A better day. I think the problem with my mood has a lot to do with the weather and work. All day I’m in a corner cube that I like because of the privacy, but I get no sun during the day. When I get off work, the sun is already gone and that may be the cause of the feeling of emptiness when I get out. At least when I’m working, I’m productive. I’m doing something. When I stop working, I just don’t feel like doing anything.
I’ve gotten some of my perspective back and that helped a lot this evening. I can’t let myself get sucked into life. I can’t get confused about the difference between life and existence. Life, I don’t know what that is. Existence is what all appearances are. Everyone may be living, but to me they are just existing. My surroundings are not real, they are just pictures, images. Physical reality is just as intangible as thoughts.
If I remember what I’m doing here, I’ll be alright. If I remember that I’m just here to observe and question reality and investigate the fabric that makes it up, I’ll be alright emotionally. Emotions are such an inconvenience.
Friday, December 17, 1999
Thursday, December 16, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
Things have gotten bad.
I don’t know what the feeling is exactly, but I know it isn’t good, it’s bad. I’m stuck. I’ve stagnated. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Work is good, but it has created a lot of changes that I haven’t adjusted to. After a productive day’s work, I walk out and wonder what I’m doing with myself, what is my life.
Sometimes I’m depressed, sometimes I’m lonely, a lot of times it’s the weather, a lot of times it’s stress, and almost all the time it’s my old problem with reality and existence. Work has put my life out of balance, but I don’t know how to cut through to the next thing that gives life meaning. That’s what we’re all doing on some level, trying to give our lives meaning. So what gives my life meaning? And to whom?
I don’t know what the feeling is exactly, but I know it isn’t good, it’s bad. I’m stuck. I’ve stagnated. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Work is good, but it has created a lot of changes that I haven’t adjusted to. After a productive day’s work, I walk out and wonder what I’m doing with myself, what is my life.
Sometimes I’m depressed, sometimes I’m lonely, a lot of times it’s the weather, a lot of times it’s stress, and almost all the time it’s my old problem with reality and existence. Work has put my life out of balance, but I don’t know how to cut through to the next thing that gives life meaning. That’s what we’re all doing on some level, trying to give our lives meaning. So what gives my life meaning? And to whom?
Sunday, December 12, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
I consider myself Buddhist. That’s the closest thing “outside” of me with which I can identify. The language of Buddhism has helped me in coming to an understanding of reality. Or maybe it’s my being. The language of Buddhism has helped me along in coming to an understanding about my being. But my reading of the big picture has made life an abstraction. It’s a thing that can be removed and examined. Re-incarnation certainly makes Self in the big picture abstract, at least for me.
Thought based on Western traditions is concrete: you live one life and then you’re dead until Judgment Day and then you’re raised, judged, and sent to Heaven or Hell. This is the only shot you got and what you do with your life means a whole lot more. My treatment of life as abstract keeps me removed from it, keeps me from really getting involved with it. I’m too busy working through what came before, and I’m not too concerned with what I’m doing with this life because I’m too busy projecting on future ones.
Thought based on Western traditions is concrete: you live one life and then you’re dead until Judgment Day and then you’re raised, judged, and sent to Heaven or Hell. This is the only shot you got and what you do with your life means a whole lot more. My treatment of life as abstract keeps me removed from it, keeps me from really getting involved with it. I’m too busy working through what came before, and I’m not too concerned with what I’m doing with this life because I’m too busy projecting on future ones.
Sunday, December 05, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
I’m not sure what it is, but I feel this constant need to assess my life whenever I write in here. It could indicate that my life is stagnating and getting boring. It could mean that I’m not satisfied with it. I don’t really feel that, though.
The assessment of my life isn’t impressive. Job is just job, it’s rewarding getting paid for doing something. The years of not doing that has given me an appreciation for it. Band is just band, we’re working on it but not really moving forward with it. People are just people, none having special meaning to me, not even the special friends.
Why am I not complaining about any of this? Is it bad that things are only what they are, can’t be better, no improvement to pursue, nothing enriching? What am I doing with the practice of my life? The practice of my life is enriching, but it has only to do with me and what’s inside me. What I’m enriched by doesn’t touch anything in the physical world outside of me. What is this “outside of me”?
Interesting. It could be that “outside of me” represents affirmation. If the enrichment doesn’t touch the physical world, or seen by it, it’s not as valid. That’s not right. I made claims that my satisfaction in my being or sense of self is not dependent upon what people think of me. I need to doubt that and re-establish my connection with the physical world. How to do it, I haven’t the slightest. If I can do it, I haven’t the slightest.
Last night, Anita had a small party and I finally got to hang out with my boss, Ritu. At work, I haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know her, but I think that if we can get past the work stuff, we might have the chemistry for a friendship. There was a little adjusting at first to stop thinking of each other as co-workers, but we were able to get socially comfortable.
The idea of a friendship is a cloudy one. I’m not sure what it means anymore. I’m not sure I’m close with any of my friends. Anita is the closest, and that’s not that close. No one really knows me, there’s no one who I want to know me, and there’s no one I can really confide in. Re-examination of my role and interaction with the world around me.
The assessment of my life isn’t impressive. Job is just job, it’s rewarding getting paid for doing something. The years of not doing that has given me an appreciation for it. Band is just band, we’re working on it but not really moving forward with it. People are just people, none having special meaning to me, not even the special friends.
Why am I not complaining about any of this? Is it bad that things are only what they are, can’t be better, no improvement to pursue, nothing enriching? What am I doing with the practice of my life? The practice of my life is enriching, but it has only to do with me and what’s inside me. What I’m enriched by doesn’t touch anything in the physical world outside of me. What is this “outside of me”?
Interesting. It could be that “outside of me” represents affirmation. If the enrichment doesn’t touch the physical world, or seen by it, it’s not as valid. That’s not right. I made claims that my satisfaction in my being or sense of self is not dependent upon what people think of me. I need to doubt that and re-establish my connection with the physical world. How to do it, I haven’t the slightest. If I can do it, I haven’t the slightest.
Last night, Anita had a small party and I finally got to hang out with my boss, Ritu. At work, I haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know her, but I think that if we can get past the work stuff, we might have the chemistry for a friendship. There was a little adjusting at first to stop thinking of each other as co-workers, but we were able to get socially comfortable.
The idea of a friendship is a cloudy one. I’m not sure what it means anymore. I’m not sure I’m close with any of my friends. Anita is the closest, and that’s not that close. No one really knows me, there’s no one who I want to know me, and there’s no one I can really confide in. Re-examination of my role and interaction with the world around me.
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