Excerpt from an email I just sent to a friend:
[
And (though you may not be interested): in the past week or so, I've gotten various emails/communications from various Foreign Girlies Of Times Past, all in a row. And it is disconcerting because not only are they all coming at the same time, but they are all coming at a time when I'm particularly emotionally vulnerable. The cliffnotes version of this effect is this: I'm feeling compelled to leave the country again for no good reason. We'll see how that develops, but for now I'm withstanding it, if by nothing else but my inability to act on it.
]

Context:
Asked out language partner on thursday (SHOCK AND SCANDAL! AND SHAME!). Result: kind, reasonable rejection. No faults in reasoning. Question was, though framed correctly, misdirected. As is often the case. Overseas boyfriend who she has thus far only described as someone she 'doesn't care about' is apparently more serious than that. Time to spend 6 months getting attracted to someone else.


Events in light of context:
A bit of chocolate dream mix stirred into my sour misery milk.

Next:
Job Fair this week!
Back to the traditional equation: JOB => GIRL => 'HAPPINESS'
 

I don't know if this is the longest I've gone without writing an entry. But it is definitely close.
Funny that, though I don't come here very often and actually write, I still diligently extend my paid membership when the deadline comes. I give lip service, but I don't actually write, don't actually put in the effort.

There are other reasons. Actually a lot of other reasons. That is, for the not writing.

I eventually came back from the korea - this summer. I have been spending my freetime learning new skills in the software realm. I helped write some papers that were published/presented. I have gone to a few places in the US that I'd never been before. I've ostensibly applied for jobs, but not really as much as a good normal person would. I've been keeping up with numerous social engagements with old friends. But not really making new ones, which is possibly quite important right now. Right now.

I used to be able to spend my free time on writing. Now, my freetime seems to have been taken over by work-focused skill-learning, and it is sad. Even though I don't yet have a job, my time gets eaten up by something.
The familiar, the comfortable are all my enemies. I've become complacent. And this type of hobo-complacency, it is awesome. But let us call it what it is: giving up. Even if it involves crazy things with creative people, I can tell exactly what it is. It is the enemy. I feel on the whole UNCHANGING. I feel like my character in the narrative is on autopilot. He's not learning any lessons. He's not really feeling. Not really feeling, yes.

Which brings me to another tired, related thing.

I haven't had a thing for a new girl in a long time. Not for a long long time. Just reruns, things for girls I'd had things for before that may or may not have been default emotions, but still, hard to tell.
And what do you know? Correlation. No girl, no writing. Am I really that much of a one-track creative mind that I can only write the contents of my heart when it is smitten with some female affliction or another? Isn't that just sad? Totally cliche? Something?

Whatever the case, I'm writing write now. Right now. And this, no matter how trivial of a stupid entry to write it is.... this feels.... so far beyond what I've felt before. It's good. Addictive.

All because of a tiny somewhat-serious crush on a girl. a girl who happens to write. (and isn't that awesome?). Am I attracted through jealousy of writing drive? (even if, in this case, there are plenty of other things to be attracted to - to which to be attracted whatever)

It is curious. A curious development.

I am a child.

but yeah so i hope the girl likes me i got her number and will try to cal her and she probably maybe doesn't actually like me and will in fact be creeped out by my diligence in going after her because that is what i quote learned unquote by the passing of age even though it feels totally like being an asshole just it is assholery that is the status quo and i know that i have written every single one of these sentences before in different configurations and i am just following that lowly cycle of self motivation and energy production from nothing but it must eat up something in me something that fuels something but i do not know it stop i do not know it

I'm back. Momentarily. Until the crush ends, would be the easy guess. I hope i'm back long enough to write more. Writing feels so good in my fingers right now, and seriously, I seriously haven't even written even THIS much of anything creative for literally almost a year and it is sad. It is a source of sorrow.

I can't even spell anymore I am so ashamed.

As long as I'm not finding a job, I should focus at least SOME of my time writing again.

