This whole week has been gorgeous outside after last week's chill and I've been sick. Nice.

So apparently it doesn't rain all the time in Taipei. It rained a near constant drear my first two years here, but this third year has been pretty darned nice, and now in December, instead of a rainy season, we're having some very nice weather. What one might expect from the near tropics.

The nasty part of the cold switched off as quickly as it switched on, but I'm still recovering. I can't do a whole lot before tiring out, and exertion ends with me soaking in sweat. I got a surprising 9 hours of sleep, so I'm still weak. Sat for 45 minutes after getting up after a 4 day break – possibly the longest break since leaving the monastery . . . hm, that's something to think about.

Can it really be that since 2005, I've never taken more than a 4-day break from daily sitting? And as a practice that has been going on and off since college, why do I do it? Is there any benefit? That's easy to answer: I don't know, and I do it on faith.

My negativity level doesn't seem to be abating, nor this pent up rage which constantly has me perplexed asking what am I so angry about? Perhaps sitting is helping me maintain some modicum of homeostasis in this ridiculous life that has no support and no infrastructure, and no active positive elements.

My life really is one big joke now. The layers of irony make me hope there's an anthropomorphic God so I can punch Him in the face when I meet Him. He'll no doubt be smiling smugly at me which will infuriate me even more.

My self-importance in wanting to but failing to commit suicide finally condemns me to living a life of abject irrelevance. Yup, real funny. Even as I focus on a pre-leaving Taipei attempt, I smirk at myself in disbelief, "that again?" Fine, go ahead and get your little attempt over and done with.

But that's just one aspect of it. One of the other aspects is still that I have to do it, I have to get passionate again, I need to focus my anger with it, I need to live to commit suicide. Otherwise I'm just alive. Dead. Where I am now.

What if I end up back in the U.S.? What then? Start over? I'm not 20 years old anymore. I need a reason. I have more than enough reasons to commit suicide. And all my reasons why I haven't are really lame and pathetic.

I have people throwing options at me at what I can do next. Some family members seem to have this misconception of me that I don't like other people's options because I like to figure things out myself, and I'm stubborn that way. The truth is I'm totally open to options, lord knows I'm not coming up with them myself – look at where I am now. Taiwan?!

I just don't like options offered by people who don't know the first thing about me.

And I end up deciding on whatever because I just don't care anymore, which is, mind you, a better excuse for committing suicide.

When I do consider those options people have offered, those are even more potent recipes for suicide. What the hell is this life I'm living anyway?