aspirations like japanese candlesticks are hard to read but once you get it down you know when you are going up and when you are going down

These flashes of intense motivation last longer than cigarettes, but shorter than sex...and they are shared with no one, because it is really just a crippling desire to avoid anything deemed difficult. Or unpredictable.

I think that I disobey God because I want to use the free will that he gave me

I had this amazing moment while driving, of course, and God was communicating with me and I was outside of myself and actually praying with belief that he would bless these other people. And then he gave me instructions for my own life, and I knew that he was offering me freedom, but the devil in my head or on my shoulder tried (successfully) to convince me that it was just my own thoughts, the ideas programmed into my head by my parents, and that they were serving as chains on my limitless potential as a human AND as a former member of the truly informed human potential movement. Oh, but I saw that the perfection offered there came at a high price...one only had to give up the notion that there might actually be a truth beyond our human comprehension. I hold on to this notion because I think that it somehow gives me strength to know that while I have not figured it all out, none of the other humans can say that they have exceeded me and figured it all out. This is the source of many of the ideas I hold dear, some compensating factor that allows me to rule in all equations.

What shade is that?

The shade left of happy is the one where things are really good and we know this on some level yet have strange addictive habits that are fun and entertaining, like drinking wine by yourself, but somehow cause intense anxiety, both when one is partaking and when one is not, for when you are not partaking you are dreaming of the next time that you can have sex, check your stocks, drive slightly drunk in the daytime while amazing spatters of beats cause the hills to come alive...but the place that becomes a refuge is usually not conventional. It is a desk, or the bathroom or behind the wheel, and it seems to contain the most optimistic moments and the purest moments of thoughts both virtuous and vile, but real and mine and mine alone.