Here I said it. And hey, good luck, me, on the pursuit of the next in a long line of possibly meaningless crushes. The latest one that has not revoked its existence and thus my connection to it.

Oh yes, she is also very pretty. That's that. (Seriously, he wrote an entry that long, all just so that he could type some utterly shameless echo of his desperate thoughts of longing? Seriously? Really? Man....) The shame is fine. The shame I feel. As long as I feel something, to give the sappy part of my brain some much needed oxygen.
 

Writing:

I've got a large chunk of a novel done that I'm actually pretty proud of. The only bad thing is that there are still two large chunks left to finish =)

I am writing and thinking about writing a lot in the past few months though. Which is wonderful.


Life-ing:
Not as wonderful is that I've been rather lonely and in another country much of the time where I don't speak the language and I'm becoming really really lazy and feel bad at work and... yeah. Don't know really what I'm doing with my life.


Part of my laziness comes from being addicted to dreams. You know, I wake up, and I know, I just know that if I go to sleep again I will have direct access to dreams. And I do, and it's great? Or something? And then I wake up again, and I say the same thing. What if I dipped in for some more? Dreams?

The effect of this is sleeping in for a very long time on weekends. The secondary effect of this is that I don't get out in the daylight and don't make more friends and those make me more depressed and lonely which makes me sleep more for slightly different reasons. So... it's not good.

But the dreams are amazing.
I will try to document one as a writing piece, but we'll see how it translates.
 

Yay!
I posted a new item. Or is it an old item?
I seem to be cleaning out my collection of old half-completed stories and finishing them up. I think this is good practice for my upcoming attempt at the novel-writing month, in which I plan to try my ultimate example of the half-forgotten project.
I'm excited.
And maybe I can finish some more half-written stories in the meantime!
 

I still see little progress in my language here.
I had a few weeks there where I was having anxiety-induced physical unwellness. Which I never really knew I could produce, but I guess you learn something new everyday.
I've spent a lot of lazy time, but now I think I'm finally comfortable enough here to start worrying about other more dangerous things, like what the heck I'm going to do with my life. Oh dear.
And then I'm once again in a kind of shock. And once again my chest feels odd.

Perhaps it is not culture.

Perhaps it is my own meeting with my own future -the decision time, the planning time, the actual me -that I am so allergic to.

***

In other arenas, I'm becoming very pumped about a novel idea. the bare bones have been in my head for something like six years. As a result, it's kind of a juvenile story. But who cares? Reinvigorated quite recently, I've been planning it out, and working out plot and character details, and I'm suddenly very excited about it, even though it's utterly cliche and childish in many ways. it will be so fun!

I plan, this November, the nanowrimo, to start writing it. I hope to finish by the end of the year. (which is technically against the rules, but I work by my own, and I know that one month is not enough for my plans)

I'm very excited, and hope to give myself more time to devote to it!
I will even proclaim it to friends, that this is what I'm doing. It'll be fun. And it's so hard to find reasons to give time to my writing when there is so much else out there in the world. But it is the time, it is writing's turn, it's my turn to get back to it.

Planning.
Starting in november.
Hooray for being excited!
 

Culture shock seems a lot harder the second time around.

Or rather, it's much easier to adjust to a culture if you've studied the language formally for three years, rather than if you've studied it informally for three months. It's just not the same.

I can't hold a conversation yet in this country, and I don't know when I will. I'm busy working all day, and exhausted at night, and trying to get used to the geography and see friends and keep up with everything else.

It is absurd that I'd decided I would use this time to figure out what I"m doing with my life, because I haven't got time to even think about what I"m doing tomorrow.

The period of adjustment should pass soon, and things will always be getting easier.

But boy is this hard.
 

And once again I've renewed my membership.

And once again I'm leaving the country for adventures unknown.

And once again I'm feeling utterly emotionally broken.

***

Here's the thing.

Right now, for the past month or so, I realize that I care more for another person than ever before. I care about making her healthier and happier. And I feel utterly devastated by the fact that I have to leave her.

