As with most bad poets, I was unaware of this fact, secure in my arrogance that the very act of creating gave some worth to the worthless abortions I was spawning.

~ Hyperion by Dan Simmons (The Poet's Tale: Hyperion Cantos)

Remember when I wished for a normal life this year? Apparently, the universe had heard my little request and kindly sent a reply in the form of a global virus epidemic. Every little piece of hope I had for normalcy was shredded into atoms and had become indistinguishable with the wind that carried it away into the ether.

Every generation must know its own suffering. So the general said when he asked his men to die for his country while he rested in his comfy sofa smoking his tenth cigar for the day.

I find it interesting how fragile everything actually is. Every single pillar that hold the civilization together could just crumble one day below our feet in an instant, faster than what it took for them to be erected from dirt and ashes so many years ago. I wish I understood how it all works, but I don't. I can only complain about it apparently.

Soo when this year started, I thought that maybe I could get away from writing this because writing this kind of stuff was embarassing. But, it worked! God knows how it worked. Maybe it has something to do with being honest with yourself, or being vulnerable, yadda-yadda-yadda. I don't really care honestly, as long as it works. It got me through my hellish years in college at least. And soo, because I would not be able to find alone times for myself for months (probably), I thought maybe I should start writing this again. To let it helps me the way it did before. Because I can feel them creeping into me again. The anxiety. The helplessness. The uncertainty. Oh, how I miss you guys so much.

So let's start, shall we.

One thing that fuels my life as a person is control. I think, it stemmed from my fixation of mostly superficial things and the lack of necessary failures I had experienced during my adolescence. I could never let things go between my fingers. I wanted to always grasp hard and then yanked them so I could see them in front of my eyes. I still do, actually. These things don't change easily. I'm just aware of it more now.

This desire of control manifests into a particular networks of neuron inside my head that punish me with whatever chemicals that induce rage and self-blaming every time something goes against my plan. In a time like this and with the position I have now, what kind of plan could I use to turn things the way I wanted? I found the answer in letting things go. In planning to fail. In giving up on perfection. And in seeing things differently. Not acceptance, more of a self conviction. I'm still in denial right now. But you have to focus on the war and not the battles, I guess.

Anyway, one of my plans for the year was reaching 100 book reviews by November. It still could work actually, but not the way I had planned it to be. My plan was to buy some books from a certain author and review them one-by-one as some kind of a closing for this event. Aand, suddenly the market was crashing. I haven't checked, but I'm sure the books' price would increase quite significantly now. And I don't think it's a good idea to spend money on luxury items in a time like this anyway.

Oh by the way, did you know someone actually bet on the market crashing because of the virus and now become a billionaire? Now, that's a crazy news.

It's such miniscule thing, I know. But, like how writing these journals help me with a lot of uncertainties somehow, these book reviews, along with other things, have become the metronom of my life. Its existence, good or bad, had given me a sense of control and rhythm to my otherwise chaotic life. And now that I have it, I'm really afraid to lose it. And who knows how long until things get back to normal? 

Over the years, I've been asked what I want to be in the future multiple times. Each time the answer was different but none of them was a programmer or software engineer or software developer (I forgot the difference and I don't care honestly). I don't like computer stuff growing up, I just like to play games in it sometimes. Pokemon games in the emulators. Oh how I miss those times. Anyway, somehow I got into this field and I kinda like it. It's like a comfy sweater that you always use when going out with friends, that your aunt bought for you four years ago but you still use it. It just fits perfectly and I feel good when I'm wearing it. That's how I feel about my profession, I guess.

It's so weird using the word "profession". I feel like I was an adult or something.

So I used to think of things like dreams as an abstract concept. It doesn't matter what form it resides, what matters is that it's there. Same thing with what used to be my dream, which is happiness. Doesn't matter what I become, as long as I'm happy. But as I became older, therefore wiser, I've realized that it's a fool's errand. To chase a concept instead of something you can feel and touch. To decide your accomplishments by the standards that could change its definition the moment you finished watching a TV show or reading a book. Look, I'm not trying to say that chasing happiness is wrong, but it's just too inefficient and irresponsible. I think we need to consider things more rationally.

Now, that I became a programmer (or software whatever) and have this wisdom passed on me by the ancient universe, I can proudly say that I'm slightly more mature than I was. More materialistic? Sure. But, more mature still. Catching the flowing rainbows that is naivety and turning them into rainbow lollipops or something, and sell them for a dollar each. That's where my mind's at now.

I think that's enough of it. I feel kinda better now. Kinda. Lock-a-tock-a-dock.