Blabbering of a Fool
It’s 2:18 am.
I’m writing along with my thoughts.
I am losing control, or have lost control of my life. I cannot go “have a break” like many have advised me to, or maybe it’s just that I’m looking for excuses as always.
I drown myself in my own world, deep in games and pointless activities like the Internet.
I’m finding it harder to know about what I really want, what my dreams are, who my friends are.
Friends who say they will be there, were never there. Or maybe I have to ask. But doesn’t that mean they aren’t there then?
The things I want to do, I find no support from anyone. No one wishes to engage in arguments with ideas I have, or had. They all turn away, telling me to be glad with what I have, and not think so much.
I want to see the world, after attending an international event, to see libraries from all over the world, the troubles they have to keep information free and accessible…something that libraries here turn a blind eye.
I keep thinking I’m writing crap, but writing seems to be helping me see my thoughts better.
I need to get my documents prepared, and that means facing the potential music.
Do I really know what I want? Am I really good at what I do? I have no way of telling, as no one tells me.
Reading “Love your job, but not your company” really set me thinking. Librarianship is so so so much more.
Being a kidult isn’t so bad, you are more likely to tell how a child is feeling or what he/she is thinking, but the “adults” around me will never understand unless they slow down, sit down, and observe.
Reading is not about education, education is about learning, and learning is about keeping oneself ever interested about the world. And to do that, you need to tell yourself there is always something strange, unknown, maybe even better out there. To have no desire of seeing them, you are mentally dead.
I am mentally dead. I need to revive myself. That is the good thing about mental death, I guess.
Being single is good, but it sucks as well. But I have no idea about being un-single. Again, I have no one to talk to.
I miss some friends which I have lost, but clearly they don’t need me as much as I need them. Engagement ends always on their side. Should I still bother.
Maybe we have become too different to match one another.
I am still not tired. I am dreading every new day. Or at least, a new weekday.
I have too many ideas for art, but my skills and talents prove inadequate for their materialization.