It was all expected. It was all planned out. It was all accounted for in the books. My little deadline, my date of departure. And it all balanced rather conveniently in a gray area of uncertainty. Neither was certain enough of the relationship to do anything drastic. And so it remained. But as the last days drew near, more and more it felt stronger. Still not enough to cause major action. Just enough to start feeling it.

Yes, this and those grander questions, those very basic unanswerable onundrums of what kind of life one should lead and when, and how, and the sacrifices necessary for each.

And so, as the time ticked closer and closer, everything cut deeper. And I found myself spending most of my time with her. Here I am leaving the country, and I actually miss out on saying goodbye to most of my friends, finishing a lot of important things. Because I'm busy. I'm busy taking care of her, busy making absolutely sure I'm leaving her as okay as possible. And hoping against hope that somehow things will work out for the both of us in the future.

That somehow she doesn't slip into a horrible condition upon my absence. Hoping that her recent physical progress with her medical issues continue on the upswing. Hoping that she can be happy. Hoping that whatever decision I make with regard to where and what kind of life I plan to live, that things work out accordingly with her.

I don't know what I want out of life. I still don't know. And now it seems like all that I have learned is that there are more and more different ways I could be happy: the most recent being the most intense in many ways. Physically, emotionally...

Just more to be confused about.

Such feeling! So difficult. But so real.

And here I am getting torn away from it. A twisted reverse twist on my first relationship.


 

Watching fireworks.
I am sitting with my family, at home in Minnesota. A family trip up north. Staying at a cabin. Spending the days hiking, and looking for agates, and reading, and generally just enjoying nature and each others' company. These are the nostalgic memories of my childhood summer vacations, continuing to work their magic. For now, the family is still together, still able to bond like this.

I wonder sometimes about how I want my future to be. How I wanted my present to be. How I want my future and ever-speedily approaching present to be.

I find myself torn, more and more, between two possible realities.
One has me recreating my own family experiences, but for me: my own family. My own continuance of tradition. And if it's anything like what I had when I grew up, it will be good for everyone involved. Me, and my future family.
My other possible reality has me forging a new life. It is much more hazy. What kind of family I have, if any, and where exactly I live, and what kind of vacations I take. It's undecided. It's scary. And it potentially does cut me off from my family, but maybe it doesn't. The point is, it could take any shape.

What's funny about these two possible realities is how I arrive at them. It's my decision, of course, but what gets me is that what seems likely to me is that, the determiner of these two will be largely dependent on another person. The as-yet-nameless and existentially questionable _one_.

I guess a related factor in these two possibilities is the extent to which this special someone leads my destiny versus the extent to which I lead hers. I do so wonder how that turns out. But what really still lies out there for me? I mean, I can only imagine how much there is for me to see and experience. But everything I do for that one possibility shortens the time I get for the other. The unknown is still so magical though, but will it ever provide the kind of wholesome and dependable necessity that I need in my life?

And while we're at it, am I even finding a wholesome and dependable necessity here and now? Am I really satisfied? If this were to be option A of settling down, would I be ready?

And the answer is no. So... well, I guess you could say that as long as I'm still investigating things, I don't have to rule out option A or option B, because as yet I am still not seeing the keys to either. Search away, quest away...

I should not stay stagnant in a state that leads to neither. And that is sad, but it's been a necessary obstacle. I cannot do much more here, for anybody. Time marches on.

And me, in that alternate universe where I"ve found a family, and am carrying on the wondrous traditions of my own upbringing: I'm getting older. I'm pulling ahead.
No time to waste. There are windows in this life, and while they don't slam shut, they don't stay open infinitely.


*****

Between this call, this call for whatever it is I do and should in life: where is my obligation? There is this invisible obligation to Tradition and Family and Region and Country... but is that any more invisible to my obligation to, say, my Japanese studies? My fascination with leaving the country and experiencing other cultures? Perhaps that is just as artificial, just as 'not the real me' as these other factors.

