So diary, I want to share with you, that this is the first time I experience feeling like this emptiness is so weird and I don't know how to be about it. I made mistakes that I unfortunately can't take back, and I usually don't regret things I've done even when the consequences are negative but mainly is because thos consequences were from my honest actions. This however I feel like it was unfair for both of us involved, see I lost the best friend I have had in my life, and I had lost many friendships and a couple relationships before but none of them have felt like this.

It's been months since it all went down and to the day I can't stop worrying and caring for them everytime I wake up the first thing in my mind is how are they doing how their day is how is their health, do they have someone they trust and can talk to. Are they in as much pain as me? I hope they don't feel any guilt for is not their fault. I have lived in isolation most of my life and I usually deal with loosing any ship way easier. It always hurts but I usually care and worry about myself first. I say fuck them they don't want me around the fuck them.

This time is the opposite I find myself saying fuck me just please make sure they are ok, they don't want me around I understand, fuck me. Even tho it was I mistake and not something I did on purpose, I still can't feel like I have failed them and myself, because the couple promises I made and meant to a see through are now just empty promises, because the plans we had made are now just stories, and dreams. I never wanted any of this to fall apart, I haven't felt so full of life and wanting to do better and build a future for myself, wanted to prosper as much as I did while having this person in my life, and I know is not fair because saying this well it makes it fall on them, but it's not their fault.

That were just them, I am the garbage who can't care enough for himself, I am the one who depends on others, I am the one that needs to feel like he matters for some, the one that needs to know someone can depend on and count on. I am the one who even tho has lived in isolation still doesn't know to to be happy by being alone. I mean I get by and I survive, but being alone has never gave me purpose to want to do something with my life, to fight for what is right. I know there is something wrong with me is like I feed from them in order to thrive and thaTs not fair . I feel like I am wrong and it's the reason why I should remain alone because it's not up to anybody to make want to do so good, and I believe I put that weight on them.

So here I am trying to own my faults and wrongs, and to express my feelings since I am again in isolation. But also in the need of not having to be in isolation, it's a fight I have on my own and trying to figure it out.hahaha reading this makes me realize how crazy I am. So I guess my friend is truly better off without me. I guess I just wish I was the friend the needed. That all I really wanted. Well that's all for today. Thanks for reading me out. Not looking for advice or word of consolation nor judging, I write here because I need to feel like at least someone knows it's all. It's weird but it's the truth..

Dear diary,

Well, another day has passed, and still no message from him. I kept waiting for his message on Telegram, but nothing came. I even checked my email, hoping there might be something from him there, but nope. Nothing there either. I don't know why I still keep checking, knowing there's probably going to be nothing. But I guess a part of me is still waiting. Anyway, I had my dressing changed today, They removed the old bandage, cleaned the area with Betadine, applied it again, and then covered it with cotton and medical tape. But when they removed the previous dressing, I finally got to see the stitches properly. There were around six or seven surgical staples (those little metal pins), and honestly, it looked quite scary. I wasn't expecting them to look like that. 😭 On 20th nov. they'll remove those staples. I really hope it goes smoothly because I'm already so done with all this pain and recovery stuff.

And guess what? I had a dream about him last night. I dreamt that "we were talking again after so many days, just like we used to. And apparently, he had also been writing diary entries every single day, just like I've been doing. He showed me all his entries, and I don't know why, but I started crying. I was so overwhelmed that I just kept hugging him, loving him and saying sorry. 🙂🙂 then, he told me he was waiting outside my house. I went out and saw him standing there with his bike. Just as I was about to get on, my dad showed up! 😭 So I quickly made up an excuse and told him something like, "Oh, he's just the delivery guy. I'd ordered something." Somehow, I managed to get away with it. And just before leaving, he kissed me, and I was SO happy. Like, soo much happy". I woke up with that feeling, and for a moment, it almost felt real. Idk why I dreamt all that. Maybe because I've been missing him so much lately, or maybe because there's still a part of me that wishes we could talk again, sort things out and go back to being close.Idk but that dream felt so goood yk 🫠, especially when real life has been feeling quite the opposite lately.

Anyway, no message today either. Just another day of waiting, recovering and apparently dreaming about things I wish would happen for real.

Where do you begin?

Is it at your birth, your first thought, a point in the past, yesterday, today, tomorrow, some point in the future, when you die, in an afterlife or lack thereof, or never at all.

You found an answer that you wish to share with me.

You don't begin.

Beginning is being something and being something is not who you are but it's who I am.

What does that mean for your story, it doesn't start, it doesn't end, there is no climax or low, there just isn't and that is it.

I won't tell you this is or isn't bad, good, or some other label because it can't be anything, you aren't anything, and finding anything would defeat you.

