After several hours of being awake

Things seem still. Melancholy, exacerbated by Murakami overdose.

But what is there to do. Games have lost their attraction. I don't think reading books or listening to music would, and thankfully they haven't. Yet. Forget about doing something productive. Much more of this and I don't know what could happen.

I should get out of the house, take a walk. Make myself feel closer to the world.

Escapism, or Unfortunately, I am not a figment of the imagination

You know what I want to do? Save up some money, make up a plausible excuse to be gone a couple of days. Then disappear alone. I don't know where I'd go, and it doesn't really matter too much. It just has to be somewhere I've never been before. And somewhere I wouldn't accidentally meet someone I knew. Somewhere to be alone.

This might just be more escapism, but I really feel that such an experience would help me get a better grip on myself. Yeah right, wishful thinking.

These past two weeks, I feel like I've let myself get into a real rut. Each day brought the same vague worrying about my lack of progress, and continued inaction. Each day I would refuse to face these feelings, choosing instead to immerse myself in Murakami's fiction, music, and the interactions of strangers and friends on the Internet.

All the while, of course, rationalizing to myself that this state of affairs would only be temporary. That there was really nothing I could do, that I deserved a break. That I needed to relax and just let the image of what I want to do form by itself. To an extent these are all true, as all rationalizations are.

But only to an extent; no matter how peaceful, a rut is a rut. Things like this can't go on forever. I need to feel that I myself am creating something, bringing something of worth into this world. Being someone of worth.

The difference between me and a protagonist in a Murakami novel? No supernatural forces are going to shake me out of my self-imposed stupor. No beautiful, mysterious, troubled woman is going to appear and turn my world around.

I'm going to have to change my reality by myself.

Maybe not so funny.

It’s a funny thing, time. One day I’m spending eight hours a day minding someone else’s problems. The next, I’m minding just my own. You could say that I never really did actually mind anything but myself. But the point is, I tried, whether I felt obliged, or bound by an actual or implicit contract. Of course, the more I think about it, the more difficult it becomes to get a grasp of How long? or How long ago? The distance in time between now and then can be put into words, as exact as I’d like, but what good would that do anyone? One day is not the same as every other day. Hilarious.

They say one can’t step into the same river twice. Me? I’ve never even once stepped into a river, even though I tend to go with the flow. Going with the flow: story of my life. Question is, if a river changes course, do the fish notice? What I do know is that I have never had what it takes to turn stirrings in the depths into actual, honest-to-goodness waves on the surface. A lot of people would advise diving in, but I don’t know how to swim. That could be the point.

You know what else is funny? Thinking about the past. Thinking about the future. There’s this funny gap between either memory or prediction and reality. Ah, another slippery unquantifiable. Sometimes the gap seems merely a crack, sometimes it’s just as long as a jump, sometimes this space in between is as wide as the one that got away. Or if you’re stubborn, the one that keeps getting away.

Yeah, stretch out my arms as I might, it’s hopeless.

Keepin' on keepin' on

It took too long, I think, but nonetheless, I managed to finish the first draft of an essay on Murakami (for submission to this newspaper contest) today. I'll edit it later this week, but just to note down some initial thoughts on revision: needs cohesion, could probably stand trimming/refocusing, the introductory part needs to be reworked.

There isn't much else to report, sadly. Still keeping up with my workout routine, still doing great at squats but not very well at situps and pushups.

Still no news on possible employment; I'm following this up tomorrow, it's been a week! (I'm beginning to get more worried that I shouldn't just be waiting on this single opportunity, but instead also actively seeking others. Meh.)

It seems I've simply fallen into a slightly different rut. Sure, I'm exercising, but that's pretty much it. Good thing I've come up with this essay project or else I might not be doing anything else productive at all.

I think I'll do a more thorough state of the Momeng address later tonight, or tomorrow. Allowing self to be distracted for a while.