Where does that leave any rational decision-making? In the dumpster that's what. But I hate boiling it all down to just 'do what you feel'. In the end, I guess I like having some sort of instruction.

And then the dreams.

I had a dream two nights ago about starting relationships with girls on the other end of the ocean. Some of them I know, some of them I don't. New relationships, new girls. Sex. Vivid dreams, but most importantly, dreams. Those things I so rarely have and miss. Those things that so many people give credit to, or not. In any case, powerful things for some reason. Especially when tied with sex. Maybe I was thinking that way before I went to sleep, and it was the natural result.

Then last night I had another dream. This time was back in high school, partly. But not actually. I was with people from high school. I was tracking down You, the girl I fell in love with junior year who turned out to be married, illegally, to a creep. Suddenly I had a flash of a thought and remembered her, and remembered just then that six years had passed since I'd seen her, talked to her, had any indication that she was alive. Six years is a long time. I wondered whether she had gone to college and finished like she'd planned. Or graduate school. IN either case, that would mean she was about done right now. I wondered if she was still with that guy. If she had kids with him. I shudder. I feel guilty, for complex reasons. I have shifted into my dream by this point, but I feel guilty because I want to find her, and I want to make her feel better and I want to have sex with her and take her away from it all. And then I feel guilty because that's specifically what I HADN"T done back in high school. I didn't question her relationship with him then, and I didn't pursue anything more after learning of her marriage, despite her being so close to me so often. Maybe I should have... and then it's back to sex for my imagination. She probably does have kids by now, and I don't know what to do. She's tied into this weird regret right now in my head and I don't know what to do. Am _I_ the one who's supposed to have kids by now?

So there it is. Maybe it's directly related to the sex dreams. Maybe just obliquely. Whatever it is, some kind of hideous biological clock going off in several different directions, I don't know.

I'm scared. I'm horny. And I'm just not satisfied with my life right now, I guess.

Or rather, I am having trouble with the fact that I've been treating the 6 years since high school like time has stopped, like I can just dive right back in, like everything I had then I would have forever automatically: but I can't, and it frustrates me.


***

Another night, another dream. Another desire.
I was having a party. Various cousins were coming and going, and then Summer was there, and for some reason we were getting close, and looking around my house for a comfortable place to... do more. Nobody mentions exactly what we are setting out to do, but we know. We look in the basement for a place to put blankets down, but someone is down there. We look outside for a secluded place to make out, but my neighbor is there, offering vegan cake. We never found the right spot. And then my girlfriend showed up, and things threatened to get dangerous. Then I found Summer back at the front of my house, and we hugged. She's going away to New York with her new boyfriend, and i'm going somewhere else.
While we hugged, she said 'Bail me'.
I said 'sure'.
Then I said 'what?'
'Bail me'.
I said 'Bail you out? of new york?'
she said yes.
I said I'll call you.
There were still a few weeks left. We said goodbye. I went back inside, to find a hideous looking ex-crush, her hair balding and gray. Then I find my girlfriend outside. The phone rang and someone picked it up, saying 'bail me? what does that mean?' and hanging up. I turned to my girlfriend, nervous about what I was going to do next.

And that's where it is, a third dream about sex with yet another person.
Are all of these just some weird guilt about not getting together with people that I possibly could have? How does that work, and how can you be guilty about not doing something that is so primal? Me not living my youth like I should have? Or just greedy and desiring to act out? Act out for the sake of what -really, it could be anything, because there's so many reasons TO act out! So many forces at work.
 

Music has entered my life again.

And

(To a lesser extent)

Books.

I enjoy. I am inspired. I've just got so little time in the day now. Approximately 2 hours a day in which to eat/relax/socialize before returning to bed to wake up again. It's crazy, I know.

I've entered a routine. Which I utterly despise -I long for the days of staying up alone by myself, and writing into the night. And reading. And playing videogames. I've become part of a person routine, which is different, and brings different rewards and different troubles. Right now, I am missing my alone time. I am feeling the troubles intensely.

