I guess I got  a very subtle yet incredibly bitter (weird huh) taste of unfairness of life. I don’t know fully understand why its unfair or at least am not capable of expressing it well. I am going to treat the first line of my previous post as a promise and I intend to keep it. 

Details can take up some other space. Here’s my general plan. Keep shit separate. I am going to be a schizophrenic. I will seek to get an understanding of how shit works/doesn’t work and perhaps the relationships between separate shit. I have been thrust into the capitalistic ‘real’ world and if i don’t keep up with my understanding or choose to ignore the hell oh so nearby, I would be a disgrace to myself. 

ARRRGGGhHH

screw t-mobile, buying shit and all these real world shit. I ain’t gonna waste time on that shit than is necessary.

So where I am on stuff? my guitar skills are slowly improving but my practise seesions are incredibly unstructured and inefficient. No progress on android programming though there is this illusion of it becoming simpler. Depression has been stifled for the moment. My ‘immature’ social wants, that stem from expecting magical/unexpected/things that are not to be expected, have been suppressed. My mind isn’t sharp but it doesn’t feel sick. It is in fact incredibly blunt. Note to self: establish a proper morning routine. 

 

Giving fucks to stuff is a new and apparently depressing thing. it is not depressing in itself (nothing wrong with giving a fuck) but rather the processing of my situation as compared to others (why the fuck am I comparing again? I wish it was just to ensure that I am being as optimal as I can be and that I approach such comparisons in an emotionless/rational kind of way BUT it turns out I get jealous really quickly and wish some aspects of my past life or my DNA be changed. The assumption here is that they can’t be changed and I really don’t want to think about the case in which they can. But I guess I will sometime. Of course, my depression runs deeper than that (or so i’d like to (still like to) think). The notion of mortal life and its associated pointlessness (the mortal modifier is not relevant in this association) is tiring at times. 

 

Have I made progress? yes. Is it enough? never (more of I’ll-never-be-able-to-use-potential-completely rather than an unquenchable thirst for evermore progress; at least for now) . Does it make me happy? a bit.

 

Will I ever stop being depressed? 

 

I don’t want this to just be a place to rant. I guess I’ll start using this medium as place for me collate and understand stuff. Can’t build shit if I keep forgetting integral portions of it.

Funny how the second attack of culture shock is way more prominent than the first. Having gone from being around one culture to another I am faced with problems. The most pressing is whether I should change myself to fit a particular culture or just have a completely rigid identity, behaviour, language. The optimal solution probably going to be a balance as most things are (irritatingly). Now that I think about it the second problem might be the one that’s more fundamental. I should stop ranking stuff prematurely. Now the second problem (unranked in terms of umm importance?) is that I am increasingly distant from the world. Receding back into my confused, messy, anxious mind. Why? I have no idea. I actually do but it takes me sometime to recall them. hmm. There this general depression about my life or lack thereof, existential shit, not knowing enough things, my tired, sick self. I guess i shouldn’t have stopped when I was on thin ice. My weak constructs were just not capable of supporting long periods of idle isolation. My prose is horrible. My skills are non-existent. HOLY FUCK. WHY CAN’T I  ACCEPT THE ANSWER.

Urgh. Fuck.

So I just got reminded that all that I had done were just incomplete failures. Somehow despite this unbelievably visibly blatant fact I feel happy sometimes because of otherwise minor products of these experiences. E.g. being a bit more fit, being a little bit more knowledgeable about something. This is just absolutely disgusting. I trying for the umpteenth time to be more productive. To be less depressed. To do away with things that are so very obviously distracting me and slowing me down. Urgh. fuck.

 

Why is it so hard to do anything?