dream: 3/21/2022

i had that nightmare yet again... the recurring nightmare, modified in some respects, about coming to school completely unprepared... here, i thought i was going to class to have some prep for a final, only to realize that it WAS the final. the professor was passing out those little blue books, and i could see that students were seating themselves apart from each other. i reluctantly took my book and found my seat... ostensibly, it was a calculus exam; i could hear the professor mention to the class something about the final problem. i took a quick glance at that problem: #29 or something, and heard from a distance about how a lengthy proof was required... even though it was supposed to be on calculus, the initial questions had more to do with history or religion. the last problem that i eventually woke up in the middle of had to do with a special class of ritualists known as the sword makers or sword builders (i even saw a made up japanese name for them, something like "ogori no ..."). the question was asking why, among all ritualists, they were forgiven for such things as tardiness and other violations, even when precision was required in some ceremonies. i was slowly writing my response in sloppy, panicked handwriting, something about how these "sword makers" were so vital to various ceremonies and rites and so specialized, that they were afforded some liberties that other ceremonial professionals were not. in the middle of my response, supposedly in these untampered blue books, i noticed that my friend had put a big colorful sticker on the bottom of one of the pages. in desperation, i spent some time scratching it out, and then putting some sort of tape over it, trying to decide which looked more "professional." in the end, i scratched it out, and wrote a lame "sorry" next to it, before proceeding to the next page.

i remember seeing my roommates calmly talking about something completely unrelated (apparently, in this final, people could still talk once they were done). i asked them if they were done. they both replied, "of course." i was incredulous. it still seemed like the beginning of the final period, and i was writing my hand off, and it seemed impossible, just from the sheer volume of writing that was required, that anyone would finish that early. but they were done. in fact, it seemed that most people were done. everyone was calmly going about their business as though this- all of it- were a piece of cake... and i felt alone, struggling, desperate... as i have felt at many instances throughout my life.

i rolled over in my sleep and awoke, eyes still closed, to the darkness. i remember that i had to struggle, and stop myself from continuing my dream's train of thought, to write, to come up with the ending of that particular sentence... there was this thing i had to do, wrapped up in fear... and outside of it, in this empty darkness, was a sort of relaxed oblivion... which, actually, was the true remembering. of course, i "evaporated" from the one to the other, taking me here.

[maybe: this is like death.]

3/16/2022

it's been a long time since i wrote. i suppose i have been in a funk. maybe i always am in a funk. anyway, although it is spring break, i have basically been working with our robotics team every day. i alternate between going to the school and going to the beach. it's okay, i guess, but i still feel anxious about being prepared for the actual tournament. anxious and tired.

i played a game called "omori" mainly because my daughter recommended it highly. in a way, i got really attached to the characters, and felt devastated by the tragedy which befalls them. i thought the game conveyed mental illness in a perceptive way. it left me feeling simultaneously drained and hopeful.

after playing the game yesterday, i worked on weeding the front yard. i felt motivated to really push through. there is yet one corner of the lawn that i haven't touched much. but i really tried to push through it. the weeds there are of a particular sort, they have round leaves (sort of like the spreading clover), but underneath, they create this mesh of roots that dig deep into the ground. so to pull them requires me to really dig and pull at the same time, so that i get their tap roots out of the ground. what i mean to say is that it takes a lot of effort to progress. i suppose that that effort (and i suppose any effort) fills me with a sense of despair, and i have been avoiding that feeling for a long time. i have been avoiding it with regards to many things, so that i end up feeling sort of numb.

i mean, i have been putting what effort i can into work. but it's a kind of day-by-day thing. there's no overarching vision that i have, nothing that inspires or motivates me. it's just negotiating through the present day. and the best you have in this sort of mode is a feeling of survival, it's not really a feeling of general accomplishment.

i look upon people like my father-in-law or my own father as people who managed to push through. who take the time to complete things. and they seem so clean. morally. i don't know. i for some reason hesitate to push through to the ends of things. mainly because many things, it seems, have no end. and also because i am just so tired. so tired of life and its many endless needs... that always seem pointless... is that the depression talking? i am not sure. is that old age talking? i am not sure.

most of life seems a pointless illusion.

there are things that i believe in. i believe in people's happiness. i try to guard it, protect it... but then maybe that's part of my problem. i don't see beyond their smiles, or their lack of a smile. i don't see beyond the superficialities of things. or maybe i don't want to. because that would mean that i would need to involve myself more. push through. dig deeper. etc. and i'm too tired to do that. so tired...

but anyway, as i was saying, i felt a kind of quiet hope after playing omori. it's not exactly something i can articulate. it was more an openness to push through. i don't know if that can work with the story writing, etc. because it always seems to lead to some sort of tangle and snarl. it's not as though i have ever found that moment of clarity when it seems you have pushed through...

there is always a voice inside of my head saying, "what's the point?" but sometimes i do things anyway. because nothing, ultimately, has a point. sometimes we do things not because they are rational or because they have worth. sometimes we just follow the current within ourselves. and i suppose... that's okay. because as long as we are trying to be true to ourselves, and honor truth in general, i suppose that leads to the path we're supposed to go on. right?

in other words, maybe it's okay not to be perfect all the time. maybe it's okay to feel tired. i try my best, and sometimes it take my best just to make it through each day... and then i collapse, trying to dream for the next day. and that's okay. that's okay...

i hope you're okay, non-existent reader.