But this is hard to describe, when you have to do something right, which is not exactly unpleasant, but not really what you want, so much.

Anyways, the summer will continue.

I talked to my cousin yesterday, the one who works for USAID. It was fascinating hearing what goes into managing an aid organization -how many variables there are, design problems, the whole shebang. Really, an engineering project at a level beyond comprehension, so many parties, so much huge repercussions of everything, so much necessary beauracracy. Really fascinating.

And then my job is keeping me really interested. I am learning so much.

And looming on the horizon, is my jump away from it all again. I apply for my visa this week. Awesome!
 

Life continues.

School ends. Work starts. More opportunities to follow. Still no direction - no tangible goal, really. Little to no inspiration. Few dreams, only vague abstractions.

In short... everything is as normal.

But I miss you, by the way. Can't seem to find you these days. Oh well.

Losing people every day. They fly away. And before long I'll be one of them, those very people I resent abandoning me: I become one of them.

All for progress.
 

Tomorrow morning I take the last test between me and graduation.

My double major degree will be finished, and I will be ready to ship off to some summer employment.

Right now I am frightened even more than normal. I'm so scared of stagnating, of losing what it is that used to make me special. Of losing my sense of my self.

In situations like this, sometimes it helps to sing a lullaby:

I need to write. I need to write. I need to WRITE. I NEED to write.
 

Well I've got more than the heebeejeebees I guess.

I feel locked away by it. It's not the end of the world, it's just something about me that will, from now on, always be there. Unextractable from me, hiding in the corners of my skeleton. I will always be conscious about it. What hell.

But beyond even the matter-of-fact, the implications of it further imprison me. For now, my options are constricted. My future, now with so much less room for cheerful optimism and adventure.

And worst of all, that I cannot talk about it. Cannot reveal it to even my close friends. Cannot even write honestly and openly about it here, because... because. Because it IS what it is. That's what it is.

I wish I'd paid more attention. I wish... well, no more time for wishes. I wish people coould understand. I'm fine with not telling people about it, but I wish I at least had the OPTION.

***

I at least have something to talk about now, just no one to tell it to.
 

I've got the heebee jeebees.
I feel kind of lost, in the immediate moment.

Two potential opportunities, I have not heard news back from either yet, really, and I'm getting anxious. Since they represent major life decisions on my part, I am really worried. Worried I have to find something else -another life?

Where am I going? Really?

Humiliating interviews, and even more humiliating absences of response.

A dirty room around me. No clear goals.

Recently, my hobbies have fallen away, I am feeling more and more distant from my friends, I don't know how things are in my love life, and suddenly I have to graduate. Where is the confidence to get me through to tomorrow?

What has drained my optimism in the past few days? Why am I suddenly full of an uncharacteristic dread that I feel in my shoulders and my toes?

Loneliness? How could I be feeling lonely when I've spent, in the past week, the least time alone than I have EVER?

***

I worry about myself. I worry that I am losing myself, and I don't understand right now, I don't understand how others do not have this worry.

Ugh.

I need to go on a walk, if only the weather would permit me to do so.
 

Well, brain is still empty.

That's what this is for, to fill it up real quick and spew it out in a ready plop.

Forememo:
I don't know what's going on. I'm dating someone and having a good time, but the fact is I think our best times are, though they are really wonderful, they are... limited. There are many good things.

I don't know.

I just find myself thinking more and more of the time about how I would be able to extract myself without hurting her. I think that makes me a jerk -the jerk who doesn't want to look like a jerk?

But I don't necessarily want to extract myself, not really. But maybe. But if I did, how would I? is the kind of thoughts. Which are probably a bad sign but for what reason? I used to think about everything under the sun, why do such things have to be bad?

Alright, I didn't go in seriously, but I swear I'm giving it my all, and I don't know. How come ending it is looking like less and less of an option despite there being no promises. Am I being hijacked by my own sick need to look like a good guy at the end of it? And why should that matter?

