Television is evil. Also, king sized beds are sideways and wrong. In conclusion, hotels are strange.

I often credit the period of time around dropping out of high school as when I took responsibility for my life and it’s direction. My theory being that previously I had been operating along a predetermined path, sourced somehow from society at large. At the height of dating heavily I went through a smaller realization about the expected outcome of a relationship. Which is to say that I had an idea where I was supposed to end up, but not only not how to get there, but more importantly what getting there was supposed to be.

As I process my past with a focus on narrative reflection, it seems like what remains of where I’m going is fragments of where it seemed I should have been. Still, the degree to which this is unconscious, is somewhat terrifying. The depths to which it may travel gives a nod to a “remaking of the soul.”

Thursday will mark two weeks of not drinking. A few weeks prior was a bit of a day of reckoning as I started weighing the costs. Last week I added up a bit of tally. Still, last springs appetite fits are back. I’m slowly adapting to craving water, but I can’t get my appetite for food right. I think it’s the cut in sugars.

Friendships. I believe I reconciled one with M recently, but I’m still convinced she’s struggling with deciding what that means and what it should look like. Ultimately I don’t see this happening, but I’m garnering some opportunities for communication here and there that are beneficial. Other friends seem to be shifting as those who were close to me alienate me further and further with their unsupportive attitudes toward my emotional trials.

M visited this weekend and brought a couple friends and I throughly enjoyed snuggling and giggling hours away with them. I’m really exhausted by a seemingly growing level of unhappiness around for which responsibility feels mostly unassumed, with the same negativity repeating not only daily, but also recited regularly. I’m unsure of this course.

Albeit a bit nicer, spending a night in a hotel devoid of personality is reminding me of a “former life” traveling doing electronics salvage. Yet, biking around PDX sings a tune like walking the woods in Maine, myself, with room for my thoughts. A bit of time accounting seems to lend toward avoiding costly distractions.

Yet. Giggling.

I cannot reconcile this with where I expect I’ll end up. That means everything.