After a long hiatus I've taken to write again, in my notebook. Learning how to write with a notebook is a much better exercise than typing on the computer, because of a subtle mind-body connection that is not expressed when you type.

Typing is clearly digital, one keystroke will give the computer enough information to print the pressed letter on the screen, but it will lack the emotion of the handwritten letter. Long-hand writing in itself is an art which conveys unusual levels of honesty, because you can't delete yourself without evidence, while writing on the keyboard allows me to cut down on my rambling and be more direct, at the price of some honesty in my thought.

People think I am smart when they read me, little do they know how much I edit my own thoughts. Most of my thought is garbage. I strive to have more empty space between my thoughts. My frown just relaxed at this realization.

Yesterday I realized something: I actually do love myself. This, to some, may trigger a narcissistic guilt projection; and to others simply a duh reaction, of course, it's been repeated a thousand times to the point of cliché: you can't love others without loving yourself, and the deeper I lean into the saying the more truth I find in it.

I can't project a positive energy into the world if I do not cultivate it within myself. George has come into the office, we will play some Diablo III together. I will log off now.