(no subject)

I am having trouble doing some things — like I want to write about a certain topic but I get kinda, performance anxiety. I get stuck on formatting and I don't know what else. I have an idea but then because there are so many things I get concerned about — like, where to publish it, where to write, how to write, that I end up not doing it. Which sucks.

Proper performance anxiety. I don't like it. I need to get over myself.

(no subject)

It's as if it has vanished -- my necessity to write, to understand what's going on in my head. I gave up trying to understand, is that what I ought to infer? I don't know man, it's just, too much effort, too much pain. To articulate things. Articulating things is the first step towards understanding towards change, but it has become more and more difficult.

Is it because I don't articulate this anymore to those around me? It might. It's long hours of silence and lack of social contact. When it exists, it's sporadic and you ought to make the best out of it -- you're not supposed to dig deep and blurt out things which are too serious... or are you? I think you are. But if you're insecure and scared that other's will not comprehend or take the time to comprehend, even if you're saying bullshit, then it kinda makes sense, why you would be detered to try.

I guess. Who knows.

Life's being lived -- somewhat. It continues, it exists. I thought about death recently, in the midst of puking my guts out for over 6 or 7 hours. Upset stomach. Pepto-bismol, what a gross american invention, pink and slimy and gross and definitely does not tame my nausea down. I thought about death because I felt weak and because I am dramatic, I guess. I didn't feel much either way -- no happiness nor sadness, only a faint desire that if I do die, the relevant parties get notified timely: my family, my work, my friends. Definitely do not want a bunch of pissed people thinking I'm just being a dickhead, avoiding responsibilities and calls, when my dead body is am rotting away in my bed. Does it makes sense to even call it it mine, given I do not exist anymore? That's another question to be kept from normal social interactions, I suppose.

I don't have many interesting thoughts lately. I got high on Sunday. Took a hit. I don't like being high. It's the n-th time I try it out, and it's the n-th time I think to myself, why the fuck would I enjoy not being able to process information properly, not being able to keep more than two sentences in memory, to ramble and understand I forgot why I started such rant. There's a lot of doubt that comes into when you're high -- a mild paranoia that you must keep at bay. I managed, sucessfully. Does it mean I have a better control over my mental states?

I think I do. There's definitely a lot less volatility when it comes to my emotions -- they are bounded, upper and lower bounded. Is it because I take anti-depressants? I am not sure... I don't think so, I don't think buproprion is supposed to regulate emotions that much -- if anything it's kinda anxiety inducing. Meh, who knows.

Sometimes, when I walk on the street, I feel a glimpse of hope. Like, this dream state that I entered, back in 2017 has never really left me. And in this dream state, there are moments which are hyper-real, hyper-intense, for no good reason. Just walking down the road and the sky is kinda blue and a little bit of sunshine is beaming down, even if it's cold, and it feels nice. And suddenly things feel kinda nice and all this drama, uncertainty, discomfort kinda melts away, momentarily. James talked about how he likes seeing the sun rays going through clouds, how it's like a 3-D beautiful sky in Seattle.

I don't know where I am going. There are things that happen and I don't pay enough attention to them for them to become a thing.

On friday I sat down in my couch and started looking up random papers. I miss mathematics, I miss numerics. I do miss thinking about differential equations instead of stupid data science. I don't think data science is cool anymore. I don't know if I think machine learning is cool past doing funny projects. I am going down the list of things I have to do, and I have been doing some of them -- some better than others. This list never quite ends but it does become shorter if I pay enough attention, if I focus.

It's possible to focus. There's hope. There's beauty to be found.

(no subject)

the weight of a choice
is most heavy
while it can be undone.
so i let time pass slowly
stubborn and angry
I keep my hands crossed
resisting the urge to
waiver in uncertainty.

I will write a proper entry soon. Been writing a lot on my paper journal.

(no subject)

You can always strive to be better, it's "just" a matter of energy. My supply of energy has been very sporadic, very unpredictable.

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time in bed, thinking about ways to kill myseslf. It's either depression or a cold. But I know, as well, there are plenty of things I can do to make things better, it's just a question of being bothered or not.

