The feeling of being drifting wood has slowly reared some agency. I’ve had present the feeling of choice. Every time I felt habit pulling me towards routine I could interrupt myself by thinking: I have a choice. And so I would begin coding and find some difficulty and then go back to the browser and go to Twitter or Hacker News, and almost immediately think “I am the owner of this choice” and so I would come back to Sublime Text and finish what I was doing.

I admit that I procrastinated too, but in a good way. Sometimes, when we feel like not doing something, we replace the thing that we should do with other things that we should do, and in this way I went to the supermarket early in the morning and I dropped off my clothes at the laundry and I ran a couple of chores which were important.

If one’s nature is to procrastinate, at least let it not be a waste of time. It is different to procrastinate with things that you will eventually have to do anyways rather than with things that “waste time”.

I encountered the neighbor that lent Oscar a brushcutter and that he attempted to fix, unsuccessfully. She was in her car, I asked her to roll down the window: “ma’am, I see that your brushcutter is on Oscar’s dining table since a couple of weeks ago, I can rescue it for you if you want”. “Oh, I had given up on it, but yes that would be good, you can have it if you do it”. I pondered a bit: I wasn’t doing it to get ahold of it, but it was useful, so I agreed to her deal clarifying that it was still hers and that I would simply keep it.

When I encountered Óscar I told him that I would pick it up. He was sorely disappointed and I felt bad. Oscar can’t hide his true feelings but the truth is: he would have never been able to put it back together. It was as good as ruined if left at his house. It was an unexpected reaction, he does not realize I’m getting a problem off from him, but he is so dull that he does not know that he’s in trouble.

I think he may even have gotten angry, as he stepped forward and stood up to me, I asked him “what are you doing?” and then he backed off, as if he was unsure himself. After this happened I questioned the wisdom of interceding in the situation: my only desire was to resolve a tension between the neighbor and Óscar, and now there was tension between myself and Óscar.

My sense of agency and free will was a part of this, a wanting to become part of the world inclined me to intercede in the affairs of the world, and now I feel a slight regret. I originally expected to transport the disarmed equipment from Oscar’s house to her house, and then she would comission a fix, but somehow, out of my own niceness, I offered to take it to get it fixed and she offered me to keep it.

So, what I choose to do is this: I will give the brushcutter to Lalo for him to fix, I will pay for it, then I will give it back to Oscar. I don’t need or want to keep a bushcutter.

I got a new chair. It’s a nice chair. My mother bought it for me. I didn’t ask for it, and was actually angry that she would buy it without consulting with me first. “You would have said no”, was her reason for not informing me. Indeed, I would have said no.

As of late, I’ve been resenting the intermission of my family in my life. My mother is especially prone to this. “I will make a honk noise everytime you say something which intercedes in my life” and then I would make almost constant honking noises, “you should not carry your yoga mat on the bike like that, a car might hit you”—honk. “You shouldn’t drink so much coffee, it is bad for you”—honk. “You shouldn’t have eaten such a large breakfast, that’s why you got sleepy after breakfast”, no honk, but a reprimand: Mother, it is Saturday, I’m fit, I’m healthy, and I can eat and have a nap whenever I want. This is none of your business. “Ok son, you are right”. That calmed me down. But it is growing old.

And so I am sitting on a much better chair than I had before, yet I feel resentful about it. There is no pleasure in having your choice taken for you, even if it is a net positive. And yet I feel like an ungrateful prick.

I’m fighting things which are out of my control, but what is the solution, resignation? I must warn that my patience is now running very thin, and if things keep on going in the same trajectory I will eject this cockpit to parachute into new grounds.

I see that it is much easier for me to meet circumstances with acceptance when I’m smoking weed regularly. But this option is fake, it dulls the will. If my sober psychology demands change, then I must accept the tension of change.