Good morning.
A surprise came to my today: I woke up early. I had some weird dream last night about Prince Phillip and Ricky Gervais making a sitcom together, it was horribly racist and embarrassing. Also, Prince Philip was a metalhead. WTF, I know.
After yesterday's purging, my emotions have been in a bit of flux. Luckily, I managed to sort out my plans for the coming two days: today I go to the internship, maybe stay a bit longer in the office and then I somehow end up in Knightsbridge during the rush hour. I may sit down at a restaurant or something perhaps. Maybe if my balance can take it. The next few weeks will be of financial uncertainty. I calculated that the month of work I'll have, even though its only 4 days, will actually be more earned than what I'd make with the JSA. So perhaps I should end the claim. I should talk to my advisor about that.
I got up this morning, checked my weight, and I noticed that its 224.6. Not bad, not great either, but it's better than say, 227 or 230lbs. At least I'm not ridiculously off target, I do want to reach 223 sometime in the next few days, that would make me proud. These weight targets are getting increasingly difficult to meet. I'm dressed a little bit smarter than usual today, probably in anticipation that I'll see a performance of Rachmaninov today. I love Rachmaninov, I suppose when most teenagers talk of their memories they associate it with music, perhaps crappy pop from their decade of youth. Mine was the 00s, in the early 00s I listened to various things, embarrassing anime theme tunes; soundtracks and most notably, piano music. I used to play piano incessantly back then, not that I was necessarily any good, but it gave meaning and structure to my life. Rachmaninov taught me about the depth of the human soul, and the extremes of the human condition, which I thought was not accessible by a stuffy 'white' European genre.
I used to say that Rachmaninov was my favourite composer. I've moved on a bit since then aesthetically, but I still have a soft spot for that Russian giant. Those rich melodies, the technicality of it, the thick harmonies and the Russian darkness transports me to a world inside my head. Rachmaninov taught me that brilliance of expression is brilliance of character. Maybe I'm mistaken in that belief, maybe the incongruity of brilliance over the mediocre bureaucratic instrumental reasoning of today is a struggle I still find in life. In a way, it is that disconnect between my ideals and the reality that makes me purge. It is that brilliance I want that I cannot have that leads me to such violence expression.
Since the coming two days are going to be pretty occupied. I think there's nothing left to do but to just get on. Laters.
A surprise came to my today: I woke up early. I had some weird dream last night about Prince Phillip and Ricky Gervais making a sitcom together, it was horribly racist and embarrassing. Also, Prince Philip was a metalhead. WTF, I know.
After yesterday's purging, my emotions have been in a bit of flux. Luckily, I managed to sort out my plans for the coming two days: today I go to the internship, maybe stay a bit longer in the office and then I somehow end up in Knightsbridge during the rush hour. I may sit down at a restaurant or something perhaps. Maybe if my balance can take it. The next few weeks will be of financial uncertainty. I calculated that the month of work I'll have, even though its only 4 days, will actually be more earned than what I'd make with the JSA. So perhaps I should end the claim. I should talk to my advisor about that.
I got up this morning, checked my weight, and I noticed that its 224.6. Not bad, not great either, but it's better than say, 227 or 230lbs. At least I'm not ridiculously off target, I do want to reach 223 sometime in the next few days, that would make me proud. These weight targets are getting increasingly difficult to meet. I'm dressed a little bit smarter than usual today, probably in anticipation that I'll see a performance of Rachmaninov today. I love Rachmaninov, I suppose when most teenagers talk of their memories they associate it with music, perhaps crappy pop from their decade of youth. Mine was the 00s, in the early 00s I listened to various things, embarrassing anime theme tunes; soundtracks and most notably, piano music. I used to play piano incessantly back then, not that I was necessarily any good, but it gave meaning and structure to my life. Rachmaninov taught me about the depth of the human soul, and the extremes of the human condition, which I thought was not accessible by a stuffy 'white' European genre.
I used to say that Rachmaninov was my favourite composer. I've moved on a bit since then aesthetically, but I still have a soft spot for that Russian giant. Those rich melodies, the technicality of it, the thick harmonies and the Russian darkness transports me to a world inside my head. Rachmaninov taught me that brilliance of expression is brilliance of character. Maybe I'm mistaken in that belief, maybe the incongruity of brilliance over the mediocre bureaucratic instrumental reasoning of today is a struggle I still find in life. In a way, it is that disconnect between my ideals and the reality that makes me purge. It is that brilliance I want that I cannot have that leads me to such violence expression.
Since the coming two days are going to be pretty occupied. I think there's nothing left to do but to just get on. Laters.
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