We’re all writers of our own story

First, I was going to title this entry “Night Night Night Night Night Night Night”…….  Guess what the subject is to be.   Anyhow, a friend of mine sent a story and it ended with “We’re all writers of our own story”; this seems appropriate for a third entry title.

 

Also, I have been using to-do lists each day, recently things haven’t been getting crossed off.  I am not sure what is up with this, it is a little disappointing.  At first I was discouraged, but this is not the kind of thing I want to just forget about and stop using.  Instead, I am going to make a new list tomorrow and delete the old, only holding onto items which I have on multiple lists.  Those will be my priorities.

At the recommendation of my friend Ayush, I am going to be tutoring.  Tomorrow is the first day of orientation, the only actually.  It is from 2PM till 6.30PM.  Wish me luck…

 

….Back to the night, once again.  As happens every 12 hours or so…..

The nights that I miss, that I long for.  Out of grasp, or right in front of me?

What is better than playing video games with the amigos when the sun is setting and the windows are cracked.  The scent of cigarettes lingering from my friends as we crack jokes and play zombies.  The excitement of the weekend building as the workweek draws to an end.  Friday, time to have some fun.  Not too much, however, for there is always more work to do at Cornell.

 

The nights so cool and so bright.  Is night dark?  Yes, but our laughter brightens the atmosphere.  It sure is dark, no doubt about it.  No headlights as we zoom down Tokay Hill, a big mofo.  I was timid, I’ve always been freaked out by the thought of hitting a pothole.  Best way to get rid of fears, to overcome them.  Time to bike at full speed over a giant pothole?  I’ll reconsider this actually.

 

Chilling in the nang after a full day full of adventure, after playing at the park, walking with Amalamala..  watching Hindi movies as the sleepy haze draws over my eyes, like the oven curing bread into a fine golden specimen.  Well, raw bread, that dough.

 

 

“Put my fist up when I get my dick sucked”, listening to Earl Sweatshirt with the homies as we are sitting around the house, facing the interior and freestyling.  That was the shit.. winter doesn’t motivate me as hard as the heat.  The cold slows me down, physically and mentally.  Surprise surprise?

Not even.

 

Walking in the alleyway, feeling the ground as I walk in the ruts.  Ruts created by the cars driving through each day, exposing the scalp of the earth.  I enjoy how the scab-like condensed snow and ice feel, but I miss the gravel sticking to my feet and the smooth moist grass sprouting between my toes.  The warmth of the sun brings me an optimism that hasn’t been felt since my friends and I tried acid.  That was an ephemeral happiness, a reminder of how great the world is.  The stuff I normally realize, when there is warmth.

 

I feel like an infant who has been thrown into a bucket of ice, except not at all for I haven’t experience that…. I imagine that it is exhilarating as well as mind boggling.

 

We’re all writers of our own story, so I’ll be honest with mine.

As Kunsang asks “do you want your parents to know you took acid”, I say not necessarily, but I sure do not feel a reason to hide the truth for them.  As far as I am concerned, they have been honest and open with me.

 

Thank you Mom, thank you Dad.

 

Thank you for providing me with parents who can teach me to be open.

Thank you for instilling intellectual freedom into me.

Thank you for helping me thus far on my journey to find my birthparents.

What must that feel like for them, both the searched and those who are sending me on this journey..  I wonder.  Well, I thought I would be able to tell you how it felt to be searched, nothing.  I say this because I figured they don’t know I am looking.  Likewise, I do not know if they are looking, but for all I know they have been searching longer than I, and to no prevail evidently.  I just do not know.

Pause.  Think.  Sigh.

 

Who knows.

Hopefully some day I will be able to ask.

Sooner than later please.  I do not want this to turn into a test of patience, an amalgamation of anxiety and wallowing.  That has not been the case for a while, though out of the blue this happens once in a while.

 

Hmm.  Time for bed.

My random 道德經 only seems appropriate, thus I will post it.

4

The Tao is like a well:
used but never used up.
It is like the eternal void:
filled with infinite possibilities.

It is hidden but always present.
I don’t know who gave birth to it.
It is older than God.”

LaoZi

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