When I smoke on my balcony, there's a good amount of silence and I keep wondering if I dedicated two weeks of my life living in a way I know is a good (or at least better) way than right now, how would I feel afterwards?

Like a life where I actually eat proper meals, where I don't procrastinate, wake up at the same hours everyday and take a shower, go to bed at sensible times, exercise, do not over use social media... I think I'm gonna try this thing out. It's only two weeks, just to see, if I actually don't self sabotage and act like a fucking idiot, how far could I go?

meditations and fear

On the speakers the playlist "Time capsule" is playing. It's the killers - somebody told me. Despite making the 14 year old version of me cringe, I kinda dig it.

Thing about american highways is the maximum posted speed is in practice, the bare minimum speed that you must travel on, so I find myself going at 95mph (150km/h). Significantly less than Joji's 777 200mph, but I enjoy it.

A change of scenery is always helpful. I enjoy what is happening. I enjoy how the weather is hot and humid and seeing familiar faces. Even if I am still working (possibly more than in Ann Arbor), I am finding some new motivation.

There are some questions in my mind, that I have no answer to, but that I would like to meditate on. Like:

1. what is the hardest thing I have ever done (for example, decision wise)?
2. what is the thing I am most proud of?
3. what was the scariest time in my life?
4. what are the important things in a partner?
5. how do i want my life to look like, in 5 years?
6. what was the most difficult time in my life?
7. what was a morally reprehensible thing I've done?
8. what was a morally ambiguous situation I have been in?
9. what am I most ashamed of? do I have dark secrets?

Can you answer some or any of these questions? I have no clue for all these questions! But I think it's work knowing some type of answer.

mind your business and try to do good for yourself

These last few days have been strange, a strange haze of busyness which was not been necessarily pleasant. I need to (re)think many things, that is one conclusion. I find myself repeating: Need to figure stuff out. But if you repeat the same words too much, they kind of stop making sense, making impact. It becomes like a hum in a conversation. Like a like. Need to figure stuff out.

Today one of my friends from AA is flying to the UK - moving permanently. Man, that sucks, doesn't it? We said goodbyes, I didn't go to the airport, low key regret it, but 1 hour more or less does not make much of a difference. Bluntly, I am not sure about the people I know here, those who remain. People are nice and polite, but there's no connection. I am not quite sure. I can't connect. I find myself sometimes cancelling plans because I don't quite want to see these people. I think it is because there is a lot of drinking envolved and possibly shallow conversations.

As the temperature drops, I want to sit and be melancholic. I feel the urge to drive through the night listening to music with my phone off. There's a fundamental loneliness that it's not quite fixed regardless of those around me, regardless of incessant calls to my friends abroad. I love my friends so much but I need to figure stuff out. It's partly because I just can't be honest enough - and because of that, it's uncomfortable to talk to people. It's my problem, I know,  it's my problem. Vulnerability is hard to master, I made good progress over the years, but these last months I have gone back a bit. It's no wonder, you need to be a robot as much as possible to remain functional over hard times.

I am not giving up on people yet, though. Whenever I get energy, I seek out people to hang out. But I also need to do things which make me feel human again. I have been painting more. I like that, I like the being in the moment type of vibe, as hippy dippy as that sounds. I paint for myself, things which are not necessarily pretty or polished. Eventually, I will probably show them to others, good old Instagram Clout. But for now, they are just splatters of paint directly drawn from my head.

Today, I will pass by the pole dancing studio after 7 months. I am excited. I miss it so much. It might be stupid, but it's like the sport I have been doing for years, that I have competed in (despite not being sucessful), have performed, bla bla bla bla bla whatever. It's kinda part of me. It is, indeed, a hobby I have built up over the years.

In terms of my mental state, I think I am more or less ok. Like, I could be worse, but I think I have adopted a bit of a too relaxed approach. If I am being lazy, I kinda let myself be lazy, although I fucking hate myself, but I don't hate myself enough to not be lazy. It's kinda strange, kinda unsettling. I have been turning down opportunities lately, I am scared of having too much on my plate. Am I getting better at judging my limits, or am I getting more and more complacent? I am not sure. It's not like these opportunities that I turn down make me feel too much either, so I think it's like, there's a general lack of interest in things. Like, meh. Bah.

