notes from summer ’22

The other day, my friend told me that I looked a lot more attractive now than I was in the summer. Little do they know that I am just more attractive when I am sad.

Which brings me to the million dollar question: Why do I feel so sad all the time?

I, so sincerely, wish I had the answer to that question. At least, it would save thousands in therapy expenses I have already paid and will paid in the future.

At the same time, I feel like my life is lacking nothing and everything. I’ve been trying so hard to be happy, and sometimes it works. But sometimes, it feels like it doesn’t.

I feel so delicate, like my world is about to collapse at any moment.

I feel as if I have been hurt by no one and everyone.

I feel as if nothing I do matters, not that it needs to matters because things can still be meaningful without mattering, but the worse part about it is that there aren’t things to bring me meaning in addition to the fact that nothing I do matters.

I’m not sure where I am right now. I’m not sure what would make me happy.

I think I’ve been more happy lately than I have been before. It’s hard to tell because it happens and then it stops happening. It’s hard to understand happiness as a state of being because it happens so quickly, and then you return to some other experience that is not nearly as happy.

I feel so heartbroken again
Even though nothing has happened yet
It is what will inevitably happen in the future
That I already know about

I don’t trust what I feel anymore
All I wish
Is to not to feel the things I do
My thoughts hurt me so much

I want to cry. I don’t know why I want to cry. I just want to cry.

I don’t feel so great. I feel so alone, even after sending time with people. I feel so alone. I feel more alone now than I did before, even after spending time with people that supposedly fill me with energy. I feel so alone. There is a repetitive nature of feeling alone. Just alone.

Happy hour followed by drinks. The image of intimacy. It just reminds me of what I think it feels like being close with others without the actual relationship of being close to others.

I didn’t receive many presents on my birthday growing up. The closest thing I had to a present was that I was allowed to not practice violin on my birthday, which back then, was the equivalent of heaven on earth.

I’ve been listening to “Nothing New” by Taylor Swift a lot lately. It was the song in Red featuring Phoebe Bridgers. One lyric, in particular, stands out to me:

How did I go from growing up to breaking down?

It’s a funny thing really. I don’t recall having a happy birthday since childhood. I don’t even remember the last time I was actively “happy” on my birthday. Being happy on your birthday is one of those things that you leave behind in elementary school, along with baby teeth and scented markers.

I would say, on average, I break down a lot less as of recent than I did when I was in college or high school. Additionally, the source of my breakdowns is less so the limitations of my achievements as opposed to an overall state of confusion of where I am and where I want to go. When you are a child, you are limited by your control of yourself and what your environment is able to provide for you. When you are an adult, you are still limited by your control of yourself, but the environment has a lot less to do with the direction you take.

I’m genuinely unsure of how to meet people. Between work and home, it seems that there isn’t a natural way to meet people, as it was in college. There is a limitation to how close you can be with your work friends since they, after all, are still your work friends. At home, I live by myself, so there’s nothing there except saying hi to my doorman every morning.

I’m reading all of these stories about living in New York, all the debauchery and frugal excess, and I’m unconvinced that some of these events happened the way that some people say they do. Maybe that’s just me being bitter about not living life the way I want to live it — I need significantly more money and friends to do that. But I consider my social skills to be fine, so if I have difficulties making friends in my twenties, surely other people do as well, right?

Everything hurts so much
Subway rides and broken escalators
Facts about life I never knew
Information that I should’ve never learned
Emails without a proper subject
Spilt juice on the sidewalk
Halal devoured by a raccoon
In Central Park

Was there a time when Instagram didn’t have ads? I swear when I was in high school, Instagram didn’t have ads. That was a few short years ago. Now, it seems that every other post on Instagram is an ad. I can’t even see content anymore. Everything is just an ad. Even content posted are ads. Is it possible to have a platform for content without ads?

notes from winter ’21

At my Muay Thai class today, I made a realization of why I don’t have any friends.

I don’t have many guy friends because many core parts of my personality are antithetical to traditional expressions of masculinity.

I don’t have that many girl friends because I end up developing crushes on them, and that usually ends up very bad very quickly or very good for a bit and then very bad very slowly.

In multivariate calculus, we learned about Legrange multipliers, which is a tool that allows us to maximize a function given a constraint, defined as ∇f(x, y, z) = λ∇g(x, y, z).

I keep on thinking — I want to be a billionaire, but I’m doing all of these things in my life that doesn’t make it easier to become a billionaire. For example, I want to work abroad for a little bit. That probably doesn’t help my career since it basically resets my professional network very early in my career. Yet, I still want to work abroad. Why? I’m not sure; it just seems like something that would make life interesting.

Realistically, I don’t think my attitude is to just make as much possible in life. There are constraints here and there, like the need to live a meaningful life, whatever that means.

More likely, I’m trying to make as much money as possible given the constraint of wanting to not regret the way I lived my life until I reach age 30, when my life effectively ends.

Memento mori is the concept of living a fulfilling life with the pressing thought that we are going to die. Personally, I don’t care too much about dying; I feel like life is too long anyways.

People often describe New York as losing its grandeur after a couple months in the city. I find that characterization to be, above all, a personal characterization. Someone is always going to find New York illustrious and romantic and whatever. It is only after we condition ourselves do the things around us that used to bring us pleasure, no longer bring us pleasure.

I think part of the reason I want to be attractive is just due to the fact that I want to be noticed. I tend to notice attractive people more than I notice unattractive people. Since I tend to generalize my own experiences to that of the rest of the world, I also think other people tend to notice attractive people more than they notice unattractive people.

For most of my life, I had the impression that I was the ugliest person on Earth. Somewhere down the line, I became exposed to a lot more ugly people, and I realized that I wasn’t so ugly after all.

The other day, my friend mentioned to me that I tend to generalize how I feel at a particular moment of time into how I feel at large. I am happy right now. I feel happy because my intimacy threshold has been met for the night, and I feel connected to the people in the world around me. When I am happy, I will continue to feel that I am happy by nature of knowing myself and knowing what makes me happy.

It is hard to grasp how I will feel outside of this particular phenomenon I am experiencing. I don’t know if I will continue to be happy in a couple hours’ time.

Spotify needs to find out a way to stop suggesting certain songs to me.

Certain songs trigger me, honey.