Even if it’s mayhem

We’re past solstice, which is why 30*C doesn’t feel as hot as it did in late June. With how fast continental climates heat up and cool down, I can’t find stability in my mind.  It’s like not receiving enough time to recover from something. It seems to worsen my ever-growing homesickness too. I long for the maritime climate, but at the same time, I fear the water.


The water in my memories, however, brings me closer to home.


Sometimes, mundanity takes your mind to unpleasant places where all you do is seek motivations to be productive for something that doesn’t necessarily accommodate your passion. What does?


Perhaps adding the gym to my routine will help. It always helped.


Last night I shot a man in my dream. People around me were infected with something and acted like they did in the movie “Mayhem.” A virus had those people act out their most dangerous impulses. For some reason, the virus had spared me, but I would’ve been better off with it. I woke before the man had the chance to shoot me.


Some dreams are best written down upon waking up. Cheese gives me nightmares but so does the heat. Suppose I should continue combining CBD with melatonin, as I wouldn’t know how to fall asleep soundly. Dreams I can’t control.


I remember Freud talking about repression, whereas Jung would say that we strive to find solutions in our dreams. I don’t know how much of a problem-solver I am in my dreams, but it would be helpful if my dreams gave me more directions rather than highlighting my fears.


Peace of mind has slipped quite far in the last few years. I have neglected my Vipassana practice with excuses and problems that I didn’t have the strength to solve.


Yet I dream and dream about water—constantly. But I can’t see through the depths of it.


If you don’t spend enough time with your unconscious mind, it will drift—it won’t ever go away, but it will drift and get lost. You would make things a lot harder for yourself. This is why the water level rises. (Says I who’s causing it.)


I wrote my second novel throughout the winter and only redrafted 30% of it all summer. Summer is my most unproductive season, especially in continental climates during the worst weather conditions.

Did you ever have second thoughts about a book that you wrote?


Disconnected from who I used to be or always have been—I cannot tell. Reconnecting with music has me bristling with emotions—it must mean something. It takes me to a place and abandons me. Rightfully so, that’s all I need.


It’s how I encourage myself to still see a point in completing that book. Guess my fear is people going Derrida on me.


Always know your territory, even if it’s mayhem.



I will think of Michael Fassbender before bed.


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