3/3/2022

if you spend your life effacing yourself, then you shouldn't complain when no one sees you, or even misses you when you're gone.

*****

yesterday was my birthday. it's kind of a milestone birthday, although i don't want to mention it. i usually don't feel good around this time of year. like, sometimes i feel physically ill, or in other years, i just get into a deep emotional rut. this year, i was just really - tired. kind of feeling blah. i came home after teaching at school, even though i had some (rare) empty time, and i could've basically done anything... but i came home, and the first thing i did was lay on the sofa in the garage and crash. i didn't really fall into full sleep, but i sort of drifted for a couple of useless hours (a bit less than a couple) before i got up (reluctantly) and went to my other job teaching at the acupuncture school. these routines i follow, i began to think about how long i have retraced these steps, respoke these words... i am an echo of myself. a copy of a copy. i can live this life without even thinking, really... and i think about the dreams i have, of writing, of finishing something, the same dreams that have haunted me for years, and the idea that i am no closer now than years ago makes me feel a quiet and desperate despair... also, there's a realization that even were i to finish, no one would read it- as no one read my self-published book - and so i would still essentially be cycling/spinning wheels on a gearless bike, not moving forward, not getting anywhere... and maybe if that's the case, maybe all these dreams, all these hopes, were for naught.

... no, i don't entirely think that. just sometimes i do. in my daily job, i try to give fully of myself. i really try. i don't think most people, or many people, or perhaps any people, see this. maybe it's this feeling of generosity that fails me. sometimes i think the best teachers are the ones who don't care... or more precisely, they care more about themselves, about their own survival, than they do about their charges. and that's why they're able to make things work. they're able to force the pieces of their lives to turn like perfect gears... they reshape their students in the process... my mentality, aside from "pushing" people to do things that will help them, aside from relentless encouragement, it is to allow people to be themselves. in all their chaos. and that leads to mess and frequent disappointment... i don't know if that leads to better results, better people... but it is my way. and i don't think, at this late stage in the game, that i can change it...

*****

the danger of growing old is... i guess it is that you are less able to generate or believe in your own illusions. maybe also the illusions of others... some might say that is the benefit of age. it's the whole "wisdom" part we're supposed to think is the "fruit" of all that living... but it's a bitter fruit. and it disallows some of the stupid and impossible and "felt" aspects of life. i honestly think, at times, that the foolhardiness of youth, or rather, the foolhardiness IS youth, that innocence and stumbling progress IS what youth consists of... so when people ask that stupid question of what i would do, knowing what i know, if i could be young again... well, at times, i think it's an impossible question- not because you can't really go back- but because even if you could, it would still be impossible, because you would still miss out on what was essential to that time in your life, which is the magic of not knowing. in essence, going back would just bring the tired perspective of old age to an earlier point in the game... it would be like replaying the same game from level 1, after you've solved the game. all of the magical things you saw when you first played would be seen as tired and pointless things... that's what i think sometimes, anyway... when i am down.

*****

i still reflect on my lack of friends... it's no surprise that that's the case, that i have very few friends. i don't put any effort into "cultivating" or "supporting" relationships. i don't reach out... i think for me life has been about putting yourself, your full effort, into things, into activities, etc. and friends were just- ancillary- to that process. they were your comrades in arms... the people you hung out with when you were tired... the people that accepted you as you were... just sort of a passive release, a reflex. like the recoil of your lungs on an exhale...

and maybe that's part of the point... that i don't feel i can relax with most people. there is always a concern to address... and i always raise concerns, like walls, to keep people out... i know i do that. why do i do that? maybe a part of me just doesn't want to hear it. i just don't want to feel disturbed... and maybe that's the crux, that i love the quiet churning of my own whirlpool heart more than i love the disturbance that would result from letting someone in, letting someone out...

*****

i would like to be remembered as someone who cared.

but i think that it won't be like that, so much. i think in life that there are some people who attract attention and love to themselves like a magnet. and there are others who are immune to that dimension of pushes and pulls, people that are like the dead rocks that have no iron in them, that just fall to the floor when you try to stick them to a magnet... and that's just the way it is. you can't change the laws of the universe, or the laws of yourself.

"it's okay," he tells his student. "it's okay." repeatedly to say that. almost as though it is to convince himself of it. that this is the way things are. and the world may not love you. but in this moment, i will love you. i will find a place in my heart for you. remember this please. because it is the only gift i have to give, only in this moment. and then i will be gone.

i hold you to me in the way that words can, only so long as you remember them, and pay attention to them. once you forget, once you move on, then maybe that bond is lost.

*****

it's still early, on this first day of being whatever age i am. i'm going to try to sleep and dream. most of what i am now is the desire to forget... in those moments when i wake, i murmur my love to those few around me who stay, my wife, my children, my dog (yes, i love him)... a circle that surrounds me and is me... and i try to go back to sleep, again, to the dream that is my life.