Iām sure this is the last thing any of us want, but I kind of miss writing unnecessary narcissistic self-pitying posts on Tumblr. Itās different from journalling. My private journal is just an unconscious vomit of thoughts and feelings, and when I read through after I can draw the patterns and make sense of things. Writing with the chance of being read forces me to think things through as I put the words together. The process and results are different.Ā
Work has me really stressed lately. I love the organization and all the cool initiatives I get to be involved in, and Iām learning more than I have at any other job which feels good, but so much has temporarily fallen onto my plate and Iām feeling kind of crushed. There arenāt enough hours in the day to do it all. I donāt have a second to even think straight. I hate that it probably makes it look to everyone else like Iām not doing a good job.Ā
That makes my job sound kind of shitty, but it is a temporary thing and should get better in the next month. And in taking on the increased responsibility Iāve gotten to learn really quickly and work on some interesting stuff. There are so many things Iāve liked about it.Ā If I do well here I feel like Iāll be in a good position later on to find a good job here in this field (itās arts administration)Ā in this city. But now I donāt even know if this is what I want. I keep lucking into great opportunities and then not making the most of them and maybe subconsciously self-sabotaging because I canāt dive in because Iām always hesitating at the edge, glancing around at all the other further away pools. What if thereās something Iām meant to do? What if Iām just a lazy coward who isnāt meant to do anything?
Also I donāt think I can stay in Vancouver anymore. I donāt want toĀ āsettle downā here. I donāt really want to be here much longer at all. In Japan I missed nostalgia, but now being surrounded by so much familiarity makes me feel trapped. For the first time in a while Iām getting this strong urge to be alone on a mountaintop somewhereābut even there Iād still have to deal with myself.Ā
I feel sick of myself and this city and myself and everyone else and myself and society and myself and the world falling apart and myself and of course myself most of all. Thereās no escape in any direction wheeeeeĀ
From the last thing I read, KafkaāsĀ ZĆ¼rau Aphorisms:Ā
94. Two tasks of the beginning of life: to keep reducing your circle, and to keep making sure youāre not hiding somewhere outside it.Ā
NAILED IT! But how, Kafka? Iām not at the beginning of my life anymore. I was supposed to get past all this shit and become a real person ages ago. I donāt think Iāll ever make it. Itās just that the periods of forgetting are getting longer now. But thatās definitely not what I want either. I donāt want to just conveniently forget that I hate myself.Ā
5. From a certain point on, there is no more turning back. That is the point that must be reached.Ā
Ok. Iāll go there. If I can ever make it there via pitiful crawling. Itās so slow. I feel like Iām going to be dead before I catch up to anyone else.Ā
Wtf I just read this post over and never mind, it was more vomit after all. Next time things will be different and Iāll write a happy post, or a thoughtful one. It would have been happy just a month or two ago! Hell, maybe even a couple of days ago! The minute something passes I canāt remember a single thing about it. I guess thatās why I have to write all this bullshit down.Ā Ā Ā
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