Writing

It is terrible a feeling to face the computer (which you rent for the net access), open the email, and type your post, not knowing what to write about.

The post is simply a deluted amount of the thousands of ideas that you want to write about when you are not in front of the monitor, and your chest is bursting with ideas and emotions to write about.

Like this post, for example.

Number, one, there are definitely a lot of things that I complain about not being able to write - because I cannot remember.

Number two, when you try to write, and you try to edit, the things you have typed disappears after you make some changes in the settings -- which is exactly what happened.

I could almost hate it.

Lesson learned: Edit the settings before you type your thoughts.

* * *

Somebody asked me if I had vices, and I told that person that yes, I had vices. For most people, vices are social and psychologically related. For me, however, they are not. I know I could easily stop those vices then. I just refused to. It was my error.

Most of the time, the vices were rather reflection of my spiritual status - an act of rebellion. Yes. I am a sinner. Definitely. I wouldn't say a proud one, but I cannot lie to myself. I have sinned.

And those moments and periods of rebellion, I continually ask for forgiveness and I repent on these days. An act of atonement, sort of.

(Please, don't compare me to Kenshin...)

* * *

I hear people saying, "I miss you," or, "let's go out sometime," but when you invite them, they are always not ready.

I would like to say that I am guilty of that, but I still have to find that. Well, when I discontinue an appointment, it was something that I initiated, not something I refuse.

* * *

Wow, my birthday passed without a post.

Well, that is fine. I like it. I don't have to spend money for treating people.

But it is quite disappointing and hurtful not to get a greeting from people you would expect.

Expectancy Violation Theory, Interpersonal Communication.

* * *

Somebody asked me why I took college in seven years. I cannot say it was anybody's or some particular thing's fault. It was my own. Well, not really my fault in the negative connotation of the term. It was coincidental that that happened with my experience in the Corps. I made wrong decisions. In a way, I paid for it, but actually, it seems that it was the payment for the life I have now.

I mean, if not for that seven (actually, 6.5) years, I am sure I would live differently. I have a different circle of friends. I probably would not be posting this message here. I probably would not be answering this question (definitely not), and I would not be asked that question by that person.

That question was a good one.

It helped me put some things in perspective.

Like the values of things.

The people in my life.

The experience as a lesson, a message, an action and faith.

Would I have lived life a bit differently?

I don't know.

Because if I did, I wouldn't meet the people I have around me. Including that person.

* * *

The questions. Yes. Two questions. Why?

I just got out of work, and the company asked me to sign something that has not been explained. The paper was routine document about security. I have signed dozens of those before, printed in paper and electronically. Now, however, the paper presented something different. I asked, "Why?"

I explained that the paper itself was immaterial. I actually have to ask myself, why did I respond that way? Why did I ask? Why did I simply not sign it? There was no question on whether it was a threat or a tool, but the message being passed in that form is difficult to understand. I said, "There is a value and property here that is not being recognized, the form."

Asking why helped me evaluate - no, let me correct that -- assess myself. Not to be just critical for being critical - that could be the most stupid thing a person asking questions can live by - to be critical for living critical. It is definitely more stupid than living by a boring life due to a faith in a higher power.

I asked questions so that I could find answers, and find improvement in things that are not proper.

Or maybe, I thought I was threatened.

In any case, it woke me up.

Hmm. I've been online for one hour and fifteen minutes. Time to log out.