4 Nov 2012 19:44 This trip is well underway. I want to write what I think about it, but the truth is, I don’t have any thoughts about it. Nothing exceptional has happened. Some people are able to write a lot about the most trivial, mundane things, but I cannot. I can hardly write about anything, even if it is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not good at putting my thoughts into words, or because I just have any anymore.

24 Oct 2012 22:34 When I’m waiting for something to happen, the result always disappoints me. If I’m planning a vacation or a tour some place, I get excited about it because it always looks so nice on the brochures. There’s a fantastic shot of the attraction, spotless and tourist-free. And then when you actually go there, at best it’s nothing special, and at worst you can actually see everything that is wrong with it. You can see the shady side that they don’t photograph. You can see the graffiti on the walls and the structural damage, dirt and fingerprints left by millions of dumb tourists before you. This is why I don’t like tours any more. It’s always underwhelming. I suppose it’s foolish of me to expect perfection, and even more so that even after I am let down again and again, I still hope that maybe next time, things will be better. And even if you find a place you think you will actually like, all you really like is the “idea” of the thing. When you see the real thing, it never lives up to expectations. Kind of like people too, I guess.
When I find somebody whom I think would make a good friend, I always make them smarter and more interesting in my head, and then when I spend time with them, the real-them and my imagined-them drift farther apart, and eventually I just end up hating them. I know it’s irrational, but that’s the way things go.

19 Oct 2012 1:01 AM The thrill of the chase. When I play a game, and there are many non-linear missions and quests to do, I get into a state of mind where I try to finish everything at once, to play and play without rest or interruption until I’ve beaten the game and found all the collectibles and there is nothing left to beat and no one left to kill and nothing left to find. It’s not a good thing, because I rush and I do things sloppily and I miss out on the details that being real enjoyment. I don’t appreciate the journey. And it’s not good for my health, to have a habit of speeding through everything.

Here I am faced again with a quest, a mystery to solve. And once again I want to rush and to get to the bottom of it immediately. I want to do away with the chase and get the answers without the work. The answer. That’s what I think will make me happy. And yet I know it won’t, because even if I ‘win’ right now, so what? I’ve beaten this game, so what do I do now? And what do I get? A fleeting moment of satisfaction, and then, boredom. Indifference. And the irresistible urge to find a new challenge to conquer.

I suppose my mystery right now isn’t exactly like a game in that way, because if I solve it, then I -will- get something from it, something meaningful. I would get closure. That word gets thrown around a lot, but I think I understand now why some people are dying to find it in their lives. Closure is beating the game, inside your head. Outside your head, any closure you achieve is useless.

19 Oct 2012 12:57 AM I’m not sure what to think any more. I’m at the point where I am just aware of my own biases enough to know that all the good signs I see may not actually hold any truth, and yet I can’t help but to see them anyway.

10 Oct 2013 12:57 AM The more I continue to study, the less confident I become of my own design capability and the less I enjoy the process. Throughout my life people have been telling me that I’m a ‘science person’, that I’m ‘analytical’, that I should pursue a path in something scientific. Well I don’t like science. I like to learn, and when I was small I had a great interest in science, but now I don’t have the attitude or work ethic for studying it. I wonder if I chose to study this just to spite other people or to prove to myself that I wouldn’t fit their perceptions. After all it seems like something I would do. I’m a very petty person. I enjoy design, but I don’t seem to have a natural aptitude for it. In fact I don’t have much of a natural aptitude for anything. I’m mediocre at everything, which I hate. I hate mediocrity. I’d rather be terrible than just decent. At least if you’re terrible at something, it sets you apart from other people.

27 Sep 2012 11:02 AM I’m getting lazier. I used to like thinking about and learning about stuff like philosophy and the way things are. And I used to like having discussions on it with my friends, but now I can’t be bothered. It just takes too much effort and too much thinking. Maybe the television and the Internet is rotting my brain.
I used to like reading novels too, but now I stick to information books. I don’t know why I don’t read novels any more.. Maybe I read too many of the classics too soon and now I don’t have any left. And I’m not interested in the New York Times bestsellers kind of novels. Or any other novels specifically for ‘adults’. they’re like movies to me: I can’t relate. Why should I give a fuck about some international agent and his irreverent new assistant trying to uncover ‘the sinister truth behind Company X’? Maybe if I had an actual job, an actual career, I could relate better. But probably not.

23 Sep 2012 12:56 AM Do I have a thing for ‘private people’? Why the hell do I like this girl when there are better ones out there. Well if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because she’s a mystery. She has just enough in common with me and is just intelligent enough for me to think we might make good friends. And yet there’s still so much I don’t know about her, so much that I know she is hiding from the rest of us. And I have to solve the mystery. I have to find the truth. I have to know everything there is to know, or else I won’t be satisfied.

Really, there is no wrong. Not in our own minds. Our own reality. You can never set off to do the wrong thing. You can never say the wrong thing. In your own mind, you are always right. Every action you take – what you do or say or how you choose to appear – is automatically right the moment you act.
No matter how stupid your idea, you’re doomed to be right because it’s yours.

There’s a lot of things I wish would happen. I wish I were taller. I wish I were richer. I wish I didn’t have to do any work and I didn’t ever have to be inconvenienced and I could just fuck around all day and do whatever I wanted and be happy forever. But none of that is going to happen, and I know it, and I keep wishing anyway.

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… 

But why would I want to do a thing like that?