Weijian Zhang
2017 2016
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I have to consider retiring my paper journal. Actually no, I thought I did and then I took it back. This blog has co-opted a lot of the value from the paper journal. It's more fun and immediate to vent and rant on here. Not only is it faster, there's also the public reckless part of it. It adds to the feeling of freedom. I put the journal away, thought about it for a minute, then took it back. I think I do need it. It's still a comforting experience, to write freely with a pen. I'm not going to end that just to be tidy.

I feel like flinging my phone away every time I message someone on OKCupid. I hate having to convince people, to please them, to win them over, to attract them. I am just me. I hate performing, I hate extending. I'm going to keep doing it, messaging people almost daily and see just what happens. Either it would be hilarious that I can't get anyone to respond after a year, hundreds and hundreds of messages, or I do get a response. Both would be worthwhile results.

Today is bad in that mom's not feeling well and in bed. Me wasting time contorted in bed not wanting to get out on my phone will always be a bad start to any day. I really really need to stop doing that. It's the worst thing. I feel so crappy during and after it. It doesn't make sense. Something about it must be strong enough to compel me to keep doing it weekend after weekend.

Today, I will write. I'm just going to use that word for anything I do with the book. I don't want to keep on categorizing things anymore. It's all work on the outline, so no drafting. And the new words I'm writing aren't going to be final. I wouldn't be able to use the word "write" ever if I'm trying to be pure about it. Fuck that, whatever. I'm writing.

It's cold out. Cold in here too. I will do something singular today. Like going to get an ice cream cone. That's something. I don't want to languish and fuzz and blur the rest of my weekend. Though Sundays deserve the worst I can do.