Sometimes I wonder why did I allow myself to be someone else’s doormat, at someone else’s beck and call, and the receiving end of unreasonable criticisms. I guess I’m done. We’ll eventually slip out of each other’s lives. So why bother ?

It’s one of those days when I just felt like retreating into my cave. Didn’t respond to any messages coz I just couldn’t find the energy to. I guess maybe I am tired of people. The need to communicate. The need to do things. I wonder if I’m having more and more of such days. Today’s susan’s Birthday. Third year of missed celebration.

Where’s Wally?

Found an old calendar that has “where’s wally?” on it, so I played. 

Halfway through the pages, this game reminded me of how finding wally is analogous to finding a perfect partner. There’s often chaos and the “almost-wallys” that you have to contend with. Sometimes we get detracted from our search and settle for the almost-wallys because we have given up hope of ever finding Wally or we just couldn’t tell the impostors from the real thing. Almost-wallys will do because the real Wally doesn’t exist. Or does he? So then, where’s wally? 

Saw this paragraph while at a data science course and I thought it was beautifully written. It gave the sense of a cold, empty winter, and so I bought the book. 
It was Hemingway’s nick adam stories. It was a good albeit disjointed read. Still the prose was captivating and Hemingway had this sharp observation of his surroundings, describing every scene to the most minute of details, especially the trout fishing scenes. 
The chapter I liked most was the one when nick and his sister ran away to escape the game wardens. 
That kind of love they had for each other is almost incomprehensible. 

"In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more. It was cold in the fall in Milan and the dark came very early. Then the electric lights came on, and it was pleasant along the streets looking in the windows. There was much game hanging outside the shops, and the snow powdered in the fur of the foxes and the wind blew their tails. The deer hung stiff and heavy and empty, and small birds blew in the wind and the wind turned their feathers. It was a cold fall and the wind came down from the mountains."

Haven’t been keeping track of the books I’ve read.
Read Harper lee’s Go set a watchman, Joseph crespino’s Atticus Finch- a biography, Antoine st-exupery’s flight to arras , jay parini’s the last station, and Jonathan franzen’s the discomfort zone,
Not much. Was a tad disappointed with go set a watchman and understood why from Atticus Finch that tho it was written prior to To kill a mockingbird, it wasn’t published first. Didn’t enjoy flight to areas as well. It was a little dry and kinda all over the place. Jay parini’s last station was about Tolstoy’s last days. Although it was a nice idea, I didn’t like the writing style. It lacked a certain poetic quality to it. In the last station, Tolstoy became increasingly uncomfortable with the lavishness he lived in as it was incompatible with the teachings of humility and simplicity he extolled. He became intolerant of his wife as she still hung desperately to materialism. Oftentimes, we do not examine what our values are, what others values are, nor discuss openly about these things with the significant people in our lives. We then live in misunderstandings and disillusionment.
Anyway I enjoyed the discomfort zone, which was a raw and honest autobiography of sort about puberty, family, marriage, books, politics and in a weird section birding. Some books I wanted to read from the book - Kafka’s The Trial, Rilke’s notebooks of malte Laurids brigge, the magic mountain

Nowadays I find myself wanting to conserve energy for better things, and better human beings.
Some people’s selfishness is just beyond my understanding and I’d rather just not waste anymore of my time on them.

And I weep

You’ve forgotten,
Love is pure.
By the sirens’ call,
Your heart was lured.

At your feet,
Gathers the remnants
Of love trampled,
And of hearts stolen.

A requiem you sang
For the heart asleep
For the love you massacred
And then I weep

For I’ve awaken from my reverie.