I didn't think there was anything specific behind my reluctance to enroll in the TEFL course. To get my life moving, that is. Indecision is nothing new to me. Procrastination is one of my hobbies.

But I started reflecting on teaching English in Taiwan, visualizing doing it and all the things I will need to do and experience to make it happen, and I realized that...I don't see it happening. Am I on drugs? Wow. How much would I hate doing that?

It sends my mind into overdrive.

It's only because of momentum, a chance push in the weightlessness of space, that I even consider it. I'd rather be pushed into a black hole.

And it frightens the bejeezus out of me, the idea of planning on doing something that looks like...living; doing something that doesn't have dying somewhere in the plan. Folks, this may be a first!

I have an un-opened bottle of expired Target sleeping pills that I'm gonna take one of these days. Not a suicide attempt, I've taken enough bottles of sleeping pills in my life to know that over-the-counter sleeping pills won't kill me. Just a suicide gesture that no one has to know about, something to push me down, way down, so that when I come back up there will be that momentum to move forward.

But it makes me think of the abuse I've wreaked on my body, especially my liver. Another bottle of sleeping pills isn't going to kill me, but my liver sure won't be happy about it. At worst, more damage done. More damage done in furtherance of some fatal internal failure. Which would be great, fine, if I was still living with a plan for dying.

I currently don't have one, gave it up not long ago, and I'm planning on going to Taiwan to teach English. Living. Not that I wouldn't be good at it. I'm afraid of losing sight that living is not what my life is about, and my investigation in this lifetime is on dying, and I always need to keep that in sight, or else what's the point of living?

At least the water's warm in Taiwan.