Biograph

Every day, we wake up and decide what kind of person we want to be. Based on who we were yesterday, or our identity, or on our moods. All irrelevant. I've lived for so long already, far too long to be burdened with such things.

From June to September (2024) I worked at a Toyota dealership. I needed to sell 8 in a month to get my commission check. Never worked out. I got 5 my first month and then 7 the next, then I quit. I just couldn't handle all the talking; learning about something I don't care about at all— it's just torturous. Then in October I worked at an elevator company polishing rails. Easy work, easy boss, a job for introverts; steady schedule and pay, made more there than selling cars. But I'm still in crippling credit card debt and I don't have a job now, so I have only about 3 more months until I need to make $500 per month so I don't die. I think about going bankrupt every once in a while but I always have hope.

If I can make just $1k a month through MRR I'd be satisfied. Then I could continue (without a job) living from my parents' place, resurfacing from debt, while starting an online watch boutique using training from the very interesting Pejman Ghadimi. I read his Third Circle Theory when I was in middle or high school. The ideas that stuck with me were that one cannot let emotion cloud their judgement, and that viewing things from a holistic perspective could sometimes be beneficial. Another major book for me was Fredrik Eklund's The Sell, which helps me dream big. I can envision myself next to him as a little boy, back when tourists were allowed atop the statue of liberty, and we're overlooking downtown Manhattan. I can see the wonder in his eyes, and I can see what he's thinking "one day this will all be mine." Dave Chapelle's Dreamer made me cry. Dreams can actually be made into reality through wealth, the set of physical transformations one is capable of causing. In my case, I'd like to accrue enough knowledge of math and physics to be able to create a universal explanation for objective beauty. In the meantime, I just need money so I'm selling some plugins.

Oh, you wanted something more heart-to-heart? I mean, I did too, sorry for being facetious. I'm usually this bashful and self-deprecating, but I find no problems with it in this context. We're not dating. Take 2, rolling…

I knew I was being raised in a situation where I would rise to the level of my peers. School seemed to be working its magic on us and we were all thinking quite similarly, even throughout my golden years in elementary school. We had such a wonderfully diverse community. No goths existed in our utopia of occasional Bill Nye and loving teachers. And we were like dogs when they unleashed us every day for recess. I can still remember, eating Baxter's rabbit goldfish crackers, chowing down a not-so-innocent-looking grilled cheese mashed at the bottom of some trash can, and that sweet smell, the combination of cardboard and apple juice from those mini cartons they used to give us. Lunch was the storm before the calm. Recess— was always bliss.