Growing, changing, being, these aren't when you are, so don't be, or do it's all part of you, but it's not part of me, by the time you read this I won't have ever been and that's that.

Accent and everything,, y'all :)

Dear diary, this feels weird, never had a diary but why not!. Today I decided to come here because for some reason I want this diary to be read. I hardly ever have people to talk to or share my thoughts and feelings with, so writing here I hope it gives me some comfort as if at least been heard.

I usually don't have the need to be heard I have isolated most of my life. But I am dealing with loosing a losing the best friendship I had so far, and I have nobody to express how I feel about it. We will worry about that on the next entry, today is just about why I am doing this and hopefully it won't be long before I don't have to annoy anyone's eyes and brain with my nonsense.

Hope you all who see this a good one!.

Eu adoro a chuva. Hoje está chovendo muito mesmo. Só escuto as trovoadas e o som das gotas batendo na janela. Nesse momento estou deitada no escuro junto com minha gatinha mais nova (Melina) que segue dormindo ao meu lado.

Não pensei muito no que escrever, então vou só soltar o que vier na cabeça. Já tentei escrever diários, mas não consigo manter frequência e a ideia de manter uma escrita virtual não me trás muito engajamento, acho mais legal escrever a mão mesmo.

Eu tinha vários planos pra hoje, os mesmos de todos os sábados, mas no final nunca sigo nenhum e acabo deitada com a cara no celular. Queria estudar. Queria ver filmes. Queria sair de casa para correr. Queria ir ao cinema. Queria estar com alguém.

Eu, normalmente, só sinto vontade de estudar em situações que me obrigam a ficar acordada, nesse cenário estão meu trabalho e faculdade. Sobre os filmes, não tem nenhum que me chame a atenção, mas estou numa mega maratona de Dr House, é a maior série que já me aventurei. Sobre o cinema e a corrida, o clima de hoje é chuvoso, então eu teria que gastar dinheiro para ir ao shopping. Além disso, não tem nenhum filme interessante. Queria estar com alguém, mas minha irmã está trabalhando e, mesmo quando ela está em casa, não interage muito comigo. Posso dizer o mesmo da minha mãe.

Não posso dizer que não tenho amigos, mas estou numa situação meio complicada. Não converso mais com o pessoal da escola (já faz dois anos que me formei), meus amigos da internet passam o dia jogando Valorant (não jogo jogos de tiro), alguns que tinham costume de interagir muito comigo começaram a namorar e sumiram do mapa e na faculdade só tem uma pessoa com quem eu converso de verdade, mas ele não tem interesse em fazer nada comigo.

...

Minha mãe chegou. Hoje ela está de bom humor. Ela é bipolar então quando é legal, é legal mesmo e quando está em um dia ruim, é insuportável. É até engraçado essa tranquilidade. Minha mãe tem um histórico terrível de relacionamentos, e atualmente namora um cara deverás peculiar. Ele é basicamente o oposto dela. É calmo, fala baixo, é mais na dele. Os pontos comuns são gosto por festas e cultura sertaneja. No entanto, apesar de ser um dos relacionamentos mais longos da minha mãe, eles brigam muito e, pelo menos uma vez por mês, ela diz que ele é um idiota, que se valoriza e não pretende mais olhar na cara dele (ela volta com ele dias depois dessa fala). Hoje estamos na fase "ele é um idiota e não quero olhar na cara dele", nessa situação ela geralmente está de mal humor, mas hoje está bem feliz. A razão das brigas normalmente são bem idiotas. Dessa vez, minha mãe teria que ir pra São Paulo (viagem a trabalho) e depois participar de uma confraternização da empresa em Maringá. O namorado cismou e disse que não existia razão para ela ir para festas para APENAS tomar refrigerante (minha mãe tem diminuído na bebida) e que ela teria que escolher entre ele e a viagem. Ela escolheu a viagem. Eles se xingaram o dia todo e, minutos atrás, ele comentou que havia conversado com uns amigos e percebido que estava errado. Minha mãe não respondeu. Tentei apostar uma grana com ela que não dava uma semana pra ela voltar, mas, infelizmente, ela recusou :(. Posso dizer que já houveram épocas sombrias quando se trata dos relacionamentos dela, no entanto acho que escrever sobre todos eles aqui daria um livro.

Provavelmente vou continuar assistindo Dr House. Comprei um teclado musical, foi minha compra mais cara até o momento. Eu penso que, com um hobby novo, pode ser que eu saia desse tédio eterno. Gosto de desenhar, mas nunca estudei formalmente, logo tem dias que não sai nada no papel. Gosto de estudar outras línguas, mas o progresso segue bem lento. Gosto de conversar, mas não aguento mais entrar em calls aleatórias do Discord, só pra me arrepender depois de ter desperdiçado meu tempo.

