Today, Dasha and I worked a lot (she worked, and I walked around and entertained her🌝). We recycled all the plastic and metal that was in the enclosure, dismantled the old floor there, and cleaned out the trash. From the old boards, we made a big bonfire. Also, I went to the cosmetologist today, where I got injections in my head for a big brain (for hair growth). I really want to get Botox for my gummy smile—I smile a lot, mostly due to nerves, since I taught myself to react to stress that way. And I don’t particularly like my smile, although, of course, no one gives a fuck. Also, I spent a long time today fucking around with mods for Oblivion—my Shadowmere kept disappearing, but I fixed everything. I also transferred my modded Oblivion to a flash drive and will install it on my laptop; I hope nothing gets lost along the way and everything runs. Well, I’ll give the old computer to Dasha; she’s been dreaming of playing Oblivion for a long time. Of course, no one bought me the Oblivion remaster, but that’s understandable; I’m like a rose among manure on OnlyFans 🥴🥴🥴 totally shat on all my fans. Again. Well, at least it’s a reason to make a paid post. Although, you know, I immediately spend that money on household stuff. I remember around New Year’s I bought something just for myself, but otherwise, it doesn’t work out. Well, fuck it. Speaking of roses—I recently planted five roses, four climbing and one bush. Roses don’t take root well in our soil, but I still hope. I covered them at night from the frost. In general, what I want to say is—Dasha did an amazing job today, huge thanks to her.

I also came across a video on Instagram where some old fart says that self-discipline is the source of all success. I’ll say that’s complete bullshit. The source of success is genetics and surrounding circumstances. Nothing depends on the person as an individual. My God, even this personality is genetics corrected by circumstances. No one will do more than their body’s and environment’s resources allow. Were you born a short woman? Accept that even as a bodybuilder, you won’t lift more than 20 kilos with your arms. Were you born with low intelligence? Accept that you’ll have a diagnosis of mild mental retardation even in a family of professors. Were you born with receptor deviations? Enjoy incurable depression and apathoabulia all your life. Were you born a genius in some ass part of India? Accept that your family has never seen the internet, you live in a miserable patriarchal commune, and you’ll have 40 kids by age 11. Were you born smart but anxious? Accept that while you’re doing everything perfectly and trying to please everyone around you, you’ll go insane. And your, say, brother, who has the nervous system, empathy, and intelligence of a rock, but an awesome self-esteem, will be successful in all chosen directions—he just doesn’t waste himself trying to do something better than the minimum. Accept that at university, a guy will get a pass even if he has no knowledge. But he has a dick and is liked by elderly female professors. And smart girls will drop out of the course because they’ll be bombarded with questions. And someone is born without limbs. And someone is born a girl in Islamic countries. And someone is born into millionaire families. And someone wins the lottery. And someone just has a boss who’s not an idiot. Is that okay? To apply self-discipline? Let those who dare to say something about self-discipline ch//ok//e on shit. A person who has truly gone through fire, water, and copper pipes won’t dare open their mouth at those who can’t cope. Because, suddenly, oh miracle—no one wants to be unhappy! We are living organisms and do exactly as much as we can to be happy within our capabilities. Self-discipline doesn’t turn on with the snap of a finger. Telling someone about willpower, self-discipline, and so on is like telling a fat person “you’re fat—lose weight.” Thanks, fucker, you discovered America, and I didn’t notice I weigh 200 kg. Ha, spit on such people. When life brings such a circumstance that becomes a real test, not a clown show, suddenly people realize that they get through it mostly thanks to luck and fucking God’s miracle because nothing depended on them at all. And somehow, suddenly, they shut their fucking mouths. If you see an adult who tells you, another adult, something about self-discipline—feel free to tell them to fuck off. Let them eat shit.

By the way, want another joke? We don’t even have rational thinking. Before a decision reaches the conscious frontal cortex, it already exists for 8 seconds in the basal ganglia. We as personalities don’t exist at all—we’re a piece of flesh trying to prolong its genetic material and changing under the influence of external circumstances.