for the reality of those things, despite that, you stay! That is what love is.

Heuheuheuheuhe, also divorces are at all time high nowadays. Did’yaknowdit?

What does one do?

DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON ANYONE. EVER. Sure, they look nice. Sure… but did you know that they shit, fart, and masturbate like everyone else? Also, 9/10 they’re emotionally stunted and don’t bloody know what they want. There you go, cured. But I hear you saying “What If I see them with another –” Yeah, don’t just look… stare. Take it all in. That’s their problem now! See, I fixed you. They not only get the sweetness of that person. They get all the ugliness too… ohohohohohohoh~

That there, is just a human being. The meaning you assign to the human being through your eidetic experience, is how you perceive the being. Your subconscious is the one that’s kicking you in the ass, my lovely. Instead, your mind ought to be occupied with fantasies and admiration of yourself, as opposed to some cookie-cutter ‘dream’ cooked up from the recesses of your subconscious.

Although, if you do have crushes you simply can’t be rid of… treat them as if they’re fiction. You know? Movies, or celebrities. I like to daydream about Frederic Chopin every now and again, but that doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with him (to be fair, he is my phone’s wallpaper though). Hahaha, hell no! Stay dead, ghostie! Chopin is my go-to material for enjoyment. In my daydreams, he plays me all the Nocturnes I want on demand. And, he also bitches about Franz Liszt and tells me that he’s in awful pain all of the time. Then I laugh to myself and say “Oh Chopin, you so crazy~” My imagined Chopin is more reliable than anyone else, and yet… I still know he’s fiction. Because he’s dead, heheuheuhehueheuhe.

Chopin was a finely dressed peacock. Very sensitive, deep inside… he had a tendency to alienate his friends over time. His ego fragile. and his mindset overly negative. Deep inside, however Chopin’s heart was sentimental. Chopin was ugly and beautiful. Chopin will always be my go-to fantasy. One day, I will play Chopin on piano. And he will be with me, finally…

Meryl has a dead boyfriend. Meryl has a dead boyfriend. Meryl has a dead boyfriend~

No! Meryl has a dead husband. Get it right. He’s my husband in my daydreams!

Although, daydreaming about yourself is really what you ought to be doing past the object of desire. Honestly. For example, I like to daydream that I’m playing in front of an audience, and my hands have the same dexterity and agility as my teacher’s… when I’m like 30 or 35. And then, for some reason Frederic Chopin comes out of nowhere and starts making out with me.

Also, depersonalize people you’re interested in.
Have the least bit amount of faith in them, especially in the early stages.
A majority of people you cross paths with in your life, WILL NOT WORK OUT.

Sing it with me.

Don’t expect them to contact you.
Your world doesn’t revolve around anyone else.
Don’t put them on a pedestal.
They won’t ever prove anything to you.
Don’t believe their words.
Always expect that they will fuck up, because they will.
Replies are shit? Do the same.
Look at their actions. They are already fucking up.
Ghosted you? Then fuck them off.

You’ve got no time for that shit!

You have your own life to live. You have lived without them, and you can easily live without them now.

And don’t give them second chances. Fuck them off for good. Use your ‘tegridy! There’s billions of people this world, mang. Don’t be wasting your time on someone that’s wasting yours. With my disappointments, I always get new replacements and the fun begins again!


In my observation. I have learnt much.

I have now decided to never have a crush or infatuation on anyone (alive) ever. My sister, in her infinite wisdom… and her having more dating experience, told me that she doesn’t develop crushes, anymore because she just knows it’s a load of phooey. From the land of make believe. People aren’t impressive up-close. People are just people. Therefore, that’s all the justification one needs.

” No one could ever live up to the idealizations within my mind. No-one. Mere illusion are what these fantasies are, and figments of my psyche past anyone else. To place such standards on others, are of pure selfishness and masochism on myself. “

Wish me luck. When this post ages, I hope to hell that I’ve made progress.

But Meryl, what will you draw if you abandon crushes? Have you seen the world? There is a lot of shit out there to draw. A lot.

Who knows what will capture my interest? That is the ultimate beauty of it all.

Side bar advice:
Don’t ever change yourself for anyone else, except yourself. Always. And as my former viola teacher used to say

“Does it look like I care?”

Fuck no, Mr. Viola man. Fuck no.