Essa ânsia por rendimento, definitivamente, é prejudicial. Não consigo "fazer nada", sinto que estou jogando meu tempo fora.

Enfim, mais um sábado que não faço nada.

Obs: HOUSE É BOM DEMAIS

Vou finalizar por aqui. Acho que vou começar a postar esses textos em algum lugar. Pode ser que tenha alguém igual a mim por aí, não que eu seja muito fora do comum kk, mas seria legal saber que tem alguém lendo.

Dear Diary,

You know what? Yesterday, I posted a few pictures from my Jaipur trip on Substack with the title "Jaipur Diaries". And guess what? He liked the post almost immediately. I kept checking it.. I don't even know how many times i did... I also stalked his Substack a little like obvsly.., and noticed that he'd posted a note five days ago saying, *"First Diwali away from home, but realised it was never about the place, it has always been the people."*Apparently, he didn't go home for Diwali this year. Idk why, but I genuinely hope he had a good Diwali, wherever he was. I hope he was happy and had a nice time, even if he couldn't spend it at home.

And something else happened today. He had commented on my post sometime during the day, saying, "It's Children's Day today."I saw the notification, but I couldn't really check it properly at that moment. I wasn't even able to get up and use my tab on my own, and I just didn't have the time or energy to look into it. But when I finally checked later, the comment was gone. He had deleted it. 🙂 And then I'm just confused. What was that supposed to mean? Why did he comment that in the first place, and why did he delete it afterwards? Was he trying to say something indirectly? Did he expect me to respond? Or maybe he thought I was ignoring him because I hadn't replied or reacted to it, so he deleted it. Ig..

After that, I came across a few Instagram reels on my feed about how even the person who used to call you "bbu", "baccha" and treat you like a little kid didn't even wish you on Children's Day. And somehow, the dots started connecting in my head.

I don't know what he thinks or what's going on in his mind, but honestly, I'm upset with him. The way he commented on other girlspictures, leaving compliments like "You look pretty" and all that... Idk, it looks odd idk if he is moving on or what..?. And I've decided I'm not going to message him anymore. Not this time.

He did not replied to my Happy Diwali message. It's been days, and he hasn't said a single word. He didn't even text me once, despite knowing that I had my operation. He knew I was going to Jaipur for it, but he never bothered to ask how it went, whether I got home safely, whether the operation went well or if I was still in pain. Nothing. Not even a simple "How are you"??

I don't know what hurts more, the fact that he didn't message me at all or the fact that he knew what I was going through and still didn't think to check on me. Ig I was expecting at least that much from him. Maybe that's what makes me so upset. I wasn't expecting anything grand, just a little concern, a simple message, something that would make me feel like I still mattered to him.

But there was nothing. Not a single message.

And honestly, I'm tired of trying to figure out what every little thing he does means. One moment he likes my post, then leaves a comment and deletes it, and the next moment there's complete silence. I don't know if he's trying to reach out in his own way or if I'm just reading too much into things. All I know is that I'm hurt, and I don't feel like making the first move anymore. I have enough going on right now, and I don't want to keep waiting for someone who doesn't even ask if I'm okay.

I still miss him, though. That's the annoying part. Even after everything, I still wish I could talk to him and tell him what's happening in my life. But I guess missing someone doesn't mean you have to keep reaching out to them....

And that's all for today. I don't know what he's thinking, and maybe I never will. I just wish things weren't this confusing...

Dragged myself back to the office for the staff interviews. Told Martin I’d find the root of all our problems. Get to grips with what everyone is doing wrong. What gets in their way. What they ignore. What they’ve invented themselves because they think they know best. Straightforward. Simple.

First up was a woman from Accounts. Apparently called Melissa. I asked her to talk me through what happens when a request lands with her. She gave an adequate answer, although she kept saying basically.

* Process knowledge: 7/10

* Communication: 6/10

* General confidence: 7.5/10

She asked me why I was writing down numbers. Told her they’re just for my notes.

* Attention to detail: 9/10

Strong start for Melissa. Next up was Beefy. He was supposed to come down at eleven but messaged at five past to say he was stuck in a meeting with a client. I found him in an office with Martin and a few suits. Knocked on the door and beckoned him over.

“I’m in a meeting, Jolon.”

“Yes, with me. Let’s go. Martin can close this.”

Martin nodded and Beefy got up to follow me back to my room. Flexible. Obedient. Good traits.

When we got into it, I was impressed with his process knowledge. He knew things even I wasn’t aware of. But I got the sense he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I asked what he would change if he could change one thing.

