i. Gut reactions etc. - Just saw Manang Hiling out of nowhere when I went to the fridge to get Toblerone and my heart did a little leap - I'm not fully awake even though the incident jolted me - A few days ago: - Became fully aware of how much I can slip up on Friday, even though I thought I could override any sense of irrationality. Felt some kind of barb when I saw a Kim-type face. I thought it was the first of many triggers that launched my mild manic episode before I walked into Prof Quina's class and finding out belatedly that he couldn't make it, and then the misanthrope slide to hatred and darkness, which ended with me crying myself to a long "nap."  - The other triggers were probably: remembering how I used to be anonymous and had no allegiance to anything or anyone but myself; it was a very comfortable existence because I thought I could do whatever I wanted. Then started the whole cascade of "why should I let other people dictate what I write?"; rationality said they're just prompts; irrationality said, "Yeah? Well tell that to the past you who still had some sense of creativity and flow when you didn't feel like you had to censor." Daily reminder that this is probably uncharted ground [with the 'you've been hacked/punk'd/lost every sense of 'dignity'' the day you submitted ALL_GO] except for other schizotype writers who probably feel like they're being watched and monitored all the time. - Aside from that I felt really numb and mostly frustrated with my reading speed and comprehension - I looked at other people's dissertations/theses and I briefly wondered, "What is the point of all this research?" Especially after the recommendations where there would always be a call to continue the thread of inquiry. I don't know if I'm cut out for the academe when the thought of the paper writing and research looms like a landslide prone mountain - Thoughts: "What if my research/theses ends up hackneyed and stupid?" - Another thought: [black American accent]: "Salt don't hurt if ya ain't cut!" - American Beauty prompts from people when I jogged: old man with a "weed" logo a.k.a. adidas; a gay(?) power couple(?) jogging