So here's a list of shit that gets me excited:

- pole dancing
- mathematical proofs
- painting
- driving my car
- the boy
- talking to my brother
- talking to my friend in london

Things that really don't make me excited:

- food
- machine learning
- supervising students
- giving talks about data science
- applications
- getting drunk too often
- being insecur as fuck
- smoking

isolation diaries 49: exhausted

It's hard to verbalize precisely what is going on. But life doesn't feel like real life these days. For months on end, life's been on hold. I hold the words of Ray Dalio close to heart, that it takes 18 months for habits to be formed. I hope he's right. It means I am not yet what I have become, these past months. I think I feel anger, frustration. Like, I am not sure over what - is it over my decisions, to leave Europe and come here or my decision to stay here? No, I can not feel regret. And like, I don't feel regret. I feel angry at myself for wasting time, for being lazy, for having no motivation. For being a weak ass little whiny bitch.

My life's not quite worth living, or at least, I do not feel anything except exhaustion. And the problem is not life itself, it's me. I am the problem, I make these decisions and I live through them, and I feel sad, but I can't do it in other ways, either. I feel like I need to go back to the past, way back when, I destroy my perception from back then. I discussed with someone recently. If we stop being the way we are, are we still us?

It's like being in Alaska and working towards eventually seeing my family and friends. I know it's not the same, but it kinda is. I can't see my family until probably December, if I am lucky. If USA gets its shit together. I mean, I can, but it means fragmenting my life further into pieces, which I am not ready yet. It's true, if it gets that bad, I could just say fuck it and leave.

If people easily forget you, maybe you're just forgetable. It kinda sucks to think about this, but it's kinda true. Right now, I have not much to offer. And relationships are transactions, kinda. I don't say this bitterly, but it's how I think it works.

I've made some progress with investments. I got that going on for myself. :-D

(no subject)

You see yourself become a person you don't quite want to be, but you allow it. More like, I allow it. The confusion between feeling things and simulated feelings. Doing things for the sake of their amusement, doing things for the sake of how meaningless life is.

If you're doing something worth it, intense and hard, maybe you are supposed to sacrifice things, including happiness and comfort. Lately I have been sad without doing much, without producing anything that justifies the suffering. So, I guess, all this suffering is just suffering for no good reason. I have to get my shit together - go back to hard thinking. Replace the bad thoughts by complicated enough thoughts that do not allow parallel thoughts, kinda thing.

Get intensely into things. I have feeling dead. One of Erdos famous quotes / vocabulary is saying that people die when they stop doing mathematics. I've been dead for a while, indeed.

Take on good vibes

I celebrated 4th of July with friends from Michigan. We drove 3 hours or so to get to Lake Michigan, were we rented a large house. It was fancy as fuck. Note: I wanted to use bougie but I looked up the meaning of the word, which seems to be acting high class/wealthy while not being high class/wealthy, and I think in this case, we have to eat our hats and accept we are kinda in a good place, financially.

It was crazy and cool. We drank a lot, a lot, a lot and had these stereotypical 3 am talks over cigarettes and warm wine about life, the universe and everything else. I am glad I found people who are insanely smart, eloquent and funny. You know, going from doing one hand cartwheels while holding a cigarette (my friend Guillaume taught me!) to discussing the nature of fundamental physics and the limits of dark energy/dark matter models in a span of 45 minutes (he's an astrophysicist) is kinda a great sign that I will get along with people. Another person who joined our group, the most insane drunk person, is a medical doctor with an insane curiosity about the world, just about able to hold up any type of conversation. The list goes on but yea, I won't bore you with it.

The first night we partied like crazy, then I talked a lot with Guillaume about random stuff, he's moving to the UK soon. Eventually, it was 5:30AM and the sun started to rise, so I made myself coffee and started working (while he went to sleep). I got in around 2 hours of work before people woke up - submitted an application and checked the last stages of our publication (called proofing, just to see if the editor has edited things properly.). The rest of the weekend was kinda a sleep deprived haze of arguments, drinking, jokes and good vibes.

It was fucking great.

I am still alive, you know? Inside, I am still alive and curious and I love people's stories, which was something I was almost was not sure if it was the case anymore.