I won't go in to more of that stuff, because there's more concrete factors to be addressed:


I'm leaving the country again.
Very likely, as in, nearly in the bag, barring any unforeseen problems. I'm going to Korea to do engineering work for half a year.

This too, has its problems.

The aforementioned, who would have problems with it. But I swear I made it clear how unsure I was about my future, so there should be no reason to feel bad. But she does, and I feel bad about feeling good, and she feels bad about feeling bad, etc. (But we hardly no each other!!!!)

***

Additionally, other friends are voicing some opinions about... well, abandonment.

Am I really abandoning my friends by going off and having adventures abroad? I mean, of course I'll be gone for great lengths, but I know I'm coming home sometime. and there's this wonderful internet thing....

but I wonder sometimes.

Where does it come from?
This desire of mine to work abroad for a while.

Does some of it have to do with some DESIRE to leave my friends? For unknown ones? To what extent are my pursuits a factor of what I know? -as in, is it from what I see here that leads me to go there? Unfulfillment? Perceived, anyways?

I deny it for now. But it is certainly something worth considering. How come I can never seem to commit to what I have? And how much of it is one of those unanswerable questions?
DUH - because I don't know what is OUT THERE! And if here doesn't satisfy completely, -even if it does a lot- what am I doing wasting my time away just accepting it?

I've got my time left to waste. I'm young.

Would I be so horrible to look around a bit longer? To live a bit longer?

Am I just afraid of going to the next stage in life, or what?

I don't know.

i don't know.

How much of it is the circumstance?

How much of it is fact?

Abandon?
 

Well let's take a look at my January resolutions and see what I succeeded at:

-be more comfortable with myself
Check? I have never been more comfortable with myself I guess. Mostly due to the fact that... I'm not thinking about myself much? I'm doing stuff. But there's the sense that I am perilously close to robot mode.

-finish what you started
NONcheck. Fail. Drawn back into school, the possibility of finishing various creative pursuits fades away a little more. I wish I could.

-be a better friend
Halfcheck. To some (and, honestly, very few), and not to others. I'm sorry. Once again, I feel kind of swept out of it. With little time left for those things that are not mandatory but keep us human. Robot...

So I'm in a relationship and it's still not hammered down, as far as... whether it is the best thing or not. I'm getting many opportunities to feel like a good person. And I am having a lot of fun. And I"m realizing I don't have all the answers, and that I need to grow some more before I can be a solid foundation for anyone. I don't know. I am taking care of her.

On a sad note, this wednesday breaks my streak of 22 years of single valentines' days. Not that the holiday means anything. IN fact, I kind of already miss last year, or the years before, when I took it as a time for lonely reflection.

A sadder thought:

Is all of the best reflection, by necessity, lonely?

Where would that put me?

How can I be lonely for loneliness?

****

February resolutions:

-Try and be lonely some time

-Try EVEN HARDER THIS TIME to be a better friend to those I care about

-Start finishing the things that I finished starting
 

So, here's the thing.

And I'm not sure yet whether I should refer to things in vagueries or not, but we'll see what comes out.


What began as something unexpected and pleasant has continued.
My initial feelings were the following:
-I don't think this can work
-I had better avoid it because since I think it can't work, I better not try
-By not trying it would save both parties the frustration

And of course, along with these initial feelings was the sense that, if somehow things DID work, it would be a mistake. Perhaps just a bit of protective rationalization. But mostly just being scared. Because if it DID work, then where would I be? That realm of the unknown, that's where.

But, despite some insistence in these initial feelings, contact continued. While this could persist in the short term, anything further required a decision.

Both parties were concerned that both parties remain happy

Thinking was slightly altered:
-It's not the end of the world
-Why not give it a try
-If it's not working, then it can always stop
-Between two people and being honest, a less than functional situation can be detected relatively simply

ergo: there's nothing to worry about.

Give it a try. Why not?

*****

Things to keep in mind, me:

*Many different levels of interaction to take into account:

A) Physical: very very very (unexpectedly) very very good for various reasons.

B) Intellectual: somewhat compatible, different fields but similar appreciations for learning.

