Better today.
Good habits are harder to form than to execute I hope.
Last night I had a few nightmares. Lack of sleep makes the following day very surreal. I tried to work for nine hours before putting pen to paper.
When was the last time anyone got eight hours of sleep? I have to be in bed in seven minutes to get the right amount of sleep.
My life really isn't as bad as I make it seem. I have a job, I study, I have a girlfriend and great friends. I don't starve, I'm not homeless. I can't help but feel I've missed something though. I have no goals or ambitions. I am intelligent but have no skills. What I would love more than anything would be to contribute to society. Drive an ambulance, clean the streets, maintain hospitals, deliver mail, fix sewers, build bridges, anything. I wait tables and make drinks for the wealthiest people in London, probably some of the wealthiest in the world. They tip terribly.
Having no direction in your twenties is just about as trite as it gets of course, but I feel myself slipping behind the curve. Everyone I know is at least on the bottom rung of their career. It seems like bliss, no-one knows how high they'll climb but they do know where ever they go from here, it has to at least be up.
I can't find my ladder, I don't even know where to start looking.
I watched a film recently about a man who spends his life waiting for a phone call that will tell him the meaning of his life. He never receives it, and when forced to confront the absurdity of lifting a meaningless existence waiting for meaning to present itself, is forced to retreat into an imaginary paradise.
Today is Thursday the 20th of march 2014, I will write again tomorrow.
Thursday, 20 March 2014
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
I broke my word.
Of course.
I shall have to try harder.
Of course.
I know that the last thing I want to be is inconsistent. I am typically unreliable in the extreme. I keep a deep mental list of the times I have let people down and what I can do to make amends. Many of the people on the list have long since past out of my life. I still feel guilty of course.
Unreliable narration is and always has been a pleasure of mine. It is less pleasant in first person.
I was in a hospital today. A friend of mine has cysts on her ovaries. She will likely never have children.
To remove the cysts they inflate the abdomen first with carbon dioxide to allow operation and then with saline solution to prevent scar tissue forming. The abdomen swells like a body bloating with corpse gas.
Coming round on morphine is like waking up the day after losing a loved one. Bliss followed by realisation and then despair. Blessed are the forgetful.
She is a catholic, lapsed. The urge to go forth and multiply hasn't diminished though. As the diagnosis unfurls, meaning leaks from her life. She hasn't cried but she wants to be alone.
I leave. I used alcohol hand sanitiser seventeen times during my visit.
Today is Wednesday the 19th of March, 2014, and I shall write again tomorrow. I hope.
Of course.
I shall have to try harder.
Of course.
I know that the last thing I want to be is inconsistent. I am typically unreliable in the extreme. I keep a deep mental list of the times I have let people down and what I can do to make amends. Many of the people on the list have long since past out of my life. I still feel guilty of course.
Unreliable narration is and always has been a pleasure of mine. It is less pleasant in first person.
I was in a hospital today. A friend of mine has cysts on her ovaries. She will likely never have children.
To remove the cysts they inflate the abdomen first with carbon dioxide to allow operation and then with saline solution to prevent scar tissue forming. The abdomen swells like a body bloating with corpse gas.
Coming round on morphine is like waking up the day after losing a loved one. Bliss followed by realisation and then despair. Blessed are the forgetful.
She is a catholic, lapsed. The urge to go forth and multiply hasn't diminished though. As the diagnosis unfurls, meaning leaks from her life. She hasn't cried but she wants to be alone.
I leave. I used alcohol hand sanitiser seventeen times during my visit.
Today is Wednesday the 19th of March, 2014, and I shall write again tomorrow. I hope.
Monday, 17 March 2014
I am told that writing every day will make me better at writing, although to be honest I doubt that.
I am told that talent doesn't exist and that everybody has an equal shot at something as long as they practice. I doubt that also.
I am told that writing is therapeutic, and that it will help to make me a whole and dynamic human. I choose to believe this against my better judgement.
I want to write because I have to believe that I have something worth expressing, though I lack the tools to express it. I have never been musical, I cannot paint or draw, I do not dance. I am dishonest. Let me be clear I do not mean that I lie, but that I struggle to communicate truth. Truth about the world, about myself, about others. Things that should be told. I have to believe that my truths are true and the only way to know that is to tell them. Or maybe I just want attention.
I will continue to write until I have written down a single sentence that I can be proud of. A sentence that is an achievement, and then I will write some more. Sometimes I will write a lot and sometimes I will write a little; sometimes about cars or swans and sometimes about the piece of cake in a shop window. I don't know what I will say, I only know I have to say it.
Today is Monday the 17th of March, 2014, and I shall write again tomorrow. You have my word.
I am told that talent doesn't exist and that everybody has an equal shot at something as long as they practice. I doubt that also.
I am told that writing is therapeutic, and that it will help to make me a whole and dynamic human. I choose to believe this against my better judgement.
I want to write because I have to believe that I have something worth expressing, though I lack the tools to express it. I have never been musical, I cannot paint or draw, I do not dance. I am dishonest. Let me be clear I do not mean that I lie, but that I struggle to communicate truth. Truth about the world, about myself, about others. Things that should be told. I have to believe that my truths are true and the only way to know that is to tell them. Or maybe I just want attention.
I will continue to write until I have written down a single sentence that I can be proud of. A sentence that is an achievement, and then I will write some more. Sometimes I will write a lot and sometimes I will write a little; sometimes about cars or swans and sometimes about the piece of cake in a shop window. I don't know what I will say, I only know I have to say it.
Today is Monday the 17th of March, 2014, and I shall write again tomorrow. You have my word.
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