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It's windy outside.

Not knowing how to forgive yourself/self-forgive can lead to funky and unwitting politicization.

Later on tonight I mean to meditate again and begin a pattern of meditating *twice* in 45+ minute sequence everyday, ceasing at an indeterminately; the stress of still not working is getting to me.

There is a 'factor of guilt' in there being a pet dog who I cannot entertain which is making an otherwise moment of possible contentment with usually passive activities, present with guilt and an 'insistence' which could make things veer qualifably towards 'boredom'.

Anxious in a way.

If I were to step on a cockroach, would all of my London stuff disappear? I'd better be careful not to step on one when I'm out and about.

Life is weird.

My family is weird.

It was raining outside today

I'm a bit annoyed at people who can't keep their word or wontonly change deals according to their feelings.

Today is my girlfriend's birthday. She is now 28.

people confuse me.

Well, I sort of am still at a crossroads here. I want to be a novelist and this may be the last chance in life I get, and my sister had said she would be supportive of me whatever I want to do -- but her husband is all like "he's a man, he should work" while he spends every hour of ever day sitting in his living room playing on his tablet while having the television blare on in the background.... but yeah, I should just do any work I find no matter how little it pays rather than pursue my dream of becoming a writer while I still can. Good grief. I could go back to work, and it would take about seven years to save up for a house of my own, but I'll probably never be a writer if I do. I can only seem to focus on one thing at a time, putting all my effort into whatever work I choose to do, but resting the rest of the time. Maybe I should find a way to manage my time better, but I know with factories they eat up weekends whenever they're busy and don't care about their workers having a life outside of working for them -- they act like their workers are just robots. I hate that. Yet, I've done best at plastic factories... I so want to just study my textbooks and write novels, and yet until I know that's not going to be sabotaged I just can't seem to focus on doing much of anything.

"Survivors are not individuals in the bourgeois sense. They are living remnants of the general struggle, and certainly they know it"-Terrence Des Pres,The Survivor:An Anatomy of Life in the Death Camps (New York: Pocket Books, 1977), p.39.

When I was little and had a SNES, I knew the batteries in the games would one day die, but I figured that time was so far off that I'd never have to worry about it. Fast-forward to today and all the batteries in all the games are dead, and it makes me sad. I know you can easily replace the batteries, but it just feels wrong to rip the cart open like that...

Interesting, as there is a novelization of my favorite TV series