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I need to write.
Not blog, blog I can do every day. Write. And that means I have to read a good book, puts me back in the mood and my thoughts fall into structure. Otherwise I end up having twitter like rambles that go nowhere.
I’ve purposely delayed the decision to travel back to the old homeland. That is because I prefer the new homeland. I can’t stand the old language lately, assailing me everywhere. It’s a sign, and I know it. It means there’s something there that I need to reconcile.
I shouldn’t be up this early, that means I will probably be late.
Work is slow lately. That is good. I don’t believe my job is in danger, but I do believe that the company should not hire more people if the support department is barely having a few calls each day.
I need to write. I have one story idea that looks like it has a start, a middle and an ending. It’s calling me. Then there’s any of my started stories that died in the middle. I could just pick one up and start.
It’s a common trait, a pattern for me, to move on and forget stuff automatically. People I used to talk about every day for years and years were left behind and I can barely remember a name or a face. I do remember my best friend H, but only certain things. I will not forget the day I learned he took his own life. I will not forget his mom, who I adopted as my aunt, who would stay close to me specially after my mom’s death to cancer. And I will never forget H’s mom died of cancer as well. I hope all three of them are together now. Sorry mom, as usual… I will be the one who’s late, if I get there at all.
I wonder sometimes if forgetting her is how I live without my mother. I guess it is unavoidable but it makes me feel so cold.
G is doing something today. It’s also his birthday. I’d better go see him.