What an unbelievably strange day. Only five hours of sleep at first, then got up, took a shower, had coffee and left for the clinic for the admission interview. Of course, I took the wrong tram, got off a few stops later to change to the right one. Great plan, lousy implementation. Again I took the wrong train (note to myself: lack of sleep doesn’t improve your concentration), but I noticed it relatively late. So I tried to find another connection and finally arrived at the clinic quite late. Only to learn that I may leave immediately, because for the second time I don’t have a referral from my general practitioner with me. If she had been allowed to, the fury in guise of a nurse would probably have jumped at my throat, ripped my veins open and offered my blood as a sacrifice to the dark god. How can it be possible that this country actually manages to demand this completely useless broadcast contribution from every citizen, even if they are hiding in the deepest forest, but this “great” centralized health system cannot manage to exchange data between the treating doctors and needs some stupid receipts for that. Yes, am I running to the clinic for fun and looking for help because I occasionally feel the desire to slit my wrists, jump off the nearest bridge or bash my fellow human beings’ skulls in? The latter actually happens quite often. So why does it still need such a fucking referral form? It’s the 21st century, 2000fucking 19. Can’t we finally introduce a digital solution which doesn’t make it necessary to run the gauntlet? All sorts of government agencies are always babbling about the fact that mental health is super important and stigma should be reduced and people should be given more help. I don’t give a damn about the stigma, as long as the solutions offered are practical and not bulldozed by bureaucratic monoliths. I know, I know. Basically, it is just a triviality. I could have taken the three minutes walk to my GP the day before without any further effort. Sure, no big deal. But it’s also sort of a matter of principles, and not just because I’m looking for a way to justify my laziness (that too, of course, but at most secondary or post-primary). At any case, I seriously questioned the sense of the whole project. What do I actually want to achieve with this venture? I do not intend to become a 9to5 zombie after the clinic. So what then? Develop strategies for better handling extreme phases? Are my emotions shaped like a barbell? Taleb, again. Well, not this statement specifically, but the thought of that. I oscillate between extremes and in between – just an ocean of indifference. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have that in mind when he developed this metaphor, but it’s still quite amusing. Speaking of Taleb: If I would know every step of my day ahead, I would feel a little bit dead. Later, a project request was submitted, which would have meant a lot of work in a day and a half, but also a lot of money. Unfortunately it did never came off. But just the rush of adrenaline through my veins in anticipation of what was to come and the challenge to be overcome. Huah. That’s overcompensation and it feels fucking great. It was the same with the last major project. I love that. High-intensity work units followed by extensive rest periods. There’s something about it. Taira was feeling pretty crappy today and I kind of feel like I should have done more for her, even though I’m not sure how. Sometimes it’s hard to bear the helplessness when you would like to do so much more for the other person but you’re not really able to. But maybe I interpret too much into it and it was ok. She would probably have expressed herself accordingly, if it had been necessary, since she has known for a long time that I care very much about her well-being. Or did she even do it in a subtle way and I, being an empathically disabled person, simply did not notice? Meh. Social interactions can be damn confusing. At the beginning of October I am with Alex at a reading by Deniz Yücel, who has written a book about his time in Turkish prison. I have been friends with Deniz on Facebook for several years, even though we never really had contact with each other. Somehow you still feel a certain connection. It is very superficial and hard to grasp, but it is there. Very strange all of this. Maybe we could have a drink with him after the reading. That would be nice. I’m sure he’s a damned interesting person to talk to. I asked Alicia how she was feeling at the moment. Not good. She describes her relationship with Peter as 80 to 20. Eighty percent fucked up. One of her biggest problems is the almost complete lack of opportunity to talk to him in emotionally difficult situations. I remember a conversation we had a few months ago. In it, I predicted that this exact situation was going to happen. Sometimes I hate being right. Again, I wish I could do more. Maybe it would help her if we talked on the phone tomorrow. Nearly all of my close friends are somehow broken. You probably always look for those people in whom you recognize yourself a little bit. Note to self: Ask Luke whether he’d like to come to the reading with me. Haven’t seen him for a few years, so it could be quite entertaining. Taira, if there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. My head is constantly bouncing around. Like a bouncing ball on a pogo stick. Is that jumpception already? I don’t know where I get these ideas. Our brains are highly associative, so there must be some reason I’m not aware of. Life goal: Being happy in a world I don’t understand. How to be happy in a world you don’t understand?