Age-approriate

For roughly 2 months, I broke off my read-and-write-in-the-late-morning-till-after-lunch-hour-while-having-brunch routine and started it again this week.

The incredible feeling, I guess, owes to the admission that there will constantly be fact-of-life requirements I have to deal with simultaneously as I dream walking. Someday I'll have to switch jobs again, get a driver's license, renew a passport, photocopy a birth certificate, order transcript, carry my stool and urine around for a medical examination—unexciting messy things.

Whether it's OC-ness or laziness, I'm proud to have been learning to deal with it. —Get a different mindset.

For the past days, I've been reading Murakami's Norwegian Wood. The only other acquaintance I have with the guy is through the 100% perfect girl. There are so many widely-read and -loved writers I have yet to read and I've also resigned my self from playing catch-up—and feeling like I have to catch up; since a lifetime's not enough to read all the great works ever written, let alone discover them.

It's another fact I've surrendered to: Claiming everything at once is out of my ability and luck—even every needed thing at times, and at the right time!

At seventeen, I hear of Eco, Ondaatje, Munro, and pressed my self to read and understand and appreciate their every work. I'd be successful in doing two things at the same time, or three things in parts of the time, but not all in all times.

Reading Norwegian Wood now appears to me as a grown-up decision, knowing what I know outside the pages.

May be

Making sure my huge net is strong and secure before performing my trapeze act:

1) Find steady source of income; waste away in disco-dreaming;
2) Keep sense of selfhood intact; love the unfit;
3) Memorize grammar; massacre meaning;
4) Forge friendships; keep to self.

I cannot settle in being the person I am. There is something to chase beyond what's manifest.

That which truly discomforts me: training my self to fly and none waiting for me on ground.