It’s all about being content. It’s all about being content. It’s all about being freaking content. Maybe if I repeat that to myself a billion times more I will start to believe it.
Brief update. Lin, with whom I thought I could relate, has this Aussie guy she is madly in love with, though she won’t admit it – not even to herself. My Thai wannabe girlfriend called and asked for money – reality check and wake up call. Pam remains a good friend but still lives in Scotland, on the other side of the globe, too far for me to count on her for real comfort, of course. So does Vicky. My Danish friend, the one with eyes that punched holes in my soul, gracefully escaped my paranoia – good for her. Juls writes emails now and then, as usual nothing important to say – just doing her part in making my life miserable and making sure I do not forget her. I haven’t spoken with my son for a couple of weeks – I am a lousy parent. I buy his love with gifts and phone calls, trying desperately not let him forget his pitiful father.
I might be changing my nickname to Hardy Har Har. Every time I stop to pay attention, I find myself whining. I am getting tired of myself. Tired of my own complains. It’s all about being content, I have to remember. But I am also tired of trying to be content and still being alone.
This new project in Malaysia, which seemed dull at first, might be just what I need. Might be a blessing in disguise, as some would say. Though it brings nothing new in terms of personal development, I will probably be so freaking busy trying to push the customer to do its part and working on damage control that I won’t have time to think about anything else. And if at any moment in time I wasn’t so excited about it, I suddenly I find myself looking forward to it. Again, if something goes weird, I might have to bug some of the good guys. They always help me, out of their goodness and commitment to the company. They are the real consultants. I am phoney. PA and BK, if you read this: Thanks, mates… Really!
So, what’s new in my life? Nothing. There’s nothing new. Apart from the fact my house is becoming very untidy. I have computer pieces and travel receipts scattered all over the place. The maid has to clean around the mess. And I always thought your house depicts what goes on in your head. It’s a freaking mess, man. I would be embarrassed to go in a house like mine. I have to put myself together before things get really out of hand. But how?
Finding love seems impossible. Maybe because I rush things too much. Or maybe I have been looking in the wrong places. Or maybe I have been too choosy. What the heck!? Shouldn’t I be choosy? I know what I want and what I need. She’s out there somewhere. But how do I find her? Sometimes I think I met her and scared her away...
I need to rest. I wish I could sleep for three days. Why not five? Or more? Do they still have that "sleep therapy" thing? Was it ever for real? Putting people to sleep as means of getting them out of depression? Oh, I can almost feel the headache that treatment must cause. And when you wake up, are your problems solved? Can I go to bed now and have all my problems solved for me? Please?
I am tired. Of my own inertia. Of my own life. Of the situation I have put myself into. Damn, I am tired of writing... Gotta go.
Monday, 23 June 2003
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