Either way, this is another addition to my formidable wall of shadows I keep accumulating. Shadows being my looming, haunting regrets of the past. — I always have flashes of headaches recalling bad memories. I wish I had amnesia.

I started an online business making virtual goods and I get just enough money for food and to buy things I like. I live at home with my mother so I am rent free. I want to study but when I tried to go back to school again I get severe social anxiety. Where I would smile and socialize to people but I am really screaming inside. Eventually I became fickle with my studies and retail jobs that came along the way. — I hermit at home and hardly go out at all. Im nocturnal and I used to sleep 12-14 hour days just so I wouldnt have to face reality. Ive pushed all my friends away because I convinced myself they wouldnt understand what im going through. Or those that would understand I dont want to burden by my black clouds so Im hiding until I get better. But Ive been hiding for a long time and my friends just think I am a terrible friend.

I know what to do and yet I dont know what to do. I know I have to clean my room and do laundry and create art and beautiful things but inspiration and motivation just escapes me. I know I should seek out a therapist and medication but with all the cliches of $350/hr shrinks out there I dont know how or where to take the leap or have the stamine to take initiative.

Im wondering how I can find free or close to free therapy? I dont have a big income so I guess I could get insurance to cover a shrink. I could start there.

Today I bought a new book called ‘I was told there’d be cake’ by Sloane Crosley. The cover reference compares her essay writings to Sedaris and she is a NYer and the first chapter is about her stash of plastic pony figurines under her sink. All these factors encouraged my purchase. Chapter 2 is about her being Jewish and I couldn’t relate much there but I’m sure the book will get more interesting. A part of me is stubborn to read on because she is a straight woman and I am more open to read about the lives of young men or gay men.

On my way to the bookstore there was a crowd lining up around E.87th St and 2nd Ave. I didn’t think anything of it. They had barricades and people gathered as if a small parade was coming. The only thing that came to mind was the Pope since the previous night all news channels were spammed of the same footage of the Pope in a car arriving somewhere in the city but I didnt let the thought stick because I wasn’t interested in the Pope. When I had finished purchasing my book and started heading back home the crowd had become more thick and I was intent on crossing the street. Some people ahead of me made it to the other side but a pretty black police-woman pushed me back at the edge of the sidewalk and said I could not cross. I asked her what was going on and she said it was the Pope. The lady next to me with a baby carriage went on and on about her late manicure to the police-woman. Another snobby Manhattanite lady was yelling at a male police officer close by, too, asking for his last name because she was so upset she couldn’t cross the street. He gave her his police identification number too just for kicks, and I couldnt help but laugh out loud.

It wasnt more than five minutes before two dozen police men on motorcycles started coming down the street. Some men across the street started chanting “GIVE ME A ‘P’! GIVE ME AN ‘O’! GIVE ME A ‘P’! GIVE ME AN ‘E’! Whats that spell?! P-O-P-E!” and I thought that was hillarious they were treating the Popes arrival like some football game. 

Finally behind the police motorcycles was a black van where the Pope must have been and everyone sighed in excitement. But I didnt notice, I was too into watching the cars behind wondering if the Pope was on some cheesy ornate float. His passing mustve lasted less than a few seconds and the crowd dispersed just as quickly. Everyone had their cameras and I even saw a man with a giant cardboard full of Pope memorabilia buttons. I thought this man mustve been the one who started the chant to help sell his pin buttons. – I really dont see the big deal. I think the Pope is only a man who masturbated when he was a teenager. Then I thought he is just like Gandhi or the Dahli Lama. Just a figure head of religion. A man that lives as a symbol to represent God.

Here at home I am not doing much. Just pretending to be busy and submitting to all my bad ritualistic habits. I use my computer so much the color has faded on certain parts of my mouse due to the constance and heat of my fingers. I tape a piece of tissue to the tip of my right hand ring finger because its my clicking finger and it hurts from overuse.– Ever day I drink atleast three MONSTER energy drinks that I rely on for high bursts of caffeine sessions that usually last about 4-5 hours each. I drink so much of it my shit is green like the color of the drink and the bottle.

I bought 3 cans of MONSTER energy drink. That stuff is like my drugs. I bought a package of black Twizzlers and a Milky Way bar. I also read a bit of my Haddon book and have read through 70 pages. The book is only 220 pages so it will be a quick read. Which should mean I should go back for that Sedaris book I had my eye on.

