I’ve come to understand the mindsets of a few different types of people when it comes to personal problems. Most people I know will simply deal with any problems, instead of fighting them head on. I find that I try to do the same thing sometimes, but I tend to come out a little worse for wear. Most have probably gained more serenity, something that I’m still learning to control.

Yet when most people are dealing with their issues in a passive manner, the methods become even more diverse. Justification seems to be a very common method, but many justify in different ways.

Some that I know believe that life is simply full of disappointments (a few Buddhist candidates, I’m sure) and that any bad things that come their way should simply be understood. They don’t get angry or upset, and they seem to come out on top of things in the end. Others try to ignore the problems, since thinking about them will only make things worse. Some that I know even use such bad situations to their advantage by exaggerating them for some cheap attention. I even know others who are able to feel better by comparing themselves to others.

Some will simply get depressed.

I find that I generally fall in either the former or the latter categories. I would hope so at least, since I’ve been in the latter for a great part of my life. I’ve been able to deal with things a little bit better now, for about three years. I suppose that it’s something that Rob was able to teach me, but probably also due to the fact that I’ve had a good last three years. I’ve been able to see the other side of life that so many others seem to be able to experience. I feel like I’ve only gotten a taste, and that I should try to experience it again.

But God still owes me some serenity.

Confusion is something that has always struck me in the worst circumstances. Yet it’s something that’s very difficult for me to understand at the time. I am usually very unaware of my confusion. I find that it usually takes about six months for me to come full circle, and come to a full comprehension of what has happened. It’s as if I can’t see what’s going on in the present, but I have an idea of what will happen in the future, and a knowledge of the past, like the damned in the Divine Comedy.

I understand that it takes time to be out of a certain situation and to be able to free oneself of the bonds or consequences of decisions made during that time. Sometimes it just feels like the only thing that matters is for the confusion to go away, so that one doesn’t make an incorrect choice or decision.

Confusion was an aide to me once in a relationship. It caused me to see things clearer, and I ended up in a better place because of it, although I didn’t realize it at the time.

I just wish I felt like that was true.

Does no one talk anymore? It feels as if everyone needs to be doing something in order to be entertained. I remember trying to get together with an old friend for some drinks, maybe a coffee so that I could find out how he was doing. We were good friends in high school, and since I hadn’t seen him in three years, I thought it would be a good opportunity to learn about what he had been doing. When we were actually able to get together, we ended up playing board games. I had a good time, but it felt odd that I didn’t have any news from him by the time I left.

I understand that most people are busy with school, especially in fourth year, so that relaxation time ends up being hard-core playing and drinking time, which doesn’t involve something as lackadaisical as talking. I’ve been able to meet some good conversationalists, like Dina, Pat, Aaron, or Nick, but they’re generally too busy to speak with. I don’t think anyone is at fault here, I guess I just wish that more people would be interested in conversation, who could commit more time to it.

I think it’s the fact that my brain is exercised when I can talk with someone. Many thoughts that are cloudy in my head become more solidified. I’m also able to learn so much when someone has a different perspective, and learning feels so good. It’s a pity that I don’t know more people that I can simply talk to. I haven’t had a nice, long conversation possibly in a year, since generally all other conversations feel rushed from work or school. No one has the time to talk until 3 am anymore.

It’s going to be a long night.

I ache all over. Snowboarding has the ability to make muscles I’ve never even known about stiff with sore pleasure. I’ve always liked the feeling of not being able to move without hurting in some way, as if I fought an exhausting battle with some monster the night before. Even my trapezii are sore from getting my face out of the snow every 15 metres. At one point, I actually unerringly veered off the 50 foot wide trail, into a beautiful powder treeline ditch, landing me waist deep in snow, upside down. I found that it was actually pretty easy to ride both normal and fakie with no experience whatsoever, just carving with the heelside. The only problem became turning on the doglegs. At one point a school of little eight-year-old children weaving across the hill on skis were beating Nick and I on our boards, trying to race straight down.

All in all, it felt good to learn something new again, to try to carve up a slope on my heelside, to hear nothing but silence from the muffling snow of the mountain. I realized that day-to-day, there is always noise. There’s the constant sound of traffic outside my window, or even the wind; silence has become another urban encroachment victim. At one point, Aaron and I just stood on the slope and looked at the snow covered lake, mountains, and perennials. The mountain is so big, we had to take a gondola to a gondola at the base. I was surprized that it was so chillingly cold; my eyes were watering just from the gondola ride up, and my face hurt the moment I stepped out of the van.

We all organized some kind of food co-operation, so that we never needed to eat out. Unfortunately, my roast ended up a bit too dry, and the scalloped potatos too moist, but they were still good as leftovers. The lodge was great, coming complete with two bathrooms (showers included), four twin beds (one of which I had to myself), and cute receptionists. They even had a wine bottle opener in their collection of utensils and an electric oven, although a broken metal grill accessory that came with the microwave prevented us from using it due to a flurry of sparks every time we tried.

I only did a half day of boarding, and spent the rest of the time at the lodge that we rented. It was pretty damn good to just get away, to play some cards and drink without a computer around or school to worry about. I even got some reading done. We watched some TV, played some Mao and 9-5-2. The lodge had a pool and jacuzzi, which I was lucky enough to spend some time in. Some cigars were bought, but they ended up being pretty disappointing. There was much double fisting of the drinks, although the more mirthful dual hand action was when Aaron attempted to inhale from two cigars through his nose.

I missed Dolly a lot.

Going there made me realize that I still have a lot to experience that I haven’t done already. I’ve taken a lot of my childhood for granted, visiting other continents without venturing enough outside of my established norms and preferences. I wish I could have absorbed more of the scenery when I visited the World Trade Center, or paid attention to the tour guide at the Sydney Opera House. Even some reflection on the way there would have helped me appreciate what I was about to experience, whether it was the rich musical cognition of Hungary’s general population, or even the fresh seafood of Hong Kong.

I can only hope that I am able to appreciate where I am now, what I’m able to do, and the freedom I can enjoy, as much as I would appreciate the experience of another culture or lifestyle. I think that everyday life should be as significant as the exceptional experiences, that there can be much meaning found in both, and I try to live my life as such.

Perhaps I can already die.

I seem to be struck with a great need for mental and physical antipathy lately. Everywhere I look, things are filled with beauty, and I am unused to it. I’m not sure what has changed; whether it’s myself, or the world around me. It often feels like there’s too much to take in, too much to experience, and that I’m unworthy. I wish that I could be cold and bitter as before, so that I could feel better about myself, that I didn’t feel so ugly and ashamed.

Everything is so much simpler when the world is black. My mind is made up, everything is stable, I can create. Yet there is always something that is missing, something that I’m always striving towards.

I think it all has to do with the fact that I’m still uncomfortable with contentment. It’s still an awkward feeling for me, something that I’m not used to yet. Antipathy could change this, but I can’t bring myself to hate again.

My antipathy has mostly left me.