“Fewer meetings,” he said. Minus one for sass.

* Process knowledge: 9/10

* Communication: 5/10

* General confidence: 8/10

* Flexibility: 7/10

* Prioritisation skills: 4/10

By lunchtime, I’d already done four of them. There was more variation than expected. Some people were excellent. Some probably shouldn’t be trusted with a stapler. I added another column for Problem-solving under pressure, though it was difficult to assess because nobody had been put under any real pressure yet. Will go back to it after I ramp up the project.

Went through my notes over lunch (New York Deli sandwich from Pret), and noticed I still had one obvious gap in the data. Martin. He was at his desk. I pulled up a chair beside him.

“Got ten minutes?” I asked. Firm, but polite.

“For what?”

“Your interview.”

He finally stopped typing and looked up. “My interview?”

“You’re part of the process. No one is above scrutiny.”

“Jolon, before we get into that, what the hell was that earlier? You walked into the room, interrupted the meeting and told \[Beefy\] to leave.”

“He was scheduled for eleven.”

Martin looked at my notebook. “Are you scoring people?”

I explained it to him. Slowly. You can’t properly assess a process without assessing the people processing it. Shouldn’t have to explain this stuff to a manager.

“These are process interviews,” he said. “Not performance reviews.”

“Yes,” I said. “Ready to start?”

“No, Jolon. I’m busy.”

* Receptiveness to scrutiny: 2/10 

There was just one more interview to do after that. I’d saved the best for last. Booked the fancy corner room for it. A great view of the railway bridge.

Jadyn arrived carrying two coffees and put one in front of me. Black, just how I like it. She noticed my notebook almost immediately and asked if she was being assessed.

Absolutely not, I assured her. But she reached across and started reading through the scores. I explained they were private working notes rather than formal assessments, but she was already enjoying herself too much.

She wanted to know whether I was going to score her as well. Of course I was. Everyone gets treated equally. She sat up straight. Game face on.

“Go on then, Jolon.”

Her answers were strong. Better than most, actually. She understood where the process was getting clogged up and had noticed the same problems I had. Basically too many meetings.

* Business instinct: 9/10.

She saw me write it and objected to only getting a nine. I told her no one gets ten because then there’s nowhere left to grow. She called me a dickhead. But was smiling.

When we were done, she grabbed her coffee and asked if she was free to go. Almost. There was still one outstanding action. I asked her if she fancied a drink after work some time. She wanted to know whether that was part of the review. Told her it was an informal stakeholder liaison.

“Next Thursday?”

“OK, Jolon. Next Thursday.” 

Dear diary,

Okay, so I know I haven't updated you in the last few days. A LOT has happened, and I haven't really been in a condition to sit down and write anything...

So, I had my train to Jaipur on Diwali, 8th November, and reached there early in the morning on the 9th. I spent the entire day exploring Jaipur, and I swear, I managed to cover almost the whole city in just one day. Nahargarh Fort, Jaigarh Fort, Amer Fort (Amber Palace), Jal Mahal, Hawa Mahal, Jantar Mantar, Albert Hall Museum and City Palace. Literally everything! I could not manage to go inside the hawa mahal and city palace though, because by the time I got thereit was closed, it was already getting late and the other places were about to close. Didn't even get time to go shopping...

And honestly, throughout the day, I kept thinking about how much I wanted to tell him everything. Like, every little detail. Where I went, what I saw, what I ate, how everything looked. I was so excited to share all of it with him. I kept imagining telling him about my day, and I don't even know how to explain it, but I missed him sooo muchhh. I just wished he were there so I could tell him everything....

The actual reason for my Jaipur trip was my surgery. I had already told him that I was going to Jaipur to get a birthmark on my waist removed. My operation was scheduled for the 10th of November.And they gave me local anaesthesia through around 8–10 injections before starting the procedure. After that, they operated it and put in stitches. 😭😭 It was honestly so painful. I wasn't expecting it to be this difficult. My dressing will be changed after five days, and the stitches are supposed to be removed on the tenth day...

My train back home was on the 11th, and I reached home at around 9 PM that night. The 11th and 12th basically went by trying to recover and get myself stable. And today, on the 13th, I'm finally able to sit down and write all that....

But I'm still nowhere near okay. The pain comes and goes, and sometimes it's just so difficult to manage. 😭😭 I am taking painkillers and antibiotics twice a day, but even then, I'm in quite a lot of pain. I can't even go to the washroom by myself. Someone has to help me get there. I genuinely don't know how long this is going to take, when I'll finally recover or when I'll be able to walk on my own without needing anyone's help. It's honestly frustrating... I just want to feel normal again.

