A hundred words will get you a kitten. Day 1.

Nothing seems to be entirely satisfactory to me right now. This is the kind of phase I often, perhaps always, dread. The phase when I feel like I'm sitting in a box flying through space at a very slow rate, surrounded by an amplified sound of a drone.
Satiety is something that leads one to comfort, right?
Why is it that I am always looking for this comfort?
Is it that I cannot function if I don't feel comfortable?
Does that also mean that when I am functioning well and productively, that I am comfortable?
There may be different kinds of comforts, that's for sure.
But this feeling of uneasiness where I feel like there a million knots in my chest and that each finger on my hands is being pulled by separate strings into different directions is what I find most uncomfortable.
There has to be a way to channel this feeling of being pulled by my core at the same time as being pulled by unknown, powerful external forces which seem to exist all around me, in different directions.
This conflict.
I know it exists.
But I only recognize its existence.
I can't recognize its form, strength or its meaning.
I am at peace.
Perhaps not entirely.
Perhaps I still have a long way to go until I recognize all the forces that surround me, and all the forces I contain, within myself.
Perhaps there really is much more to 'reality' than I take for granted.

Coffee Makes You Poop

Or want to. Or hungry. Or excited. Or irritable.
Hungry, now.
Probably because it's almost 3 pm and I haven't eaten anything yet.
Some people are okay with that. Just curb your hunger with cigarettes.
Doesn't that give you a headache? Eating smoke for breakfast? For lunch? For dinner?
I blame my lack of good physical endurance on having missed a million meals throughout my childhood, into the mid-teens till about when I was 16 or 17. I started eating somewhat 'properly' then. But what is that, really?
And these people, who skip meals like cats skip humans(umm?), untill they fall sick or feel sick and then they crave a good home-cooked (or close) meal.
So, in conclusion, I am perpetually sick?
But but, hey, I am not implying that I crave a good meal. Oh no, I don't even remember the last time that happened. Yes, since I started facing 'consequences' of not having eaten properly, my views on food, nutrition etc. got all mixed up. And I can't pin-point to anything right now because I drank too strong a coffee for my own good and I'm all jittery. Eeeeeeeeeh.

SO. Point is. I don't know. Yes. Coffee makes you poop. Shut up, it's true. I don't get what the whole 'ooooh! let's meet for a coffee' or 'oh, we'll talk over coffee' or 'coffee and cigarettes, maaaan. Heaven.' thing is about. Seriously. Coffee makes you poop or at least want to. WHY would you want to do that or have that grumbly sensation in your nether regions seven times in a day? I mean, what are you made of? Bear muscle and steel? Cause, I drink ONE strong coffee and I feel my insides melting. (Too graphic? Deal with it. CAUSE IT'S TRUE).
And it also curbs your hunger. Thank you for being another one of those things that confuses our brain, coffee. Thank you. It's such a delight having your brain send mixed signals. Oh, such a ball!
So, no, how do I eat anything when I feel like someone's pumping air into that big stomach at the center of my abdomen (to you illiterate idiots, no, that's not where the stomach is. It's tiny. And it's on the left. Pretty high. Yes, that place that 'feels' things when you drink too cold a glass of water or those awful days when eat something too gassy. Eeeks)
Nausea.
Coffee makes you nauseous.
Nausea. Such a beautiful word.
On that note, I should go eat something.
A single healthy meal fixes aaaaaalll of those eeky things.
So eat. Healthy. And on time.
No that's not the moral of the story.
That's me re-affirming that I'm a better, more sensible, smarter person now. Hahahahaha.
Or you know, you could imagine the tiny place inside that thing your left upper-abdomen sizzling and gushing green, wonderful liquid. (BILE)

Turns Out...

...moods change.

     I have too many scribbles here and there and the thought of putting them together in a coherent, structured passage just bazooshez* my brain so sensible reading STUFF (material) will be up as soon as my hands stop shaking. 

     Until then, here's something my brain was teaching me at 4 in the morning a few days ago. 

       You watch a film or a documentary or read about a country and its wild, raw side and go “That! That’s where the answers to all of my questions lie! The end to my misery!” 

       This land that is the ‘end of all misery’ makes up at least 4 countries on every continent. In reality, if you were to actually go there to look for an 'answer', you’d realize that they’re just another piece of land, and might come back with more misery. 

     And that is an insight into how my mind lures me into doing nothing.
          In it's defense, it was being truthful. 
              (Yes, and truth has gotten us so far, hasn't it, brain?)

On a side note, I have a (not so) interesting relationship with misery. For further details, please hop on to this.

      My awfsome habit of internet traveling on Google Street View makes me rethink the role of all senses in creating the experience of a new place. Take this, for example, (one of the million screenshots I've taken during my decades spent on GSV. Of course I took them to show everyone where all I traveled!!!!**) :
 

     This sight is just marvelous. I feel allured to the vastness of these mountains. I can feel the slight chill in the air, but I rejoice its freshness, its purity, so easy to breathe in, you'd think you were in the land of elves. I look around with a slight smile on my face, restraining my hands from reaching out towards the scenery to check whether something so simple and yet so pleasing to the eyes could exist or if it's just an extremely vivid wallpaper. I stretch my back and feel that certain soreness which comes from being on the road for too long. There is a slight hunger but the excitement of being there has numbed the appetite.

     So I stretch out. And my hand touches something smooth and flat. I knew it was a wallpaper.

     I knew that I'm not really there.

    I am here, sitting, in 40 degrees heat and like a zombie in front of THIS SCREEN that divides the mountains and me, that divides you and me, I'm just dropping myself on random places on the map.

     Beyond the assumed pity at my hopelessness that I'll receive from the reader and my own self-loathing et negativity, one thing that massive amounts of time spent 'driving' on GSV have made me want to open the question of experience. We talk about experiences all the time, because that's what we do. We experience things, events, situations, emotions. But when it comes to serious traveling, making an effort, getting up and being a part of an environment so different from the four walls of your room, what exactly changes?

     More thoughts on traveling and ze world et cultures in the future, including my narration of a few wasted experiences of some BEAUTIFUL countries. (Why wasted? You'll know if you keep up with me. Or if you know me all too well, then you know, the same old.)

*Bazooshez: v. , I don't know. What does it sound like to you? Something to do with explosions and bazookas, I hope.  

** Not really, this started as a project to capture unusual, eccentric, and sometimes breathtaking sites from all over the Earth. Again, thank you Google Street View. There is also another superhuman doing a similar, yet much better job with capturing these views. And this is where I do it. 
 

Hello Hello Hello and Good Morning Sunshiiiines

Because I'd been getting too many sad ideas for too many sad blogs, but today, I felt happy so I'm starting a happy blog.
This has ought to be good.
This is the child of happiness and a sleepless night.
Ought to be good.
Hurray. (I never say this. I am already doubting this.)