I’m trying to stay on a diet, but once I get hungry its hard to resist the temptation of my refrigerator. Last week I had a bank problem so I stocked up on 4/$1.00 ramen packets so I wouldn’t go hungry and promised myself to grind on some work. However today my money came through so I’m comfortable again and decided to treat myself to those snacks and energy drugs I mentioned.

Well, thats about it. Ciao.

I started for Central Park. There is a conservatory garden near my house and I spend maybe an hour and a half there reading. After that I headed to a nearby train station thinking perhaps I can kill four hours by train hopping and reading more. — I decided to go to Barnes & Noble on Astor place to get a new David Sedaris book since the one I was reading was almost done, but to my surprise they had closed it down on Astor place. So I started heading to the Barnes & Noble at Union Square but ended up in Strand Bookstore, where after a long while I ended up buying ‘the curious incident of the dog in the night-time’ by Mark Haddon instead of a Sedaris book.

I went back to Astor place to a Starbucks where I had a tall (small) black coffee where I spent an hour finishing the book ‘Naked’ by Sedaris. I flipped some inside Haddons book but got distracted by the sunshine and decided to make my way, as I usually do, ritualistically toward Chinatown. At Chinatown I had a sandwhich, some juice and some peanuts then I headed to the Arcade. I usually play Street Fighter but today wasnt too exciting since no one played me.

By the time I got home my mother was snug snoring. A few moments later my step-father came to visit with a load of groceries. Before I left the house this morning my mother had been arguing with him on the phone. He probably came over in the afternoon partly because of a guilt trip and partly because my mothers high blood pressure is due to him not living with us anymore.

I passed out for four hours while they were cooking because I only got three and a half hours of sleep the night before. Most of the time I sleep through to 1pm or 2pm. Even though I have enough energy my dreams are just very comfortable. I usually wake up when my head hurts enough or the warm weather outside causes me discomfort.

I bought one of those large KFC chicken buckets and a box of french fries for the two of us thinking of how happy she would be about it. The only thing that was running through my mind was, “But she can’t die she hasn’t eaten her fried chicken yet.”

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My mother ended up being fine. Her doctor ushered her into an ambulance after he deemed her blood pressure too high. So we sat in the ER with her as she bathed in the attention. My step-dad, his daughter, my mother and myself. — We spent most of the time waiting my mothers turn for medical care. Ed and his daughter left at almost midnight and we left an hour after. I’m glad everything was ok.

Spring is kind of refreshing. The warm weather and sunshine making me feel nostalgic from happier days.

My mind feels cluttered and I’m trying to unconciously cleanse it by eradicating negative thoughts and images of the past that constantly haunt me.

I started a new book called “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coleho. — I’ve had this book for years collecting dust on my shelves. I’ve seen it over and over promoted in bookstores especially Barnes & Noble and have had friends that read it. I know it’s about spirituality and I was in the mood for a dose of that so I decided to give it another shot. It’s a very thin book and a real quick read but I just came across a story in the book I wanted to share. It pounded in my unconsciousness as I dreamed.

It was about a shopkeeper who sent his son out to learn the true meaning of happiness. So he sent him to a wise man far away. The wise man was very busy with lots of people talking to him. When the boy finally got a chance to speak to the wise man the wise man gave him a teaspoon with two drops of oil in it. He told the boy to see his beautiful palace and come back to him but not to drop any of the oil in the spoon. So the boy went around the palace and returned. When the wise man asked him what the boy thought of his beautiful palace the boy said in shame he did not see because he was so focused on not spilling the oil in the spoon. The wise man said that’s no good and to return and see his beautiful palace and enjoy himself. So the boy returned with a wide smile after seeing the beautiful palace. The wise man asked what happened to the oil in the spoon and the boy looked at the spoon without oil and said he must have spilled it. The wise man said the key to happiness is seeing the world and everything beautiful without spilling the oil in the spoon.

At first my minds instinctive reaction was like “WHAT?”. Then I realized that the oil signified your responsibilities in life and the palace your leisure in life. Both equally important. One must enjoy life but be mindful of his responsibilities. May it be family, loved ones, career, education etc. Perhaps we may not always enjoy securing the oil in the spoon but it is our task to do sometimes what we have to in order to properly enjoy life.

When I first finished the story, too, I imagined myself with a maniacal look spilling all the oil on purpose and abandoning all of my responsibilities in life then tossing the spoon away and sitting in the sun to enjoy the palace.

 That’s where my err is and my redemption is more clear.