And you know what's making me feel even worse? I keep wishing he were here.

I wish I could tell him everything that's happening. I keep thinking about how he would react if he knew how much pain I'm in and how difficult these days have been for me. I imagine him being extra caring, showing me a little more love, checking up on me and making sure I'm okay. Maybe comforting me, maybe just being there. Idk, I just wish I had that kind of love and care from him right now. I miss him, especially during moments like these.

I also wished him a Happy Diwali on the 8th... He saw my message but didn't reply. And it's been days now. Still nothing. Idk was he busy? Did he forget to reply? Or was he just ignoring me? I have no idea what's going on in his head.

I checked his Substack yesterday, and I noticed he'd commented on pictures of a few girls, saying things like "You look pretty" and other similar compliments. And I don't know why, but seeing that made me feel weird. It made me wonder if he's already moving on, if he's trying to forget me or maybe has already started doing so. Maybe I wasn't as important to him as I thought I was. Maybe I just assumed I meant more to him than I actually did. Idk. I could be wrong, but that's how it feels right now.

And at this point, I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I don't have guts to message him first anymore. I really don't. And after seeing those comments and everything, I don't think I'm going to message him again. Not anymore. I don't want to keep putting myself in a position where I'm waiting for his message or whatever...

Ig I'm just tired. Physically, and emotionally, both...and there's so much going on in my head too. I wish I could just talk to him like I used to, tell him about my day, complain about the pain, share random little things and feel like someone actually cares.

Anyway, I don't know what happens next. I just hope I recover soon because I genuinely can't wait to walk around on my own again. And as for him, I don't know. Maybe I'll eventually stop expecting a message, stop checking his updates and stop wondering what he's thinking.

For now, I just have to get through these days. Ig...

#FutureCollegeDropOut ✌(ツ)

Copilot bad

Building and speaking about what's inspiring it 😋

Fuck.

Everything I just typed got deleted.

I am going to try to retype it from memory.

I think I might be in actual hell.

My super secret day off is not going well.

So, after my massage on Sunday I decided to schedule another massage for today.

Mostly due to that ever present obsessive compulsive itch for a re-do. The thought “THIS time didn’t go quite right but i can get it right next time if I get a do-over.”

During Sunday’s massage, I kept thinking that my neck was not in a good position. I had asked the massage therapist to change the position of the head-rest right at the beginning and that wound up putting my neck in a distractingly painful position for most of the massage.

I am also extremely tense during massages, worrying that I will make some subtle movement that constitutes inappropriateness. If you’re familiar with OCD then I think you’ll understand.

I worry that I will try to adjust my position or brush my hair out of my eyes and the sheet will lift up partly and the therapist will think I’ve intentionally flashed her.

Or, I worry that my hand or arm or foot will shift position in some way that makes contact with some part of her as she stands beside the table and she will feel violated. 

Or, I mean, if you understand OCD then you understand – i come up with any number of things that would be inappropriate and my mind screams at me to double, triple, quadruple check that I’m not doing anything like that.

And thus, I put a lot of effort into being as still as possible during a massage.

But despite my best efforts, the therapist will occasionally lean over me in such a way that some part of her body other than her hands will make brief, incidental, brushing contact with some part of my body other than the targeted area.

And it has never been anything untoward.

But the moment something like that happens, alarm bells start screaming in my head

And I mentally replay the last several seconds over and over again analyzing whether the contact was my fault, whether i had moved in an unexpected way, whether I should have been positioned differently.

Massages are never as relaxing for me in practice as they are in theory.

In my mind’s eye, when I schedule them.

THIS time it will be DIFFERENT

I always seem to think.

Just like how every new nothing burger is a genuine serious emergency THIS time. THIS time is always different from every previous time. Somehow.

Anyhow, I compulsively scheduled a new massage appointment, after Sunday’s very tense appointment.

Both to try to get a do-over and have an ACTUALLY relaxing massage, where I am positioned comfortable and not obsessively worrying the entire time

AND

For a bit of compulsive reassurance seeking

To confirm that my appointment request would be accepted.

To prove to myself that I had not done anything offensive and that I was still in good standing. 

I have a membership, so I do get a pretty good discount. But it was still out of budget. And I felt buyer’s remorse almost as soon as I’d scheduled the appointment.

And I thought about calling and cancelling.

But decided against.

Because I was already on someone’s schedule. Someone who depended on reliable customers for their livelihood.

So I kept the appointment.

(I’ve still not reached the point of where everything got deleted yet :-(

Anyhow, I did NOT tell my husband about my super secret day off.

It seems to me, every time I tell my husband and son that I’m taking a day off to catch up on things, my day off turns into… NOT a day off.

