I don't know if freaked out is the word. Maybe perplexing would be more neutral and indicative of the lack of real emotional response I'm having towards Facebook. People with photos of their babies or having gotten married, blah, blah, blah, bores me to death. If only it were that easy. God how I want nothing to do with those people and their perceived boring, normative lives. I'd rather die. Death would be a much more worthwhile experience. Unfortunately, as conscious memory goes, it's a one-time deal, with not a lot of memory.

Maybe that's what adulthood is all about. When you make the decision that whatever teenage/college-aged paradigm that used to make life interesting gets buried in favor of the lifetime partner, procreation, nesting, settling down. Why did you get married? Why did you start a family? Did you think you were buying safety when you bought that piece of ground? She said all the best freaks are here, please stop staring at me.

All I have are reasons why not, and few are the people I want to hear the answers from. Luyen I'd want to hear. Diem I would not. Ed I would not. Dong I would not. Madoka I would not. Amina I would not. Nobuko I would. Vikki I would . . . not. Maybe it's the insomnia talking. It's in full swing, and I felt I was pre-meltdown at work today. I flipped the calendar a page forward at work today for a look-see and August . . . why am I doing this to myself. How much longer can this go on? I'm convinced that it won't. My health has to collapse sooner rather than later, and insomnia is only weakening my system.

I was supposed to meet a friend on Wednesday, but didn't hear back from him until later in the evening. He was in the hospital with appendicitis. He had just gotten back to Taiwan to start a new job when this happened. He was supposed to sign a new lease that day. When I went to visit him in the hospital the next day, he had people there with him. He was hardly waiting for me to show up. Afterwards, I thought that if my appendix broke, I'd probably die. If I had excruciating, debilitating pain, I wouldn't think of getting myself to the hospital or ER, as he had. I'd just suffer it in my apartment, maybe crawl to the Keelung riverbank in a protracted nightmare, but from what I hear, if you don't get your appendix operated on, you die.

And I wouldn't have peeps attending to me.

I'm just preparing to enjoy the dying process. Clear the thoughts, calm the mind, relax the body, let it happen. Smile. Even times when depression or depressive thoughts come to mind, I just mentally put my fingertips on it, and move it to a physical space outside of me and it's not depressing. It has no reality, it's plastic, malleable. Pre-meltdown at work, move it away from me. Feelings that used to attack me aren't me anymore, aren't mine. Pain and pleasure actually are the same thing, just different degrees of that thing. I was trying to explain that to a co-worker today with the mosquito bite meditation, and she wasn't getting it. She will, but not today.

Truth to tell, much of my perceived discontent has gone under meditation. Why discontent? Discontent is desire unfulfilled. What's the desire? Is it something to be fulfilled? Is it something fulfillable? Under scrutiny for what it really is, discontent also goes away. Breathe, and satisfaction is right here. Desire itself is unfulfillable. If I have desire, it's an affliction. Satisfying the desire doesn't cure the affliction.

I'm gonna try to go to sleep. I'll be awake in 3 hours and struggling to get enough rest for another full-time shift tomorrow. Saturday night is the easiest shift, which is why I took it, my 3rd full-time shift in a row.