One way to remind me of how fast time goes is to get a book from the library and see how long it takes me to return it, in other words, read it. I borrowed the book on June 6–the day I started working at my new job. After the interview that morning, I was asked to come back at noon, which gave me just over an hour to wander around town. That morning I walked to Memorial Park library and grabbed the last book of the Dexter series. I borrowed the book that day and have, since then, extended the rental four times! Only today, I finished it and returned it. It has nothing to do with how badly the last book was written. (The first book was fantastic, but I made the mistake of not continuing the book series. Then, I jumped straight into the second to last and the last book, without knowing why exactly.). It still shouldn’t have taken me over three months to read a book with less than 300 pages.
Really I should continue to work on my novel, but I’m at a redrafting point where I’m stuck and don’t know how to proceed. I’ve put it aside like I always do, and I’ve been trying to find inspiration from other authors, which is why I’ve been reading more. I also intend to improve my English like always. If I don’t read or write, I forget. Unfortunately, I haven’t come across great fiction lately where a story sincerely absorbs me. Basically, I could read anything, but I still opt for literary fiction because it helps me digest reality. I’m still more drawn to people’s imagination and hidden feelings than what’s real and meaningless.
My current lack of interest and enthusiasm is overwhelming. OK, I haven’t listened to music properly in a very long time. I’ve been trying to pay more attention to the quiet, but unfortunately, the quiet has been waking me up several times at night. I feel numb and lost and find myself shopping for things that I don’t even urgently need. What I’m saying is I’m not doing anything special, not to mention useful.
Thank God my friend reminded me of Nick Cave’s new album release. I can only do my best in fighting apathy by listening to his soothing voice and the beauty in his music and lyrics. He’s one of those musicians to write about simple things and yet with such great honesty and depth that the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I used to think how awesome it would be if one didn’t feel anything. I didn’t understand what Patrick Bateman’s problem was. Why work so hard on feeling anything? Of course, I slapped myself hard on the forehead. Without feelings, I wouldn’t write – writing being my major purpose and distraction in life. Obviously, there hasn’t been much use of my emotions lately compared to many years ago.
I used to watch a lot of cartoons. The last one that made me shed a tear was Inside Out. When I was young, I was sad most of the time, but I felt alive, very alive in my writing. I felt lonely but alive. Now I feel different – not lonely, but not quite alive, either. They say that hope dies last, but do you always feel like it’s worth hanging on to it? I suppose there is nothing else that you can do. Hope is obviously bigger than the universe, or perhaps it is the universe – something so very unknown and will remain unknown forever. You can only accept hope; it’s sometimes tiring, but there is nothing else to do. You fall; you get up – simple as. But I understand that you don’t really grow tough; you grow numb and lose some feelings along the way.
They just added Mr. Nobody to Netflix. It was my favourite movie of the year in 2009. It’s the type of movie that makes all “What if…”-questions irrelevant. Whatever decision you make in life, there is never a wrong decision. There is nothing to regret, just a lot to accept. I also remember a scene where Nemo raises a question about falling in love. He asks the audience if falling in love corresponds with genes. And recently, I’ve seen many couples that look similar to one another. They have the same smile or jawline. They look like brothers and sisters. You can tell that they are meant for each other. And I admire them, although it creeps me out.
I don’t believe that falling in love is related to genes. It’s the discovery of a connection, which is not from this world. Oxytocin is not from this world.
That’s all. That’s all.