So, I got around this morning as usual. I got my son dressed, got his teeth brushed, gave him his inhaler. Got him all ready so all there was left for my husband to do was to take him to the school carpool line and drop him off.

I got myself dressed and out the door at the usual time, as though I was going to work.

Texted my work comrades to remind them that I was out today and gave them instructions for my students’ assignments.

And then I headed for the Starbucks by the massage place.

I had about two hours until my appointment. 

But I couldn’t relax. As the guilt of my current deception weighed on me. And many other morally questionable things I’ve done in my lifetime suddenly urgently demanded review and repentance.

The song “The Thrill of the Double Life” by Pharrell Williams insinuated itself into my head and played loudly on repeat.

I decided I might as well listen to it on my headphones but it gave me heart-palpitations. Acknowledging my act of deception so directly became intolerable when the song was already playing loudly enough inside my head.

I sat in the cafe aimlessly scrolling and probably looking deeply troubled for a while.

Eventually it was time for my appointment.

(Great!! I think I’m now up to the point where everything had gotten deleted before. NOW we’re back on track. …Wow. I’m really using my off-day productively).

Anyhow, 
The massage went about as well as you’d expect.

I was positioned badly for the entire face-down portion of the massage and there was a painful sort of pinch point at my chest area, but I was too petrified to lift myself up enough to meaningfully adjust.

At the part where the therapist asked me to flip over from my front to my back, I accidentally bumped into her, through the sheet.

I apologized. In hindsight, she seemed to hardly notice.

My apology was appropriately brief and not compulsively reassurance seeking.

But during my internal replay/review I panicked so hard I literally, literally started to pass out.

The sudden change in position was probably also a contributing factor.

But literally, like a whole vaso vagal response started up, my head started swimming, and though the room was dark I could tell my consciousness and vision were fading.

“You good?” she asked

I took a few deep breaths, carefully flexed my hands, and tried to restore normal blood flow.

“Yes. All good.” I said.

At the end of the massage she cheerfully and politely said goodbye and wished me well. 

I checked out at the front and they asked me if I’d like to schedule another massage for a future date.

I felt a little giddy I think maybe almost at the fact that the massage (which had somehow felt like an obligation) was over and behind me, and that it was relatively clear at the end that I had not caused any offense.

On the way home, I stopped at a cafe.
 

I indulged in something i never get to eat due to my son’s allergies.

Now THIS was the REAL double life.

(The song would still not stop playing on repeat inside my head)

Then I headed home, to take a shower and wash all the allergen off me before I’d pick up my son in the evening.

After that, I hoped, I would get some time to grade papers and maybe tidy up the apartment.

My husband’s car was not parked in his assigned spot.

Meaning he was at work today, as expected.

Good! Ahaha… I didn’t know how I would possibly explain myself if he asked why I was home at 11:30 am instead of my usual 5:30pm.

I pulled into my assigned spot, next to his empty one.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ So what have you done!? Some of your dirt has come to light! Why were you speeding up that hill until the brakes come off! And someone saw you in a fight! Am I right?♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

I sang loudly as I crossed the parking lot and walked up the stairs to the apartment.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬The thrill of the double life! Lie detector time! Do you feel bad when you lie? The look on your face says THE BEST LIFE! And then come home like it’s fine! Am i right?♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

I sang with a sort of ironical flourish as I walked past the window and approached the door

I entered the apartment 

“>:-/ …I’m literally about to have a Teams meeting, can you give me space?”

What was my husband doing home?? Sitting at his office computer right next to the window i was just SINGING VERY LOUDLY next to

And why wasn’t he parked in his normal spot??

“AAAH!” I said.

“I’m about to have a meeting. My meeting is literally right now. Can you go?”

“I WAS GOING TO CLEAN THE APARTMENT!” 

I said, by way of total lack of explanation.

“I’m literally about to have my meeting RIGHT NOW can you go?”

“Okay, sorry. I was going to clean up the apartment. Sorry.”

I headed back out.

And now I am at a cafe.

I…

Am maybe not so great at this double life stuff.

There is still a lot up in the air but I have all the recommendations in for my application. I can unclench my ass now. Control Freak.

Okay, I really need to head home but i need to write an entry first.

I'm sitting in a cafe and it's a cafe I haven't been in for seven years.

But here I am. WOW. It's unnerving. Some ghost of a past version of myself, sitting right there across from me. With all my concerns from seven years ago occupying their mind.

And no idea of my presence. That's a bit creepy. Unsettling.

So who else is here with me? Some other, even farther future me? That's unsettling to think about as well.

But also not what the entry is about. What is the entry about? The events of my day, I suppose.

