Was reading Pausch’s The Last Lecture yesterday. I’m thinking that if I go on this way, I’ll have multiple mid-life crises in the future. The way he talks about his life just makes me look at mine in horror. What happened to my childhood then? What were my childhood dreams? There weren’t any lasting ones for sure. I clamped them down. It is however, true that I have gained many things that I’d hoped for— but what do I really hope for?

Was reading ‘Aryn’ Rand (The Romantic Manifesto) yesterday. It was only when I was talking to my friend about it that I’ve just realised— after 2 years that she was called ‘Ayn’ Rand, not ‘Aryn’. I love what I’d read so far.

I used to read books, all kinds of them because they will eventually— one way or another, serve as ‘self-help’ material– meaning I can gain something useful from them, whether I am emotionally-poverished or not.

And now, I don’t know. The wall I have put up to keep the incoming waters away has been too effective– a drought is pending.

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