Summing up my day.

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."

— Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)

Pinch.

Self-diagnosis. It makes one who is capable of doing so to himself/herself quiet amazing. I digress. One not only ends up with incorrect and messed-up diagnosis but also ends up wasting time reading into things that should be left alone for good. The biggest flaw is the acceptance factor. You end up accepting a problem where there exists none. Because where there is a diagnosis, there must be some disorder and in the course of curing the (non-existent) problem, there is spent time, emotions, money and all else that one can spend. By experience, I’d say there is created a multitude of problems that could not have existed in the first place. So as an expert, in my opinion, self-diagnosis does not work. Not really effective, eh?

I thought I was so amazing that I got rid of my own bloody problems. I decided a few days back to make the best use of what I have, to make an effort towards appreciating what I have. Blah blah. You know, all of that – trying to pursue what most people around me (now friends included who are apparently on an endeavor to put me on a right direction) call ‘sense of reality’ which I have supposedly lacked since forever. It’s called ‘practicality’ and their definition includes a lot more, it also includes being ‘patient’. Now, ‘patience’ according to their definition means expressing an infinitely polite behavior towards discourteous idiots, which brings me to their definition of ‘idiots’ - it means persons who can’t help themselves from acting like morons, because that’s what they have always been like or that’s what their generation has been like. I’m sorry but this definition of practicality sounds to me like suicide. I’m happy and content with my own sense of reality and self-esteem or whatever is left of it plus the permanent label of being a snooty person.

Last line, I can’t be THAT polite to anyone. I decided to get a grip over this fact today, not that I was making this decision for the first time, but a much firmer decision than the previous ones. I hope it lasts more than 48 hours. I just hope I don’t succumb to guilt or that yearning and useless emotions pinching some part of my brain.

I seem to have gotten used to making up my mind and changing it within 12 hours.

That’s it. Self-diagnosis, yet again.