I can’t sleep.

September 7, 2013 § 1 Comment

Writing my troubles away. Does anyone else feel this way? Yes, normally I would smoke a joint and sleep like a boulder (and wake up like a slug), but after two weeks now at my beloved mother’s, off of everything, I am roughly confronted with all my internal struggles. And so I burden the empty page for being burdened is its purpose.

When I get home in a little over a week and start “normal” life again I will stop myself in my tracks and start again.

I will be calmer. I want to be at peace with my friends and flatmates and especially with myself. I will install a lock on my door because I’m sick of paranoia and mistrust, and buy things for myself that I will keep to myself. If I need people for something, I will let them know. If the answer is unsatisfactory, I just jot them out of the equation. I will be independent of anyone’s energetic influence, as I am already independent of everybody’s opinion (except, as a matter of fact, my mother’s). I will wake up in the morning and do all the stretches I need, and any muscular workout I may be doing as well. A new wardrobe will be in my room because the landlord promised it would and I will have it done. I will remove excess clutter from my room and make way for productivity. Little by little. The morning will be for the body and the apartment.

In fact, as soon as I get back, I must get some cleaning products. I’ll ask nicely of them to participate in the costs but if they fail to, again, I can survive. I will ask about sharing the price of a water filter, and a clothing iron. I need leather cleaner.

I will ask I. for my white gold chain back because it is precious. If she is defensive I will insist a little bit…but then just say fuck it. I won’t lend you anything anymore. If she is flaky, I will remind her calmly but regularly.

I will work on my breathing.

I will write. My blog shall be my free time occupation. Perhaps I’ll finish editing my dad’s book if I haven’t by the end of my stay here. Writing will make me feel better because words are what flow the easiest out of me. I won’t make too much of it. My style might be unsatisfactory to me but its purpose is to let out the demons.

Music. Music. How am I not mentioning music? Because all this is to free my mind and get it ready for working on school. Writing will be good practice for perhaps a future career. It will also propel my degree in teaching me to sit still and relax and give in to (and even enjoy) what comes.

This won’t alienate me from my friends. I love I. and I can’t change her; she will change when she needs to. But I won’t go out and party if I don’t feel I have personally deserved it. When I’m satisfied with my progress and feeling happy, then I will confront the land of the lost souls; but I know it will be only a passing dream and I will have no regrets, and no connections.

For I am the only one with any influence over myself. Whatever repercussions external people’s actions have on me are of my own choosing. And I choose to take care of myself before anyone else.

Weed. Weed, weed, weed. Its aroma will seduce me day in and day out. I will be pressured openly to roll one up and set my brain ablaze until I pass out with both intense satisfaction and great disgust. But I will do it sparingly and not buy anymore. That’s enough. Not until I’ve got myself sorted.

I will get a library card and get to reading again. If they have easy Russian books, I’ll take them too.

Russian films as well.

I will not be too lazy to go down the three flights of stairs and go wherever I might need to go to get whatever I may need. (Case in point: Russian foodstore, pelmeni. Iron. Water filter. Rubber gloves for handling harsh detergents.)

I will not, repeat, will not, rely on my newfound love to push me along in this. I will start before his arrival and get into a routine: then we can live in true healthy partnership and not dependance on one another.

Sleep earlier. Although writing comes to me at night. We’ll see about that one.

I will stop forgetting my pill and take it at the same time every day. Maybe the irregularity is contributing to my short-circuiting brain by making my hormones go haywire?

I will be proactive and massage my gums as my mother said was good for my dental hygiene. And drink the supplements I’ve been given instead of complaining about varicose veins on my legs.

“A journey of a thousand steps begins with just one step” said not only Confucius but also, quite a few years later, Stephen Covey in his revolutionary (albeit comprising solely the commonest of sense that we all seem to have lost) self-help book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. It’s easy to turn one’s nose up at self-help books… so many are pathetic attempts at quick fixes and corny quotes to make people feel better about themselves. Let us not, however, look down upon a whole genre: this one’s top notch, folks. And it’s only saying what we all should know deep down (some deeper down than others).

I want to follow both Covey and my more clichéd love, Jack Kerouac, in their teachings of self-awareness and zen, respectively (although both ultimately seem to converge). As an aside, I later hope to travel to places of peace and find myself fully as Jack describes so well in his books. And also to learn from his writing, which I just simply love so much.

But most of all I want to follow my mother who seems to embrace all of this in a hard shell of many unhappy years and a rich, smiling, peaceful outlook on life that I wish I could even begin to achieve. All this she seems to do effortlessly. Truly my mentor.

So I’ve decided now that instead of being unhappy about not having made any steps all these years, and therefore not even bothering to take one, I will now be satisfied with each small step I manage to take. I don’t expect to do it all immediately; I have that habit of putting pressure on myself the moment I make resolutions. Well fuck that. When I’m thoroughly happy with myself, then I can allow myself enjoyment such as drugs. The steps I take shall produce enjoyment in themselves, however. Through zen I will enjoy cleaning the apartment because I enjoy living in clean conditions. Through zen I will enjoy stretching because it makes me feel good. Through zen I’ll find my way without forcing it on myself and without letting anyone force it on me.


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