Note 80: Archives 1

Drinking: Lemon and Ginger tea

Listening to: Soundcloud station based on Yasushi Yashida- Permanent Yesterday

Notable songs: N/A

Notable lines: N/A


It's 8:21, I woke at 7 to my alarm and then returned to sleep until maybe 7:30. In the extra time I had a nightmare about being hunted by government agents for helping someone and then having to fight for my life. That was terrifying. But I'm happy I'm awake now, although my eyes are bloody sore.

Yesterday was a better day.

For breakfast I cooked another frittata. This time I tweaked it by using 3 eggs instead of 2 and leaving it on the heat for a long time on medium. This worked out a lot better, but there was still a layer of uncooked eggs at the top. I watched a Jamie Oliver video from his archives where a British family living in Spain showed him how to cook one. They simply put a lid on it to trap the steam which set the top of the fritatta. @What's the difference between an omelette and a frittata? Along with this I had a butter sandwich, an apple and some cheese. Mainly things that I can eat without thinking much or preparing much. Grazeable foods.

I started the morning shift at work by sanding down and painting the back door frame. I began with p80 and moved onto p240 sandpaper. This helped but many of the problems in the current appearance would have been much easier sorted out if the wood had been sanded before the new layers of paint were added. Following this, I undercoated a section of what I had sanded. During the breaks I just sat there maybe taking some notes onto my iPod, but that was about it. The day before, I had a new book to read during the breaks, but this proved too difficult to tear myself away from and the breaks rushed past without letting me feel like I had rested. It was okay to just sit there, but it proved difficult to actually force myself to take a break occasionally. I tried out taking them once I completed a specific section rather than simply on the clock. This was easier for me to manage.

For lunch, I once again skipped eating anything as I was still dealing with the brick like fullness from the omelette at breakfast. Because of the combined stress of managing my guts and my teeth, the less food I eat the less anxious I am. Instead I read for half an hour, meditated for 15 minutes and prepared myself for the next shift. I was reading in a new book from a company called The Moth. It's a collection of short stories from a variety of people. I understood that there was wide variety of normal people, but most of those included in the book seemed to be major players within their field, so that was a bit annoying.

In the afternoon shift, I was still quite lethargic. I finished the shift by painting the back door frame with a top coat. I started the shift by painting the front door frame with a top coat. I'm not a very fast worker. But then again I was feeling like crap with my @heavy shoes, and fleece on, so I was surprised I did any work. I still can't imagine just bailing on work if feel like shit.

At 4:50, Dad and I played scrabble on his phone for a bit, it was quite engaging, but it felt like where you distract yourself from your own demise. I know it's dark, but these thoughts are often just below the surface for me. My dad rarely probes how I'm actually doing and what I'm actually thinking about, so in order to discuss things with him, I need to bring it out manually. I've been doing that more often recently, but not during the scrabble game. I was just happy that the work day was over. I was getting hungrier for the half hour prior, so the relief to be able to snack before dinner was exciting.

Whilst preparing dinner, I listened to the latest video from Harris O'Malley's The Doctor NerdLove channel. It was a video on the Nice Guy phenomenon. It was quite unsettling to listen to. And I'm happy about it. In the comments was a rather good quote from a book that I read a few years ago that I enjoyed. The book was called "Their Eyes were watching God" by Zora Neale Hurston. If I remember correctly she was the first African American woman to be published in America.

The quote is as follows.

"That man should be kissing your mouth, and he kissin' your foot. And a man stay down and kiss your foot long enough, you can't help but look down on him. But, come some day, he gonna look up, and SEE you looking down on him, and you ain't never gonna have another happy day."

This was a piece of the book that I had entirely forgotten. Mostly I remembered the tragedy of the floods. The quote struck a nerve within me and I am grateful to her for writing it. I think it's one of those lessons I'm going to have to relearn a bunch of times. I sometimes get so lost with how bad I have it, I just assume other people's lives are nothing but daisies and sunshine and they're doing great without a bad thought in their head. I logically know this isn't right, but it's really easy to do. And I want to do it, because if they're feeling as shit I do, then I can't feel that bad. But if everyone around me is having a marvellous time, but I feel like shit, then I can enjoy that. I get to feel righteous whilst suffering.

The food I cooked was bloody good. It started with Norfolk sausages and left over new potatoes, fried with garlic. After these had simmered together for some time, I added a whole bag of spinach, which wilted down pretty quickly. I then added a tesco mushroom soup to it. We had butter sandwiches to go with it. I'm trying to get better at only cooking as much as we need for that meal, but it's difficult.

After dinner, I felt more lethargic in a post-prandial state. However there's no rest for the weary, and we were to go to Tesco. Normally I would want to be clean by the time we get there, but I couldn't be bothered to have a shower. Instead I just cleaned my teeth, got changed and I was ready to go. @I would like to get better basic hygiene for these kind of situations, to have a higher baseline when depressed. Once we arrived, the main decision to make was what sort of meat we wanted to eat over the weekend. Dad suggested a large pack of pork loin steaks as they were a good price. We rarely have to make this decision in London because 90% of the meat we buy is reduced to 25% of the original sticker price. It was nice to have to actually have to consider the cost of the meat.

Once we arrived home we came up against another factor that we normally don't have to face. In London when we're lacking in freezer space or simply want to divvy up a larger pack of meat into smaller ones, my dad would repackage them into sandwich bags. This is a practice that I find fundamentally frustrating. However because I only remember the frustration when I open the freezer and see them, I never address it. The main reasons for the frustration is the lack of hygiene inside the freezer (frozen water touching the meat falling out of the open bag onto other produce) and outside (when trying to remove the meat from the bag, little bits of frozen meat water would inevitably spring out as the bag has frozen into crevices around the meat). @To address this finally, I would like to buy more silicone freezer bags, and store them in that instead. They're resuable, pretty and fully sealable. Once my small one is freed up, I would like to do so

After arriving home I was yet more lethargic. Very tired. I remembered that I still had my daily German studies to do. So I went ahead and did them. Right now I've been listening to Fabian Römer's album L_BENSLAUF while studying. I switched over from a lofi playlist as it was too romantic which depressed me when I thought of S. The problem with Römer's is that his lyrics are terribly distracting. I may switch over to the instrumental of a different German album. That way I would get the memory of listening to german music to prime my brain for it, but will also be able to focus on the task at hand, and not just focus on brute forcing my way through the session.

After this I read even further in the Moth book. What I found particularly exciting was how many coincidences there were through the pages for me. One of the authors was raised around Cape Cod, which A Keeper of Sheep was based in. In another by an American who's family is from India, I guessed the author correctly. It was Hasan Minhaj a comedian that I've become a big fan of recently. Yet another happened to be a poet and hip-hop artist that has collaborated with one of my favourite Australian rap groups, who no-one I met has heard of. The author was Omar Musa, and the group he's previously collaborated with was Horrorshow. This has made the book rather special for me.

To add onto that, many of the other stories were touching. One in particular was about 2 men that went on a quest to meet Chad Everett. It ended well but was still sad. @I would quite like to speak at one of these events. If not speak, at least attend. But preferably speak. I've always like the idea of getting better at story telling. And I'm in awe that people can tell a story that's like 5 pages long without notes. Maybe I can too one day.

Who knows.

Bis morgen.

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