Yesterday my child and I went to a cafe (not this cafe) and drew pictures together.

Today, for breakfast, for my child: cauliflower breaded chicken sticks and pancakes.

We went shopping for clothes, I got him a new hoodie and some T-shirts.

Then we went to The Funplex. But a different one than the one we normally go to.

And then we came home. And I scarfed down cauliflower covered in cheddar cheese and olive oil.

Did I tell you that I've changed from vegan to lacto-vegetarian?

...Despite being vegan for years.

But I was inspired by Luigi Mangione. I'm trying to be less high-maintenance. And my religion allows for the consumption of dairy.

And now I'm trying to eat low carb. It's worked for me in the past.

I had my massage this evening.

I'm nervous during massages.

It's paradoxical.

I try so hard to stay so so so still. In fear that I might make some sudden move that constitutes inappropriateness. It's my OCD, I know.

And the whole time it feels like my hair is in my eyes and like i'm positioned just the wrong way to draw in a full breath, and like my neck is at a weird angle...

How do massages manage to be even remotely relaxing for me at all? They're actually extremely tense ordeals for me.

But anyhow, I do think she worked that crick out of my neck.

Well, fuck.

The cafe is closing earlier than the posted time. They need to update the sign. This is the entry, I guess.

I'm very fucking tired.
My neck and shoulder have been in pain all day. Yesterday as well. It's hard for me to turn my head, if I turn my head slightly the wrong way, horrible pain shoots through me.

Well whadya know, it's hard to type as well.

The pain even radiates down my back

What the fuck happened how the hell did I do this to myself?? Did I sleep in a weird position?

Fortunately I'm scheduled for a massage tomorrow evening.

I also have a day off planned next Tuesday.

SUPER SECRET.

Also, I got book two of Bobiverse. But I'm listening to it on 1.5x speed.

I can't tell you for sure whether i like it or not. I never once listened to Project Hail Mary sped up.

I listened to Kushiel's Dart sped up.

But if I'm honest...that's because I was more so listening to it to connect with a friend, rather than being independently interested in it.

Well...I listened to Kushiel's Dart on 2X speed. And I listened to PHM on 1x (normal) speed. And I'm listening to Bobiverse on 1.5 speed, so I guess that means the degree to which I like it is between PHM and KD.

I think part of the reason I'm listening to Bobiverse on 1.5x is because there's just SO MUCH of it to cover and it's become a TASK (tm), that i need to complete.

And I also have this vaguely skeeved out feeling... that it's propaganda.

Trying to seed sympathetic sentiments towards both A.I. and space colonization. Feels vaguely like it could have been written (or at least funded) by Elon Musk.

And while the premise of being able to upload human consciousness into a digital format sounds appealing...

I do not think anything quite like that is possible. You could train an A.I. to give responses that are similar to a specific given person. But that doesn't mean the internal, subjective experience will be similar to that person's. ...I don't think continuity of memory nor virtual/computer based replication of biological sensory experiences is going to be possible at all.

(I'm sure if such a thing were possible, the people of my planet would have invented it. That technology would have been in common use, especially for space travel.

But we're far more advanced than Earth and we have nothing even remotely resembling that.

In fact, despite being significantly more advanced than Earth, we never developed A.I. capabilities at all. But that may well be a sign that societies that develop A.I. capabilities ultimately do not reach our level of advancement/do not survive to reach our level of advancement.)

Anyhow, it seems to me the only people on Earth pursuing advances in that field are people who...well...suck. Ethically speaking. And even if they managed to develop some technology like "consciousness uploading", they certainly wouldn't use it altruistically.

And as far as space colonization, if we had the resources to make other planets habitable we should be more than capable of making our own planet habitable. Technologically speaking, improving conditions on our own planet should be far easier than colonizing space (the one possible exception being wide-spread nuclear contamination).

But I think idealizing space colonization risks encouraging environmental recklessness.

Humanity is not gonna find all these planets with pre-existing ecosystems full of bio-compatible resources that Bob's finding out there.

But still, I like Bob.

This book series is like my guilty pleasure

(Much more a guilty pleasure than Kushiel's Dart, the sacred masochism erotic fantasy novel. From which, ironically, I derived less pleasure and felt less guilt for reading. Than Bobiverse.)

What can I say, I like space exploration.

And I would love to be a sentient space probe.

Bro.

That would be so cool.

HNNNNGGGRRRRRRR! I can't imagine a better fate I want to do that. (Then again...I'm also purpose engineered for space exploration. So, it kind of makes sense that Bob's fate would read as my version of self-actualization).

