Twenty-five
October 3rd, 2025
I ate lunch with an old-timer friend at the company, Uncle H. I'm close enough to have visited his home. He is nearing retirement, and one of our favorite conversation topics is how to spend time.
He tells me he's given his children trust funds; that he is okay if any of them work at Burger King or be homeless on Market Street. Uncle H wants his kids to choose how they spend their time and not how society wants or needs them to spend time.
It's persuasive and almost experimentative what he's done for his kids. You've bought all this time back for your kids, now what?
It was one of the most enjoyable conversations I had in months. He also recommended I hop back on dating apps, to which I denied in wanting to do due to ghosting. He suggested a matchmaking service where there'd be more skin in the game.
I'll consider both.
Phil-o-so-phy
But the thought bugs me: how do our brains form what we want to choose?
I always felt it was the environment's influence on our subconscious that generates our wants. In some manifestation, we are not isolated creatures who form up of pure, raw individuality. We are all simultaneously both effects and causes of systems.
Or are we? Dear Wittgenstein, am I going down the wrong path again? Is it that if we write the language of value, it'll simply be that way?
But I have found that the fastest way to change is to experience the people you speak to.
Yesterday
- My thumb swelled from phone over-usage. Too many Instagram Reels.
- I got dinner with coworker friends and played board games.
- At work I engaged in more discussion than doing actual work. I dislike cross-team projects.
Today I am going to a dinner with some folks I met online. I wonder if the vibes will be off or on.
Today
After finishing a customer support response, I rushed out of my apartment. Pale wide-legged blue jeans, a green oversized H&M sweatshirt, and a tan cap to top off the outfit. I'm running late to my haircut.
I hurridly called an Uber and got to the salon five minutes late. The aunties at the shop smiled and laughed when they saw me—we made conversation, and they teased me to find a nice, cute girl.
I took the 38R and got off at Presidio Avenue. Top of the hill, I looked west towards the Sunset. The sun set, and my headphones played Haikei Shounenyo. I sang.
I met-up with an online group. We did a animal cafe visit and a Japanese dinner. These folks make good company, and I wouldn't mind conversation again. My friend J was there too to boot.
Afterwards, we went to go watch the movie Perfect Blue. The film made me sad. I interpreted it as a DID patient's dream. Someone who can't integrate their trauma and can only replay safe versions. But, it turns out the most mainstream interpretation is a psychological thriller murder story, which is more... thrilling.
My interpretation made me sad, but it reminds me—there isn't a right answer. Because all our little realities are all different;
And the limits of my language are the limits of my world.