C) Emotional: intense. Sometimes. Sometimes really intense. I can take some, and enjoy it even, but I don't know about my limits.

D) Creative: I'm not sure here. I don't know yet. I don't know. To an extent, yes. BUt I don't know. Suddenly I am very shy about my pursuits, and unsure of hers, not sure how they match.

E) Situational: future unclear in a few months. Much like me.

F) bonus: No real bonus points. Simply because there is something that I think is just... missing. Perhaps an artifact from my initial reservations. I don't know.

G) Tilt: I'm scared. There are things that are scary, and scary partly because I just don't know if I'm a good enough person to deal with them. I said it. And maybe sometimes that's a euphemism for I feel like a jerk. I don't know.

Some very good things though.

We'll see. I'm giving it a chance, and I'm checking it out, and I'm trying not to have an expectation/judgment before making any decisions. Always: I never say never. One can't be certain. And if I come out half-cocked, expecting it to be something bad, that's just what I'm going to make it. And why would I want something bad? So I won't.
And if it is wonderful in the end? Scary wonderful? Than it will be wonderful enough to keep. If not, then not. There's nothing to worry about.


Here we go. =)
 

I'm not going to make a resolution.

It's always the same.

I resolve to have a better resolution by the end of the year.

In fact, a year is too long for resolutions. Perhaps they should be made on a monthly basis, forcing people to actually change, or have some possibility of success.

So in that spirit, I give myself my january resolution:

Be comfortable with myself (and, inevitably, the fact that I am single and quite possibly will be single for long periods of time). Finish what I've started (stories, videos). Be a good friend -especially to a few people in particular (that I know are nice to me, and there for me, and I am not nice enough back).

***

In other news, I woke up to a very pleasant new year, but possibly not for the right reasons. That is to say, while it was nice, it might not have been a great idea (or an idea at all, rather). And reaction was positive for all involved. But I feel like kind of a jerk nonetheless, that's what it is. I feel like a jerk.
 

Would it be -vulgar? Unsophisticated? Whiny? Utterly predictable? Beneath me? Innappropriate? A call for help? A sign of a serious problem? kimochiwarui? Uncomfortable? Unaddressable? Less than tactful? Useless? A new low? Self-defeating? A waste of breath? Cliche? A continuing downward spiral? Totally lame? Sad?
-to say what's on my mind now*?

Maybe.











_________________________________________
*"I need to get laid" and related permutations thereof
 

More the same than ever. Holidays are even disappointing now. A strange mix of being used to family activities, not having enough anymore, and the short ones being not nearly enough to make up for that.

And such feelings of loneliness filter through. Perhaps it is natural.

Also, I am now done with all family obligations and return to a life of self-directed winter break activities. Oh, to not squander such time. The unattainable.

Finished a 5000 word stream of semi-garbage. At least trying different methods of 'storytelling' (*though it doesn't seem to tell the story well)


Talk of 'getting over' people and things has turned up rather frequently among friends recently. I'm applying my standard rhetorical trick in this case, in not liking the term.
To wit: as long as one is still thinking of things in terms of 'over it' and 'not over it', you can never really be over it, due to the necessity of applying the goal check. The only way to truly get over something is to stop caring about getting over it or not. Of fading it out. Though I guess it gets dangerously close to 'the game' (origin unknown), whose rule is only one: if you think about the game, you just lost.

So many of our most horrifying times in life are just like that. We remain safe, so long as we have forgotten about our worries. And yet when we are in a situation where there is nothing to worry about, all of the forgotten worries strike at once and overwhelm us in a completely different way.

This is what winter break is to me.

 

no

Why does loneliness manifest itself as such a crippling thing?
Why is it I have problems participating in life, unable to even get up without a stimulus from outside? Why is it this condition is brought on by noneother than a nervous hope of something good?

A twisted thing, this experience.
Right now... I would say I am very sad. But for that very reason I have to try hardest to pretend that I'm not.

Only slightly related: Vote yay!