Restating the redundancy of things I keep repeating to myself

Ian McEwan’s Atonement. The last hundred pages were the most gripping; you just have to read it to the end. It’s like watching a perfected art film. Every essential element toned and thought of to its finest. It leaves a subtle, perceptive impression that would make you feel intelligent after reading it.

Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood was so wonderful it ranks just a few notches below The Catcher in the Rye.

I’m officially a student again. I even received a partial scholarship for MA Philosophy. It does make me feel like I’m doing what I want and I’m taking control of my life. I’m intellectually stimulated, and it does give me a sense of self and I feel like I’m myself again.

I lost my job.

Thank you to ____ Inc. for sponsoring a terrific summer (they gave us an “appropriate” separation pay). And for the countless company hours they paid without me having to work. The thing I’d miss the most though, would probably the 41st floor view from the window.

I expect myself to write about all the what-the-fuck-nows, rationalize how I live, explain my situation, force a solution, even imagine the future, write, whine, and whine some more.
It’s the same old sentimental rubbish of a story that I probably shouldn’t write anymore. Now, I really ought to learn something.

Nagasawa’s piece of advice to Toru Watanabe: “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only arseholes do that.”

“You will have all the time in the world.” My mother always told me when I was a kid. I always thought she was right. I can spend a lifetime reading.

Two weeks after my position was officially removed from the company, I accepted a job offer from another call center. I spent a few days for interviews, tests, processing and submitting my pre-employment requirements. On the first day of training, they asked me sign a training agreement which was never mentioned in the job offer contract or in any of the interviews. It states that I have to stay with the company for 11 months to cover the training expense. I didn’t agree to this, and quit on the first day. One of the things that really did it for me, that made think, “I’ve had enough of this shit” right from the start, was the assistant trainer’s annoying, phony American accent.

Laugh at all the crap life dumps on your lap.