Monday, March 23, 2009
I've gotten so used to doing everything alone, eating, dreaming, and watching movies, that the thought of meeting people I hold in deep affection, after 12 hours of work, is almost as tiring as the work I have to do.
What has my life come to? There's not even the time to nurse a crush, which inevitably die through a lack of attention, not to even think of the profound lack of effort. The most creative choice I exercise each day is what assignment I will work on. If I'm not working on an assignment or reading up for law, I'm working on capoeira. The song. Or a dobrado. Or a sequence I can't quite understand.
If I ever get my body into shape (i.e. quit with the binges when I feel pressured), I'm going to be pretty darn good. The only this I don't have is a sense of how my body connects and works together, I think. Be more self aware - quit splitting my consciousness down 3 avenues simultaneously? I guess that's not something to be proud of after all.
I guess it is a self fulfilling prophecy that there will never be another - seems as if there's less, and less, and less time each day for working, let alone living.
And I still haven't finished my warrior-monk code. Procrastinated for up to 10 months already, and all I've got are bits and pieces of thought that goes nowhere and a sketchy outline. Need to buck up if I'm going to achieve it before I turn 28.
And I still can't figure what the guru would say.
Labels: freedom, friend, life, love, tired, to think about