I see the people that have the things I think I want. And I would rather die a bad death than be like them. Also they rarely really have them. They just were smart enough, or dumb enough, to settle for the mock up.
I don’t know, I’m not really sure. I think I’ll feel better when I have the motorcycle.
This has to be the last bottle. It fucks too much with the cognitive continuity. Even a little bit wrecks it for days.
Robbed of the cultural markets that carrid humanity for centuries, millenia. Replaced with some wack ass socialist plastic.
But maybe Kierkegaard was right. Maybe we want this. Maybe this is the portal.
Reality is what I need. Crashing back into reality. I know her, I felt her yesterday. Clear as day.
But how do I get there? I’m not sure. This has to be the last bottle, that’s the first thing. No more chasing ghosts with the girl hunting conventions.
Concentrate on, find and concentrate on, what is healthy. I don’t mean eating organic. I mean the Nietzschean concept. Health.
Find it, chase it. Because what I want is a family. And to make it strong. I want to make children who are free. I want a wife who feels honored and beautiful.
God will not give me a map of where these things are. But he already gave me a map of who can have it.
To be a man. Day by day. To become the person who has these things. Every day. I cannot make the ball hit the target, like the movie says. I can control how I throw it.
Paulita looked me in the eye and said goodbye back yesterday. I think health is returning there. Coworkers. That is a weight off my soul.
It had to be done.
Now we can continue.
It’s funny, you can spend 150k and three years to become a pilot, or 8 weeks and 20k to be an excavator operator, and enter a practically similar compensation range.
But I have no credit, and 20k would take me almost two years to put together.
Fuck it maybe it’s not a crazy goal. Save up excavator licence money, do this job in the meantime for that time, and give God that time to present me with something if He decides. Maybe I’ll apply for the coal mine every 6 months just in case.
Spend all the crazy energy I have been spending on drinking and going to these “parties” on developing my business idea concurrently.
On the other hand, you know, the pilot thing, I can absolutely do that from Venezuela.
I have to stop myself. Plans are not the plan. Plans are accidental contingencies.
I’m half wasted by now, this bottle dies today. But I will say this: mistakes will no longer seduce me into making shit up. I is me and it is what it is.
That’s a pole to build on.
I can also answer another thing to myself:
Would I have loved phoneutria to the bitter end, when we were both old and decrepit?
Yes.
Yeah, of course drinking is a shit ton of fun, turning your brain into soup and stirring it.
But it’s too much of an energy investment. It’s not justified.
Will they get back to me again? Who knows? But they got back to me pretty quick. That means there can’t be too many applicants.
The self hate is strong today.
Thusly reasons for not buying a fresh pack of cigarettes are slow in arriving.
There is no void like cigarette craving void.
Here I am with the pack. It’s just as easy not to smoke as if I didn’t have it. But the lack of the cigarette is so fucking strong, I am finding it impossible even not to smoke all the ones I didn’t smoke yesterday.
It is one of the strongest feelings I know.
Because of some pretty girl who flirted as a matter of course.
I just have to accept that this will not be some incidental part of my day, but my main project until it is done: quitting cigarettes.
Haha, funny how thinking about quitting makes you want to smoke one, even though you weren’t before.
Well, when I bought the pack I said 3 a day, and I smoked 3 today. No more until tomorrow.
That’s not really fair. She had not even flirted when I thought “I’m going to marry this girl.” It was the first moment I laid eyes on her.
I started courting, and got flirting out of her. Then a date. Then I misplayed it and the line broke.
I was not ready.
Hopefully I can be ready when the time comes.
Hopefully too the bad energy with Paulita can fade completely and we can just be normal coworkers.
Things are tough out there and finding another job is looking dicey.
Plus I have this new scheme of asking for a three day week to work on my project, which might be possible in this specific job because of the massive slow down in construction and the rapport I’ve built.
Anyway, no further moves until MercRet is over, dear me.