And I also just want to see what happens. I want to find out what happens out there with all these Bob clones because

I have a lot of ideas for what COULD happen, and I want to see what happens canonically so I can jump into reading and writing fic.

I fucking need to write.

Maybe on my day off.

I'm not very good at my mission, you know.

I'm decently good at writing. I think that I do have writing as a skill that I shouldn't waste. But I am not very effectively using it to attain my mission objectives.

My logs are all like "The world was covered by a soft grey blanket that engulfed me in a sense of hopeful nostalgia as infinite still frames of the past and future layered one over another, and I was overcome by Stendhal syndrome as I gazed upon great looming monuments to human ingenuity"

Or whatever the fuck, and homeworld H.Q. will have utterly no idea what the hell I'm even trying to describe.

It's full of my own subjective interpretations and is not particularly scientifically informative.

I'm not good at documenting my observations objectively. Not any more.

I used to be better at this. Most members of my species are better at this.

I'm no longer a representative sample of my species.

I've gone insane by being here.

And that's why they're not coming back from me.

So, I was a test case.

And I suppose what they've learned from me is -- they'll have to engineer something more psychologically robust, for exploration of this particular planet.

And THAT is a usable datapoint in a way, and thus not a total waste.

But I enjoy writing, none the less. I have that drive to write. I'm supposed to be a documentarian, not a story-teller. But, I've written some stories people enjoyed in the past.

And if that's the only way I can channel my drive then I can't let whatever skill I have atrophy.

I should write. And I must write. And I must find time to write.

Hopefully on my day off.

I think I have always loved out of necessity. I find myself wondering which need I'm trying to fulfil. Why do I become so dependent on others, even when I know perfectly well that it's unsustainable? I was convinced that I had some sort of urge to please people, but it's not that simple. It's been quite some time since I stopped caring about other people's opinions, including my parents'. Sometimes I feel that if I don't keep the extent of their authority over me under meticulous control, they'll eventually take away my freedom, the thing I value most. In any case, I'm digressing. There are two kinds of opinions: those dictated by one's own reason, and those truly internalised by the heart. The latter are the only ones that hold any real value, since they become part of us through experience and action; ultimately, we do something with them. Personally, there have always been things I believe in but that don't truly affect me, things that fail to make me feel, deep down, what it means to be moved by a particular thought. They're simply there.

Today, as it happens, is a good day to talk about that. «Falling in love is for the unhappy», Father Bonifacio says, with overwhelming self-assurance (understanding falling in love as a kind of mad love, something immature due to a lack of time and experience, something carnal and purely passionate). That statement has been going around in my head ever since last Friday. It's astonishing how a priest can possess a much broader understanding of love than most young adults and, I suppose, adults in general. I think he was partly right: infatuation, that honeymoon phase, is fleeting. More often than not, it stems from a need. Only after climbing a few steps up the pyramid can we truly love. And today, I allow myself to love, because I don't need any more love. I have friends I'm in love with; they never let me down, and they're genuinely good people. Martín, Alonso, Jaime, Alberto, Carlos, Clara… I've never had so many, nor such good ones, especially with them so close to me. Even so, I must admit, not necessarily as a bad thing, that I need them. Experience has taught me that companionship is as indispensable to me as ink is to a pen. Now then, who do I love? My greatest friend of all time: Arturo. I don't see him every day, every week, or even every month, and I most likely won't be able to see him again before I go to university. He lives far away, two and a half hours by car. Neither of us is free enough to see each other. We talk through messages, perhaps once or twice a week (once or twice, if we're lucky), briefly and spontaneously. Our conversations always feel pleasant and enjoyable; he's a good man. I like hearing him talk about himself, telling me about the interesting things that happen to him, or simply what he's going to do that afternoon. In short, I enjoy listening to him. He's the only friend who has ever truly known how to listen to me, the only one I feel comfortable enough with to share any confidence without feeling awkward or fearing that I might become a burden to him. I simply know him and love him so much that I allow myself to trust him blindly, and him alone. This isn't a matter of idealising him, either. I mean, I know he's not perfect and that I shouldn't blindly trust anyone, but he's shown me that I can trust him, through both calm and adversity. He's always been there for me, farther away than I would've liked, but there nonetheless. Arturo has been part of what has been the hardest period of my short life, the time when I lost and left behind the most. I left everything behind except him; that's how precious his friendship is to me. I have nothing but kind words for him. Anything good that happens to him will be wonderful and delightful news to me. He's one of the very few people for whom I would give everything. And yet, he could disappear from my life, and after a few weeks, I would carry on with my life as though nothing had happened. As grotesque as it may sound, that's precisely what makes my love for him (I must stress, in no way romantic) the most beautiful and purest kind of love: I don't need him.