Diary Of A Mad Chaos
Lemony Days Complicated By Winter Problems
The words are starting to pile up underneath, and that is a good thing for the stable authenticity of my days, but the writer still needs an adjustment back toward his glory ways. He is still a little slow to start, a little undisciplined to catch on, and as it piles up, despite the simplicity of my days, it grows longer in tooth to smooth the right batch in at the right place.
Besides the office side of my memoirs however, today was another quiet one, but being just after a few lemony dynamic days, the optimism and this having something to “do” puts me on a complacent ground of high morality.
Like council workers, the site is prepared for work but we’ll just stand around and look busy instead.
Well, in a month thrust tandem into philosophy and whatever else spurts, we have a lot of the first and a little of the second to finish off before we are back on top of things again.
Right now the hair dryer is at my back warming my ass, and it has been running quite a while now with mum tossing and turning on choice moments upstairs. Yeah, the winter chill is creeping in and those cooler conditions are something we can relate to.
I got so used to summer that it would almost seem unusual to wear long pants and jumpers, but the time is growing near when the waterbed warmed up will be my best friend, and this winter brings with it a lot of changes, the least of which are my money problems.
Losing All The Qualities Of Life
The league season begins this weekend too, and the machine is coming over so we can have quiet celebration for his birthday. And in a month when it is frigid cold, either the link shows face again to hand me opportunity on a stick or the stick gets yanked into my fortunate hand, and you see me exercising my slavish duties in a job.
Whatever the case, you can be sure that more time will be spent home calming the soul of anxieties, little to no time will be spent on the phone talking to friends, my only visits out of the house will be for walks into town to make a day out of doctors visits, and my wardrobe of three to four pairs of clothes will remain the same.
My chain has come permanently off since the call to lose its dependency, the shower has seen me standing up, socks are my friends in this wintry chill, and perhaps in a few days when my Internet bill is due, you will see me completely cut off from the outside world.
I am happy still though.
A Different Me With Youth
You have the machine coming over to make some substance of this month, the almond and me starting on our road back from his awkwardness, cherry lapel was on the net giving me invitational insight into how fifteen year old girls act, and a trip back in memory lane tonight had me laughing hysterically at my recorded hysterical laughing back in those days at the editorial fore.
I was so different back then, so much more naïve, almost in my own little world, and only after a month or two – when reaching the great depression days – was my break into reality made aware.
I am still learning though.
The Discovery Of My Social Anxiety Disorder
Back then there was a problem with coughing but it was never seriously related, at least consciously to the self-conscious. I just coughed irrelevant of what was happening and then carried on with my idiocy, or at least it was like that around friends and when stoned.
A plague of coughing has always been around, even back to my younger days but it was only when it became a phase into conscious problems that the anxieties and paranoid thinking had crept into me. I never thought about the cough, and my only acknowledgement of it was in a phase where it was considered hereditary because my dad had one as well.
After this, it became a more conscious issue, and of course, somewhere between all this issue growing legs and gaining them was where my discovery of a social anxiety disorder was made apparent.
Six Months Off Weed
Anyway, my quest reading back is to find out the principle powers of a subconscious hereditary to anxious conscious thinking, and when we have that at our disposal, we can better understand the origin and endeavor of my condition, so that one can work to reverse what it has done.
I have been getting better since diagnosing and treating my social anxiety disorder and anxious frets, and am much more stable now than six months ago freshly off weed, but there is still a fair way to go.
Anyway, the point of this entry was so that we could get the last of that chronology done, and in fact, it wasn’t even supposed to be written in tonight.
Making A Day Of No Plans
Far from the starting furor about the machine and his supposed gay tendencies, the beginning of my day was far more serene before my walk home, talk on the phone and subsequent discussion over the net as moral support.
I woke up heaps late as usual into the afternoon but then instead of remaining indoors and feeding off the solitude that my room provided, it was my intent to throw on my shoes, slap an old well-used shirt on my back and head downtown for a walk and something to do.
Now, my usual advice is to at least make a day out of some plans you already have before you step outside – instead of just leaving impromptu – because when you have no money, one has obvious limitations.
I hate walking around with no real reason, because recreation sucks if there is no point behind it, and so to avoid demise, my brittle aim was to head to the link and look on the screens for any good jobs posted.
My task could have as easily been done at home on the computer but it was nice to get out of the house and into the mix.
Walks alone are always poor of any mood however. You either see a droopy serious look on my face or a skeptic eye and cynical gaze.
I was mostly a loner and unapproachable when walking in on my lonesome but then to a lesser degree, seeing the slight hustle and bustle on the streets near closing perked me up a bit.
As always, there was someone to see or bump into, as my theory of hometown interplay is concerned but it was a small near pointless trip to head down.
Anyway, if anything, the walk prepped me up to be in a fair mood when calling up the machine to see where he has disappeared to over these last few nights. I thought he was distancing himself and growing depressed as his birthday was nearing, because it always seems like a glum time for most around my inner circle. He was around however, and you know the rest of the story so we’ll leave it there and let you connect the dots all to it.
Online Computer Gaming With Imad
The rest makes me too tired to comment at the moment but we have the very next night with cherry lapel and our mildly saucy caper online, and of course some hooves on back in fun as the almond and the machine tried to join me for another three-way in our signature game. It never worked however.
The almond was still fidgeting trying to work out how it all fit together, while the machine was just growing impatient waiting for me to either join a two-player game or nothing at all. He was just tired of waiting and gave me an ultimatum before he came good with his roll of the dice. So the almond and me had a short game before it was time to make excuses and watch our favorite television shows at the time.
I watched Rove and he watched Temptation Island. As the night rolled on, the situation with cherry lapel made itself evident. Hmm… cherry lapel seems a bit too saucy for a fifteen-year-old virgin but the name sticks once it is made, and so cherry lapel she is.
The Unflappable Writer
I am tired now, but such is the normality of the writer so endeared. The rest of this story can be finished when waking up later today, but leaving on a good educative note, the writer should digress on how, upon hearing his smooth talking over the phone with some girl that played along with our prank, it made me realize the finer qualities of a winner, or just a larrikin looking for a stir.
My advice in reflection is that to succeed, you have to be confident and never take no for an answer, or rather, just laugh off the walls that people produce and find a more assertive way around in your favor.
I could be a washed-up has-been now if people putting me down affected the writer, and while it could be true to the successes of worldly materiality, it never wavers me.
I have to learn the same resilience that used to be married to my adolescence and incorporate it to my modern world more aware. I am tuned on more now, so when the day comes that will allow me to laugh my seriousness off, hope that there will be a compromise.
The author of Diary Of A Mad Chaos from 1996 to 2018, The Lost Years book, Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘) book series, and Foreigner (华人) an exploration of race relations in Australia. Fluent in Chinese Mandarin, Macedonian, and English, the author currently resides in China, Guangzhou where he continues to make comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies.