As human beings, there are only a few things that we crave and that make us human. One of them is being close to other human beings. After all the manicures and tech toys that we run after the whole day, at the end of the day, we need someone to be with us. After debating great ideas the whole day and telling creative stories as painters, actors, and dancers, at the end of the day, we need friends, who are with us in the quiet and solemn time. We do not need great words or unspeakable beauty. We need those human company around us.

While the requirements seem so low for someone to be with us, the trouble is that so many things get in the way. One person keeps incessantly talking. Another one berates us. Another one does one scary and out of control action after the next. Some people simply have a chemistry that we don’t get along with. And, that’s why despite human company being so simple, we rarely get it.

Another basic need for our humanity is to do something with meaning. We have a deep desire to contribute something meaningful. As little kids, we are so happy and proud, when we create the first salad with our sweaty little hands. Not only, do we prove that we are grown up. Much more, we were able to prepare the food for all of our family members. A little older in elementary school, we pick our first professions. We want to be pilots, who fly people around, and nurses, who help sick people. At entry level positions, we may get that satisfaction of meaning. As a dish washer, we may realize our work as low, yet necessary as part of creating a great evening experience.

Yet, as we grow older, the meaning disappears. We may end up at a consulting agency. At first, the glamour of being experts to come as white knights to companies dazzles us. After a while, we see beyond the façade. Much of the practices are set up to inflate payable hours without providing benefit. Projects are set up to look great on a press release with little benefit after the consultant is gone. We end up working for companies, that we discover as giant machines that push exploitive practices and deliver horrible customer experience. I think that is why people are attracted to non-profits. The good meaning seems more tangible. Yet, as I look more at them, a lot of the donations are used for fund raising. In front of my super market are always people trying to get donations for one or the other charity. Whenever I talk to them, they don’t know much to say about their cause. As I boldly ask, they confirm that they have simply been hired to collect donations. How much money actually reaches the man in the street with an empty cup? And, that cup of rice, how much good does it do? Reports on the poor suggest that most motivated people find ways to get out of homelessness. How does one help the soul to find the motivation and clarity to move on? See, psychology was meant to make people feel better and remove their internal struggles. After having been to a few therapists and observed friends/family, I am not sure that those therapists really help the majority for the better or really have fixed an issue.

The other basic human need is attention. We need a certain amount of attention. Maybe, not everyone wants to stand on a stage in front of a thousand people. However, all of us want to express something from inside of us and see a face that is raptly looking at us. It tells us that we are alive and that we matter. We have cities with millions of people. We have the TV and the Internet. There is so much stimulation. It is asking a lot from anybody to be intrigued by a random schmock next to us rambling half incoherently about his/her commute home. We may politely smile and nod. Yet, that is not real attention.

There are very basic needs that every animal has like food and water. Yet, I’d think that social company, meaningful activity, and attention are core human attributes. Come to think of it, dogs have the same ones.

Oh, and we crave for a leader. We crave for someone to tell us, how to do things. We crave for someone to lead us to good times. As kids, we had parents that held our hands, dipped the sweat of our heads, and filled our fever stricken tummies with warm tea. They guided us through the experience of being sick in bed with a cold. Now, we are unemployed, we have break ups, we lack fun in life, nobody helps us, what to do. Sure, there are enough friends, who are ready to tell us to take vitamin pills, come to church, do what they do. Yet, we see through it, none of it is really addressing the situation and working for us. The leaders in our lives disappoint. The boss dreams about growing his employees, yet when has a boss really taken the time to sit down with us and learn something new on a regular basis? When have they talked with us to make career plans and see through to make it happen? Our parents are now barely as competent as we are.

We have grown smarter and more experienced. As kids, we could be figured out and explained, how to make up after a rubble fight in the sand box. As grown ups, our conflicts are so complicated that nobody fully figures them out.

We read biographies, where the subject mentions great mentors. We want to have mentors. We only find dumbs and half wits. And, the ones that do know more about the world than we do, those are usually too busy to stay with their kind of search for their own mentors.

I am not bitter. That's what people say, when they are most bitter.

When I decided on the sabbatical, beyond an overwhelming terror to simply get out of the current work situation, I had the following on my mind. Now, it is even so overbearing hard to write it down. I fear that all those grand dreams may be an urge to compensate for something. I fear that all those dreams are so outlandish that they are out of reach. I fear that I used them as a value proposition to take a break from working, yet end up having a break from work that is pretty non-productive in the financial, fun, and growth department. Here we go:

1) LEADERSHIP
I had this dream of doing activities to develop my leadership. The Sierra Club hike outings seemed a good way to practice my leadership. It is pretty easy. It amasses a small group. I get to be in a situation, where I have to lead people.

In my head, I imagined myself leading a hike every weekend or every other weekend. So, far I have lead one hike. And, another hike is scheduled.

I ran into a bunch of trouble. I wanted to get the I rating to lead people off trail. The start was good. I got my wilderness first aid class taken. Then, to make things easier, I figured that getting the O2 rating to lead people overnight would be a good intermediary step. So, I went on a hike with a special friend to a hot springs. Oh, my god! We succeeded in our mission. However, it was still a disaster. Days before, I was so stressed. Packing all the gear was no fun. We ran out of daylight. We didn’t get to screw outdoors. The hot spring destination was disappointing. We did not even take a bath. All the camp sites on the map did no longer exist or were changed. So, if I’d lead a group, I would not even know where to have a group camp overnight. Plus, we were so exhausted that I don’t want to put a group through that.

The one outing that I lead was a great trip. It went off to a miserable start. The Sierra Club did not have official rideshare points in downtown LA. Downtown LA seemed like a central meeting point before going on the two hour drive to the trail head near Idyllwild. The co-leader had the great proposal to use LA county ride share points. There was one in a good location. I picked it. It said that it was free. However, as Google satellite images did not show a parking lot around. So, I started doubting it. I wanted to check the location myself to verify that there was free parking and where. I don’t remember, what went on during the weekdays. I ended up wanting to go there the day before the event. That morning, I got a break up phone call. I was stuck on the phone for six hours or longer. It was terrible. It was terribly splitting. I knew that I was responsible for all those people coming to the hike. I knew that my special friend had very deep and sensitive things going on. So, I was stuck on the phone and hurting about not checking for the people coming to the hike. Fuck, where were my needs? I was stressed about the hike and stretched by being on the phone.

The hike started with shock and horror, because there was no parking lot at all. Luckily, we got almost everyone. From then on, everything went very smooth. I even enjoyed the pizza dinner after the hike.

I also wanted to take communication classes at UCLA Extension. Well, the semester just started a bit before I left the company. So, I have to wait almost a whole quarter to take a class. By the way, I am thinking of taking the class in sales and a class to improve my English. Those two deficiencies are what bugs me most at the moment.

2) OUTDOOR ADVENTURES
I had this dream of exploring all these cool places outdoors. I had a good start with a real hike in San Jacintos and a backpacking trip to a hot spring along the Sespe. I had a 1.5 day practice session in technical canyoneering to prepare myself for off trail adventures. However, the rest of my dreams are kind of stuck. Two hikes in the Santa Monica mountains ran into problems with directions and the end of daylight. A backpacking trip through a desert canyon could happen, because there are three people interested. I am scared of backpacking however after the last horrible experience. I am traumatized. I have not been canyoneering. I even got one guy, who wants to come with me. However, he is a bit anti-safety. That scared me about only having him. When there are more people, he kind of obliges to social pressure and starts using things like seat belts.

I had dreams of going somewhere overnight to explore the lower Sierras or even Zion. After all, it only takes a car and a tent to get around, doesn’t it? I am so scared of long distance driving, because I got so exhausted in the past. I am so afraid of living in a tent without a place with four walls, air conditioning, nice bed, and warm running water to find sanctuary in after a day in the dirt.

I even had dreams of camping in snow and breaking through softly fallen fresh snow and barren tree limps. Hey, all it takes is warm clothes to experience the wonderful winter landscape. I am so scared of the cold. I hate even hiking at 50 degrees. It is this yucky combination of sweating and being cold at the same time. You zip up and you start sweating. You zip down and you feel cold. Sometimes, you don’t even really feel cold. The body simply feels drained from the elements. Fuck! When I went camping at 50 degrees, I was so terrified of being cold in my 0 degree bag with a liner that should add another 15 degrees. Fuck!

3) TRAVELLING
I had this dream of travelling. I was thinking about perhaps activating some long lost acquaintances to stay overnight in San Francisco. I thought about driving up the coast and perhaps staying in the tent or traveler places. I thought about using my gym membership to get a shower. I wondered, what it would be like to reach Canada.

I had this dream of finally going to Mexico. I had researched San Felippe, this city at the Sea of Cortez. It would be so much fun to rent a van and go travelling with friends. Well, I am far away from planning such an adventure or building the relationships to recruit enough people. I am terrified of the involved money spending.

I dreamed of finally visiting my ma in Germany and my dad in Israel. I thought that it would be a cheap means of travelling to go back home. It saves money on hotels and restaurant meals. I thought that it would be good for my growth to finally phase my past and reconnect with what there was and what it has become now. I thought that my parents would be so happy to see me back home again. I thought that maybe, there might be some hot girls in Israel and outdoor stuff with swimming. And, in Germany, I could visit all of those sauna countries and public swimming pools. Would I have to visit relatives as well?

I am too terrified to spend the money to go there. It worries me to spend the money on the plane. I am scared about not coming back. It is this irrational fear that I will be stuck away from this place here in America, where I want to be. I am afraid that all the family stuff with overwhelm me with psychological stress. I am terrified of the long plane ride. What if that day, my knee is swollen and I don’t fit into the seat. I will force myself to sit down anyway. I will be in terrible suffering for hours. What a torture!

4) HOME IMPROVEMENT PROJECTS
Somewhere I got these great dreams about home improvement. It is rooted in two parts. For one, I am looking around in my place. It is starting to get run down. Fixing it up would send a very good subliminal message to me and any visitors. The other is that I never really got into home decorating. Putting up posters just didn’t really catch me. None of the putting more crap in your house seemed to my liking. However, I got caught by what is possible in how existing things in your house can be styled. For example, every wall is painted. However, there are so many choices in painting the wall. Some nice toweling techniques and designer colors make such a large difference. The floor needs something like a carpet or plastic covering. However, with tiles there is such a large choice of tiles. There is a large option on how the tiles are arranged on the floor. Now, this is a part of interior design that I am really into. I figured that by getting some basic tools at a hardware store, I could do a ton for a couple hundred dollars. I would get a new skill. I would get to be creative. I would get a really nice place.

My first project to paint kitchen cabinets was an utter disaster. I spent so much time researching and buying stuff. Paint turned out to be very expensive. The old paint would not want to get sanded off. The paint that I had got runny and uneven. The stencils failed. Everything took twice and thrice to dry. My kitchen was covered in dust and inoperable for days. I was stuck with only painting for days, because my place was completely covered. I had so much anxiety to work through I spent perhaps two or three days only dealing with my anxiety about it. The new coat of paint is more uneven than the old. Some of the failed stencils show through. The cabinet doors don’t close smoothly anymore. I mean, you learn a lot on your first tries. However, it really, really sucked.

My second attempt was to take the difficulty level many notches down. I wanted to really scrub my bathroom and then ask my landlord in a detailed letter with photos to fix certain things. If someone else does it, it should be easier, should it not? I did not even get started cleaning the bathroom. There is all this fatigue and knee ache and stuff. Oh, I am so devastated that I don’t even get to clean the bathroom.

I went to an art and architecture bookstore. They have so many lovely books with impressive homes. I have never even visited anyone coming remotely close to how wonderful things are possible. So much can be done with the materials that are used to put a place together. I kind of would love to learn more about that stuff. I sometimes wonder, if I could have become an architect and gone crazy coming up with creative stuff. I am not much of a canvas painter or anything like traditional art. However, I am really intrigued by building pretty and special places.

5) COOKING
Oh, I have these wonderful dreams about cooking. Firstly, every meal from now on will be home cooked. Secondly, I will master making rice, meat, and all the stuff that requires learning to control the heat, timing etc. Thirdly, I will learn so many new dishes and techniques. I will finally start making bread. I will finally create my own sourdough starter, a process that takes at least 3-4 weeks of slowly feeding the starter in the fridge. I will have great food centered parties.

I did cook a few things. My liver cheese was a failure that I threw out. Not only did I realize, how much meat there is, disgusting, I also needed a food processor. I actually bought the food processor. I simply have not had the heart of trying again.

I did start making a few simple recipes to get back into the groove of cooking. However, I noticed that cooking is really labor intensive. It takes an hour to shop. It takes two or three hours to cook. If you make two meals in a day, you have already filled the whole day with cooking and don’t have a chance to do anything else. I am so sad about that part. I think that often simply eating, I spent an hour or so chewing…. Argh!

6) PARTIES
Oh, I dreamed about having a party every month or so. There is the German food party that I want to throw with Weisswurst, sweet mustard, Pretzels, and German beer. There is a brunch party with croissants. There is a Yakuza party that I want to throw with sushi served on a naked girl from craigslist. A murder mystery party would be fun. A holiday party would be fun. Oh, I have not thrown a single party. I do not have kept up on many social contacts or build a lot more friends. I have collected a few facebook contacts though.

7) HEALTH
I believed having more time, I could do more yoga. I could work on getting my body more flexible. I could perhaps daily work on my nerve damage to my hand to improve things. Nothing of that sort really happened. I bought Chinese balls to practice my hand. However, I have done it only once.

8) FUN CLASSES
I dreamed about taking fun classes like trapeze, trampoline, yoga classes, cooking classes, sewing classes, Salsa classes. I have been to two Salsa classes. However, every other time that I wanted to go out Salsa dancing, either my knee was bad or the timing was off. Fuck!

I had such a bad experience on my first Salsa class as well. I was kind of in a bummed mood. So, dancing was not all that much fun. There were more guys than girls. I ended up getting a girl. She was even hot and responded to my comments. Suddenly, she raised her finger to signal that she would be back in a moment. She went over to a friend. She sat down and started chatting. She did not return for the longest time. I was ditched. When she finally came back, she picked someone else. Oh, that day, the first girl that I danced with told me with her face like a loudspeaker that she did not want to dance with me at all. Fuck!

Exhaustion and knee problems got in the way of really doing much of this stuff.

9) THAI YOGA
I still have to do about ten Thai Yoga sessions or so to finish the 60 that we had as homework form the Thai Yoga class that I took in Santa Barbara with Saul Raye. In the back of my mind, I am determined to finish those. It is like something that I need to feel free again. It is also something that I want to get back into again. I imagined that I would post of my facebook profile that I am looking for volunteers. I’d imagine that some people would respond. I would have a nice evening with them. They’d get Thai Yoga for 2-3 hours. At the end, they would be in a mellow mood. We would chat a bit and they would move on. After all sessions, I would get to mail in the big packet of sixty case studies to my teacher to get the final and highest certification that he hands out.

Oh, I have not even started a single person. I feel so overwhelmed, daunted. My knee worries me as well.

10) PICKUP
I worried that my pickup game without a job to boost my confidence might suffer. However, I have the time and should have had the ease to finally approach in day game at the grocery store and the gym. I’d get to spend an afternoon at the Third Street Promenade approaching girls. I’d get to go out a few times a week to flirt with hot girls in the clubs and enjoy the magic mist that flirting sprinkles and get sexual as well.

No, nothing to report here either. I was always either so occupied with a special girl or exhausted. At the end of a day of hiking in dirty clothes with nothing but getting home on my mind, I just wasn’t quite in the mood to approach hot pretty, well dressed, and smiling women and believe that they would care for my approach.

11) PERSONAL GROWTH
I somewhere had this huge dream that I would get some downtime, so that I could go through a few more psychological metamorphism stages, where I would give up some deeply held believes or find a new way of being. I especially, imagined that having unstructured time would let me get rid of the task master mode in my head and instead learn to live in the moment. Perhaps, with this long list of things that I want out of the sabbatical, the task master mode has taken over even more.

I wanted to see a therapist. I have some specific topics that I want to explore. However, I was scared about contacting him and every week there was something else.

There is one case, where I realized that my step dad would yell at me a lot. I would sit there. I would try to shut him out. I would try to think about something else. I would try to ignore him. However, auditory words get into your brain. You can’t stop your brain from decoding the meaning. The decoding process involves the brain imagining those things. So, the brain has to deny thoughts, if they are wrong and harmful. It takes effort to say ‘no’ to those thoughts. After 20 minutes to 30 minutes, I would always break down, unable to block the poisonous thoughts that my step dad was saying. I would burst out crying.

Being in communication classes or personal growth classes, I am in a similar situation. Sometimes, I disagree with the teacher. Some of the popular thoughts, I liked at one time, until I realized that they sound catchy, yet don’t work and are hurtful. So, I struggle against those. Just like with my dad, I get psychologically and emotionally exhausted from fighting those thoughts. It is what also exhausts me talking to people. I wonder, if the therapist has some insights on, what could happen inside my brain and how to deal with it better.

Most of the time, when there is a loud noise or something sudden, I get the overwhelming fear of having done something that will end in a sharp and personal attack. It all comes back to my step dad, how he would with so much anger in him and personally at me attack me for something that I did. I would like to move on. Having a panic attack so often is very energy expensive. Having a panic attack and thinking that I did something wrong is not very productive in a world, where often people need to be pushed back against and shown boundaries.

12) WRITING
I had this dream of breaking the lull of writing. Doing all the above, I would have so many rich and valuable experiences to journal about. The truth is that I have not been writing. Plus, now that I started writing yesterday, I am back to the old sulking about no energy, knee pain, and frustration. I imagined about finally writing some of the erotic stories that were on my mind. No, nothing like that has happened. I am terrified of the fear that all the creativity will drain my brain again. When I took the creative writing class, my life kind of turned black, because the writing was so exhausting that my brain would no longer react to anything. I am also terribly afraid that I am simply a guy sometimes writing a lot with poor grammar that is boring and verbose to read.

13) BUILD MY DAD’S BUSINESS
Oh, this is another whole story that is hard to write about. I kind of believed that I could help my dad. I dreamed about building his business into a large company, so that I could go into early retirement. I believed that having a chance at marketing and sales would be such a nice break from being a programmer. I believed that being free of a job, I would get rewarded for my talent and effort consummate to my success. The underlying assumption was that I could get that much more reward that way. Well, it is two months. I have barely done anything but a few e-mails to my dad and a few chats with him. Fuck!

I am terrified at the idea of cold calling. I believe that I won’t get past the receptionist. I believe that nobody wants to listen to me. I kind of believe that it is a personal thing, like somebody else could say exactly the same words and the prospect would react positively.

Oh, it is so sad and hard to write about this. Maybe, I only believed that I am so awesome. And, now I realize that I don’t know much and actually suck. Being free seemed to be like this unleashing of a powerful eagle. Perhaps being unleashed and letting me try stuff, only lets me realize, how false my high esteem of myself was. Fuck!

I must have written already so many blog entries with the title ‘frustrated.’ It seems to be my main emotional make up. Either things kind of dally along or I get frustrated.

I am very frustrated today. It is after 3 PM. I basically feel like I have not done anything. My goal number one was to get exercise so that I feel physically better and deal with the inflammation of my knee. I have not gone yet. So, I have not even gotten to goal one. Instead, I have somehow spent the whole day with basic tasks of living like showering, making food, and eating. Plus, I watched a TV show.

This whole sabbatical has turned into one TV show after the next. So often have I been exhausted or overly anxious. I turn to TV to calm down. It is an escape. I don’t have to feel this body and life for a while, when my conscious mind is pre-occupied being somewhere else.

I just had three medium hard boiled eggs. They were kind of tasty. Yet, the after taste in my mouth is horrible. It won’t go away. My whole body feels kind of sick from the egg.

I had so many wonderful expectations about my sabbatical. It is now about two months in. I mean, I got some things done. Yet, the majority of it seems to be little trials of things that I wanted to do and then running in trouble and abandoning further pursuit.

For example last Saturday, I went to the Sierra Club rock workshop. I was so anxious about it. Somehow, my body and mind were so stressed about it. I did not quite know, what to expect from the course. On one hand, the course material seemed really easy, because they don’t even rappel on vertical surfaces. On the other hand, they expected one to practice knots and stuff at home. Further, the two days before the course, my right knee was horribly swollen. I could not have participated with that knee. Considering that I spent so many months dreaming about getting closer to an M level Sierra club certification that seemed like a huge possible bummer.

Luckily, on the day off, my knee was sort of okay. I did not feel great. Yet, I could move a little bit. Oh, it was such an early day. I got up at 6 am. The darkness of the night was still outside. I was so relieved to find my body in a place, where I could participate. I was curious to find out, what club really required to pass the checkout. I expected that I may have to attend a few practices to get all the requirements for passing down. I got to Whole Foods for provisions the moment that the security guards pulled the chain from the door. I joked with the cashier that I was her first customer, when she remembered that I was second.

When I got to Stoney Point, there were already quite a few cars. A gaggle of people made the group obvious. I did not feel very chatty. Everyone was kind of the older crowd in the age range of my parents. I introduced myself and talked a bit. Yet, I did not have a spark of attraction, nor did I have the big chatty spark. Most people went to do the check off. A third of the people got corralled to practice. Contrary to the navigation checkout or other Sierra Club workshops, there was really no organization for the practice. We simply had one and a half persons that were doing stuff with us. One of them showed us the usage of CAMs. Most of the time, we went to practice knots. I actually knew more than half of them. I also practiced some new ones. So, it was valuable time, even it was not structure and planned as a real class. It quickly turned out that our instructors were not all that solid with their knowledge as well.

The instructor walked with me over to the check-off people. They were practicing rappels. Oh, it was kind of a joke. The person rappelling had to use a Dulfersitz. That’s basically rappelling on the rope without any gear. The rope is wrapped around the body a few times. She was rappelling down a steep slope that one could have walked up or down.

A kind of buddy system emerged. It seemed like they let their friends pass easily. I found out that the Sierra Club does not really do any real rock climbing or rappelling outings due to liability. So, maybe I have to look elsewhere to do the fun canyon stuff anyway. I found out that the people going out are usually organizing networks of friends rather than formal clubs. It is kind of hard to get into those, because you have to know people. Although, I was invited to two outings. Yet considering my physical shape, I was not really up for 8 hour trips with able bodies people climbing and swimming around. They told me about the Southern California Mountaineering Association. Apparently, those guys lead the real hikes. They only let people join after they have completed a mountaineering class. The thing that sucks is that I like to be around young people. And, all those outdoorsy people tend to be the older near or after retirement crowd.

There was one guy, he told that he was taking a few months off from work. Apparently, he has a house in Cape Code and in some other country. He seemed so accomplished and at ease with taking time off. It seemed that he would dilly around the house, go to the beach, sit in a great lounge chair and enjoy life. Why can’t I be like that?

After they finished the check out, we went to the other side of Stoney Point to do some rock climbing. It was a nice scramble through a little canyon to get to the top of the rock, where they set up the rope. I tried climbing up. And, I pretty quickly failed. Those smooth walls with little notches are just not my deal. I like the big holds and overhangs at the rock climbing gym. For whatever reasons, my feet don’t stick to the little holds. Perhaps, the reason is that my large size 15 disadvantages me. Or, perhaps, may ankle issues keep me from having strong and adaptable ankles. I can’t hold onto those little holds with my fingers. It seems that my fingers have always been week. The long slender fingers also give me a poor leverage. I envy the little girls that way have the weight of mine and such little holds fill twice the amount of their hands.

The guy that talked to me going up did a really good job of staying calm. It was wonderful, how he reminded people to take a break at the wall to relax, get blood flowing in the pumped arms, and enjoy being up there. The funny thing is that I thought the wall was pretty easy. After all it was only a 5.8 or so. Everybody but me seems to have an easy time with walls like that. It is just that people, who can bend their knees fully have a huge advantage.

I tried again after a while. I got one move higher. It felt like a huge accomplishment. I was glad to notice that falling did not obliterate my whole body. I had this fear that with all my stiffness and tension, I would not be able to absorb a fall. And, the outcroppings on the rock would break me. It is a terrible fear that makes me only stiffer and tighter. I had this horrible memory of my second outdoor rock climbing experience at Point Dume. I already felt the sharp rock hurting my fingers before I put my weight on it. I feared that sliding a bit on the rock, I’d end up bruised and bleeding. Man, my spine was so terrified and hurting from the stress that day. It traumatized me.

Next to that rope was another rope. The climb looked a little easier. However, it seemed deceiving. Once there are lines and outcroppings on a rock, it seems easier than looking at smooth slap. Yet, on closer inspection, you need those lines to create good foot holds and hand holds. It did not seem to be so. And, one person after the next struggled and fell on the beginning part. Considering that my knees don’t bend, I had no expectations of even getting off the ground. I figured that I would try anyway. That’s my whole life: No chance of success, yet better to try and fail than never try.

To my surprise, I actually made it up. There were parts, where I was stuck. People told me to simply get my foot up there. They do not realize how impossible it is for me without being able to bend my knee so far. To my surprise I made it past the beginning part and told people so. I kept climbing. I was amazed that I even got in some moves where I pushed down with my arm. There was even a ledge on the rock, where I could fully stand without using my hands at all. Pretty close to the final carabiner, I gave up and let myself lower. I had beat my expectations by so much!

That was the end of the rock practice. On one hand I reinforced some knots and learned new once. I finally got to see CAMs in action up close. I finally had a fun outdoor rock climbing experience. I finally rock climbed after my car accident. I mean, I went once to rockreation after the accident. However, my hand kept sliding off of everything due to the nerve damage. So, there were good things.

On the other hand, it was utterly depressing. I had this dream that volunteering with the Sierra Club, I could climb up the rungs of leader certification. It is so satisfying to collect requirements and work in a linear fashion towards a goal. I had the dream of taking young people from the 20/30 section down fun and adventurous canyons. For one, I found out that the Sierra Club really does not do such adventurous outings due to liability. For the other my neat collecting of requirements was disrupted by this rock practice session. Apparently, everything up to I rated is neatly organize. Yet, once you get higher, there is no real track anymore. There were hints in the leadership book that people were expected to collect their credentials elsewhere.

I had this dream for my time off work to grow as an outdoor leader. I fancied the idea of being part of the great American tradition of volunteering. I fancied the idea of developing leadership and making new friends, becoming social. I had run into trouble even scouting the next outings.

For example, I wanted to lead a hike in Big Sycamore Canyon. So, I went there one day. For the usual fucked up reasons, I did not get my act together until it was late in the day. I had three hours of sunlight left. I kept walking around with a hurting knee. I managed to not print out exact directions and missed one trail. Due to the limited sunlight, I would not have enough time anyway. As it got dark, I started panicking. The parking lot said that it closed at sundown. I worried that I’d get a ticket or worse that my car would get locked in. So, I kept rushing for an hour and worrying, which is no fun. I did find the fossil trail. It is amazing to see the shell fossils in the rock. However, the sight was really small. After seeing it, I asked myself ‘so what?’

The bottom line is that I have to try to scout that hike again.

I wanted to lead another hike dubbed ‘Rustic Canyon Scramble.’ So, I went on time to that hike. I hiked up Sullivan Canyon. There were fresh batteries in the GPS. I played with it. I enjoyed observing my average speed on it and trying to get it up. Everything went pretty okay. I forced myself to have breaks according to a schedule. I found the turns. Then, I was supposed to find a faint trail to the right before a clearing before the last knob. Now, what really is a knob?

So, I found a clearing before a hill. I thought that I saw something very faint resembling a trail of a few steps. Perhaps, since the time of the writing of the hiking book, the trail had fallen into more abandonment. I started own it. The slope was so steep that it was right at the angle of repose. So, I kept sliding. Eventually, I made it into a little gully. I saw the gully on my enlarged topo map. I somehow assumed that only the beginning of the trail was bad and any moment would I hit the real trail. The GPS told me that I was nearing the altitude, where I should hit another trail. The going was really tough. Once in the gully, everything was really overgrown with mostly dead scratchy branches. I kept braking them off. Oh, it was such tedium. On one hand, the branches popped off really nicely. On the other hand, it was really time consuming to break four branches for every step. I started worrying a bit about cougars. I’d be in a really prey like positions on hands and knees trying to make little tunnels under the bushes. I was going to come closer to the confluence with another gully. I figured that a larger gully might have be clearer of brush. It was not. It even got darker. Now, I started to make a decision. Going down to the floor of Rustic Canyon would be an effort of at least the same time. Plus, I had no clue, what would await me down there. Going back may not be fun and giving up. However, I might have cleared a few branches, so that it should be easier following my path back than forging a new path. So, I turned around. It was a really wise decision.

The sun went down pretty soon after I reached the regular trail. I think that I simply went through the bushes. There was no trail at all. It reminded me of a paragraph in a book. The author had described chaparral as so thick that you could go a hundred yards without ever touching the ground.

Back in Sullivan canyon, I got tired. I tried running. It is true. Running uses different muscles. I felt like my running muscles were fresh. The jolts of running invigorated me. So, I went into a mixture of running and walking. I got more scared of cougars. So, I got my knife out in one hand and a headlamp in the other hand. Everything went kind of okay. My body was doing really well that day. There were big plops in the plants next to me. It turned out to be pretty big frogs. It is kind of cool to find frogs. They were pretty slow going as well. If I were a cougar, I’d eat frogs. They seem kind of like snacks or caviar for a cougar cocktail party.

Even though I got good exercise, my scouting for that hike had failed. Ever since, I have not gotten myself together to go back there scouting. For me to get up early, I have to spend the whole day before planning on getting up early.

There is another event that I was planning. It is further along. I wanted to organize a trail run. It seems like a nice break from the day. Instead of having a hiking event that takes the whole day over, going for a one hour run at the edge of the city is a nice break for the day, while doing other stuff. So, I asked the hike leader of the last event. She was glad to come out to investigate it. She was scared about the idea of having to be physically in shape to run it. That day, she also had a lot of people at work scheduling massages with her last minute. So, we kept moving our scouting around. Plus, my right knee was really swollen. So, I could not even run. We ended up walking. It was good exercise for me. In her fear of having people be in really good shape and her not keeping up, she proposed to make it a pajama run. That way people are there more for the fun. I loved the idea of seeing girls in pajamas and being such an inclusive leader that I’d foster initiatives of people around me. I loved the idea that she was proposing it, because as a guy it seems that you don’t get people to come in pajamas. That whole wonderful got a cold awakening. Nobody signed up for the trail run so far. And, in my head I realize that people might be wondering, who are those weird people with pajamas? They don’t see the fun potential. So, I am now afraid that the even will bomb. I had on my mind to post it on my facebook. However, I felt too overwhelmed with life and scared, so that I have not done it yet. Like for example, right now my priority is to get to the gym to get exercise. My emotions tug me to put on another TV show to simply rest and escape. In actuality, some wise part of me finally got me to journal out my frustration and life. Perhaps, the self expression and expression of emotions will be what releases my body.

Oh, I feel so worried about the trail run outing that nobody will show up and I will have a swollen knee from all the anxiety, so that I could not even run.

There was so much failure and falling way short of expectations in this sabbatical so far. Oh, it is such a drat. I am so exhausted from journaling. I don’t even want to face all the crap that went wrong.

Yesterday was a bad day. I woke up. My left knee was swollen and hurt. It was not that my whole body hurt. I hurt all over. My back, my stomach, so much, that I couldn’t even count it, hurt. Mentally and physically, I was so exhausted. Walking to the kitchen was a struggle of overriding pain coming from all over my body with every movement. I was and am so fucked.

Somewhere, I believe in karma. If your hurt someone, it may come back to you. For having so much pain and suffering, there is no accounting. I have never done anything nearly bad enough to get karma like that. I would have had to torture people and step on babies. So, karma is perhaps another mental boogie monster that does not exist.

My mind tried to figure out what to do. I needed help. I badly needed help. The sad thing is that there is nobody to turn to. The doctors kept arguing among themselves to label my condition. They gave me drugs that made things worse or caused stupor. I researched on my own. All the conditions in the vicinity of my symptoms are so vaguely defined. There are diseases that are well defined. Vaginal yeast infection is caused by yeast overcoming the balance with bacteria in the vagina. Pop a yeast pill or two and fixed. All those rheumatic conditions are simply a cluster of symptoms. The footnote for the symptoms says that people can have a variety of symptoms and those conditions often co-exist. There is no cure.

The first line of medications is NSAIDs – Non Steroidal Anti Inflamatories. They are available over the counter. I tried those in the past. After the first pop, it feels like a constant drowning background noise in my mind stops. It is kind of interesting. Two days later, my knees gets worse and I realize that my mind has been in a stupor for two days.

The popular next step is to take biological drugs. They turn off the immune system. It is a funny notion that treating an auto immune disease would involve turning of the whole immune system. Specifically, they are anti TNF factors – Tumor Necrosing Factor. As you’d expect, people have a higher risk of infections. Other side effects are that blood counts can drop to zero effectively killing people. The benefit is not a cure, but a respite. It is a high price to pay.

I’d almost be curious to try despite all the badness of the medicine, because people in articles say that they have energy again, that the fatigue subsided. Yet, if I’d settle on a diagnosis to get it, I’d have a pre-existing condition. I suspect that I’d loose health insurance then. The drug costs about $10K. Yes, thank you health insurance companies and drug companies.

The thing that I fount that helps is getting exercise. So, I took whatever little energy that was left and drove out to the Santa Monica Mountains to hike the Moshe Mishkwa trail. It was supposed to take three hours. That should be a nice stretch of getting the maximum dose of exercise without going too far. I drove out along the Pacific Coast Highway. I was chanting. Well, I felt so week that I was more mumbling along the CD.

On a side note, one of the most attractive features of a girl is having pep and spunk. There is this moment, when a girl jumps up for no reason. There is this moment, when she puts another extra fling into whatever she is doing. There are moments, where she makes a face for no logical reason before moving on. There are moments, when instead of simply saying ‘hi’, out of exuberance she makes a play out of it. That vitality of living life with flair is what attracts me big time. Obviously, it is an element that I don’t have. So much of my life, I live on minimal energy. How can I slink by to get my goals by using minimal energy? It is like high jump in early high school. I used perfect technique to clear high bars, while barely pushing off the ground with my feet. I am not the person that in a time of lull starts jumping up and dancing. I am the person that sits down and shuts down to rest. So, it only makes sense that the disease is causing that in me. It only makes sense that I have that big attraction.

The drive out the PCH was almost disappointing. I remember the first time that I drove on the PCH, it was amazing. The big wide Pacific Ocean is right next to you. It is like a fabled dream that has become reality. The sight of it is overpowering. All the documentaries and movies that portrait it as a prophecy become true. After living here for ten years, the ocean has become a disappointment. The beaches are not really fun destinations. El Matador is supposed to be the prettiest beach. I went there twice. It has nice sea caves and all. However, it does not invite to hang out at the beach. Rarely people really hang out at the beach. The sun is uncomfortably blinding. You simply want to go in the shade and stop getting exhausted from it. The ocean is freezing cold. It takes wet suits and will power to get in. There is no party atmosphere at the beach. It is so frustrating to live in paradise and not experience paradise.

Now, when I drive along the PCH, I count the stops: here comes Malibu proper, Malibu beach, the big wide intersection before the hill, another wide beach with a box that shows the speed, here is Malibu gym, Zuma beach and so on.

The drive up Yerba Buena starts right next to a biker bar off PCH. It is an old narrow rode with yellow lines going along and crack lines going across. You snake up at 25 mph. If you are a dare devil, you could go at 30 mph or faster. Yet, it is easy to miscalculate the turns. It keeps going and going. It is so tiring. When I arrived at the trail head parking lot, wind was blowing. Fuck, last time that I came here with a group hike wind was kicking dust into our faces and eyes so badly that we huddled in the wind shadow of the cars for a few minutes until surrendering and driving elsewhere.

So, there was wind. It took me all of my energy and determination getting myself here. So, I did not have much of an option of going elsewhere. I put on a jacket and started hiking. Well, with my right knee swollen and fucked, I started limping. My back was hurting. My stomach was hurting. It felt like something was digging a hole into my stomach. There was this action movie, where they tortured people by putting a rat on their stomach and a metal bucket on top. Then, they’d blow torch the metal bucket. The rat would start digging into the victim’s stomach in panic. Fuck, that kept going through my head. My left side of my neck shoulder was so painfully tight. No amount of shaking or massaging would ease it.

My mind was sort or crawling around thoughts as I dragged myself across the mountain. Luckily the trail was wind protected. The chaparral was high on both sides of the trail. It was a bit like Moses’ parted sea that I was walking through. On the other side on the rock, I saw three people rock climbing. A few scenes were so nice that I snapped a photo with my cell phone. I felt kind of good about the idea that I was doing the one thing that could help me feel better, the one thing that could get me somewhere, where I’d want to live life again. I so felt like dying. I was mumbling the words a few times.

How hard must it be for people, who are quadriplegic? Earlier at Whole Foods, where I got my hiking snacks, I overheard a woman tell her boy friend that a friend of hers had gotten a hysterectomy. Oh, that sucks. People are suffering worse then I am. I would not want to live with the situation that I was in, if it stayed like that. I reminded myself that things will pass. Hysterectomy is the knowledge that you are the last of your line.

It is funny, when I imagine myself decades down the road as an old man. Oh, I already feel so old. My body feels so worn. It is a terrible idea to die alone. It is a terrible idea to die with only a nurse coming in with a frown on her face for two minutes to complete a task. I get this urgency sometimes to get a kid or two. It is like there is a vast importance to bringing something of myself that will survive into this world. It is an importance, where all my other ideas pale against. Is that a bad thing to get a kid out of a motivation to want to survive? Won’t that put a heavy burden on that kid? Is it not a myth anyway? Won’t the kids hate visiting their parents once they are thirty?

What happens when you die? If you die and that’s the end of everything, won’t that be a freeing and happy thing to be free of that suffering? If you die and get reborn, can it get any worse than this? Even as a grass hopper, life could be fun. If you die and go to heaven, will it be a boring Disney Land kind of life? If you die and go to hell, could it be any worse than this? Dying is not bad. Though, for now my drink is to finish what I am given, because whatever place will be reached after death will be reached unavoidably. So, finish the current cup before you start the next one.

A funny thing is that we dream about reaching joyous moments. We imagine how great it must feel to be loved. We imagine how exhilarating it must be to jump off an airplane. Let me tell you, the reality of those things is not dipped into those pure joyful emotions. Relationships have you sitting next to the other person with your head full of all kinds of things in life. You do not sit there like a blissful puppy soaking up the love radiating from the girl next to you. All that love actually is an idea. That moment, you worry about her having a good time or try to figure out dinner. So, should we be sad that those pure joys of life of feeling love, of feeling safety, of feeling like an eagle soaring over the country do not exist? They do exist. They exist in the moments of singing. I can feel those emotions, when I am singing along a song. I can feel those emotions in their most beauty in my whole body, when I am dancing. It is in arts that we can find them, not in relationships with people. It is a bit like nature. Look at relationships from afar they look like a beautiful forest. Look at it up close and you find a bunch of sticks, dirt, and a nasty draft.

The trail was kind of nice. The floor was a red brownish hardened dirt. Rocks were in between with the occasional stepping up and down on rocks. A green-grayish blanket of chaparral covered the slopes. Bright yellow brown sand stone rock formations stood out in between. At the first stop point was a low point with a dried out creek. The trees had soft leaves and reminded me more of back home. I could smell the dirt like back home. The smell of moist dirt is so lovely. The smell of dry dust and dust buggers in the nose is so common here in SoCal. I took a little break on a bench. There was a split rock with a cleft in between. I remember playing around there with an ex-girl friend. It was fun.

I kept walking and needed to pee. Somehow, I wanted to spank my little Jonny. There is this fascination of getting sexual outdoors. When I was a teenager, I’d go to the highest balcony in our house. I’d put a lounge chair mattress against the railing to have privacy. Then, I’d pull down my pants. I’d put my dick in the sun. I’d feel the sun burning on it, stimulating it. Oh, it was such a turn on to be out in the free and feel the free air around me. It was fun. I must say that I had much fun as a teenager wanking and came up with so much creative stuff. I am almost sad that I don’t do that anymore. Though, it is so easy nowadays and so much going on in life that it almost becomes a quick routine thing to squeeze out another one.

So, I kept walking. The trail ended up in a high area that was kind of flat. There were views down on the ocean. There were a lot of hills in between the ocean and me. There were views on the San Fernando Valley. It does have a lot of hills. The wind started kicking up in certain exposed parts. I put on the jacket. I started to be done with the hike. My mind kept counting the distance to the car and estimating the remaining time over and over.

When I got to a sign ‘Sand Stone Peak – highest peak in Santa Monica Mountains 3,111 feet,’ I got happy, because I had read earlier that the peak is pretty close to the exit. With my knee, I labored up the stairs in a two step process. I used my good knee to get up the next stair. Then, I’d switch weight to do the next step. The path got more exposed to wind. I hated it. Wind exhausts me so much. It makes me also a bit dizzy and unstable. Everything started getting more exposed. The trail disappeared for a few yards at a time on rocky faces before the dirt path continued later. The rocky sections got steeper and required more scrambling. Finally, I was at a section, where I was so scared about falling. I was limping with my bad knee up on rocks being unsure about keeping my balance with the wind blowing. I only wanted to get back to the car. Finally, I saw the plaque at the peak. A box was labeled register. Ah, I could write my name down that I made it. The last few yards scared the shit out of me. I could not see, where the trail would continue after this. I simply wanted to get down from there, even if it meant going back all the way. So, I returned before I reached the plaque. I guess, I made it up 3,095 out of 3,111 feet.

At the bottom of the stairs, I looked for a way around. The faint paths that I saw fizzled out. Choosing between getting lost and having to go all the way around back, I chose to go around back. However, as I turned around, I found another path. That turned out to be the right path. So, I stumbled on, repeating in my head, 30 minutes to the car. It is now this time and I will at the car by that time. You gotta motivate yourself.

After two intersections or so, I got lost. Actually, I was unsure of the way. I heard voices. So, I looked around trying to spot trails in the thick chaparral on the other slopes, while I waited for them. They were kind of stand offish. I must have given of a weird vibe. However, what kind of vibe could I have given off: Wrecked by pain and exhaustion, completely done with hiking. I only wanted to be back on my couch at home and collapse.

They assured me that I was going the right way. Literally two minutes later, the intersection came up that completed the loop. So, I was glad to reach my car. The only thing that sucked was that there was the long windy road that I hated. Plus, my fuel empty light had turned on, when I was driving up. So, running out of gas going down a steep mountain is no fun. Although, the gas would probably last until I’d get off the mountain. So, out of emotion, I drove the other way. I figured that it would drop me off in the valley. Very quickly did I realize that the road kept climbing. That was a bad sign, because going down would have meant that I am getting closer to getting of the mountain. Also, the road went parallel to the coast. That meant that I was not getting off neither on the ocean or valley side. So, I am fucked on an unknown road, exhausted and very low on fuel. Luckily, the road turned into a well maintained black tar top. That means getting closer to civilization. The road ended at an intersection with another road. So, I took that out. Finally, I got to the PCH and there was a gas station. From there, everything went okay. I had a Hawaiian pizza with scallions from Whole Foods waiting in my trunk as a welcome home celebration. I love Hawaiian pizza so much that it is already funny and bizarre.

The next hours went by in a daze. I napped. I read a bit in the book ‘Moby Dick.’ I played Farmville on facebook. I watched an old TV show from ‘The Unit.’ I got the urge to see the second Twilight movie. After seeing the trailer, I had suspected that it was bad. However, I had liked the first movie a lot. A colleague at work hated the first movie, because the vampires were not like normal vampires and there was no real action. I loved the movie, because I love getting into a new world. I loved figuring out all the new rules and ways that the Twilight vampires are. I loved that for a big part the movie did not seem to have a plot. Most of the movie seemed like the beginning, the introduction of the characters and the world. Fuck plot. I love the beginning part of movies. I wish that movies could stay at the beginning all the way. Once the plot starts, characters loose their depths for some stupid plot.

When I walked to the car to drive to the movie theatre, my right knee was still swollen. However, my body, many of my muscles felt strong. The whole day, we feel our body. We may not focus on it. However, we feel it. The pain and suffering had changed into feeling strong and giving me pep and making me adventurous. I was so happy. I wish that I’d feel like that every day.

The movie had a nice aspect. They introduced the werewolves this time. They did a really great job in creating the werewolves. It was a band of youth, who did wild tackle games with each other. They’d run in shorts and with running shoes through the rain. Their faces looked kind of dog like. They had anger tantrums. That was done very well.

The main protagonist girl sucked all the way. She did not look hot anymore. She acted pretty fucked. Why would any of the guys obsess over her? Plus, her vampire beau came off as an asshole. Why would she be so stuck up over him? The store kind of sucked. That triumphate of special vampires to enforce the law was a waste. They never really developed it. Plus, they came of as gimmicky and stupid. So, it kind of was a downer. Yet, I had finally been out again and seen a movie. Plus, on the way there and on the way home, that feeling of strength in my body was so delicious. Perhaps, people having a smile on their face don’t simply have a good attitude. They have perhaps the gift of their bodies making them feel good.

I had another moving dream.

It started with me being on a patio and looking for what I expected to be four chairs. I found only two of them. They were the European bistro style weaved chairs that I own in real life. We were moving a bit of furniture. It wasn’t that we were relocating. However, my parents had been on vacation here in America. And, they had so much stuff that we were moving furniture. So, the other two chairs of my four set must be downstairs. There were two guys from the moving company. I asked them about it. They said that they were downstairs.

So, I walked down the white concrete stairs. There was a big pile of stuff. I searched it. I couldn’t find the chairs. I asked them about it. They had come down in the meantime. They insisted that they were there. And, in indeed all the way under a pile, I could find them. Somewhere, my grand mother was also on vacation with them. She kept pointing out gifts that she was leaving me of a couple of couches. I didn’t care so much about the gifted used couches. I really cared about those four chairs, because they were the first furniture that I had bought myself. There was a special bond to it.

As my parents and movers all grabbed something to carry up to the patio, I was thinking about how to organize all the furniture and how to distribute it. As I walked back towards the stairs, I passed the doors to the cellar rooms of other tenants. The last room before the stairs had a lot of glass jars. The tenant, a woman, apparently got a batch of jars, because she wanted to paint them. In front of her door was a little open box with pain brushes and pickups. I thought that perhaps another neighbor had left these for us, as he saw that we were moving. When I asked him, what those were for, he said that they were for the female tenant with the glass jars. However, the way that he said, he said for ‘family and close friends only.’ It made me really sad, because he implied this warm cozy connection and feeling with people. I didn’t even realize that I was missing it until he said it. And, then the way, how he said it, made me feel really excluded.

As I was walking up the stairs, I realized for one that I was the only one not carrying furniture, which made me feel awkward. I also realized that my right hand was full of brushes and paint rubber. I had no idea, how it got there. Though, it looked really suspicious that I must have stolen it. I mean, returning it would have been even more weird and drawn attention. So, I put it in my pocket, hoping that I had gotten that stuff into my hands through a regular means. In the meantime, I mulled over the feeling of exclusion from a cozy inner circle, like a dog that had gotten punched in the face and was still snapping at the air to walk it off.

As I got back to the patio, I looked at all the furniture that was piled there, staged to be put in place. I went in the house. There was the under the roof room of my dad. Only, what I saw was much larger. Then, I heard a conversation of him talking with my mom. He had found that there was unused space hiding behind the wall. So, he had talked the landlord into letting him push a hole in the wall to access that hidden cavity of the building. After all, the landlord should be happy for getting more square footage. It was a large room.

I went in the other direction towards my room. As I passed other rooms, I saw that they were all empty. They looked kind of exciting. It was exciting to explore the shape of the rooms. Like my step dad’s room in the beginning, curved around a bathroom room in the middle. It was a horseshoe shape with angled ceiling from the roof. This other room had a car in it with the tires and most else removed. My step dad had put it there. I gave him mad props for being so cool to even think of putting a car body in a room and actually getting it done. I though that it must be kind of cool to sit inside the car seat and listen to music. I noticed that looking through these rooms was really exciting. It made me think of being a kid again, when it was amazing to meet new people, because they had something unique about them. It is so sad that nowadays, I am too rushed in the head to really register people. And, in this city there just seem to be tons and tons of people, who have the same mass merchandise. It doesn’t seem like there is some unique and respectable personality about people. All I see in real life about people are their hangups and limitations.

Anyway, I reached my room. There was still the familiar bunk bed. I was unhappy about a bunk bed. It is so narrow and confined. Outside the window was a long roof top. The neighboring building was a large office or municipal building still in construction. I saw a construction worked walking outside the window on the roof top. I said a friendly ‘hi.’

A small group of construction workers got attracted. They sounded kind of aggressive. I was going to hold my place. They threatened that they would trash me at a game of pool. I assured them that they would, because it was too long that I had played pool. I tried to keep a voice that was unswayed and didn’t buy into being good at pool meaning anything. Then, a burlier guy insisted that if I lost at the pool game, he was beat the shit out of me. Before I could say much, he said that winning would earn me a shot of liquor. He threw me a shot glass with whiskey all the way across. It flew in a big arc. I realized that it was a set up. As I caught it, of course some of the whiskey spilled. Then, he bellowed that I had spilled the whiskey and now I owed him a new shot. So, I had to play to earn the shot. By implication, I’d loose and he’d get to beat me up. I tried to stay unfazed, because I figured that they were like a pack of wolves testing the ground. If I’d run, I’d show that I am prey. So, I also didn’t want to retreat into the building, because they could follow me.

Next thing, I was on the ground and he was holding my arm. The first guy that I had said ‘hi’ was also close by. He seemed to be the leader of the group. I told the burly guy that I had a health condition and my body was frail. He might very quickly kill me, even if he didn’t mean to. It didn’t register with him. He kept on talking big about, how he was going to kick my ass. So, I turned to the other guy: “I have something important to tell you.” The other guy reacted by leaning in, being curious and showing with his face that he was ready to hear it. After I told him, his face showed warm emotion and he said with a sorry disappointed face: “Look, you scared him.” Then, the big burly guy was silent and didn’t know, what to say, like he had gone too far without realizing it. There was this silence. It was like all the tough talk was just a game and they had expected me to talk back like that simply to rib each other. So, to help move past the awkward point, I asked the big burly guy, how his day had been going so far. That way we could have a conversation about that. However, I woke up at that point.

The reason that this dream stood out to me was because of the deep emotions that I felt in it. There was the emotion of being excluded from close intimacy of friendship. There was the excitement of exploring rooms. There was the tough talk with people. All those were wonderful things to feel. I guess, that’s what they are talking about in the pickup community, when they say that women love emotions and people consider good emotions to be value. I kind of miss them, when I think back to being a kid. Nowadays emotions are so washed out, because I am tired from work or overwhelmed with stuff or bored by having seen the same thing or the same kind so often. How do you get back to the exciting experience? A ton of vacation and rest and no worry about money?